Last year some time, my neighbour asked me if his son could come to Sunday School with my daughter.
"We're not religious at all," he said. "But I went to that sort of thing when I was a kid and I'd like Sam to grow up with those values, too."
And so Sam comes along when he feels like it, as do a couple of the other neighbourhood kids. All of the parents at our end of the street seem to like the idea - not least because it makes for a quiet, child-free Sunday morning.
I would hazard a guess that this relaxed attitude is fairly common. Joe Average goes to church only for weddings and funerals these days, and maybe at Christmas and Easter. But, at the same time, he is unlikely to be horrified at the idea of some do-unto-others type lessons for the children and a Bible story or two. No one wants it shoved down their throats, but if the kids want to go and if they're having fun, why not?
And so, the banning of the lunchtime Christian children's club at Wellington's Seatoun School came as something of a surprise. More than two million people described themselves as Christian in the last census after all; and numerous schools around the country allow some sort of optional faith-based programme and have done for decades.
At Seatoun, it was called Kidsklub and was held for half an hour every Wednesday lunchtime. A typical session, run by parents and community volunteers, would include a song, a Bible story, a craft activity and a discussion about a virtue or value.
Each week there was a different theme, for example, being kind, sharing or doing the right thing. One week they used the story of David and Jonathan, an Old Testament story about two close friends, and talked to the children about how important it is to be trustworthy.
Another week the theme was being responsible, for yourself and others, using the parable about the shepherd who searched high and low for his one lost sheep. God looks after us, they said, and we need to look after ourselves and other people.
In the weeks leading up to Christmas, the children made miniature scrolls from cotton buds and angels out of paper plates. Radical stuff.
When the club started, a newsletter was sent home explaining clearly that the club focused on "aspects of God's character" and values to live by. About a third of the school's parents gave written permission for their children to go - and each week up to 30 would turn up.
Or at least they did until a new school board was appointed and the whole thing was stopped on the grounds that it was inappropriate for a secular school. Big gun lawyers were called in on both sides and it has all become messy.
Media reports this week talked about a community being "torn apart", but the parents I talked to seemed more mystified than anything. What was the board thinking? The club was voluntary, outside of lesson time, and, if only 30 kids were going to it, there was clearly no peer pressure to attend.
Imagine the hoopla if Hindu, Baha'i or Muslim kids' clubs were banned. Besides, is Noah's Ark any less a part of our collective cultural heritage than Maui and the Fish or Cinderella?
Sure, state schools are secular under the Education Act. But the idea behind "secular" was to stop any one religion or denomination from dominating the system. The original meaning of secular was non-religious, not anti-religious.
What's more, the act clearly allows religious instruction in schools under certain conditions - for example, as long as it is not compulsory. And under the Bill of Rights Act, everyone is free "to manifest their religious beliefs in worship, observance, practice, or teaching, either individually or in community with others and either in public or in private".
The board maintains that it is not under any legal obligation to facilitate religious expression; and that the Bill of Rights Act does not apply in this case because making decisions about religious instruction is one of its private, not public duties.
Amongst media commentators, at any rate, they have little support. Even the most vehemently anti-Christian bloggers are siding with the kids' club on this one.
And just who is paying for the legal side? Well, a concerned parent (who is a lawyer and whose children do not attend the club) paid for an opinion from constitutional law expert Sir Geoffrey Palmer; and the board's response, from legal firm Chapman Tripp, was prepared pro bono. The chairperson and deputy of the board are also lawyers, one of whom worked at Chapman Tripp until recently.
So maybe it is about legal egos and wanting to save face. Who knows? But the sooner someone from the board says, "Sorry, seemed like a good idea at the time but we made a mistake," the better. Because according to a parent I spoke to, there is at least one worried 7-year-old out there who thinks he was doing something dreadfully illegal.
* Sandra Paterson is a Mount Maunganui journalist
<EM>Sandra Paterson</EM>: Who's kidding who about kids' clubs?
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