Father, forgive them

Just after dawn, Father Seamus Murtagh got up to write his Sunday meditation.

The appointed text was the parable of the prodigal son in the Gospel of St. Luke, with its twin themes of repentance and forgiveness. He decided his flock at St. Ann's Catholic Church in West Palm Beach, Fla., would hear about forgiveness. He wrote a simple title on his work -- "Father, Forgive Them."

It was Tuesday morning. Soon the events crashed into his prayers.

"As I pondered the news, one of my reactions was -- I must change that message," said Murtagh, his gentle Irish voice tight with emotion as hepreached at an interfaith service Tuesday night. "So I sat down to re-write the message. Then I asked myself, 'What am I doing? Is it OK for me to speak about forgiveness in the abstract, if we are afraid to do it in the concrete?

"I decided that the message stays the same ... We need to really believe what we believe about our God and that it is in forgiveness that we are healed and made whole. We are transformed ourselves in the act of forgiving, more, perhaps, than the people who are forgiven."

There were thousands of services held in the hours after the terrorist attacks, with stunned people reciting ancient words about ancient mysteries. This was merely one of those services. There were businessmen from the nearby Trump Towers. There were young people who seemed to have come from the beach. The kneelers at the historic Holy Trinity Episcopal Church were lined with mothers, fathers and children who had watched hell unfold on television.

When all is said and done, said Murtagh, Americans must be driven "kicking and screaming into the word of forgiveness" while shunning the "deep satisfaction of revenge, of closure through getting even." Those touched by the tragedy mustremember that God is "a God of forgiveness, a God of peace and a God of justice."

There were stories to tell at each and every prayer service, as global terrorism lurched into the age of the cell telephone and the World Wide Web. From coast to coast, everyone seemed to know someone who knew someone who had received a call that answered an anguished prayer or carved a wound into the soul.

At this service, Rabbi Howard Shapiro of Temple Israel turned to Hebrew for a prayer of thanksgiving that his son's daily subway trip through the World Trade Center had ended in safety. Then the verses he read from Isaiah included these sobering words: "All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower ofthe field. The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever."

The reading from St. Matthew was almost hard to bear: "Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body. Your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all of these things will be given to you as well. Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

Afterwards, I called Father Thaddeus Barnum, who wrote a book entitled "Where is God in Suffering and Tragedy?" about his experiences as a counselor inside the crash site of USAir flight 427 outside of Pittsburgh. Those memories washed over him again Tuesday, a flashback to days that changed his life forever.

"There is so, so much that we have all taken for granted. It's the little things, the little gifts, the little details of daily life with our lovedones," he said, piecing together his thoughts for his next trip into a pulpit. "Scripture tells us to love God with all of our hearts and all of our minds and to love each other."

"That is what this is all about. This reminds us that we are too busy to love God and we are even too busy to love each other. We take all of that for granted. We belong to God and we belong to each other. This makes us see that, whether we want to or not."

My Generation: Hooking Up, Part II

Things can get pretty tense when parents and teen-agers talk about premarital sex.

No matter how bad it gets, some questions must be asked. But these days it isn't enough for adults to grill children. Something a bit more risky and unnerving needs to happen first, according to philosopher J. Budziszewski. Children may need to ask their parents some questions.

Here's one: "Mom, did you shack up with dad or anybody else before you got married?" Or how about this one: "Dad, how many girls did you 'hook up' with before you met mom?"

Parents who joined the sexual revolution often have some explaining to do. Absolute candor may not be the answer, but neither is silence. This is especially true for parents, educators and clergy who say that they want to defend centuries of Judeo-Christian teachings that sex outside of marriage is sin and a threat to spiritual and emotional wholeness. These adults may, literally, need to confess their sins and seek forgiveness.

"It's always tough to repent. I think a lot of adults are silent because they know they made their own mistakes in the past," said Budziszewski, who teaches at the University of Texas. He also writes about moral dilemmas in modern college life for www.Boundless.org under the byline of Prof. M.E. Theophilus."

"So parents are out there saying, 'How can I tell my child to abstain from sex before marriage when I know that I didn't? How do I answer their questions?' "

Some adults lie. Others choose silence. Budziszewski believes it would be more compassionate for them to say: "Look, I made mistakes and I have suffered the consequences. I know what I am talking about. Please, don't follow me there."

When adults are silent, children draw their own conclusions. It's hard for young people to figure out the rules when their parents and mentors have lots of motivation not to get too specific in discussions of sexual ethics. It's easy for the big picture to get blurred.

For example, a recent survey of college women commission by the Independent Women's Forum found that 83 percent said, "Being married is very important to me" and 63 percent expected to meet their mate during their years on campus. Yet 90 percent of those interviewed said that a sexual trend called "hooking up" was common at their schools and 40 percent said they had experienced it. Most defined "hooking up" as when a "girl and guy get together for a sexual encounter and don't necessarily expect anything further."

The ends and the means simply don't add up, said Budziszewski. Millions of young people say they want to find partners for traditional, faithful, committed marriages. Yet they appear to be making sexual choices shaped by hormones and confused emotions. This didn't work for the Baby Boomers and now it isn't working for their children.

The study, "Hooking Up, Hanging Out and Hoping for Mr. Right, found that many young women feel abused and pressured, living on campuses where there may be twice as many females as males or odds that are even worse. They have been told to seek romance, but not to pressure guys for commitments, to take responsibility for their own decisions, but not to judge the predatory acts of others.

Meanwhile, the statistics roll in about date rape, eating disorders, depression and divorce.

"Their culture has told them -- in so many ways -- that they need to compete for guys," said Budziszewski. "That's a losing strategy. ... You don't build trust with a guy by sleeping with him. You don't build a relationship that will last for a lifetime, by sleeping with a guy. You don't escape the sins of your parents, by sleeping with a guy."

Many parents, clergy and religious educators simply do not want to talk about it. But if they will not address these issues, who will?

"People in my generation," he said, "are going to have to make a decision about what they did in the past, if they want to talk honestly to their children in the present. At some point, they need to ask this question: 'Do I love my children enough to tell them the truth?' "

Hooking up, in the silence -- Part I

The girls thought they were "hooking up" with some fraternity brothers.

But the guys called it "Showtime at the Apollo." The game went like this, said one of Vigen Guroian's students, describing in a class assignment what went on at her boyfriend's fraternity at another college. A boy would bring a girl home, then leave the curtain parted on the glass door onto the dual-access balcony. Then his fraternity brothers in the next room could sit outside and watch.

"Now my boyfriend's defense of his brothers is that any girl who will allow you to sleep with her on the first night, and doesn't leave after you begin to do such degrading sexual acts, deserves it," wrote the student. The bottom line: "You only treat a girl like a slut, if she is a slut."

What did the girls think they were doing, auditioning for suburban siren roles in American Pie 3? It's even more sobering to ponder the roles played by the colleges, said Guroian, professor of theology at Loyola College in Baltimore.

"The failure of America's institutions of higher education -- especially that of Christian schools -- is not merely administrative. It is a failure of vision and religious and educational mission," he wrote, at www.Wilberforce.org. "When students are learning all the wrong habits in their daily college life, how can a truly humanistic higher learning occur?

"How can I teach Christian ethics with force and effect in the classroom when my college will not address or remedy the degrading living conditions my students have described?"

Every fall, millions of students go to college. Every fall, faculty, administrators and the parents who pay the bills have another chance to ask: "Do we really want to know what's going on?"

The feisty Independent Women's Forum recently offered an unnerving glimpse into the moral and sexual challenges facing co-eds in a report called "Hooking Up, Hanging Out and Hoping for Mr. Right." It was based on interviews with 62 women on 11 campuses, backed with follow-up telephone work with 1,000 young women.

Courtship is dead and dating is on life support. What has emerged is "hooking up," which most defined as "when a girl and guy get together for a sexual encounter and don't necessarily expect anything further." For young women, this intentionally vague term can refer to anything from kissing to heavy foreplay, from oral sex to intercourse.

More than 90 percent of the women said "hooking up" was common and 40 percent said they had experienced this phenomenon. Some said this made them feel desirable and helped them compete for males in today's overwhelmingly female campus scene. Others said "hooking up" made them feel awkward, ashamed and used. Yet 83 percent said, "Being married is very important to me" and 63 percent expected to meet their mate at college.

Washington Post columnist William Raspberry's reaction was blunt: "These women are out of their minds, and the adults who should be teaching them better ... have pretty much walked away from the job."

Political philosopher J. Budziszewski has watched this trend at the University of Texas and, writing as the fictional "Prof. M.E. Theophilus," he also addresses campus moral dilemmas for www.Boundless.org. Several parts of this study rang true for him, especially the pivotal role that faith played for the women who were trying to live chaste and modest lives.

But no matter what choices they had made, almost all -- 87 percent - stressed that they thought it was wrong to pass judgment on the sexual behavior of anyone, even males who were "hooking up" with scores of women. Many also said they could not lean on their parents. Nearly 40 percent of the girls from homes rocked by divorce reported "hooking up" more than six times, compared with about 20 percent of those from intact homes.

"They have been taught that they must not judge," said Budziszewski. "So when they are hurt, they have no one to blame but themselves. They can't even say the guy is a rat. Young women can't even speak the truth to each other and help protect each other."

Silent guns on Religious Right

Once there was a man who lived in a lighthouse on the foggy Atlantic.

This is the start of an old sermon illustration, yet one that is relevant after the 2000 White House race and the church-state seminar that surrounded the stem-cell research compromise.

As the story goes, this lighthouse had a gun that sounded a warning every hour. The keeper tended the beacon and kept enough shells in the gun so it could keep firing. After decades, he could sleep right through the now-routine blasts. Then the inevitable happened. He forgot to load extra shells and, in the dead of night, the gun did not fire.

This rare silence awoke the keeper, who leapt from bed shouting, "What was that sound?"

There has been a similar silence lately in American politics. Insiders are starting to notice the silence of a particular set of big guns. President Bush's strategists seem to have tamed the tongues of some of the most outspoken, and controversial, conservatives -- James Dobson and the Revs. Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell.

"I was absolutely amazed that those leaders actually worked quite hard for the Republican ticket and didn't make the kind of headlines that they typically made that would disillusion other voters," noted political analyst John Green of the University of Akron. "Yes, there is a good untold story there."

The movement that outsiders call the "Christian Right" is not a monolith. This is especially true when its leaders try to balance their idealistic stands on moral issues -- such as abortion and stem-cell research -- with the harsh realities of electoral politics.

When it came time to attack the views of progressive evangelicals such as Bill Clinton and Al Gore, these conservatives found it easy to preach similar sermons. Politicos on the left and right grew accustomed to the roar of their sound bites. But how are Dobson, Falwell and Robertson supposed to handle the inevitable ups and downs of their new president, the current born-again occupant of the White House?

"The hard-core pragmatists think that Bush ought to be given time and that only so much can be achieved," explained Green. "The hard-core purists never went along with that strategy -- they were induced to be quiet during the campaign, but they never bought into it."

Nevertheless, the big guns have remained amazingly quiet. This balancing act is starting to get tricky, and conspicuous. The stem-cell decision was a critical moment, with the president working overtime in an attempt to display moral gravitas, while desperately needing a compromise that would help him avoid the fatal Religious Right label in media reports.

The patriarchs of the right faced a similar challenge. They needed to praise the president that they have openly supported, while finessing the fact that he had compromised.

Robertson was the most positive: "I believe that President Bush provided an elegant solution to the thorny issue. The president has balanced the profound ethical concerns of those of us who deplore the wanton destruction of the unborn with the heartfelt concerns of the population who desire legitimate, scientific research."

Falwell expressed concern that Congress might twist this decision. But he hailed it as this president's finest hour, affirming that Bush "remained true to his pro-life commitment by boldly reaffirming his promise to protect unborn children - the most innocent of life." The decision was the "only viable solution to this moral puzzle," said Falwell.

Of the big three, it was Dobson who most openly confessed that Bush had softened the existing ban, by allowing federal funds to be used in research on stem cell lines already derived from embryos destroyed in private labs. "We grieve for the lives of these embryos," Dobson said. "But we are delighted that the government will not take part in killing any more."

But Dobson did deliver the sound bite that the White House needed: "President Bush faced tremendous political pressure to betray his pro-life commitment. He deserves praise from citizens who understand that it is never justified to destroy one life in order to possibly save another."

There was much more that could have been said. Right now, the guns are remarkably quiet.

Faith, journalism and 'the facts'

After another day of watching Pope John Paul II shake Communist Poland, American political philosopher Jean Bethke Elshtain and her hosts gathered at a television to see how the state's reporters would handle this spiritual drama.

Polish viewers, in 1983, did not see and hear millions of people chanting, "We forgive you" to their oppressors or the Polish pope repeatedly voicing the importance of solidarity -- "So-li-dar-nosc!" -- between God and his people. The TV news did not show his grief about martial law.

The reports didn't lie. They merely edited key facts.

"Who knew? They had about 30 seconds of a visual of John Paul speaking, but you did not hear his words," said Elshtain. "There was a narrator talking. The former archbishop of Krakow -- now the pope -- back in Poland -- end of story. Then they shifted, and it was one of those real Orwellian moments, to something about the level of coal production in Silesia. ...

"They didn't flat-out lie. They didn't say, 'And by the way, the pope hasn't been here today.' But was that the TRUTH of those events? Of course not."

News reports are longer and more detailed when John Paul comes to America. There are interviews with Catholics protesting church teachings on sex. Experts dissect the church-state implications of masses on public property. Reporters ponder his impact on Hispanic voting in Florida or California. There are features on pope-soap-on-a-rope and other novelties. The pope is seen as a head of state that delivers sound bites about public policies, not sacramental mysteries.

The reports don't lie. They may miss the spiritual facts.

"There seems to be this belief out there that religious truths cannot be examined," said Elshtain, speaking last week in Potomac, Md., to 200 journalists from 40-plus nations. "The media act as if the truth claims of religion are somehow strange and unable to be tested. As opposed to what? Political theory? Economics? Science? The arts? ...

"Religion does involve leaps of faith. That is also true of other important parts of life that journalists manage to take seriously. Yet religion is always singled out as somehow being uniquely irrational and the source of bizarre behavior."

The conference was called "Uncovering the Truth" and organized by Gegrapha, a network of Christians in mainstream newsrooms. "Gegrapha" is Greek for I have written. Pontius Pilate is quoted as using this term when asked why he identified Jesus as king of the Jews. Pilate said: What I have written, I have written. It was also the world-weary Pilate who asked, "What is truth?" He needed the facts.

Elshtain said journalists insist that their news reports are rooted in facts drawn from rational observations about the real world. They gather these facts as they search for "truth." But where do journalists find their information? They focus on politics, economics and other respectable sectors of the public life. Religion is not worthy.

Thus, journalists struggle to offer accurate, balanced, unbiased coverage of religious life. Journalists often panic when religious beliefs affect public life, as they so often do.

"It's true that it may be hard to write down the truth claims of religion, like facts in a ledger," said Elshtain. "But it's also true that religious truth claims set in motion real actions, by real people, in the real world. These religious words and acts and beliefs affect real life in the public square. You can report the facts about this."

Journalists must learn to accurately define religious terms and find informed, credible sources to speak for all sides in complicated controversies. It would help if more reporters received specialized training about religion, so they would have some idea what they're writing about. Believers get angry when news people mangle the facts.

Journalists must not become cynical about religion, Elshtain said, because this will shatter public trust in the press.

After all, a society that is "skeptical of everything, except its own skepticism" will struggle to maintain a healthy public life, she said. "There needs to be questioning. There needs to be debate. But a certain kind of radical skepticism that denies our capacity to know the truth -- that cannot sustain democratic institutions."

Hypernews and the life of faith

When a life-or-death crisis landed Paul Weyrich in the hospital, the conservative patriarch found himself plugged in medically, but unplugged from newspapers, talk radio and the Internet.

There was a television in his room, but he didn't watch in July. It didn't matter. The same mediastorm was raging when he left the hospital as when he went in. The buzz was all Chandra Levy, all the time. When the medical staff heard he was politically connected, people started asking him for gossip.

"Sex sells," admitted Weyrich, in a news commentary (www.FreeCongress.org). "But what does that say about us as a people that we would contribute to these ratings? Why do we get wrapped up in this on-going soap opera?" And what does it say about the state of cultural affairs that so many voters question whether they can judge Rep. Gary Condit?

That's life. That's our culture. Hurricane Chandra may have weakened, but it won't take much to revive it. Rest easy, consumers, it won't be long before another blast of what media scholar Quentin Schultze calls "hypernews" reaches our screens and rocks our souls.

"Viewers anticipate the plot. We take sides, cheer for our heroes and hope for the best. ... It is real-life drama in actual time," according to the Calvin College professor. "Hypernews is like a global extension of the human nervous system, putting our emotions on alert and immersing our minds in a chaotic blitz of anticipation. ...

"Hypernews is a technological triumph, but a spiritual roadblock."

Biblically speaking, time is crucial, he noted. There seems to be so little time to ponder what is happening in the world, let alone to pray about it. There 's no time to think about news events, but "only to feel them."

Get this -- Schultze wrote those words a decade ago, in reaction to the Persian Gulf War and the hearings to confirm Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas. This was before OJ, Tonya Harding, Princess Diana's funeral, Monica and Columbine. This was before The Drudge Report, Salon.com and today's satellite news wars. This was long before the Comedy Channel became a news source for millions.

Hypernews is no longer a novelty. It's normal.

Way back in the early 1990s, Schultze was concerned that the manic pace of the news was producingfear and anxiety, as opposed to understanding and hope. He noted that the ancient Psalmist calledbelievers to, "Be still, and know that I am God." This command now seems like a message from another planet.

"All news conveys its own implicit worldview," said Schultze. "Hypernews tends to portray a worldout of control, and in purely human hands. ... If the world is a mere stage, with no eternal screenwriter, we are all in deep trouble."

These days, Schultze is pondering the spiritual implications of life in the treacherous territorybetween information and gossip, between news and entertainment. His next two books will focus on the interaction between Christian faith and mass media and the all-too-hazy concept of ethics in cyberspace, that online zoo in which anonymous anecdotes rule and urban legends keep getting resurrected.

"Whether its rumors or gossip or some off-the-wall opinion piece, it really doesn't seem to matter much. It's all news to somebody. At least, it looks like news. It's in print," he said. "In the digital world, information just explodes and takes on a life of its own. ... We live in an age in which totally unsubstantiated rumors can affect the stock market. Our leaders have to react to this stuff, whether its true or not."

Schultze doesn't think it's time to boycott the news. But gossip is a sin and cynicism is spiritual acid that corrupts hearts and minds. His advice is simple: read the Bible, as well as the newspaper. Delete more email. When faced with hypernews, ponder its impact on others, especially children. Turn off the television, hold hands and pray. Calm down.

The goal, he said, is to "pray for our world as concerned citizens rather than as frenzied viewers. ... Perhaps only the Good News can curb our appetite for hypernews."

God, man, hobbits & Tolkien

In the beginning was Eru, the One, who also was called Iluvatar.

"And he made first the ... Holy Ones, who were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made. And he spoke to them, propounding to them themes of music; and they sang before him, and he was glad."

This "Great Music" went out "into the Void, and it was not void." But something went wrong. The greatest archangel, Melkor ("He who arises in Might"), became proud and rebelled. Great was his fall into evil and he became Morgoth ("Dark Enemy of the World"). His chief servant was Sauron, who created rings of power to rule the world and "One Ring to rule them all."

The rest is a long story. Like all myths, those who want to understand "The Lord of the Rings" trilogy must start at the beginning -- with the author's creation story in "The Silmarillion." J.R.R. Tolkien knew what he was doing in his tale of elves, dwarves, hobbits and men.

"The Lord of the Rings," he wrote to a friend in 1953, just before book one was published, is "a fundamentally religious and Catholic work; unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision." Yet Tolkien also told Father Robert Murray it was his desire to stay theologically orthodox that led him to avoid being too specific, despite the biblical parallels in the creation story.

"That is why I have not put in, or have cut out, practically all references to anything like 'religion,' to cults or practices, in the imaginary world. For the religious element is absorbed into the story and into the symbolism," wrote Tolkien.

The result is a stunningly ambitious myth, yet one that lacks the clear symbolism of an allegory or parable. Believers who share Tolkien's faith can follow the roots into Catholic imagery and tradition. Clearly the evil in Middle Earth is good that has been twisted and perverted. The humble are tempted, yet triumph through sacrificial love. One age passes away, before a glimpse of a world to come. There is much more.

Yet millions have read an epic tale of non-doctrinal good vs. undefined evil -- period. It all depends on one's point of view, especially when it comes time for other artists to re-create the myth with the help of a camera lens. When "The Lord of the Rings" begins reaching theaters in December, will the myth remain centered in its creator's faith?

"Tolkien could not create from nothing. Only God can do that. But he was able to sub-create an entire world using his imagination, his beliefs and his experiences in the world around him," said British writer Joseph Pearce, author of "Tolkien: Man and Myth."

"That is certainly what he set out to do with 'The Lord of the Rings.' ... But if you tear the myth away from Tolkien's worldview, then the story isn't going to make sense any more. It may, literally, become incoherent -- a neo-pagan fantasy."

This is especially true since Tolkien's work includes images and ideas drawn from legions of myths, legends and traditions. His goal was to create a myth that combined elements of others, Pearce said, "with the whole story illumined from within by a Trinitarian, Christian light."

Now, new artists will be "sub-creators" of movie versions of "The Lord of the Rings" that will cut and mold 500,000 words of prose into six hours of multiplex magic. Millions will see these movies and most will use this lens to interpret the books -- if they read or re-read them. The official website (www.lordoftherings.net) offers no sign of Tolkien's faith or worldview.

There is no telling what may end up on the screen, Pearce said.

"The great strength of Tolkien's work may, in the end, be its weakness. He has created truth in a form that is truly sublime -- myth. Yet that is also a form of art that can easily be twisted. He was writing a myth, but he wanted it to be a True Myth, a myth rooted in Truth with a capital T. Take away that truth and you change the myth."

Catholic vote? Which Catholic vote?

The aging patriarch's hands and voice shook, but his moral vision was solid as a rock.

America's pilgrim president sat solemnly while Pope John Paul II waded into the tense debate over stem-cell research. This week's summit produced images that White House strategists hope will linger in the minds of Catholic voters, long after the divisive details have faded.

"A free and virtuous society, which America aspires to be, must reject practices that devalue and violate human life at any stage from conception until natural death," said the pope, condemning research on manufactured embryos. "In defending the right to life ... America can show a world the path to a truly humane future in which man remains the master, not the product, of his technology."

Millions of traditionalists will say "amen." The problem for President Bush is that millions of Catholic modernists will mutter curses about Rome kneeling with the religious right. And what about the less doctrinaire folks caught in between?

Politicians and pollsters are learning that there isn't one "Catholic vote." It's also too simplistic to say there is one "evangelical vote." Someday, it may even be hard to predict the actions of black Protestants and Hispanic Catholics.

But one statistic has politicos buzzing. Call it the pew gap.

Two-thirds of those who never attend worship services voted for Al Gore, while an almost identical percentage of those who say they worship each week voted for Bush. More than four-fifths of evangelicals who regularly attend church went to Bush. Catholics? Nearly three-fifths of those who frequently go to Mass voted for Bush.

"Issues of morality and faith are crucial," said John Green, director of the University of Akron's institute for applied politics. "The key is not what people say they believe, but the intensity with which they practice that faith."

Since the election, Green and a network of colleagues have been dissecting interviews with 4,004 voters, charting beliefs and votes. For example, nine out of 10 evangelicals who backed Bush said the Bible is the "inerrant Word of God," while only two-third's of Gore's evangelicals did so.

There were symbolic issues in other pews. While most Catholics affirm papal authority -- to one degree or another -- those who are migrating toward the GOP are much more intense about this conviction. These traditionalists were three times more likely to affirm private confession and nearly five times more likely to pray the rosary.

This is news, because of historic ties between Democrats and Catholics. But it's important to ask if the numbers of traditional Roman Catholics are growing nationwide, as opposed to those of "American Catholics" who reject church traditions or want to see them modernized. Politicians also haveto avoid offending the less-committed "centrists" who claim to cling to Catholic beliefs, but are unsure about most details.

"What if traditional Catholics are, slowly but surely, becoming statistically less numerous? Most polls show that they are," noted Green. "In that case, Bush's strategy of courting them may seem unwise. But what if, at the same time, these Catholic traditionalists are becoming more active politically and are swinging toward the GOP on moral issues? Which of these two trends do you choose to emphasize?"

Similar patterns can be seen in other flocks. Traditionalists are, by definition, those who defend creeds and institutions. Their activism is fueled by a fear of compromise on ancient truths. Thus, any compromise is a defeat. This breeds a unique sense of commitment.

The religious left yearns to update old creeds in the name of tolerance. But modernists face a unique challenge, noted Green. Those who rebel against religious structures rarely turn around and invest their time and money in building new ones. Try to imagine a Unitarian megachurch.

"Traditionalists do have structures they can depend on, structures they can use to have an impact in the public square. That's important," he said. "Nevertheless, you would have to say the direction of American culture is going against them. It's hard to see their numbers growing. ... Their approach to life is based on making moral judgments about what is right and what is wrong and most Americans don't feel comfortable doing that anymore."

Those online puzzles for churches

Creekside Church visitor cards contain all the data slots and questions one would expect at a seeker-friendly establishment in a wired Colorado suburb.

Newcomers can inquire about salvation, baptism, the Bible, youth activities or private concerns. A visitor may share his or her age, marital status and kid statistics. The candid can review the quality of the service. Next to a telephone number, a visitor can provide a home email address, a work email address and then another email address at work.

"It seems like almost everybody has two or three these days," said Teena Stewart, who helps buildlay ministries at the young congregation in Aurora, Colo. "It would be a full-time job just keeping up with them. ... If someone is going to do that, they have to have a passion for it."

An evangelical zeal for email addresses? The digital sea keeps getting bigger and, these days, scores of local religious leaders are trying to discover how to tame it.

It's easy to dream up idealistic proposals for using the Net. Everyone wants to help people with common concerns form bonds and meet each other's needs. Everyone wants to build a stronger church community and networks of smaller, personal groups inside that larger body. But matters get complex when real people try to nail the details.

A few months ago Stewart was convinced more congregations should start digital versions of their weekly or monthly newsletters. After all, "e-zines" are more timely and can offer savvy readers multi-media links to sermons, music, educational materials and other online resources. Stewart wrote about this in Leadership, a major ministry journal.

"Thus, CreekVision E-zine was born," she wrote. "The e-zine is working well. It's cheaper to produce than the usual printed versions most churches can afford. It's colorful. And we're in contact with our congregation."

But by the time that article came out, CreekVision was off-line. What happened?

For starters, it was hard to decide exactly what an e-newsletter was and exactly what it was not,said Stewart. One popular way to produce a digital newsletter is to store a file of well-produced pages of text, graphics, photos and media clips on a church website and then email subscribers a click-on link that connects their computers to those pages. Others send out packages of digital text and graphics that readers have to download using special software.

What about the cyber-challenged sheep in the flock? What about members whose low-rent or free email services cannot automatically link to the World Wide Web? What about the elderly who have tiptoed online with simple email devices that can't surf the Web? In the end, every innovation that includes some tends to exclude others.

"When we started thinking this through," said Stewart, "we realized that the big question was, 'Who are we really trying to reach?' "

An online publication that targets the unchurched needs to be written differently than one for active members or even those who have enrolled in "Creekside 101" to prepare for membership. A veteran might be miffed by entry-level emails. A newcomer might be offended by chatty material for insiders. Digital technology creates smaller and smaller niches.

Then there is the issue of privacy, especially with Web sites or email lists that allow readers to sign up online. It may be funny when a newsletter goofs and prints a funny typo, such as the classic, "Don't let worry kill you. Let the church help." But a print newsletter rarely travels far outside the pews. The Internet goes everywhere.

This isn't funny. The same technology that lets members of a church family share private concerns may, with a few mouse clicks, put sensitive info about events, names, addresses and telephone numbers into the hands of strangers lurking online.

Stewart doesn't think congregations should give up. It's amazing to be able to send out prayer requests to Sunday school classes or to blast out an urgent calendar change to 1,200 worshippers. This stuff can work.

"But it's tricky, even something simple like a newsletter, " she said. "The church is only getting started trying to think through all the technical, legal and even religious issues linked to the Net. It's all so complicated."