The assistant principal of the Eliot School in Boston whipped the hands of ten-year-old student, Thomas Whall, for one-half hour until they were covered with blood. This the school official did in front of the boy’s classmates, some of whom openly urged Thomas not to give in.

This incident happened in 1859 and began what now seems a curious series of events in an ongoing struggle between Protestants and Catholics over the public expression of religion. At issue here was the particular version of the Ten Commandments that students were required to recite aloud in the classroom.

By law, the schools had to use the words as written in the King James Bible. This involved a numbering of the commandments different from that used by Catholics, and also different phrasing.  Quite commonly, students would speak in unison and Catholics among them would slide over words to avoid punishment without betraying their own tradition.

Thomas Whall, however, was asked to read the words by himself and so he determined to take a stand. In doing so, he had the encouragement of his family, his pastor, and Catholics around the country. In fact, to the latter he became a hero of conscience and received gold medals and other gifts from many of his co-religionists.

Ultimately, the matter went to court and the judge ruled in favor of the schools. According to the judge, the action by the students and his abettors was a threat to the stability of the school system, “the granite foundation on which our republican form of government rests.”

I owe knowledge of this episode to John McGreevy, an historian at Notre Dame whose recent book, “Catholicism and American Freedom” begins with an account of this event. The author then goes on to detail many other clashes between mainstream ideas of freedom in the United States and contrary ideas held fast by Catholics.

Incidentally, though it never produced conflict, practice of religious recitation in the public schools of Belmont, Massachusetts during my own elementary school days stands out in my memory as having had that potential. Then we used to recite the 23rd Psalm (“The Lord Is My Shepherd”), and we also, as I recall, would say the Lord’s Prayer in the Protestant mode.

At that stage in history, however, no one made an issue of the practice, though now it would be regarded as a flagrant violation of church/state separation. As a Catholic, looking back, I regard saying those prayers in the classroom as something valuable in my education.

The movement since the 1960s whereby Protestants and Catholics have come to understand and appreciate one another’s religious traditions has rendered many past conflicts moot. The ecumenical approach to some controverted issues has helped us to value outlooks different from our own and, when conflicts do arise, to settle them peaceably.

Arguments about a particular translation of the Bible now appear as particularly unnecessary. Various versions in use among Protestants and Catholics have strengths and weaknesses but few people any longer consider them worth fighting over. In modern times, the King James version, in particular, enjoys the esteem of many Catholics for its unique beauty of language.

The same can be said about the wording of the Lord’s Prayer. The part that was once considered “Protestant,” namely the last part beginning “For thine is the kingdom,” is now recognized by many Catholics as part of their own heritage. In fact, a prayer in the Catholic Mass that derives from 1963 uses words that echo those used by Protestants.

The bedrock fact that brings together Catholics and Protestants is, of course, their sharing of the same Christian faith. It still seems bizarre for this reality to have been obscured for so much of the last few centuries. To this very day, people in Northern Ireland and elsewhere seem unaware of the basic religious identity they share with one another.

The incident at the Eliot School and its aftermath now seem almost quaint. Because it arose due to a set of assumptions we recognize as false, we can feel superior to the people involved in that drama. And yet at the time it stirred passions that were based in religious convictions and practice deeply held by members of faith communities involved.

If there is a moral to the story it may be this. When we find ourselves caught up in conflict involving religion, it may be important to look first to what we hold in common with our disputants before we go any further.

Richard Griffin