It appears that those of us who live in the Palmetto State will soon be following the cross — even those who worship under the Star of David, the crescent and star, or the benign gaze of Buddha.

The South Carolina Legislature — over the objections of a conservative governor — has approved a license plate that bears the image of the cross against a stained-glass window, and the words, “I believe.”

Fortunately, we’re not required to purchase the plate. You can still get a plate that proclaims, “In God We Trust,” or just a plain old generic plate that touts the state’s “smiling faces, beautiful places.” That’s the one I have on my car. It’s not that I don’t believe or don’t trust in God; I just don’t want to get my faith enmeshed in politics, which can be awfully ungodly.

I find myself agreeing with Gov. Mark Sanford, a Republican, who wrote in a letter to state Senate leaders: “While I do, in fact, ‘believe,’ it is my personal view that the largest proclamation of one’s faith ought to be in how one lives one’s life … the fruit of the spirit (is) peace, patience, kindness, gentleness and more … If God is working in one’s life, these things will say what no license plate will ever say.”

The words of a true Bible-Belt governor.

It isn’t that South Carolinians don’t have opportunities to flaunt their religious beliefs. I have a neighbor, an ethnic Chinese who runs a small business. There’s a small statue of Buddha on the dashboard of his Honda Odyssey. The outline of a fish — an early symbol of Christianity — adorns many a trunk lid on South Carolina cars. The cross is a fixture on many license-plate frames and bumper stickers. All of these are private testimonials that don’t require state involvement.

The “In God We Trust” on a state tag is no more sectarian than the same motto on the nation’s coinage, though it is obviously there to support a political position: that the Constitution does not mandate a strict separation of church and state. At least the “God” in that motto is a generic God. Those who display it can interpret him as the God of the Gospel writers, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God of Mohammed, or the Great Spirit of the indigenous American. Not so the “I believe” tag. The cross and stained glass are pretty specific. To those who worship in synagogues, mosques and non-Christian temples, the legislature seems to be saying: “This is a Christian state. Go find yourselves a state of your own where you can have your own license plates.”

I know we have a conservative Supreme Court, but I don’t think it’s conservative enough to render the First Amendment irrelevant.

James Madison, whom many consider to be the chief architect of the Constitution, once observed that any provision that promoted Christianity over other religions could be used just as easily to promote one sect of Christianity over other sects. The “establishment clause,” if it stands for anything, stands for governmental neutrality when it comes to religious expression.

So it seems to me that the only way the “I believe” plate can pass constitutional muster is for South Carolina to offer other religions the opportunity to display their symbols on their plates.

Surely, the state’s Jewish citizens will insist on the right to substitute the Star of David for the cross. Buddhists might insist on the image of the great Siddhartha Gautama plastered on their plates. Hindus might opt for a lotus symbol. Muslims might choose tags adorned with the Islamic crescent and star, if it weren’t for the mugging their image took on Sept. 11, 2001. These days, it might be dangerous to display that symbol on your South Carolina plates, unless you’re a Shriner.

Suppose we reach that level of freedom that gives us the unfettered right to keep and bear Uzis and AK-47s. Suppose we live in a state that allows all motorists to wear their religion on their license plates. Suppose the Pakistani population swells in this state as these Allah-worshiping people flee their crowded homeland to open more motels and convenience stores. Suppose they’re joined by immigrants from Indonesia, Jordan, Egypt, Saudi Arabia and other Muslim lands.

Suppose the cross-plate people take the peaceful crescent-and-star-plate people for agents of Al Qaida. Suppose the lotus-plate people decide to re-open the old wounds of 1947, when Muslims and Hindus slaughtered each other on the Indian subcontinent. Suppose religious passions rise to lethal levels, as they have so often through history. And our vehicles bristle with AK-47s and Uzis as we cruise the streets and highways. The blood on the Interstates won’t be just from head-on collisions between SUVs and semis. And the license plates will serve the same purpose as flags on the battlefield: to identify friend and foe.

I know, it’s far-fetched, and I’m not suggesting that it’s about to happen. But in theory, it could.

I am suggesting that religious identification is not the legitimate function of license plates. They should be there to assure that the vehicle is properly registered to use our tax-supported highways; to provide ready identification of lawbreakers; and, OK, to boost the ecnomic, social and recreational assets of the states that issue them.

The steeples in our towns, villages and countrysides testify to the predominant religion in the region.

I’d prefer to stick with the smiling faces and beautiful faces on my tags.

Readers may write Gene Owens at 317 Braeburn Drive, Anderson SC 29621, or e-mail him at WadesDixieco@aol.com