It sounded sacrilegious, but the question had to be asked: Why should I, or anybody in Orange County, care one bit?

That was the bottom line of my conversation Monday with the Rev. Ly Van Nguyen in central Vietnam. Since November, he has led a protest for religious rights against his nation's government. Other faiths - Buddhist, Hoa Hao, Cao Dai, Protestant - have joined the campaign. And last weekend, more than 10,000 people signed petitions in Little Saigon to demand religious liberties for their homeland.

But why would others, who have no connection to Vietnam, care? What effect does state oppression have on people living oceans and continents away? Why is Nguyen pleading with folks abroad to spearhead the calls for reform in his country?

"Anyone with a conscience should worry," he says, "because the freedom to worship your creator is the most fundamental, intrinsic right on earth. We in Vietnam don't have the luxury to speak out, but you do."

The devil's advocate in me persists. Just what did Nguyen mean by lack of spiritual autonomy? Tourists who travel to Vietnam see citizens able to attend church, light incense at temples, keep altars in their homes. If Communist officials there are truly evil, why do they allow the masses to worship?

Because the world would rebel if they squashed religion altogether. Vietnam's leaders must tolerate minimal spiritual practice to avoid international sanctions. Besides, they know it's impossible to wipe out every underground religious movement.

They put forth their best effort anyway.

Vietnam's politburo manages nearly every facet of religion. It has established puppet governing boards for each religious body. It controls the education at seminaries and monasteries.

That's barely the whole story.

In Vietnam, the state regulates all religious publishing. It bans "unauthorized" spiritual assemblies, anything from home-study groups to pilgrimages to conventions. It tries to forbid evangelism, regularly confiscating Bibles at its airports.

Naturally, Vietnam's spinmeisters label the accusations slanderous. Yet all these violations have been documented by the U.S. State Department and reputable human-rights groups such as Amnesty International, Freedom House and Asia Watch.

The tactics have largely succeeded at silencing Vietnam's citizenry. People dare not rebel. They look at the fate of thousands who have spoken out - defiant voices like Nguyen's.

The priest, 53, has openly opposed his government since 1977. He spent almost 11 years in prison for writing and distributing material advocating religious freedom. Since the Vietnam War ended, thousands of other religious leaders have been arrested without charge, jailed, tortured, executed.

For several years now, Nguyen has served "exile" by being relegated to a small Catholic community of about 80 in Hue. The breaking point came in late November, when Communist officials confiscated church land used by Catholic villagers to plant rice. It was retaliation for Nguyen's latest proclamation against state discrimination.

Nguyen and his parishioners could bear it no more. They refused to hand over the property. They hung a banner above the entrance of their church: "We Need Freedom of Religion." They begged the outside world to support their cause.

Ever since, undercover police have surrounded Nguyen's church 24 hours a day. They trail him wherever he goes. But, I wonder, why hasn't the government hauled him to prison?

"Attention from abroad has kept me safe," Nguyen says. "That's why it's so important for you in Orange County to spread the message."

Still, being aware doesn't automatically translate into caring.

"You should be outraged," Nguyen nearly shouts, "because religious freedom is the highest, noblest liberty there is. Without it, there's no right to free speech, free assembly, free ..."

I jump in: There would also be no right to a free mind. Vietnam's government doesn't want people to think for themselves, because that would challenge its authority. Such condescension is a reviling insult.

Few things arouse more passion in us than religion. It is, for most of the world, the basis for our values, faith and ultimate purpose in life. It is nothing less than the core of many people's identity. Even I, an agnostic, can appreciate this fact.

We're fortunate, among other privileges, to decide how and whether to worship. With that freedom comes a responsibility to help others who don't have a choice.