Sitting in an area establishment of the large-chain variety, I just witnessed a small, black SUV pull in line for the drive-up window. On its back window was the written, trumpeted message, "Just Married!" The proud declaration brought to mind a current piece in The Atlantic magazine, questioning whether our most sacred institution is a doomed dinosaur mired in a tarpit.

Personally, I'm constantly amazed that people still choose to get married. All the poetry and literature that's been written over all the past centuries, and people still choose to make the same mistake over and over again.

Someone once said or wrote: "The greatest vested interest is not property, but ignorance." I couldn't be in more agreement.

There's a tradition in my hometown of Pacific. Each fall, Jesus Christ becomes a caveman.
 
Not a caveman as in a troglodyte, but a caveman nonetheless.
    
You see, sometime prior to the Christmas season, in a small cave in a sandstone bluff directly overlooking scenic Route 66, a manger scene appears -- as if by miracle.
     
I guess I just haven't seen the manger scene's erectors. Or, if I have, I don't recall it. But each year, in this cave with its equipped electrical box, the baby Jesus is reborn amid the limelight.
 
The locals love the scene, especially at night. Visitors I have met in town -- some traveling Route 66 for nostalgic joy -- love it. There's only one problem: the manger scene is displayed on public property, something we all know -- or at least should, courtesy of court decisions dealing with similar cases -- is a no-no.
 
For years, I've generally kept the question locked in my mind: why would the people or person responsible do this when they know it's been ruled to be wrong?
 
Last fall I tracked down the man behind the scene. I discussed in a phone call with him all the standard issues: the overlapping of the religious with U.S. secular government, that everyone is not Christian, that everyone is not even religious. I added that, if someone was so inclined, he could file a complaint with the American Civil Liberties Union.
 
To say he was dismissive toward my concern is an understatement. It doesn't account for the arrogance he displayed.
 
He replied, `EJ, knock yourself out' -- and suggested I have fun doing it.
 
I found myself at a loss to argue with his suggestion. So early last December, I filed a complaint with the ACLU of Eastern Missouri, outlining the details of the case and our discussion.
 
Apparently the case is still under consideration. Earlier this year I received a letter from the ACLU acknowledging it had received the complaint. The letter said the organization's Legal Intake Department would contact me once it determined if it could help.
 
I don't have a problem with a manger scene being displayed. The props serve the Christian story. But I do have a problem with it being on public property, as should anyone who lives in a country where a government shouldn't endorse a particular religion, and rightly so.
 
There are a couple ways to address this, solutions that would serve nearly everyone -- whether Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, atheist or agnostic.

Directly across Route 66 is St. Bridget's of Kildare Catholic school. The manger scene could be moved to its roof. There, it would be clearly visible to both East and Westbound motorists. As things stand now, Westbound motorists can't see the display until they get right below it. Even then, at best, they only get in a quick glance.
 
The other way to address the issue -- and this is the one I like best -- would be to showcase the world's major religions in the cave, say one each month. Jesus would be up there in December, Muhammad during the month of Ramadan, one of Hindu's supreme beings -- for the sake of argument, let's go with Vishnu -- during another month. Judaism would also get its time in the limelight, as could religions such as Shinto, Buddhism and Taoism.
 
This jockeying of world religions in the cave would promote understanding of beliefs other than Christianity. As well, it would be a unique offering by my hometown, possibly without rival. On top of everything else, it would be along the inimitable mother road of Route 66, still a draw to the motoring tourist.
 
Let's face it: with globalization and our warring capacity to dispatch ourselves back to being troglodytes ourselves, our need for understanding and accepting the world's other religions has reached its zenith. Understanding a different religion is a big leap toward understanding another culture. In turn, that becomes a leap toward understanding other human beings, all of whom -- at their core -- are just like us.
 
After all, when it's all proselytized and done, culture is only veneer.