Latter-day Saints and that C-word

Science fiction novelist Orson Scott Card is tired of hearing outsiders whispering about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints -- especially the dreaded C-word.

The word in question is not "Christian." It's "cult."

"I daresay that the Mormon church is less cult-like than many of the religions that delight in calling us one," argued Card. "Indeed, calling Mormonism a cult is usually an attempt to get people to behave like robots, blindly obeying the command that they reject Mormonism without any independent thought. Kettles, as they say, calling the pot black."

Debates about Mormonism and public life always heat up when Utah is in the spotlight and the XIX Winter Olympics certainly qualify as that. Journalists have focused on the church's vow not to proselytize visitors and, of course, whether Mormon morality could stick a cork in the hot party scene that surrounds the games. News is news.

While avoiding deadly overkill, LDS leaders cranked up public-relations efforts to portray their faith as part of mainline Christianity. This strategy is sure to catch the attention of other faiths that send missionaries to the games, such as the 1,000 Southern Baptist volunteers in Utah for Global Outreach 2002.

Tensions are inevitable. Thus, Card launched a preemptive strike in a Beliefnet.com column entitled "Hey, Who Are You Calling a Cult?" It's ludicrous, he said, to smear Mormons with the same word that defined the Jim Jones flock in Guyana and the "sneaker-wearing folks who killed themselves to join aliens ... behind a comet."

It's true, he said, that Mormon prophet Joseph Smith was a charismatic leader with fiercely loyal followers. But this is true of almost all new religious movements. Card defied anyone to argue that modern Mormons are "automatons" who yank converts out of their homes and brainwash them.

"If Mormonism were a cult, I would know it, and I would not be in it," he said.

Meanwhile, the Southern Baptist Convention's web site on "Cults, Sects and New Religious Movements" includes page after page of materials dissecting LDS beliefs and practices. It uses this definition: "A cult ... is a group of people polarized around someone's interpretation of the Bible and is characterized by major deviations from orthodox Christianity relative to the cardinal doctrines of the Christian faith, particularly the fact that God became man in Jesus Christ."

Hardly anyone still calls the Latter-day Saints a "cult" in terms of a "psychological or sociological definition" of that term, stressed the Rev. Tal Davis, of the SBC's North American Mission Board. But traditional Christians must insist that they can use a "theological definition" of the word "cult."

"This may not be the best word and we admit that," said Davis. "We're using it in a technical way, trying to make it clear that we're describing a faith that is -- according to its own teachings -- far outside the borders of traditional Christianity. ...

"We're not trying to be mean-spirited. We want to be very precise. We take doctrine very seriously and we know that the Mormons do, too."

The doctrinal conflicts are many and sincere, stressed scholar Jan Shipps, a United Methodist who is author of "Sojourner in the Promised Land: Forty Years Among the Mormons." Traditional Christians and the Latter-day Saints are not just arguing about issues of interpretation. These disputes are about pivotal additions to the earlier stream of faith.

The clashes start at the very beginning, with the nature of God. Christians worship one God, yet known as Father, Son and Holy Spirit. The Saints have a radically different approach, said Shipps, believing God and Jesus to be separate beings -- each with a literal body and parts. They say Jesus was sired by God, with a divine Mother in Heaven.

"The Trinity, the Trinity, the Trinity, there is no way around the Trinity," said Shipps. "But you know, it would also help if Christians -- if they are going to use the word 'cult' -- would admit that Christianity changed the very nature of the Jewish God. Christianity then grew up to become a new religious tradition.

"Mormonism is a new religious tradition that has grown out of Christianity. It is an entity unto itself. It is what it is."

W Bush, classic Methodist?

CRAWFORD, Texas -- Don Elrod was spending another hard day on another production line when one of his buddies threw up his hands and keeled over, killed by a heart attack.

As a farm hand turned teacher turned carpenter turned asphalt expert, Elrod didn't know the proper theological lingo to describe what happened in his own heart that day. But this layman knew that something changed. Before long, he became a Methodist preacher.

"At some point in life everybody faces a bad situation, some kind of really big mountain, and there's no way around it," he said. "That's when we have to decide whether we're going to turn to God or not. ... It may be getting sick, or losing your job, or it may be the bottle. But it's gonna happen."

It's like that night on Aldersgate Street, when John Wesley -- racked by doubt and despair -- took a leap of faith and felt his heart was "strangely warmed." That experience on May 24, 1738, led to the Methodist movement that spread piety, evangelism and social reform throughout England and the world.

Find a flock of true Methodists and you'll find people who believe changed hearts can change the world. That's what Elrod was thinking after he stepped into his pulpit at First United Methodist in Crawford and faced a flock that included his neighbor, President George W. Bush.

Elrod thinks he knows a Methodist when he sees one.

So he wasn't surprised when he heard Bush had been named Layman of the Year by Good News, a network of United Methodist evangelicals based in Wilmore, Ky. While this honor will raise eyebrows in United Methodist sanctuaries in the Rust Belt and the West, it will draw respectful "amens" in heartland towns like Crawford, the capital of Bush country in Central Texas.

To find Elrod's church, you drive past Covered Wagon Trail, past Cattle Drive Road, over the railroad tracks, through the blinking traffic light, past the town's now famous restaurant/gas station and turn left at the First Baptist Church sign that says "Let's Roll." The Methodists are on the next corner.

In these parts, said Elrod, people even think it's fitting that Bush says God helped him win his showdown with alcohol. After all, there was a time when Methodists were known for asking rowdy people to repent of the sins of the flesh.

"I think President Bush knows what that's all about," said Elrod. "He got to the point with his drinking where it was life or death and, you know, the Lord isn't going to wait forever on you to make up your mind."

Good News magazine cited several reasons for the award, including Bush's defense of all religious believers, including "peace-loving Muslims and Arab-Americans," after Sept. 11. Most of all, the editorial said he "understands the great chasm between right and wrong and has been unflinching in calling evildoers by their proper name. He has relentlessly used this historic nightmare as an ethical tutorial for generations raised on a steady diet of moral relativism."

Some of the president's terrorism speeches have even veered into language that sounds like Wesley's sermons condemning slavery and child-labor abuses, said Good News editor Steve Beard. There is a dash of Methodist fire in Bush phrases such as: "Freedom and fear, justice and cruelty, have always been at war. And we know that God is not neutral between them."

Meanwhile, the United Methodist hierarchy has consistently advocated diplomacy over Bush's military strategy. It's Board of Church and Society condemned terrorism, but opposed any "use of indiscriminate military force." Bishop C. Joseph Sprague said he doubted the Afghanistan campaign could accurately be called a "just war."

"Bishops have to say things like that," said Elrod. "Now your common man reads the Bible and he sees that even Jesus felt righteous anger when he went in there and cleaned out the temple. You can take it and take it and take it, but there comes a time when you have to stand up to the bully. Sometimes you have to act.

"I think old Joe Blow and his wife Jane out here understand that. They know what President Bush is talking about."

U2 bedevils the modern church

It happened at the moment in U2's Zoo TV show where Bono did his "Elvis-devil dance," decked out in a glittering gold Las Vegas lounge suit and tacky red horns.

As usual, the charismatic singer pulled some girl out of the crowd to cavort with Mister MacPhisto, this devilish alter ego. On this night in Wales, his dance partner had her own agenda, Bono told the Irish Times.

"Are you still a believer?", she asked. "If so, what are you doing dressed up as the devil?"

Bono gave her a serious answer, as the music roared on. "Have you read 'The Screwtape Letters,' a book by C.S. Lewis that a lot of intense Christians are plugged into? They are letters from the devil. That's where I got the whole philosophy of mock-the-devil-and-he-will-flee-from-you," replied Bono, referring to U2's ironic, video-drenched tours in the 1990s.

Yes, the girl said, she had read "The Screwtape Letters." She understood that Lewis had turned sin inside out in order to make a case for faith.

"Then you know what I am doing," said Bono.

It's highly unlikely Mister MacPhisto will make an appearance when U2 rocks the Super Bowl XXXVI halftime show. During their recent "Elevation" tour, U2 performed on a stage shaped like a heart and Bono opened the shows by kneeling in prayer. He began the anthem "Where the Streets Have No Name" by quoting from Psalm 116 and shows ended with shouts of "Praise! Unto the Almighty!"

But whatever happens Sunday in New Orleans, U2's presence almost guarantees that people will dissect it in church coffee hours as well as at watercoolers. Plenty of believers remain convinced Bono's devil suit was more than symbolic.

"I think they have been clear -- for nearly 25 years now -- about the role that Christian faith plays in their music. They're not hiding anything,"said the Rev. Steve Stockman, the Presbyterian chaplain at Queen's University in Belfast, Northern Ireland. He is the author of "Walk On: The Spiritual Journey of U2" and hosts BBC's "Rhythm and Soul" radio program.

"At the same time, they have always left big spiritual questions hanging out there -- unanswered. That is an interesting way to talk about art and that's an interesting way to live out your faith, especially when you're trying to do it in front of millions of people."

Stockman has never met the band. Still, there is no shortage of source material since Bono, in particular, has never been able to keep his mouth shut when it comes to sin, grace, temptation, damnation, salvation, revelation or the general state of the universe. Two others -- drummer Larry Mullen, Jr., and guitarist Dave "The Edge" Evans -- have long identified themselves as Christians. Bassist Adam Clayton remains a spiritual free agent.

The key, said Stockman, is that U2 emerged in Dublin, Ireland, in a culturally Catholic land in which it was impossible to be sucked into an evangelical subculture of "Christian news," "Christian radio" and "Christian music." The tiny number of Protestants prevented the creation of a "Christian" marketplace.

Thus, U2 plunged into real rock 'n' roll because that was the only game in town. U2 didn't collide with the world of "Contemporary Christian Music" until its first American tours. Then all hell broke loose.

While the secular press rarely ridicules the band's faith, noted Stockman, the "Christian press and Christians in general have been the doubters" who were keen to "denounce the band's Christian members as lost." Many have heaped "condemnation on their lifestyles, which include smoking cigars, drinking Jack Daniels and using language that is not common currency at Southern Baptist conventions."

It's crucial that most U2 controversies center on lifestyle issues. But Stockman is convinced that deeper divisions center on what Bono and company are saying -- in word and deed -- about the church's retreat from art, media and popular culture.

The contemporary church "has put a spiritual hierarchy on jobs," said Stockman. "Ministers and missionaries are on top, then perhaps doctors and nurses come next and so on to the bottom, where artists appear. Artists of whatever kind have to compromise everything to entertain. Art is fluffy froth that is no good in the Kingdom of God. What nonsense."

The Rock For Life pledge

WASHINGTON -- The music was angry and ragged, sounding something like a chainsaw gashing a concrete block -- only with a beat that bounced the teens up and down.

But this was not the usual mosh scene. This was a Rock For Life concert.

"It seems too easy unwanted baby, it could just be thrown away," chanted Mike Middleton of a Wisconsin band called Hangnail. "A life so helpless counted as useless, another victim of mankind. ... Did you even have a name or could you've been like me the same? I was wondering, do they think of you or try to keep you from their minds."

Not far from the stage was a table lined with stacks of black sweatshirts and T-shirts that are guaranteed to stand out among the Tommy Hilfiger and Abercrombie & Fitch clones in school hallways. The slogans are printed in large white letters and are easy to read, even from a distance.

Some people like that. Some people don't.

"ABORTION IS HOMICIDE," says one sweatshirt. "ABORTION IS MEAN," says another. On the back is a pledge that proclaims: "You will not silence my message. You will not mock my God. You will stop killing my generation." The Rock For Life logo is a cartoon image of an unborn child playing an electric guitar.

The American Life League reported selling 15,000 of the shirts at rallies last summer and at least another 500 during concerts supporting the annual March For Life on Tuesday, the 29th anniversary of the U.S. Supreme Court's Roe v. Wade decision.

These shirts will be coming soon to a public school near you, if Rock For Life has its way.

"People will probably think that we're weird or something, but we're used to that," said 16-year-old Katie Hammond of Frederick (MD) High School, not far outside the Washington beltway. "Sometimes we end up in arguments at lunch about stuff like this. People keep saying, 'It's wrong to believe what you believe' and blah, blah, blah. Maybe it'll be OK."

Then again, there's always a chance someone will freak out and call a counselor. Rock For Life has received a dozen or more complaints about students being sent home for wearing the "ABORTION IS HOMICIDE" shirt. Few have dared to fight these bans. These are tense times on the free-speech front.

"I know some of the schools have a zero-tolerance policy on language about death, so people are saying that the word 'homicide' violates that," said the Rev. Patrick Mahoney of the Christian Defense Coalition. "But that just doesn't wash, since you have all kinds of kids walking the halls in T-shirts for rock groups like Slayer, Megadeth and who knows what all. There was even an anti-gun campaign a few years ago with the slogan, 'Stop the killing.' I didn't hear anything about schools banning those shirts.

"So from my point of view, this isn't about the word 'homicide.' What this is about is the word 'abortion.' "

Then there is that dangerous word "God."

In Malone, N.Y., a school attorney claimed the sweatshirt pledge proved that "the student's objective is to proselytize." But such a ban would appear to clash with 1999 Clinton White House guidelines that were backed by a broad coalition ranging from the National Association of Evangelicals to the American Civil Liberties Union. That letter said: "Schools may not single out religious attire in general, or attire of a particular religion, for prohibition or regulation."

Apparently, many Americas are tense and hypersensitive right now about anything that has to do with strong faith or claims of religious truth, said Erik Whittington of Rock For Life. Thus, some want to nip conflict in the bud, even if that means undercutting free speech.

"We had our largest cluster of complaints about the sweatshirts right after Sept. 11 -- just a few days or a week after that," he said, moments before one of the Capitol Hill concerts. "There has to be a connection. ... I think the logic goes like this: pro-life equals right wing, Christian, fanatic, the enemy. Some people think we're the American Taliban."

Gaps in the Middle East mosaic

The monk had amazing news, so he wrote directly to the Orthodox Patriarch in Jerusalem.

The year was 1884 and the ruins of a Byzantine church had surfaced near the north gate of the ancient village of Madaba, south of Amman. The floor included sections of a sixth century map -- a spectacular mosaic offering historians vital insights into the culture, wildlife, commerce, art and geography of biblical Palestine.

There was a bird's eye view of Jerusalem, giving pilgrims details about walls, gates, streets, markets and holy sites. The mosaic even included Constantine's Church of the Holy Sepulcher, which Persians later destroyed in 614 A.D.

A surviving fragment in Greek said: "... of the Christ loving people of Madaba."

The map is still there. The Church of St. George is still there, worshipping in its "new" sanctuary built over the ruins in 1896.

"We have always been here. I pray that we will always be here. But it is hard. It seems that our Christian brothers and sisters around the world do not know that the church is still here, after all this time," said Father Innocent, as the doors closed and the day's tiny band of tourists departed. It was the night before Pope John Paul II visited nearby Mount Nebo during his pilgrimage in 2000.

"We are small" in number, said the priest, with quiet determination. "But most churches (in America) send missionaries. The missionaries, they tell our people to join a new church. We ask, 'Why? The church the apostles started is still here. We are Christians. Help us.' "

It is an old, old story. The Middle East is an ancient mosaic. Some of the images are quietly disappearing, fading with the declining numbers of Christians who live in the lands where their faith was born. Arab Christians have lost ground -- literally -- with the rise of Israel. Yet, as Christians with Western ties, they live in constant tension with the vast Muslim majority.

This can be glimpsed in occasional headlines. Israeli tanks have rumbled into Bethlehem, where a sniper killed an altar boy last fall near the steps of the Church of the Nativity. In Nazareth, conflict continues as an Islamist faction tries to build a mosque adjoining the Basilica of the Annunciation, the Middle East's largest church.

In his book "The Body and the Blood," journalist Charles Sennott estimates that 13 percent of Palestine was Christian in 1946, as opposed to 2 percent today. Ancient churches are shrinking or stuck in limbo throughout the Arab world. Meanwhile, all peace efforts focus on clashes between Jews and Muslims. "If the Christians disappear," states Sennott, "the Middle East will become that much more vulnerable to this embittered dichotomy."

In Jordan, one highly symbolic Muslim leader has repeatedly voiced similar themes, warning that Arab leaders must learn from their own history, or suffer the consequences.

"Far more important than the numbers of the Christians in the modern Arab world is their social, economic and cultural visibility," writes Prince El Hassan bin Talal, the uncle of King Abdullah, in his book "Christianity in the Arab World."

"The fact remains that the Christian Arabs are in no way aliens to Muslim Arab society; a society whose history and culture they have shared for over 14 centuries to date, without interruption, and to whose material and moral civilization they have continually contributed, and eminently so, on their own initiative or by trustful request."

Yes, Arab Christians ties to the West have influenced everything from the shape of Arab nationalism to educational efforts in an age of high-tech economics, said Hassan. Muslims who automatically blame Christians for negative trends in the modern era are simply forgetting one simple fact -- the Arab churches are older than the mosques.

"The lessons of history are too often lost and that is tragic," the prince told me, in an interview in 2000. The ancient Christian churches are "part of what built this region and our culture and the Arab world. We cannot forget them. ... It is tragic that there are more Arab Christians from Jerusalem in Sidney, Australia, than there are in Jerusalem. We must insist that helping Arab Christians stay here is simply a matter of human dignity."

Heeding Tolkien's words

Frodo Baggins stands alone at the Great River Anduin, holding the one ring of power in his open hand as he prepares to go to the hellish land of Mordor.

Why was this task given to him? Then, in his memory, he hears the wizard Gandalf repeating words of wisdom to guide him at that moment. Frodo closes his hand over the ring and continues his quest.

This dramatic scene is not in J.R.R. Tolkien's "The Lord of the Rings." Nevertheless, it appears at the end of episode one in director Peter Jackson's attempt to bring this epic to the screen.

"This scene is not in the book -- but it could have been. That's important. It is consistent with Tolkien's vision," said British scholar Joseph Pearce, author of "Tolkien: Man and Myth."

"We do not see this in the book, but in the movie we do. This is what happens when artists make books into movies. They have to visualize things. What is crucial is that the words Frodo hears are words Tolkien actually wrote and they express one of the book's great themes."

This is especially important to readers who worried that Tolkien's Catholic faith -- which is woven into this 600,000-word tome -- might vanish. Even worse, said Pearce, the moviemakers could have twisted Tolkien's words. For example, Frodo's reverie on the riverbank is worth closer scrutiny. Where did this come from?

Very early in "The Lord of the Rings," Frodo says he wishes the master ring had not been found in his lifetime.

"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

But what ultimate power is deciding what happens and when? By using these words -- twice -- near the end of the first film, the screenwriters highlighted this issue, said Pearce. They also linked this quotation with another that says it is not the evildoers who are in charge.

It was the dark lord Sauron, after all, who created the great rings to rule Middle Earth and the "One Ring to rule them all." In addition to asking why this ring was recovered in his time, Frodo asks why this ring found its way to Bilbo Baggins, his kindly uncle.

In both the book, and the movie, Gandalf replies: "Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-MAKER. In can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was MEANT to find the ring, and NOT by its maker. In which case you were also MEANT to have it. And that may be an encouraging thought."

Tolkien wanted to write a sweeping myth that included Christian themes, yet he rejected all attempts to interpret his work as a parable or allegory. The symbolism is subtle, not preachy.

Clearly, the screenwriters tried to be faithful to the book while also going about their appointed duty of crafting waves of spectacular images to pull action-lovers into theaters over and over again. It is the myriad scenes of fury, terror and deadly skill that dominate the film. Yet there are beautiful moments that carry spiritual weight.

The warrior Boromir dies a brutal death sacrificing his life for others. As he dies, he seeks forgiveness from the future king. Aragorn bows his head, noted Pearce, "and makes what almost looks like a pre-Christian sign of the cross." The elf princess Arwen prays for the healing of Frodo. Gandalf fights to save his followers and then falls into an abyss -- arms extended as if on a cross.

"The big worry was that this would be some kind of Hollywood parody of 'The Lord of the Rings,' " said Pearce. "I have no idea if any of the artists involved in this project are Christians. I have no idea what their point of view is, in terms of faith.

"But it must have made sense, just from an artistic point of view, to leave much of the spiritual element intact. After all, that is what gives the book its depth and power. That is what makes it much more than a work of mere fantasy."

Second thoughts on Christmas 2001

The images flash by on television screens during every Christmas season.

The pope moves slowly around the altar in St. Peter's Basilica on Christmas Eve or sits on his balcony throne, solemnly waving to flocks of New Year's pilgrims. He reads sermons which news reports crunch into sound bites about hope and world peace, or joy and world peace.

This year it was children and world peace.

"My thoughts go to all the children of the world," said the frail Pope John Paul II, struggling to emphasize key phrases in his Midnight Mass text. "So many, too many, are the children condemned from birth to suffer through no fault of their own the effects of cruel conflicts."

Once these media rites are over, our civil religion proceeds to the National Football League playoffs. Christmas is quickly old news.

But this was not an ordinary year. Thus, it was a good year to note what two radically different kinds of believers have to say about Christmas.

Anyone who reads the pope's texts discovers that he believes something miraculous actually happened 2,000 years ago, something connected with peace on earth and good will among men. Pope John Paul II, in other words, believes that Christmas is built on more than a mere story that produces warm feelings in human hearts.

If Christmas is built on truth, he said, then there is reason for hope and joy -- no matter what. This message is not an easy sell after 2001 and the pope said so on Christmas Eve.

"The Messiah is born," said John Paul. "Emmanuel, God-with-us! ... But does this certainty of faith not seem to clash with the way things are today? If we listen to the relentless news headlines, these words of light and hope may seem like words from a dream. ... Our hearts this Christmas are anxious and distressed because of the continuation in various parts of the world of war, social tensions, and the painful hardships in which so many people find themselves. We are all seeking an answer that will reassure us."

The pope's defense a Christmas miracle may not have sounded radical, but it was -- especially after the horror of Sept. 11. To understand why, it helps to contrast his Christmas message with that of an American shepherd who makes his share of headlines.

According to the Rt. Rev. John Shelby Spong, the problem with religious believers who embrace miracles is that this quickly leads them to claim "they have received their truth by divine revelation. It is a strange claim that leads almost inevitably to the authoritarian assertion that there is a single 'true church' or a particular religious system that alone offers salvation."

In today's world, this kind doctrinal certainty is truly dangerous, said Spong, a relentlessly candid voice in the Episcopal Church's progressive establishment.

After Sept. 11, it is time "recognize that religious truth, like all truth, emerges out of human experience," he said. "Once that is understood, then religious people will recognize that their exclusive claim to possess divine revelation is nothing but a part of our human security system. Those claims create the mentality that fuels religious imperialism."

The bishop openly attacks "irrational doctrines" such as papal infallibility and scriptural inerrancy. Just before Christmas, Spong again denied that God is a "supernatural being." Thus, "I cannot interpret Jesus as the earthly incarnation of this supernatural deity."

"Perhaps the only way for the Christmas promise of peace on earth to be achieved," he said, "is for every religious system to face its human origins and recognize that worshipers in every religious system are nothing but human seekers walking into the mystery."

For Spong and many others, there is a "Christ experience," but not a literal Christmas. The pope embraces tradition and revelation. He still believes that God can give answers.

"The birth of the Only-begotten Son of the Father has been revealed as 'an offer of salvation' in every corner of the earth, at every time in history," he said. "The Child who is named 'Wonder-Counselor, God-Hero, Father-Forever, Prince of Peace' is born for every man and woman. He brings with him the answer, which can calm our fears and reinvigorate our hope."

After Sept. 11 -- What good? What evil?

There was never any question whether the hellish events of Sept. 11 would be selected as the most important news story in the Religion Newswriters Association's annual poll.

The question was which Sept. 11 religion story would receive the most votes.

There were so many - from the prayers of the bombers to the prayers of those who fought them. In the end, five of the RNA poll's top 10 stories were linked to Sept. 11 in some way. The secular journalists who cover religion named Osama bin Laden as 2001's most significant religion newsmaker, with President Bush placing second.

"Osama bin Laden has demonstrated, not for the first time in history, how easily religion and religious fervor can be hijacked to serve political ends," noted one journalist.

Was this attack merely about politics? Armies of experts said it was part of an ancient clash between civilizations and religions. Some saw evidence of a pivotal struggle within Islam, a fight requiring sermons and fatwas as well as bullets and bombs. President Bush said this was a battle between good and evil - period.

But it's hard to discuss good and evil, and terrorists and heroes, in an age that says truth is a matter of opinion. Welcome back to America's culture wars.

"We're not fighting to eradicate 'terrorism,' " argued Thomas Friedman, in the New York Times. "Terrorism is just a tool. World War III is a battle against religious totalitarianism, a view of the world that my faith must reign supreme and can be affirmed and held passionately only if others are negated."

In this column and others, the New York Times defined "religious totalitarianism" as any claim that a faith teaches absolute, exclusive truth.

"The future of the world may well be decided by how we fight this war," wrote Friedman. "Can Islam, Christianity and Judaism know that God speaks Arabic on Fridays, Hebrew on Saturdays and Latin on Sundays? Many Jews and Christians have already argued that the answer to that question is yes, and some have gone back to their sacred texts to reinterpret their traditions to embrace modernity and pluralism."

David Zwiebel of Agudath Israel of America fiercely disagreed, insisting that this "vision of America where religious belief is welcome only if it abandons claims to exclusive truth is truly chilling - and truly intolerant."

Here are the top 10 stories in the RNA poll:

1. Americans rush to prayer vigils after the attacks on the World Trade Center and Pentagon. Clergy describe waves of worshippers asking, "Where was God?'' Worship attendance surges, but quickly returns to seasonal levels.

2. Fearing a backlash of hate, most American Muslims experience just the opposite. Many non-Muslims organize visits to mosques and clergy condemn negative stereotypes.

3. Bush repeatedly proclaims that America's war is not with Islam, but with those who blaspheme its teachings. But many Middle Eastern and Asian Muslims agree with bin Laden's proclamations that the U.S. is at war with their faith.

4. Months of debate over the morality of research on stem cells taken from human embryos lead to a presidential order limiting the use of federal research dollars to existing stem cell lines.

5. Assassinations and suicide bombings escalate in Israel, fueling animosity and mistrust in the Middle East and dimming the prospects of peace between Jews and Palestinians. Homes are bulldozed in Gaza and the West Bank.

6. The White House proceeds with its Faith-Based Initiative despite criticism from the religious left and many conservatives. A modified version wins passage in the U.S. House, but has yet to pass the Senate.

7. Books and courses on Islamic beliefs and culture surge in popularity as Americans seek to better understand Islamic fundamentalism and its place in the Muslim world.

8. Pope John Paul II visits to Greece, Syria and Malta, becoming the first pope to visit a mosque, the Great Mosque in Damascus. A papal visit to the Ukraine increases old tensions, as Ukrainian and Russian Orthodox leaders claim that he is stealing their sheep.

9. Books on prayer soar on bookstore charts, illustrated by sales of the ``Prayer of Jabez.'' The apocalyptic "Left Behind" series sets publishing records, even though only 24 percent of Americans and 42 percent of ``born again'' Christians say they have heard of the books.

10. Christian relief workers -- accused by the Taliban of trying to convert Muslims -- are freed after three months of captivity in Afghanistan.

O Christmas Palm, O Christmas Palm

The tree filled up so much of the station wagon that driving home was an adventure.

But it was worth the extra effort. Things are more complex if you want a living tree, the kind you can transfer -- roots and all -- to the yard or a pot on the patio when its ritual duties are done. We are seriously considering moving this tree back indoors to decorate next Christmas.

This is Palm Beach County, after all. People do all kinds of strange things with palm trees.

"The Christmas Palm is a nice tree and it's really pretty," said the helpful Home Depot salesman. "And about this time of year, it will get red berries on it. Maybe that's why people called it the Christmas Palm. But I don't think I've heard of anyone trying to use one of these as a Christmas tree."

Why not? This is the tropics, I noted. Why not decorate a Christmas Palm here?

"I don't know how it used to be," he said. "But most people these days just want a normal Christmas tree. You know?"

We both looked at the parking lot, with its familiar holiday tent packed with dying evergreens trucked down from somewhere up north.

When I moved to South Florida, friends warned that the first Christmas would be surreal.

This is true. It feels strange the first time you hear "White Christmas" or "Jingle Bells" blasting out of the radio of a nearby convertible -- with the top down, since it's 80 degrees -- idling at a traffic light.

The shopping malls, with the help of acres of various forms of white plastic, look like icy chunks of Denver or Minneapolis that have broken free and floated south. Entire neighborhoods are wrapped in icicle twinkle lights. And if you glance into the giant front window of the archetypal South Florida home you will see the familiar glowing shape of a "normal" Christmas tree.

My theory is that what is surreal about Christmas here is that most people are trying to act like they aren't in South Florida. South Floridians are trying to celebrate somebody else's Christmas and it feels bizarre, with good reason. The "normal" Christmas just doesn't feel right.

So I have been trying to find out what Christmas was like in the tropics before the arrival of air conditioning, national television networks, roads jammed with slow-driving northerners and rows of superstores that look the same in every zip code on the planet.

I have found hints of older traditions in the parades of sailboats, shining with strings of lights. A few people still know how to make stunning wreaths out of palm fronds and seashells. There are Cuban Christmas dishes -- some topped with red and green peppers and multi-colored tortillas -- that don't look like they would play in Peoria.

Millions of people do celebrate Christmas in the tropics and, below the equator, in the middle of what is their summer. Christmas rites can be celebrated with a wide variety of traditions. Wouldn't it be depressing if the whole world tried to import our "normal" Christmas, complete with cartoon angels, sanitized mall-music carols, dumb advertisements, office-party rituals, non-sectarian symbols and the soothing sounds of car horns and cell telephones?

I wonder. Would we know a traditional Christmas if we saw one? What was Christmas like before the advent of this "normal" Christmas?

Meanwhile, my family has discovered that the fronds on a Christmas Palm are shaped just right for hanging ornaments and a few strings of lights. This tree will look just fine, matched with a Nativity scene.

In fact, listen to these words and flash back 2000 years: "And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flocks by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shown round about them. ..."

Stop for a minute and visualize the scene in your mind. Remember that this is Bethlehem, not far from the sea, on a sandy camel path out into the desert.

Yes, it's Christmas. See the palm trees in the background?