Call him “Adam.” He is a church administrator, a “worship minister” and a self-proclaimed “atheist agnostic.” That last detail is a secret. After all, his wife and teen-aged children are devout believers and he needs to stay employed.

“Here’s how I’m handling my job. … I see it as playacting. I kind of see myself as taking on a role of a believer in a worship service, and performing,” he said, during an interview for the “Preachers who are not Believers (.pdf)” report from the Center for Cognitive Studies at Tufts University.

“I know how to pray publicly. I can lead singing. I love singing. I don’t believe what I’m saying anymore in some of these songs. But I see it as taking on the role and performing. Maybe that’s what it takes for me to get myself through this, but that’s what I’m doing.”

The researchers behind this report do not claim they can document whether this phenomenon is rare or common. What they have right now is anecdotal material drawn from confidential interviews with five male Protestant ministers — three in liberal denominations and two from flocks that, as a rule, are conservative. An ordained Episcopal Church woman was interviewed, but withdrew just before publication.

The authors of the report are philosopher Daniel C. Dennett, an outspoken leader in the movement many call the “New Atheism,” and Linda LaScola, a clinical social worker with years of qualitative research experience. She is also an atheist, but, until recently, was a regular churchgoer.

“We started with a pilot study because this is very new ground,” said LaScola, who conducted the interviews. “We are planning to do a larger study in the future.”

The key is circulating this early material and then finding more ministers who are willing to be interviewed. The initial participants were found through contacts with the Center For Progressive Christianity and the Freedom from Religion Foundation. As this report candidly states: “Our sample is small and self-selected, and it is not surprising that all of our pastors think that they are the tip of an iceberg, but they are also utterly unable to confirm this belief.”

What unites these ministers is their isolation from the believers in their pews, their awareness that they cannot honestly discuss their doubts and evolving beliefs. They also struggle with labels such as “atheist” or “agnostic,” often insisting that they remain believers of some kind — although they reject Christian doctrines or even theism.

This tension, the authors stressed, is “no accident” in these postmodern times.

“The ambiguity about who is a believer and who a nonbeliever follows inexorably from the pluralism that has been assiduously fostered by many religious leaders for a century and more: God is many different things to different people, and since we can’t know if one of these conceptions is the right one, we should honor them all,” noted Dennett and LaScola. “This counsel of tolerance creates a gentle fog that shrouds the question of belief in God in so much indeterminacy that if asked whether they believed in God, many people could sincerely say that they don’t know what they are being asked.”

More than anything else, the report offers a striking mix of voices and motives.

“Darryl” the Presbyterian still calls himself a “Jesus Follower,” but adds: “I reject the virgin birth. I reject substitutionary atonement. I reject the divinity of Jesus. I reject heaven and hell in the traditional sense, and I am not alone.”

There’s “Wes” the United Methodist: “I think the word God can be used very expressively in some of my more meditative modes. I’ve thought of God as a kind of poetry that’s written by human beings.”

A retired United Church of Christ pastor, “Rick,” has learned to add this subtle disclaimer when reciting creeds: “Let us remember our forefathers and mothers in the faith who said, ‘dot, dot, dot, dot’.”

“Jack” the Southern Baptist has concluded that the “grand scheme of Christianity, for me, is a bunch of bunk.” Thus, he is quietly planning a new career.

“If somebody said, ‘Here’s $200,000,’ I’d be turning my notice in this week, saying, ‘A month from now is my last Sunday.’ Because then I can pay off everything.”

The Rev. Jim Wallis of Sojourners saw a campaign button based on this one liner and, on the “Interfaith Voices” public radio show, said it was a fine response to Gov. Sarah Palin’s jab at the work of “community organizers.”

Donna Brazile — who ran Al Gore’s 2000 White House campaign — saw the same gag and, on CNN, quickly linked it to the Bible’s message that “to whom much is given, much is required.”

But this cyberspace quip finally made the crucial jump to YouTube when U.S. Rep. Steve Cohen took to the House floor to remind conservatives “Barack Obama was a community organizer like Jesus. … Pontius Pilate was a governor.”

Cohen later emphasized that, “I didn?t and I wouldn’t compare anyone to Jesus. … What I pointed out was that Jesus was a force of change.” But the apology came too late to douse the fiery rhetoric raging on talk radio and weblogs.

In particular, the soundbite used by Cohen and others captured the rising tide of religious tensions in this White House race. This conflict has been heightened by the powerful role played by religious liberals in Obama’s groundbreaking outreach efforts in a wide variety of sanctuaries.

Obama is, after all, an articulate, proud member of the denomination — the United Church of Christ — that has in recent decades boldly pushed mainline Protestant to the doctrinal left on issues such as gay rights, abortion and the tolerance of other world religions. His running mate, Sen. Joe Biden, is an outspoken American Catholic whose progressive views have often placed him in dangerous territory between his political party and the Vatican.

Sen. John McCain, meanwhile, used to be an Episcopalian married to a beer-empire heiress, the very model of a mainline Protestant gentleman from the 1950s. Then he started visiting Southern Baptist pews while mending fences on the religious right. Finally, McCain shuffled the 2008 deck by naming Palin — an enthusiastic evangelical mother of five children — as his running mate.

This move rocked the pews on both sides of the sanctuary aisle, but Palin’s ascension has caused an unusual degree of shock, anger, dismay and distain on the secular and religious left.

The political weblog Instapundit summed up the mood on the cultural left with this headline: “She’s the freakin’ Antichrist, I tell you!”

For author Deepak Chopra, a superstar in the spirituality marketplace, Palin is, quite literally, the anti-Obama. She is a living symbol of all that is wrong with small-town, parochial, ignorant, reactionary Middle America, especially with her “family values” code language that opposes expanding doctrines of civil rights.

“She is the reverse of Barack Obama, in essence his shadow, deriding his idealism and exhorting people to obey their worst impulses,” he argued, at The Huffington Post. “In psychological terms the shadow is that part of the psyche that hides out of sight, countering our aspirations, virtue and vision with qualities we are ashamed to face: anger, fear, revenge, violence, selfishness, and suspicion of ‘the other.’ ”

Obama, however, is “calling for us to reach for our higher selves,” said Chopra.

The ultimate irony is the GOP’s assumption that Palin will appeal to women just because “she has a womb and makes lots and lots of babies,” argued religious historian Wendy Doniger of the University of Chicago’s Divinity School.

“Her greatest hypocrisy is in her pretense that she is a woman,” she wrote, in an “On Faith” essay for the Washington Post. “She does not speak for women; she has no sympathy for the problems of other women, particularly working class women.”

But can anyone, in the current political atmosphere, top the Palin as Pontius Pilate smack down? University of Michigan historian Juan Cole, a specialist in Middle Eastern and South Asian affairs, offered Salon.com his best shot.

When it comes to faith and politics, he said, the values of McCain’s “handpicked running mate, Sarah Palin, more resemble those of Muslim fundamentalists than they do those of the Founding Fathers. On censorship, the teaching of creationism in schools, reproductive rights, attributing government policy to God’s will and climate change, Palin agrees with Hamas and Saudi Arabia rather than supporting tolerance and democratic precepts.

“What is the difference between Palin and a Muslim fundamentalist? Lipstick.”

Here’s the news, as harvested on the Internet by experts at Snopes.com, a giant website dedicated to researching urban legends.

“Hi! I just wanted to inform you what I just learned about a movie that is coming out December 7, during the Christmas season, which is entitled ‘The Golden Compass.’ … What is disturbing to me is that this movie is based on the first of a trilogy of books for children called ‘His Dark Materials’ written by Philip Pullman of England.

“He’s an atheist and his objective is to bash Christianity and promote atheism. I heard that he has made remarks that he wants to kill God in the minds of children, and that’s what his books are about.”

Snopes.com researched the many issues raised in this message — concluding that these emails are (you may want to sit down) essentially true.

It’s even true that Pullman devotees have accused New Line executives of editing out some of the book’s juicier heresies in an attempt to offend fewer Christian consumers. After all, the studio has about $180 million invested in this project and would like to make two more movies based on the award-winning trilogy.

“What’s really amazing is that all of those evangelical and Catholic critics have been aiming their heavy artillery at J.K. Rowling and the Harry Potter books, when they could have been firing at Pullman, whose books came out first,” said Sandra Miesel, co-author of the upcoming book “Pied Piper of Atheism: Philip Pullman and Children’s Fantasy Literature.”

“Pullman is brilliant at hiding what he’s really saying,” she added. “Also, his books were marketed for people with more elite tastes. Once they started winning awards, they became more popular. And now, here come the movies, so people are really starting to pay attention.”

Pullman has, however, never been soft spoken. In one famous interview with the Sydney Morning Herald, he expressed amazement that Rowling’s Potter books took more flak in Bible Belt America than his own.

“I’ve been flying under the radar, saying things that are far more subversive than anything poor old Harry has said. My books are about killing God,” he explained. As for his own beliefs, he added: “If we’re talking on the scale of human life and the things we see around us, I’m an atheist. There’s no God here. There never was. But if you go out into the vastness of space, well, I’m not so sure.”

As a writer, Pullman greatly admires Milton’s 17th-century classic “Paradise Lost,” with its battles between good and evil to determine who will rule heaven. The “His Dark Materials” trilogy covers similar territory and tries to turn the tables through the triumph of two young adventurers, Lyra and Will. The goal is for this couple — a new Eve and Adam — to eat forbidden fruit and, this time around, destroy God.

Along the way, Pullman serves up clergy who kidnap and torture children, visitations from gay angels, fickle witches patrolling the skies, a wise shaman, warrior polar bears, a brilliant ex-nun and plenty of opportunities for children to get in touch with their inner “daemons,” the talking-animal spirits who represent their souls.

At the heart of the story is a substance called “Dust,” which may or may not be Original Sin in a physical form. Then again, Pullman recently told Atlantic Monthly that “Dust” is evidence of a godlike energy unleashed when people gain wisdom, explore their emotions, challenge authority and — especially for adolescents — explore their sexuality.

Meanwhile, evil incarnate has a name in Pullman’s books — the “Church.” Its bishops wear purple, its cardinals wear red and there is a Vatican with fancy guards. By the end of the trilogy, the ultimate villain has been identified as, “The Authority, God, the Creator, the Lord, Yahweh, El, Adonai, the King, the Father, the Almighty.”

In the movie, however, “Magisterium” is always used instead of “Church.” These forces of evil are, however, fond of Orthodox Christian iconography and Bible verses written in Latin.

“I guess it helps to know that the word ‘Magisterium’ is the term used to describe the teaching office of the Catholic Church,” said Miesel. “That’s really subtle. … Actually, it’s not very subtle at all.”

No, wait, honest. Stop laughing.

The leaders of a liberal advocacy group called Media Matters for America recently released a study entitled “Left Behind: The Skewed Representation of Religion in Major News Media” that says journalists consistently dedicate more ink to covering conservative leaders than to those on the left side of the spectrum.

“Coverage of religion not only over represents some voices and under represents others, it does so in a way that is consistently advantageous to conservatives,” according to the study. “Religion is often depicted in the news media as a politically divisive force, with two sides roughly paralleling the broader political divide: On one side are cultural conservatives who ground their political values in religious beliefs; and on the other side are secular liberals, who have opted out of debates that center on religious-based values.”

The bottom line, according to Media Matters, is that religious conservatives were “quoted, mentioned or interviewed” 2.8 times more often than liberals. The study focused on coverage between the 2004 election — the “values voters” earthquake — and the end of 2006. It focused on coverage in major secular newspapers, the three major broadcast television networks, major cable news channels and PBS.

With a few exceptions, the study contrasted the coverage of a small circle of evangelical Protestants with the coverage of a more complex list of liberal mainline Protestants, progressive evangelicals and others.

The 10 conservatives included James Dobson of Focus on the Family, Charles Colson of Prison Fellowship, Franklin Graham of the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, Richard Land of the Southern Baptist Convention’s Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission, Pat Robertson of the Christian Broadcasting Network and the late Jerry Falwell, founder of the Moral Majority.

The 10 liberals and “progressives” included Robert Edgar of the National Council of Churches of Christ, C. Weldon Gaddy of the Interfaith Alliance, Rabbi David Saperstein of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism, Jesse Jackson of the Rainbow Coalition and Jim Wallis of Sojourners.

Were these lists fair representations of a spectrum of beliefs on either the left or the right? The conservative list does not, for example, include a representative or two drawn from the ranks of Roman Catholic clergy, Jewish rabbis or doctrinally conservative mainline Protestants. The list on the left is better, but there are glaring omissions — such as Barry Lynn of Americans United for Separation of Church and State or the Episcopal Church’s Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori.

It is certainly true that leaders on the religious right have drawn more than their share of news coverage during recent decades of American political life. However this raises a crucial question, which is whether religious movements should be judged by the political maneuvers of a handful of outspoken leaders. Should politics always trump doctrine?

Meanwhile, many conservative evangelicals, Catholics, Eastern Orthodox believers and others have to cringe whenever they see themselves represented in the national media by more quotes from Dobson or Robertson. Who are the leaders on the religious left who make other liberals cringe whenever they open their mouths?

So why have a few religious conservatives dominated the news, while religious liberals have been left in the shadows?

For starters, conservative groups have been growing in size and power, while liberal groups — especially mainline Protestant churches — have lost millions of members. Journalists pay special attention to groups that they believe are gaining power.

Journalists also focus on trends that they consider strange, bizarre and even disturbing. Certainly, one of the hottest news stories in the past quarter century of American life has been the rise of the religious right and its political union with the Republican Party. For many elite journalists, this story has resembled the vandals arriving to sack Rome.

One of the nation’s top religion writers heard an even more cynical theory to explain this evidence that journalists seem eager to quote conservatives more than liberals when covering religion news.

“Personally, I think there’s much truth to what the study claims,” said Gary Stern of the Journal News in Westchester, N.Y., in a weblog post. “But why? Some progressive religious leaders have told me one theory: that media people are anti-religion, so they trot out angry, self-righteous, conservative voices who make all religion look bad.”

This would cause any latte-sipping liberal to mutter “Oh my goddess” and worry about legions of Focus on the Family donors invading Wiccan book clubs in Unitarian sanctuaries from sea to shining sea.

Does thinking about this give you sweaty palms? If so, writer Robert Lanham of New York City believes you may be suffering from “Evangophobia.”

“It’s a healthy fear. … The evangelical right isn’t the new counterculture. It’s the new mainstream culture,” notes Lanham, in his book “The Sinner’s Guide to the Evangelical Right.”

“Worst of all, many evangelicals aren’t content watching The 700 Club and attending laser-light projections of the crucifixion at the local megachurch. They want to transform the culture you consume to fit their standards. … And compounded by the fact that evangelicals often share similar goals with conservative Jews, Catholics and Bill O’Reilly, we may soon witness a ratings’ sweeps plotline where Will marries Grace after attending a gay deprogramming class.”

Lanham realizes that evangelical politicos haven’t won many national victories on the hot-button issues that worry him the most — gay rights and abortion. Nevertheless, he is convinced that alliances between conservative believers and secular conservatives have resulted in “trickle down” policies on taxes, health care, environmental laws and strategies in the Middle East.

“Fundamentalists of every kind,” he said, “keep clinging to beliefs that can be very destructive. They are advocating religious teachings that divide people, rather than bind them together. … They are always on the attack and if we don’t buckle down, the next thing you know, they will be running the country — again.”

It helps to understand that Lanham grew up in a non-dancing Southern Baptist home in Richmond, Va. Things got even worse, he said, when he was a teen-ager and his parents joined the kind of Pentecostal flock that “used live camels in the Easter pageant.”

Virginia Commonwealth University beckoned, where Lanham majored in English and religion and soon discovered that his activities on Fridays and Saturdays were trumping beliefs he had been taught on Sundays. Before long he was writing “The Hipster Handbook” and his fiction trilogy “Pre-Coitus,” “Coitus” and “Aftermath.”

The new book on evangelicals contains more of what Publisher’s Weekly called his unique brand of “caricature assassination.” Thus, there are angry mini-profiles of alpha males like Dr. James Dobson (“The Evangelical Pope”), Tim LaHaye (“The Evangelical Stephen King”) and the young Joel Osteen (“The Evangelical P. Diddy”). Along the way, he mocks the doctrine of the Trinity, rips into the Gospel of John and, with a note of sadness, confesses that liberal mainline churches have become fading enclaves for

“old people and pansies” who use hymnals.

Lanham stressed that he really doesn’t hate evangelicals, conservative Catholics, Orthodox Jews and other traditionalists. He does, however, believe that most evangelicals are guilty of “dumbing down the faith” and consuming shoddy Christian consumer goods that deserve ridicule. Thus, his list of modern evangelical commandments includes statements such as:

* “Thou shalt live in the suburbs, eat at the Olive Garden and wear clothes made from polyblend fabrics.”

* “Thou shalt become aware of pop culture trends eight years after the fact and co-opt these trends for Christian culture.”

* “Thou shalt own a support the troops car magnet, a fish bumper sticker and/or an embroidered flag sweater.”

* “Thou shalt not speak ill of they neighbor, unless thy neighbor is gay. Then it’s okay.”

The key, said Lanham, is that he — along with many others on the religious left — cannot accept the ancient belief that the Christian Gospel is the unique pathway to salvation. This is the kind of doctrine

that he believes creates fear and division.

Also, in the wake of the Sexual Revolution, there is one issue that towers over all others today.

“It does seem that the evangelical right has set out to repeal the values of the Woodstock generation,” he said. “The key issue is gay rights. I decided that I couldn’t stand back and let the James Dobsons of this world continue to attack gay people. That’s the issue that has made people like me want to take the gloves off and fight back.”

Unitarians and other activists on the religious left have been slipping into evangelical pews to endure altar calls, praise songs and sermons against gay marriage. The Kansas-based Mainstream Coalition has a simple reason for doing this. If preachers openly endorse President Bush, its agents can report these crimes to the IRS.

Reacting to these watchdogs on the left, the Religious Freedom Action Coalition promptly launched Big Brother Church Watch — www.ratoutachurch.org — to infiltrate churches that might back Sen. John Kerry. Big Brother agents will, for starters, target Unitarian Universalists, the African Methodist Episcopal Church and the predominantly gay Metropolitan Community Church.

The good news is that this strategy may increase church attendance, quipped the Rev. James L. Evans of the First Baptist Church in Auburn, Ala.

“Reports from both groups seem to indicate that the monitors will be going out two by two,” said Evans, in a satirical essay for the University of Chicago’s Martin Marty Center. “Monitoring pairs could easily become monitoring teams. We could witness the rise of monitoring communities.

At the recent March for Women’s Lives, one nurse weighed the tensions between Sen. John Kerry and the Vatican and proclaimed: “I’m a Catholic, I take Communion … and I’m Pro-Choice.” She could have added: “And I vote.”

George W. Bush will receive few votes from these voters. They’re not fond of Pope John Paul II, Jerry Falwell and other conservative religious leaders, either.

Political scientists Gerald De Maio and Louis Bolce call them “anti-fundamentalist voters” and their rise has been a crucial — yet untold — story in U.S. politics. Many are true secularists, such as atheists, agnostics and those who answer “none” when asked to pick a faith. Others think of themselves as progressive believers. The tie that binds is their disgust for Christian conservatives.

“This trend represents a big change, because 40 or 50 years ago all the divisive religious issues in American politics rotated around the Catholics. People argued about money for Catholic schools or whether the Vatican was trying to control American politics,” said Bolce, who, with De Maio, teaches at Baruch College in the City University of New York.

“That remains a concern for some people. But today, they worry about all those fundamentalists and evangelicals. That’s where the real animus is.”

In fact, Bolce and De Maio argue that historians must dig back to the bitter pre-Great Depression battles rooted in ethnic and religious prejudices — battles about immigration, public education, prohibition and “blue laws” — to find a time when voting patterns were influenced to the same degree by antipathy toward a specific religious group.

Prior to the rise of Bill Clinton, “anti-fundamentalist” voters were evenly divided between the major parties. Now they’re more than twice as likely to be Democrats, forming a power bloc with secularists that the researchers believe has become as powerful as the labor vote.

Bolce, an Episcopalian, and De Maio, a Roman Catholic, have focused much of their work on the “thermometer scale” used in the 2000 American National Election Study and those that preceded it. Low temperatures indicate distrust or hatred while high numbers show trust and respect. Thus, “anti-fundamentalist voters” are those who gave fundamentalists a rating of 25 degrees or colder. By contrast, the rating “strong liberals” gave to “strong conservatives” was a moderate 47 degrees.

Yet 89 percent of white delegates to the 1992 Democratic National Convention qualified as “anti-fundamentalist voters,” along with 57 percent of Jewish voters, 51 percent of “moral liberals,” 48 percent of school-prayer opponents, 44 percent of secularists and 31 percent of “pro-choice” voters. In 1992, 53 percent of those white Democratic delegates gave Christian fundamentalists a thermometer rating of zero.

“Anti-fundamentalist voter” patterns are not seen among black voters, noted De Maio. Researchers are now paying closer attention to trends among Hispanics.

What about the prejudices of the fundamentalists? Their average thermometer rating toward Catholics was a friendly 62 degrees, toward blacks 66 degrees and Jews 68 degrees.

To no one’s surprise, the “anti-fundamentalist voter” trend is linked to the emergence of energized fundamentalist voters in post-Woodstock American life.

“The subculture of the evangelicals was a pretty safe place to live until the 1960s,” said De Maio. “Then everything started changing. They have been fighting a rear-guard operation ever since. Once they mobilized, there was this huge counter-mobilization on the left — which only built on the counter-cultural trends that affected the Democratic Party so much in the 1970s.”

It’s hard to learn about this political reality in elite media.

Between 1990 and 2000, Bolce and De Maio found that the New York Times, Los Angeles Times and the Washington Post published 929 stories about the political clout of conservative Christians and 59 about that of secularists. Only 18 stories addressed the religious disconnect between the major parties. They searched abstracts at the Vanderbilt University television news archive for similar stories in 2003 and 2004 and found zero.

“What we have found is a prejudice that is not taboo in our educational, political and media elites,” said Bolce. “Anti-fundamentalist attitudes are sanctioned at the highest levels of American life.”