On this particular day, I had the privilege of asking questions of the dozen or so immigrants who had just become citizens of the United States.

We talked about the entire political scene — how people became candidates, for instance. They looked at the system and wondered why money was so important to the process. We talked about candidates, and the immigrants emphatically said they were astounded at the lying that had been done by both presidential hopefuls.

Most of those new citizens had concluded the best way to choose a candidate was to follow one’s heart. In other words, after watching debates and advertisements and reading articles, a person starts to get a feeling for the candidates. And eventually a person begins to favor one.

And then the heart opens and the candidate becomes a part of one’s faith and hope. That’s the one who gets the vote.

Then I asked the group the explosive question, “So, who are you going to vote for?”

For them, hearing that question was like being thrown back into the constraints of communist politics. Some winced and sprang back, as if they were surprised. Then one person said defiantly, “We don’t have to tell you.”

And the rest of the group sang along and repeated the phrase, “We don’t have to tell you.”

Obviously, they were using their newfound freedom to tell me to mind my own business. I had no power to pull the answer from them. You can imagine how delighted they were with their political power and how they laughed until I joined in their hard-won joy.

Since then, that little scene has replayed itself in my mind over and over and has become a symbol of the authority we have over our political future. Never in our history has any regime or person been able to shake that foundation. Every vote we make is sacred.

On the other hand, there are people who must tell which way they are leaning or, in some cases, which way they intend to vote. “Of course, I am voting for Bush,” they will say. Or, “I think Gore is going to wipe the floor with W. Bush.”

And those of us who believe our vote is secret and sacred nod knowingly and move beyond the scene. It may baffle us that votes are so easily exposed. But it is a fact of American life that for some people, voting is no longer considered a sacred duty.

But what is it that makes voting such a sacred act? I think it has to do with reaching out to the vulnerable people of our world. I mean, when do you really have a chance to make an impact on the lives of people who can’t rise above their daily circumstances?

For instance, what if there is a child born into a desperate family, without adult guidance or spiritual direction? How could most of us reach out to help that child?

What if there are adults not capable of understanding the complexities of our culture? How do you touch their lives?

And if it should happen that there are entire nations of people, oppressed and imprisoned in a system — how can you help them and fulfill your religious obligation for mercy and justice?

I have always thought of political systems as tools I can use to help people with extraordinary needs. When politicians start talking about dumping agencies and policies for helping disadvantaged children and forging new possibilities for older people, that’s when I get suspicious. Because helping others is exactly what I think good politics can accomplish.

If you are a religious person, there has to be a way in this country for you to vote your convictions. I don’t mean a soft commitment, but rather a hard, tough kind of political decision that drives and hammers your concerns.

In your next trip to a polling place, try to remember the principles that inform your religious life. Is your religion designed to make more money for you or get special entitlements from government? Or does your religion focus on others, the people who wander helplessly in our society, looking for justice and a sure way to survive?

The way you vote often determines the religion you embrace. Or is it the other way around?

Clark D. Morphew