Did you catch the announcement from Attorney General Henry McMaster that he would be joining in an appeal of a federal court decision banning a local town council from praying in the name of Jesus or “any other specific deity”? The original suit was brought by a Wiccan priestess and will likely soon be joined by the ACLU and the rest of the civil liberties advocates.

Inevitably, the controversy will become just another national flashpoint for the continued religious-legal bloodshed over prayer in public places. Intrepid liberal that I am, I nonetheless grit my teeth and side with the attorney general on this one. Atypical, I know, but let me tell you why.

God has many names, right? Almighty. Heavenly Father. Rock of Ages. Master of the Universe Well, yes and no. Yes, they are verbal connectors to the Infinite One. But no, they do not name God’s essence, which — try though we may — is beyond the confines of language. These are idioms for God, the best that our finite beings can do to grasp the infinite.

The issue, however, is not purely theological. It addresses the sociology and legal climate of the here-and-now:

Once upon a time, I was offended by public prayer invoked in the name of Jesus. I would voice my protest to the invocator, the city/county council, the newspaper, in harmony with the alphabet soup of church-state separationists. My epiphany came about 20 years ago at an ecumenical service during Martin Luther King Week in Atlanta. Behind me, the choir of Big Bethel AME church rocked with a spirited gospel — the refrain, “Jesus! Jesus!” As always, I was quick to protest and caught the ear of Dr. Joseph Roberts, Dr. King’s successor at Ebenezer Baptist Church.

Joe patiently explained to me, “You will never understand the African-American religious experience until you recognize that singing out in Jesus’ name is a culturally venerated idiom that has always connected us to the divine.”

“A venerated idiom” is what got to me. We who claim religious faith, I realized, use idioms ordained by theology or culture in our attempt to connect with God. The Christian invokes Jesus. The traditional Jew wears a skullcap. A Muslim bows to Mecca. The Catholic sees it in the bread-and-wine’s transubstantiation.

These prayerful idioms should never be confused with the substance of prayer. Each faith may venerate its idiom as the most potent path toward God. But the rest of us ought not be offended by that idiom, even when it is invoked in public places. If anything, we should celebrate it as a benchmark of the diversity with which people of faith may freely commune with God, or not, in the blessed country in which we live.

Thus, I am no longer offended by a prayer offered in Jesus’ name. Likewise, I have never been criticized by any member of a county/city council for delivering an invocation while wearing my skullcap. I assume that he respects me for my convictions in the same way that I respect his.

We should get more rankled by the substance of too many public prayers than by the name in which they are invoked. Might we come to consensus on what comprises a worthy public prayer? Should public prayer become a partisan editorial, or should we pray that our leaders be guided by good counsel? The substance of public prayer should at least remain focused on the plea for justice and mercy and the virtues of the Lord’s Prayer. Even if the idiom bespeaks a particular faith, the essence of the prayer will include all people of goodwill.

Perhaps you have heard the joke about pastors discussing how they distribute the proceeds of their collections. The punch line has one of the pastors saying: “I throw it all up in the air, and whatever God wants, he can keep!”

I guess that is how it ought to be with public prayer and the variety of idioms we use to connect to the Infinite: Keep lifting it heavenward. Let God decide what is worthy. Let it not be earthbound by nit-picking each phrase for perfect theological and political correctness.

I will cherish the idiom in which you pray if you do the same for mine. God can certainly survive whatever we toss his way, and probably wishes that we, too, would lighten up.

Mr. Wilson is a rabbi and community relations consultant in Greenville and founder of the Jewish Chaplaincy of the Upstate. Write him by e-mail at marcwilson1216@aol.com.