There is no surer way of bringing the simmering debate about the role of religion in Australia to a full boil than by invoking the money and tax concessions given by government to fund certain religious activities.

In no time, what already tends to be a fairly uncivil argument devolves into bitter invective against the supposedly theocratic designs of the churches from one side, and dismissive assertions of a kind of historically legitimate Christian "exceptionalism" from the other."

I believe that both extremes in this debate are wrong: the "secularists" because they assume that once religion is removed from public-political life, and consigned to interiority (where they assume it belongs, if anywhere), the secular space that is left will be neutral, benign and inherently just; and the Christian "exceptionalists" because they think that God's providential care of the world can be mediated through political coercion, and because they do not believe that being on the payroll of the state is hazardous to the soul of Christianity itself.

Both extremes, it seems to me, reflect a crisis of identity: secularism suffers from a kind of self-reinforcing delusion, whereby it can give no coherent historical or philosophical account of what secularism in fact is and how it came about, other than that it represents some sort of "natural" or spontaneous human condition that emerges once the constraints of religion have been removed (as Charles Hirschkind has argued, this delusion is nowhere more apparent than in our contemporary biomedical practices).

Likewise, Christian "exceptionalists" seem to have so tenuous a grasp on Christian theology and the nature of Christian witness that they assume that the staggering decline in church attendance, and therefore the diminishment of its capacity for charity and beneficence, is best mitigated by softening its message, by adapting its mode of worship to accommodate religious "consumers" and by appealing to government funding and tax-breaks, as if from the hand of God, to make up the shortfall.

I would argue that the very assumption - on the part of said Christian "exceptionalists" - of a kind of "entitlement" to government funds, and to a place of relative privilege in Australian law and society, and to access to the corridors of power actively undermines the credibility of Christianity in Australia and effectively neuters its ability to bear faithful witness to Jesus Christ.

Christianity in Australia ought to be distinguished by its willingness to embrace a kind of self-imposed vulnerability, precisely because it relies on the health and charity of local, organic communities of Christian disciples - which the Church has long believed is the immediate sphere of God's activity and providence - and not on the largesse of the state. The great irony, of course, is that the increase in Christian political lobbying has been inversely proportional to the health of local Christian churches.

For all these reasons, and precisely as a Christian, I have serious doubts about the theological and ethical legitimacy of any National School Chaplaincy Program (quite apart from my concerns about the political cynicism involved in Julia Gillard's expansion of the program, about which I've written at some length.

I should clarify that I am not opposed to chaplains per se: if a public school sees some benefit in the provision of pastoral care to its students, there should be nothing preventing the voluntary formation of an organic relationship with a local church or churches to provide such care as an act of service. And there is no reason why, in this instance, the chaplain shouldn't see her activity as effectively bearing witness to her faith in Jesus Christ.

But under the current arrangement, because of the top-down provision of government funds, the mediation of state-level providers (such as Scripture Union), the lack of adequately (by which I mean theologically and pastorally) trained chaplains, and the concern to avoid the appearance of publicly-funded "proselytising," the relationship between the chaplain and the school is marred from the outset.

Not only are schools left vulnerable to those that would use chaplaincy as a kind of ruse to funnel children into their churches, but even the more honest chaplains are left uncertain about their role in the life of the school, and frequently find themselves being enlisted as a teacher's aid or, worse, a general dogsbody.

This, I hope, provides something of the rationale behind the comments on the National School Chaplaincy Program that I made during a now relatively notorious interview I did last week with ABC Local Radio in Brisbane (you can listen to the full interview under related audio). Here is the portion that has attracted some attention:

As soon as you throw federal funds at something like chaplaincy, it seems to me that you're asking for trouble... I don't think federal money should go toward school chaplaincy. But I do think there is a place for ongoing, grassroots, organic relationships between local schools and local churches... I think we should allow those kinds of local relationships to flourish...

But as soon as you throw federal money at something like this, you are muddying the waters, you are creating a kind of ethical nightmare... It seems to me that as soon as churches and church leaders have to start lobbying the Government to guarantee their funding and defend their relative place of privilege within Australian society - whether it be through government funds or tax concessions or legislation - I think that's a sure sign that they no longer believe in God. This is a certain way for churches to lose their very reason for being and become little more than a glorified, not-for-profit, state-services provider.

Anyway, those are my thoughts on the matter. I'm very interested to read yours...

Scott Stephens is the Religion and Ethics Editor for the ABC.