This essay explores judicial responses to legal restrictions on worship during the COVID-19 pandemic and draws two lessons, one comparative and one relating specifically to U.S. law. As a comparative matter, courts across the globe have approached the problem in essentially the same way, through intuition and balancing. This has been the case regardless of what formal test applies, the proportionality test outside the United States, which expressly calls for judges to weigh the relative costs and benefits of a restriction, or the Employment Division v. Smith test inside the United States, which rejects judicial line-drawing and balancing in favor of predictable results. Judges have reached different conclusions about the legality of restrictions, of course, but doctrinal nuances have made little apparent difference. With respect to the United States specifically, the pandemic has revealed deep divisions about religion and religious freedom, among other things—divisions that have inevitably influenced judicial attitudes toward restrictions on worship. The COVID-19 crisis has revealed a cultural and political rift that makes consensual resolution of conflicts over religious freedom problematic, and perhaps impossible, even during a once-in-a-century pandemic.

This essay introduces the roundtable, “John R. Lewis's Legacies in Law and Religion.” A civil rights icon and long-standing US congressman representing Georgia's Fifth Congressional District, Lewis was often described as the moral conscience of the US Congress and the nation. The essays in this roundtable explore the many facets of Lewis's moral leadership, with particular attention to his influence on law and religion. This roundtable is a testament to what it means to speak up, speak out, and be bold in defense of justice.

This essay examines the life and leadership of the late congressman John Lewis as it illustrates key dimensions of American history, including slavery, the exploitative sharecropping economy, the protests of the Civil Rights Movement and student activism. This embodiment of the American experience rendered him a unique national leader and conscience of the Congress. Lewis is presented as fulfilling key rhetorical dimensions of the public intellectual as moralist for the nation.

This essay shows how three institutions—family, religion, and education—coalesced to shape the moral life of John Lewis. Lewis was born into a very religious, though uneducated, family who wished to see their son receive the education they were denied. The young Lewis took their zeal for education and religion into seminary and later college. It was in college that Lewis developed an intolerance for discrimination and came to champion the civil and human rights of all individuals. His call of conscience would not condone the suffering and abuse being generated by a segregated society. This passion for human rights led to his rising into prominence in the political arena, where many referred to him as the “conscience of the nation.”

The late congressman John Lewis spent most of his political life engaging Black Power's commitment to economic and political freedom through a political vocabulary that aligned with his deeply held beliefs in nonviolence, human rights activism, and moral faith. The tension between the Black radical left and establishment Black politics dates back to Lewis's clash with elite Black leaders over the content of his prepared address for the 1963 March on Washington. The address provides a glimpse into Lewis's complicated political legacy. The youngest speaker at the March, Lewis faced the daunting task of both representing the political philosophy of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) and meeting the expectations of established civil rights leaders. Negotiating the political interests of the organizers of the March alongside the demands of SNCC foreshadowed the congressman's political vocation: a lifetime of civil rights advocacy through a politics of respectability and Black Power's political philosophy of freedom and economic transformation. Lewis's political legacy is complicated; and yet, it was fueled by an unabashed commitment to Black freedom struggles, human rights activism, and racial reconciliation.

This article captures my personal relationship with Congressman John Lewis, his wife, Lillian, and their son, John-Miles. Readers will discover Congressman Lewis's unique ties with the Jewish community and his lifelong commitment to strengthening Black-Jewish relations. It notes the issues he championed—from voting rights to Israel's security—and includes his own words marching in solidarity with the Jewish community and speaking out for freedom for Soviet Jews.

This essay examines Representative John Lewis's engagement with the 1987 uprising of Cuban immigrant detainees held in Atlanta's federal penitentiary, which occurred near the beginning of Lewis's time in Congress. Cuban prisoners at the penitentiary took control of the institution and detained several hostages in order to forestall their deportation back to Cuba. After the uprising ended, in contrast to other public figures who advocated harsh punitive treatment, Lewis urged mercy and compassion for the prisoners. Lewis's involvement in the story revealed his underlying understanding of human rights, which he connected to his experiences in the civil rights movement of the 1960s. This broad conception of human rights shaped his engagement with issues of immigration throughout the remainder of his congressional career, especially during the administration of President Donald Trump. Lewis's engagement with issues of immigration is also especially noteworthy in light of metro Atlanta's emergence as a key site for the settlement of immigrants and refugees from around the world, which continues to shape the politics of the metro area.

John Lewis's civil rights activism in the 1960s often obscures the fact that he won elective office as a racially moderate politician. Scholars have long noted the efficacy of using deracialized, or racially transcendent, campaign strategies to get elected, despite normative concerns. These strategies were critical to electing Black governors, senators, and even President Obama. However, in the age of Black Lives Matter, some have questioned the continued usefulness of the strategy. Using Rep. Lewis's life as a guide, I examine the ways that some Black politicians continue to use deracialization, even in this racially charged social and political moment, and I explain how younger cohorts of Black politicians challenge this approach. Ultimately, I argue that while deracialization is a contested strategy, its efficacy has not diminished. Rather, Black politicians have expanded the boundaries of what constitutes racially transcendent politics to include consensus issues like voting rights, which while highly racialized, are not likely to induce an erosion of support among non-Black Democratic voters.

Conservative activists and politicians have condemned critical race theory and have supported measures to prohibit teaching the subject in public schools. The anti-critical race theory movement is part of broader social movement activity inspired by the 2020 presidential election. Many conservatives view Donald Trump's defeat as a victory for antiracism. In response, they have portrayed the election as a product of fraud, enacted laws that will make it more difficult for people of color to vote, endorsed measures that would chill antiracist political activism, and banned instruction related to contemporary antiracist theory. These practices have been employed historically in response to antiracism. This history should guide social justice advocates as they analyze the meaning of countermovement activity and build strategies of resistance.

In a series of cases over the past year, the U.S. Supreme Court upheld then struck down COVID-19–related restrictions on worship in various states across the country. Those decisions clarified that, under the Free Exercise Clause, laws burdening religion aren't “generally applicable” when they treat religious conduct less favorably than comparable secular conduct. But they also relied on controversial claims that religious gatherings were comparable to places like grocery stores in their likelihood of spreading the virus. This article offers a different perspective. In addition to the rule about comparators, general applicability also contains a second rule. Where a law requires officials to consider the religious reasons for conduct as a precondition for regulating it, the law isn't generally applicable and ought to be subject to heightened scrutiny. The Court mostly passed over that requirement in the COVID-19 church-closure cases. But rightly understood, it may have provided an alternative path for resolving them—and one that didn't depend on controversial comparisons between churches and shopping centers. Instead, focusing on this second aspect of general applicability would have yielded a commonsense conclusion: where a law or policy grants favored treatment for activities it explicitly deems “essential,” “critical,” or “life-sustaining,” one of those things must be religion, absent compelling reason to the contrary. And understanding the rationale behind that conclusion provides important insights about the meaning of the Free Exercise Clause and several other issues at the heart of the First Amendment.

Martin Luther (1483–1546) repeatedly addressed the question of whether political resistance might be directed lawfully against sovereign rulers if they acted tyrannically in light of the Apostle Paul's admonition in Romans 13 to honor divinely ordained secular authority. The situation became acute during the 1530s, when the forces of Emperor Charles V and the German Catholic princes threatened to reimpose Catholicism in the Lutheran territories by force. Amidst the crisis, Luther accepted legal arguments delegitimizing Charles as emperor, and, in 1539, with both sides mobilized for war, he contributed the theological argument that the emperor was the mercenary of a papal Antichrist and Beerwolff. Despite viewing the struggle in such apocalyptic terms, however, Luther's own words from the 1520s until his death reveal that his insistence upon obeying “legitimate” authority never varied. Only if commanded to violate godly law were Christian subjects to disobey their rulers and suffer the consequences. After Luther's death, Lutheran resistance theory continued to evolve and interact with Calvinist theory. Thus it exerted a long-term impact both within and well beyond the church when it was appropriated by the Magdeburg pastors, French Huguenots, Dutch revolutionaries, and English Puritans, though not always as Luther would have intended.

ʿAbd al-Razzāq al-Sanhūrī (d. 1971), the father of the Egyptian legal code, theorized a relationship between dīn (religion) and dawla (state) that was key to his project. In this relationship, al-Sanhūrī posited a delineation between the spheres of dīn and dawla that allowed him to map these categories onto the existing distinction between matters of ʿibādāt (acts of worship) and muʾāmalāt (transactions) in Islamic law (fiqh). I propose that Islamic jurisprudential distinctions between ʿibādāt and muʿāmalāt—for al-Sanhūrī—was the ideal medium to maintain and police the borderlines between religion and state in the postcolonial Egyptian state. Al-Sanhūrī's objective was to keep the domain of dīn outside of state sanction and to facilitate a transition whereby the state's legal institutions assumed exclusive lawmaking powers based on its own independent legal reasoning in Islamic law (ijtihād). I argue that al-Sanhūrī was a committed comparatist, not a reformer of Islamic law. Al-Sanhūrī's legal project should be viewed as a faithful commitment to French comparative law as a method of legal inquiry and a reflection of his nationalist agenda of creating a unified legal order that cannot exist without relying upon indigenous forms of law and culture. Al-Sanhūrī saw Khedival legal pluralism as an obstacle for national sovereignty. As a result of the institutional and legal readjustments from the 1920s through 1950s in Egypt, al-Sanhūrī did not see a future for Islamic law in the emerging legal state apparatus outside of civil law strictures and insisted that Islamic courts and religious tribunals for Jews and Christians must be subsumed under nationalized secular state courts.

This article addresses the Jewish ethical approach to refugees. According to Jewish ethics, help must be offered to refugees of a foreign people, and sometimes, for the sake of peace, even to those of an enemy state. Reviewing the Jewish sources, I conclude that from an ethical point of view, preference should be given to refugees who are near the border over those from farther away. Priority must be given to those in acute distress who lack the basic items of sustenance. Sometimes there is a special value in finding a way to assist even one's enemies in the hope that such help will break down the barriers of hatred. Similarly, it is ethically preferable to offer help to blameless children over adults, whose intentions might be suspect.