The Allegany County Youth Board

I am not entirely sure how I ended up on the Allegany County Youth Board. I know my parents' friend recruited my mom after an older Board member retired, and he told her to ask me if I had any interest in becoming a youth member as there was no one yet to represent our district. I said sure, but wished I hadn't after the first meeting, during which a bunch of people my parents' age and older sat around discussing 'allocations' and 'subsidies.' "Nothing got done," I complained to my mom afterwards. I had thought politics was exciting; I had thought that there would be fiery debate, patriotic vehemence. I was disappointed, and I didn't want to go back.

I did go back, however. At first it was my mom's nagging that made me go. The more I went, though, the more I understood what people were saying and the more interesting it all was. I began to get a sense of how things worked on a board. I learned when to talk and when not to, and even occasionally added some input of my own. Soon it was I who nagged my mom to attend.

It was in one of our recent meetings that I got a taste of the heated discussions of my initial preconception. A Christian-based organization was requesting a grant to build a skate park and the head of the project was due to present her proposal. Although the Youth Board is a government entity and funded by taxpayer money, it is not unusual for funds to be allotted to religious groups, as long as it is clear that the grant will be used for non-religious purposes. For instance, the organization Youth for Christ receives public money each year for their recreation programs aimed at getting kids off the streets and providing alternatives to delinquent behavior. These projects, including a skate park like the one in question, are separate from the group's religious objectives and programs.

The woman who presented to us was in her thirties or forties and was, a board member told us, "a person of few words." From what she did say it was clear that she was poorly educated, that she was steady in her convictions and sincere in her desire to help, and that she was utterly naive about how to get the money she wanted for her program. It was this naivety, perhaps, that gave painful honesty to her words. We questioned her on whether kids of any faith would be allowed to skate there. They would, but they would be encouraged to "find God." Would there be any religious lessons taught? The lessons were separate; they didn't have to stay for them. They would be at the same place and at the same time, though. Would there be religious pamphlets or posters? Yes. What if a child didn't want to convert? Would they be made to? No, that would be left up to God.

After she left a heated debate ensued. On one side were my parents' friend, my mom, and me; on the other side were everyone else. It seemed clear that this proposition overstepped the line--the director had stated explicitly that it was a ministry. If the proposal were carried out, however, the skate park would be a great asset to her town, and the truth is that pretty much all of Allegany County is Protestant anyway. In all likelihood the skate park/ministry would only benefit the community, and in a town of under 2000 people with nearly 15% of them below the poverty line, they need all they can get.


The ends do not always justify the means. What we seemed to be looking at was the question of whether to endorse a program that promoted a religion. On principle I could not agree with this. Even if in this case the result could be positive, it violated the guarantee of separation of church and state. I believe that any infringement of this, no matter how trivial, undermines the government’s claim to neutrality. Furthermore, we needed to be aware not only of the situation at hand but also of the precedent set for future situations.
But then the decision that seemed so clear to me became hazier. There was more than a month between the presentation and the vote on whether to fund the project. I kept thinking of my experience of the previous summer, working as a counselor at Camp New Horizons. The camp serves kids in Cattaraugus County who have emotional or behavioral problems, often due to poverty, and it is funded by the state. One of the first things I noticed when I got there was the prayer before each meal. This seemed inappropriate to me, since it is a publicly funded camp. I asked returning counselors if the kids were required to say the grace. They gave me confused looks. I explained that I, for instance, am an atheist and would feel uncomfortable saying grace. They wanted to know why it mattered to me if I didn't believe in God. "I don't lack belief in God," I tried to tell them. "I believe in a lack of God." "Wait until the kids get here," they said. "It'll make sense."
After three weeks with those kids, it sure did make sense. Each camper had a story, a strung-out newspaper clipping of tragedy. The only routines they had created for themselves were tantrums, violence, and running away. One girl, for example, would throw a fit between four thirty and five o' clock every day without fail. She would get angry about some minor frustration, sulk for a while, then work herself into such a frenzy that she would have to be restrained. She needed stability in her life, and these outbursts provided routine. Saying grace before meals became part of the pattern of life at camp, and the campers loved it just for that.
They had to make it from one day to the next, and it wasn't going to be separation of church and state that saved their lives. What of it if there was a picture of Jesus painted on the wall of their skate park? They needed routine, focus, and gentle transitions. The simple prayer gave them these. It wasn't out to convert kids or go against their upbringing. By the end of camp, I was the only one converted - converted to the notion of practicality over principle.
And yet, when it came time for the vote, I voted against the proposal. In a way it was a cop out, since I knew that the skate park would win even with my vote against it, which it did, by a narrow margin. I wanted the skate park to be built, but I was concerned about the precedent of funding religious projects. Thankfully, I was able to vote on principle without sacrificing the community benefit. I am still not sure what I believe is right in this case, but at this point in my life I like being unsure. Uncertainty leaves room for growth, change, and learning. I like that.