And all the people said: “Advent? Don’t Catholics do that?”

This prickly response wasn’t all that unusual, in light of the history of Christmas in America, said Jones, who now teaches leadership and church ministry at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Ky.

“In the dominant American, Protestant traditions of this country, we’ve never had a Christian calendar that told us anything about Advent and the 12 days of Christmas,” explained Jones, author of “Church History Made Easy.”

“We went from the Puritans, and they hardly celebrated Christmas at all, to this privatized, individualized approach to the season that you see all around us. … If you mention the church calendar many people think you’ve gone Papist or something. They really don’t care what Christians did through the centuries.”

The history of Christmas has always been complicated, he noted, with religious rites colliding with traditions defined by family, community and commerce. However, the basic structure of the Advent and Christmas seasons has — until recently, historically speaking — remained the same.

In a short essay for laypeople, Jones noted that “Advent … comes to us from a Latin term that means ‘toward the coming.’ The purpose of this season was to look toward the coming of Christ to earth; it was a season that focused on waiting. As early as the 4th century A.D., Christians fasted during this season. … By the late Middle Ages, Advent preceded Christmas by 40 days in the Eastern Orthodox Church and by four weeks in western congregations.” Advent was then followed by the 12-day Christmas season.

For centuries, these seasons were shaped by traditions in extended families and small communities, patterns of rural and village life that endured from generation to generation, century after century, until the upheavals of the industrial revolution. During the 18th and 19th centuries, millions of people in Europe and then America pulled up their roots and moved into major cities.

Christmas evolved into a “gigantic party that ended up in the streets” to celebrate that legions of urban laborers were given a day off from work, noted Jones. It was a day for revelry, drinking, carousing and feasting, a holiday best observed in taverns and public houses instead of churches.

This was not a lovely Christmas tableau complete with candle-lit processions, prayers and carols. Something needed to be done.

Thus, Christmas began to change again. The goal was to create a kinder, gentler season, one centered in individual family homes. What emerged, with a big assist from advertising and other forms of mass media, was a “radically new and almost completely secular Christmas myth,” explained Jones. This was Christmas as pictured in the famous poem “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas,” popular songs, advertisements and scores of Thomas Nast cartoons.

Santa Claus replaced St. Nicholas and Advent vanished altogether, which was fine with most Americans because they never knew the season existed in the first place.

“What you had then was a holiday that was very appealing and positive, from an American, Protestant perspective,” said Jones. “It was very individualistic and centered on events in the family home, with all of that decorating, cooking, gift-giving and people traveling to be home for Christmas.

“This left you one step away from the full-blown commercialization of Christmas that took over in the 20th Century.”

Jones stressed that he isn’t naive enough to think that churches can turn this around by printing some Advent brochures to help families add another wrinkle to an already complex season. Still, it wouldn’t hurt for pastors and parents to stop and think about ways to let Advent be Advent and then to let Christmas be Christmas.

“Americans don’t like to wait,” he said. “We want what we want and we want it now. … That’s the way that we do Christmas. We mix and we match, taking a little bit of this and a whole lot of that. We rush around trying to create the Christmas we think is going to work for us.

“But Advent asks us to slow down and wait — to wait for Christmas. Most people don’t think that approach will work very well at all.”

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On his way home from a business call, he drove past the Greater Pleasant View Baptist Church in Brentwood, Tenn. As usual, the no-tech sign out front offered a folksy thought for the week. This one caught his eye.

“He who kneels before God can stand before anyone,” it said, in black, movable letters inserted by hand into slots on a plain white background.

Seitz pulled over and got out of his car to study the sign.

“It’s all about timing,” he said. “I’ve driven past thousands of church signs in my life, but this was the right sign on the right day. It got me. That’s the thing about these signs. They grab you when you least expect it. They move you, somehow.”

Before long, the president of Redbird Music crossed the line between intrigued and somewhat obsessed.

Along with his wife and their young son, he packed their car full of camera equipment and “lots of sippy cups” and hit the road. His goal was to find as many of these old-fashioned signs as possible — the kind that say things like “Coincidence is when God chooses to remain anonymous,” “Exercise daily, walk with the Lord,” “God answers knee mail” and “Give God what is right, not what is left.”

They spread their trips over three years and Seitz stopped keeping track of the miles after they passed the 20,000 mark. The result was “The Great American Book of Church Signs,” which contains 100 photographs taken in nearly 40 states. The pilgrimage, he said, was like reading “one long American sermon.”

Seitz did have questions. He wondered if these signs are still common at rural churches, but rarely used by city megachurches. Also, do some denominations embrace them, while others they are too simplistic? Would he find a red-church vs. blue-church pattern?

Many of his preconceptions were based on his experiences living and driving in the Bible Belt, especially two-lane roads in the Southeast.

“This book could have been done in Tennessee, alone. In fact, I think I could have done a whole book in Nashville,” said Seitz, laughing. “In this part of the world, you can throw a rock in just about any direction and hit four or five churches that have these signs. …

“Church signs are more common in some places than others, but if you keep looking you’ll find them at all kinds of churches all over the country.”

Thus, the Harmony Hill Church of God in Fayetteville, Tenn., proclaimed, “Faith is a journey, not a destination.” But Seitz also found a sign that said, “Love God with all of your heart, then do whatever you want” in front of the Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church in New York, New York.

The Tompkinsville (Ken.) Church of Christ’s sign warned rural drivers that, “A dam holds water back. It’s not my last name. God.” On the other side of the doctrinal aisle, the sign at the South Church Unitarian Universalist sanctuary in Portsmouth, N.H., announced — with typically broad-minded sentiments — that, “True religion is the life we lead, not the creed we profess.”

Seitz said he was surprised that he saw very few signs that included political themes, although it was easy to read between the lines of one that said, “The Ten Commandments are still posted here.” It was

also easy to interpret another marquee that stressed, “God is not a Republican or a Democrat.”

This is not advanced theology. The message on a typical sign is only eight words long and is the product of a volunteer’s clever imagination, research in old church bulletins or, in the digital age, a quick search on the World Wide Web. Most combine a chuckle with a moral message that strives to appeal to strangers as well as members.

After all of his travels, Seitz decided that the archetypal church-sign message was this one: “Life is fragile. Handle with prayer.”

“It’s succinct, it has that little pun in there and it’s powerful, if you think about it for a minute,” he said. “That’s the essence of a good church sign message. That’s what you’re trying to do — get people to stop and think for a minute.”

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People want to know how many dollars are coming in and where they are going and why. Hood is the man with the numbers, since he is the Salvation Army’s community relations officer. In the past year, about 3.5 million Army volunteers and about 70,000 employees have helped more than 34 million needy people.

“If you look at those numbers, we’re in good shape and it certainly seems like we’re going to keep getting stronger,” said Hood, hours before being buried in kick-off events for the 2005 red-kettle campaign. “We’re thankful for that.”

But there is another side of the equation, admitted Hood. As a charity, the Salvation Army is rolling with the punches — political, cultural and, in recent years, meteorological. But as a church, and as an evangelistic movement, the recent numbers are sobering.

The Army has about 3,500 ordained officers and 113,000 soldiers who have signed the statement of faith called “A Soldier’s Covenant,” with roughly 35,000 of those being “junior soldiers” under the age of 14.

On a typical Sunday, about 130,000 people attend services in 1316 corps community centers. Three decades ago the Army’s four seminaries were full. Today, there are active attempts to find more adults who are willing to serve and the average age of officers — old and new — is rising.

“Those numbers have been flat for a number of years and, frankly, that has people talking about our future,” said Hood. “Of course, it’s still a mystery to a lot of people that we are a church, so we have to keep reminding people of that. People say, ‘I had no idea that you’re a church, too.’ …

“Are we a church or are we a charity? People have been asking that for ages. The answer, of course, is that we’re both.”

Meanwhile, the Salvation Army’s status as a church has been linked to some nasty headlines in recent years. According to the conservative National Clergy Council, a boycott of the red kettles by gay-rights groups may have contributed to the decision by Target executives to enforce their ban on solicitations outside their stores. Army leaders have insisted that, as a church, they have a right to let their traditional Christian doctrines on sex and marriage shape some employee policies and benefits.

Of course, it’s also newsworthy that those bell-ringing volunteers keep greeting shoppers with the controversial words, “Merry Christmas!”

This year, stressed Hood, the Salvation Army has worked out a compromise with Target in which online customers can make some holiday purchases for the needy. However, a few conservative religious groups are targeting Target by reminding their members that the red kettles are alive and well at many other stores.

Hood confirmed that the two-year controversy has not hurt donations. The kettles took in $93 million in 2003, including $9 million at Target stores. After the 2004 Target ban, the kettles took in $103 million, including $17 million at Wal-Mart and Sam’s Club locations.

It does appear, said Hood, that the Salvation Army is maintaining its niche in the American imagination. The public has responded well to its pledge to keep “doing the most good to the most people in the most need.” The question is whether people understand why the Salvation Army is doing the work that it does. After all, the word “salvation” is still in the brand name.

Army officers are trying new things. Some are working with Harley-Davidson motorcycle clubs to reach out to bikers. Some corps centers are starting “church on wheels” programs with buses that take worship services directly to needy neighborhoods. Others are trying to make Sunday services “more charismatic and more contemporary.”

Can the Salvation Army replace brass bands with rock bands?

“People admire what we do, but they would prefer to worship at a Baptist church or a Presbyterian church or that megachurch that’s in their neighborhood,” said Hood. “They’ll donate money to us and volunteer to help, but they don’t want to worship with us on Sunday mornings. …

“We still have people who think that all of our soldiers are off living in a barracks somewhere. People don’t understand who we are.”

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Then again, these products do not include pronouncements on sin, sex, money, marriage, heaven, hell and a host of spiritual issues — including the belief that salvation comes through faith in a messiah named Jesus.

So International Bible Society leaders were not surprised that some people were upset by their decision to distribute 91,000 New Testaments in a pre-Christmas edition of the Colorado Springs Gazette. They were surprised when the project made national headlines, inspiring debate about free speech, religious tolerance and the role of newspapers in the marketplace of ideas.

“Whenever we try to put the word of God into people’s hands there are going to be negative reactions. We have to accept that as a given,” said Bob Jackson, head of this national project. “You’re going to hear from atheists and agnostics. You’re going to hear from people in other faiths and Christians who disagree with what you’re doing. … We know that this stirs up emotions that you just don’t see when you are giving away packets of oatmeal.”

Right now, the Colorado Springs-based Bible society is evaluating the results of this New Testament project, which was funded by 125 nearby churches, businesses and evangelical ministries, such as Focus on the Family and Youth for Christ. Jackson said it cost $125,000 to print and distribute the 200-page volume, with its cover photo of Pikes Peak and testimonies by local believers.

Some Jewish and Muslim readers protested, arguing that the “Our City” title implied that Colorado Springs was an all-Christian community. Other critics said it was wrong for a mainstream newspaper — which was paid its standard fee for such an insert — to distribute material that was unapologetically evangelistic.

After all, the back cover said: “The heart and soul of the Bible is its account of God’s intention to bring all things back to Himself. That includes this great place. And that includes you. This New Testament is being given to you to help you find your place in this drama of restoration.”

The New York Times reported that the Gazette received 195 positive reactions and 69 negative, with five readers canceling their subscriptions.

While declining to discuss the future, Jackson said he has received calls from supporters for possible efforts to distribute customized New Testaments in the mainstream newspapers in at least 20 U.S. cities. He would not confirm or deny press reports about Denver, Nashville, Seattle and Santa Rosa, Calif.

Meanwhile, the International Bible Society has been involved in another tussle in the mass-media marketplace — Rolling Stone’s refusal to advertise its new youth-oriented Today’s New International Version of the Bible. While Modern Bride, The Onion, MTV and some other outlets cooperated, Rolling Stone cited an unwritten policy against religious messages in ads.

While avoiding obvious God-talk, the Zondervan ad did carry this blunt slogan: “Timeless truth; Today’s language.”

Rolling Stone balked and then, this week, quietly relented.

The bottom line, said Jackson, is that it’s hard for religious organizations to take their messages into the public square without stepping on some toes.

The Bible society freely admits that its goal is to get New Testaments into the hands of people who are not already Christian believers. The goal is to reach “seekers” or even active opponents of the faith, said Jackson. Some may decide to read some of it, simply to “see what all of the fuss is about.” Others may throw it in a drawer and then, weeks or months later, pull it out in the midst of some personal trial.

This is the hard truth. From the “Our City” team’s evangelical perspective, the people who need to be reached are almost certainly the same people who are most likely to be offended.

“We really believe that we are trying to share the powerful word of God. We believe it can change lives,” he said. “So we believe that we’re doing what God has commanded us to do. We can’t stop trying, because we sincerely believe that lives will be changed — even among those who oppose us. You just can’t reach the searchers without offending people.”

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