Wink, wink pulpit wars

The political endorsement was clear, although the words were carefully chosen. New Hampshire Bishop V. Gene Robinson, the Episcopal Church's first openly gay bishop clearly wanted to inspire his supporters, even his own priests, to back Sen. Barack Obama. Still, he stressed that his endorsement was personal, not corporate.

''I will not be speaking about the campaign from the pulpit or at any church function,'' the bishop told reporters, in a 2007 conference call that drew low-key, calm news coverage. ''That is completely inappropriate. But as a private citizen, I will be at campaign events and help in any way that I can.''

The reaction was different after the Rev. Luke Emrich preached to about 100 evangelicals at New Life Church this past weekend, near Milwaukee. Veering from scripture into politics, he said his beliefs about abortion would control his vote.

"I'm telling you straight up, I would choose life," said Emrich, in a text that is being sent to the Internal Revenue Service. "I would cast a vote for John McCain and Sarah Palin. ... But friends, it's your choice to make, it's not my choice. I won't be in the voting booth with you."

Like the liberal Episcopal bishop, Emrich openly endorsed a candidate. And, like the bishop, he made it clear he was speaking for himself. The difference was that Emrich spoke from a pulpit, not a desk at the top of a church hierarchy.

Legal or illegal? That's a matter of location, location, location.

Emrich is one of 33 pastors nationwide who signed up for "Pulpit Freedom Sunday," an attempt by the Alliance Defense Fund to challenge IRS code language that says nonprofit, tax-exempt entities -- including churches -- may not "participate in, or intervene in ... any political campaign on behalf of any candidate for public office."

While all the sermons during this initiative mentioned candidates, some of the ministers used different approaches, said Erik Stanley, the Alliance Defense Fund's senior legal counsel. The organization is voluntarily sending the sermons to the IRS.

"We did not mandate for these pastors what they should or shouldn't say. We didn't write the sermons," he said. "I know that we had pastors who said, 'I would not vote for so and so.' I know others said, 'I urge you not to vote for so and so.' Some said, 'I plan to vote for so and so, but I'm only speaking for myself.' "

There's the rub. For decades, many clerics -- liberal and conservative -- have practiced a variety of wink-wink endorsement strategies. For example:

* Supporters of abortion rights have long challenged the "Respect Life Sunday" events in Catholic parishes in early October. However, some priests use this day to stress Vatican pronouncements on the uniquely evil nature of abortion, which can be seen as a nod to Republicans. Meanwhile, other priests proclaim a broader "Culture of Life" agenda, stressing health care, the environment and issues that may favor Democrats.

* Some clergy, in a various ethnic churches and doctrinal camps, have invited politicians into services, where they are openly embraced and honored them with cheers that "this candidate is one of us." The congregation applauds and shouts "amen." Is this an endorsement?

* Pastors may deliver sermons that stick to a moral or religious issue and then say that it's sinful to support politicians -- while avoiding names -- who violate what the pastor says is the biblical stand on that issue. In this case, it doesn't matter if the issue being discussed is the war in Iraq, abortion, immigration or gay rights.

* Some religious leaders merely "recommend" candidates, rather than offering explicit "endorsements."

Finally, what if an endorsement is delivered from an office at the heart of a sacred bureaucracy, rather than from the pulpit in a sanctuary?

There's the big question, said Stanley. When do winks and nods become illegal? Are the rules applied the same way for liberals and conservatives?

"This is what we're trying to find out," he said. "How is a pastor supposed to know what he can and cannot do? Many pastors are afraid of crossing some line out there and they censor themselves, because they don't know exactly where it is. They want to address these great moral issues from a biblical perspective, but they don't know how far the IRS will let them go."

Obama's awesome testimony

Play the right guitar chords and worshipers in megachurch America will automatically start singing these words: "Our God is an awesome God. He reigns from heaven above. With wisdom, power and love, our God is an awesome God."

So Barack Obama caused raised eyebrows when he turned to that page in the evangelical songbook during the 2004 Democratic National Convention.

"We worship an awesome God in the Blue States," he said in the speech that made him a rising star. "We coach Little League in the Blue States and have gay friends in the Red States. ... We are one people."

Obama has mixed gospel images and liberal politics ever since, and his ability to reach pews without frightening the skeptical elites is crucial to his White House hopes.

Thus, all kinds of people paid close attention last week when he spoke to the 50th anniversary convention of the United Church of Christ, a small flock that has proudly set the pace for liberal Christianity. At the heart of his speech was his own spiritual rebirth two decades ago, when he responded to an altar call by the Rev. Jeremiah Wright Jr. at Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago.

"He introduced me to someone named Jesus Christ," Obama said. "I learned that my sins could be redeemed. I learned that those things I was too weak to accomplish myself, He would accomplish with me if I placed my trust in Him. And in time, I came to see faith as more than just a comfort to the weary or a hedge against death, but rather as an active, palpable agent in the world and in my own life.

"It was because of these newfound understandings that I was finally able to walk down the aisle ... and affirm my Christian faith. It came about as a choice, and not an epiphany. I didn't fall out in church, like folks sometimes do. The questions I had didn't magically disappear. ... But kneeling beneath that cross on the South Side, I felt I heard God's spirit beckoning me. I submitted myself to His will, and dedicated myself to discovering His truths and carrying out His works."

Over at the Christian Broadcasting Network, commentator David Brody offered a candid evaluation of the speech, "That, ladies and gentlemen, is called a conversion experience."

While conservatives will certainly criticize that Obama and his church have taken on sexy moral issues — the UCC ordained its first gay pastor in 1972 and backs same-sex marriages — they also need to praise his candor.

"Besides Obama, how many times have you seen a presidential candidate get up in front of a large crowd and talk in depth about his salvation? I'll give you the answer: Zero," said Brody, on his CBN weblog. "For Obama to stand up and talk about how Jesus changed his life, my friends, that takes guts. ... Shouldn't we like it when someone talks about Christ being the missing ingredient in his life?"

It is also crucial for Obama to define his faith in his own terms. After all, his father, stepfather, brother and grandfather were Muslims and his name, "Barack," means "blessed" in Arabic. Meanwhile, his mother was a disillusioned Methodist who was deeply spiritual but most of all a skeptic about organized religion. As a child, Obama attended a Catholic school and then a Muslim school. Later, he was drawn to the writings of Malcolm X.

Eventually, he told the UCC convention, he knew that he had to make a decision about his own faith. Obama is convinced that he isn't alone in feeling a hunger that's deeper than a desire for political change.

"It seems to me that each day, thousands of Americans are going about their lives — they're dropping the kids off at school, driving to work, shopping at the mall, they're trying to stay on their diets, they're trying to kick a cigarette habit — and they're coming to the realization that something is missing," said Obama, drawing laughter from the crowd because of his own struggles with smoking.

"They're deciding that their work, their possessions, their diversions, their sheer busyness, is not enough. ... And so they need an assurance that somebody out there cares about them, is listening to them — that they are not just destined to travel down that long road toward nothingness."