Hutzell: Maryland’s constitution is a can of worms. Let’s open it.

"We, the People of the State of Maryland, grateful to Almighty God for our civil and religious liberty, and taking into our serious consideration the best means of establishing a good Constitution in this State for the sure foundation and more permanent security thereof, declare:"

… that Maryland’s constitution is a mess.

Laid down in 1867 and topped with a declaration of 47 confusing, sometimes contradictory rights, it’s been covered in scribblings and cross-outs in attempts to adapt it to ever-evolving modern life — about 240 amendments, so far.

The constitution is like the brown paper under a summer feast of steamed crabs. Over 159 years, it’s been the start of many good things, but now it’s ripe for a change.

So, when Maryland lawmakers return to Annapolis Aug. 3-5, they will be the latest in a long series of constitutional fixer-uppers — this time, responding to national events.

Republicans are changing election rules across the country, egged on by President Donald Trump and aided by the U.S. Supreme Court’s conservative majority.

Many Maryland Democrats want to amend the state constitution to permit even more partisan congressional districts in response. State Republicans — well, in the realpolitik of the moment, nobody in power cares what they think.

As long as Democrats are opening the can of worms that is Maryland’s foundational document, why not examine all the wrigglers and see if we can do better?

The preamble is a clue that there’s lots of 19th- and 20th-century language in the constitution we don’t need. Federal judges have junked some of it over the years, but 47,000 words remain.

Article 36 and 37 of the Declaration of Rights, for example, bar a religious test for public office or jury duty, as long as you believe in God and an afterlife where you’ll be judged. The courts struck that down in 1961, but the words are still there.

Legislators probably left them there as a lasting testament to ​their unconstitutional belief.

If, as expected, Democrats and Gov. Wes Moore approve a constitutional change on redistricting, it will be the third amendment going before voters in November.

You’ve most likely never heard of the others.

One creates new rules for state labor-union negotiations and requires the governor to include contract costs in his or her budget proposal. The other would change how vacancies are filled on the commission that hears complaints about judges.

If those seem less than constitutional-amendment worthy, there’s plenty more to consider.

Trump kicked off the voting rights fight in hopes of keeping his MAGA movement in power for “100 years.” Long-accepted limits on campaign spending have been struck down, and he wants strict voter ID requirements and a ban on mail ballots.

Tit-for-tat, mid-decade redistricting by both parties came up short in Maryland when state Senate President Bill Ferguson said no.

Then the Supreme Court finished its dismantling of the 1964 Voting Rights Act, ending minority voter protections. Republican states promptly carved up minority districts to cancel out their votes, and, Ferguson, after surviving a tough Democratic primary, changed his mind.

Maryland lawmakers passed a bill this year that bars county and city officials from setting up barriers to voting based on race or language.

But they rejected adding those guarantees to Article I, which governs elections and voting. It was an odd choice. Who can vote, how they can vote — and when — is one of the constitution’s most frequently amended subjects.

Voters added a right to reproductive freedom two years ago, including a woman’s ability to prevent, continue or end a pregnancy. If reproduction is worth protecting, what about other weighty topics?

Civil War-era language on education underpins Maryland’s schools, but it’s vague. There’s no guarantee of knowledge needed to navigate a democracy or be economically competitive, just “a judicious system of general education.”

Education is second only to healthcare in the state budget. A constitutional standard for what we’re trying to achieve makes sense. For that matter, why not a right to healthcare?

If Marylanders had a right to clean air and water, the Chesapeake Bay would be cleaner and its foundational species in better health.

Or, if the constitution included a referendum initiative, one-party rule in the General Assembly might seem less obnoxious to non-Democrats. Voters can petition to put an issue on the ballot in 48 other states.

Right now, though, lawmakers should focus on the urgent issue: threats to our national elections.

Improving the constitution can wait for another day. It will arrive in November 2030.

Maryland last rewrote it after the Supreme Court struck down the state’s system for electing the General Assembly in 1964, a one-person, one-vote decision. The old method diluted the power of Baltimore and suburban votes by dividing seats equally among counties and the city.

Voters approved a convention, and delegates spent three years rethinking government.

Their 1968 proposal eliminated the Board of Public Works and an elected attorney general and comptroller. It modernized the courts and empowered counties to write their own laws.

Voters rejected it.

The path to a better constitution runs through Article XIV. The original drafters wrote it to give voters the power to call for a constitutional do-over.

The General Assembly, dominated by rural counties, ignored them twice. So lawmakers in 1956 put an automatic question on the ballot starting in 1970. Voters are asked every 20 years if they want a constitutional convention.

It was close in 2010. More than half voted yes. But the threshold for winning is strange — a majority of those who vote for governor.

The vote failed, 48%-52%.

Maryland voters will get another chance in four years. A convention, in such tumultuous times, will frighten many.

There will be good ideas and bad ones. Tax cap anyone? Open primaries? How about school system immigration checks?

Perhaps delegates and senators need 120-day sessions instead of 90. Think of all the things lawmakers could do with just a little more time.

On second thought, some worms are better left unturned.