Which Church of the Nativity?

The Gate of Humility into the Church of the Nativity is just over four feet high and was added in 1272 A.D. to help repel raiders.

Visitors must stoop or bow in submission. Once inside, most tourists - about 1.25 million a year, in peaceful times - quickly queue on the right side of the 5th century Orthodox basilica and wait to enter the Grotto of the Nativity beneath the high altar.

I passed through the gate two years ago and headed for the altar icons. A priest appeared.

"You are American? You are Orthodox?", he asked, before assisting me. "We have so few people who come here to pray."

Frankly, I was glad to have a guide in the maze. The main lesson I learned was that the Church of the Nativity is not one building.

Nevertheless, most news about the recent Bethlehem siege described it has one church served by 30 or more priests, monks and nuns. Sadly, the reality is more splintered than that and recent events may have deepened the cracks.

Journalists said Palestinians in "the monastery" exchanged fire with Israeli troops. Which monastery? There are separate Roman Catholic and Greek monasteries and an Armenian Orthodox convent. "The priests" said they were not held hostage. Which priests? Gunmen raided food supplies and trashed monastic cells. In which cloister?

It is not even clear how the Palestinians entered "the church."

Time reported that they used the Gate of Humility. Yet it's hard to imagine several dozen al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade leaders, Tanzim militia, Hamas fighters and Palestinian Authority police being allowed through the Gate of Humility with 90 weapons, including assault rifles, and enough explosives for a reported 40 booby-traps.

Newsweek and numerous other publications say they shot their way through the main doors of the Roman Catholic Church of St. Catherine, a 19th century sanctuary adjoining the Orthodox basilica. But some reports said the Franciscan priests opened these doors, perhaps due to fear of being taken hostage.

Either way, how did gunmen get from the Franciscan passageways into the ancient basilica? Why did Palestinians - as shown in news photos -- end up sleeping on its cold stone floor, rather than in the Catholic sanctuary's pews? Orthodox churches do not have pews.

The Orthodox patriarch of Jerusalem believes these are not trivial questions. His words could not have been more blunt, as reporters surveyed the Greek monastery after the siege.

"All the media concentrated on the Franciscan quarter, where little damage was done," said Patriarch Irineos I, according to a Washington Times report. "Why? The Franciscans actually let the gunmen in then guided the gunmen to our rooms. ... The Franciscans then blocked their own rooms' doors with iron bars."

The New York Times and other publications reported that the most militant Palestinians appear to have lived, fought and died in the quarters of the Orthodox monks. Greek clerics feared Muslims would even attempt to claim these bloody sites as shrines. At one point, gunmen tried to bury one of their dead in the Greek monastery's garden.

Franciscan priests did report that gunmen tore up Bibles for toilet paper. The organ in their church was damaged, as was a mosaic. Meanwhile, Palestinian and Israeli leaders traded accusations about who caused fires in the monasteries. The militants stole candelabra, icons and other golden objects, but left them behind with their weapons. Everyone leaving the basilica passed through a metal detector.

A Vatican envoy quickly ruled that St. Catherine's had not been defiled. The first Mass after the siege was celebratory, complete with the sound of a tambourine. Reporters noted that this church's main gate had been repaired, since it appeared that gunmen shot off the lock.

Next door, Patriarch Irineos led solemn reconsecration rites, before the first Divine Liturgy in his violated sanctuary. One altar had been used a common table, the baptismal font as a washtub and parts of the nave as latrines. The Grotto of the Nativity was used as a morgue. And Eastern Orthodox believers were unable to celebrate Holy Week and their Easter on May 5.

Was this another tragic first in the history of one of Christendom's oldest churches?

The siege raised agonizing questions inside the Church of the Nativity, as well as outside of its ancient walls.

Not a rookie, at faith

Jim Morris came of age in a West Texas town, which means the locals didn't need to use street addresses to tell where they lived.

All he had to say was that his house was one block from Wood Creek Baptist Church and a vacant lot away from the Camp Bowie Sports Complex. That would cover the essentials, out where nobody talks much about the separation of church and sports.

"The first thing you need to understand about West Texas is that even local video stores have announcement boards out front with messages like, 'Keep Christ in Christmas,' " said Morris, in the first line of "The Rookie," the book about his middle-aged ascent into major-league baseball. "The second thing to understand is that, if Jesus Christ himself were to show up on a Friday night in the fall, he'd have to wangle a seat in the high school stadium and wait until the football game ended before declaring his arrival."

Naturally, a whole lot of praying and Bible reading vanished when Walt Disney Pictures got a hold of this story. But the good news for fans of old-fashioned movies is that God wasn't totally written out of the plot when the "The Rookie" moved to the big screen. It's hard to drain the faith out of a West Texas tale full of baseball, babies, wedding rings, tears, tough love and nuns appealing to the patron saint of impossible dreams.

Morris was natural athlete who almost reached the big show as a youngster, before his body broke down. So he got married, settled down, started teaching school and coaching a little baseball.

Then the kids on his ragged high school team make him promise to give baseball one more shot, if they won the district championship. The team won district. Morris went to a free-agent tryout and discovered that his blown-out shoulder was serving up 98 mile-per-hour fastballs -- light years past what he threw in his prime. With the stunned blessing of his wife and three kids, Morris headed to the minor leagues and then, at age 35, to the big leagues.

Roll out the clich? No Hollywood ink slinger would dare concoct such a story.

"It was God," said Morris, who is busy as a motivational speaker in both religious and secular settings. "What other explanation could there be for what happened?"

"The Rookie" has already passed $70 million in ticket sales, which means Disney succeeded in creating a feel-good hit for baseball season. But the movie also raised eyebrows with its G rating, which is often box-office death with adults.

The key is that "The Rookie" is basically an updated version of one of old Hollywood's most popular products - the inspiring story of a good man who beats the odds and wins big. Moviemakers used to tell this kind of story all the time and they almost always included a healthy dose of faith and family.

As it turns out, this formula still works - if the story is good enough.

"Quite frankly, faith played a big role in my life, so it would have been impossible to have left that out of the movie," said Morris. But the producers of the movie "didn't draw much attention to the religious side of the story."

They didn't have to. It was shocking enough to watch Hollywood tell a simple story about grown-ups and kids chasing their dreams, while keeping their vows and saying a prayer or two. But those who read the book will wonder, in particular, what happened to its major theme -- which is the pitcher's ongoing efforts to fathom "God's mysterious ways" of working through both the agony and the triumph of his life.

Nevertheless, God remains in the details, soaked into the images of family and commitment. Morris said his story makes "no sense whatsoever" without faith.

"They just sort of hit it, then back away a little," he said. "I thought that was appropriate, to tell you the truth. They didn't try to jam anything down anybody's throat. You didn't want people sitting in theaters saying, 'What are you trying to do here?' ... This is a movie. You really can't preach at people."

Canterbury's 'unique' statement

As the college student knelt at the altar rail, another parishioner pointed accusingly and loudly said: "Don't give him communion. He does not believe. He is mocking us all."

Stunned, Father George Carey asked the student for his response. He looked up and said: "I am confirmed. I am here because I want to follow." The priest served him communion.

This scene occurred at St. Nicholas Parish in Durham, England, years before Carey began his decade-plus service as the 103rd Archbishop of Canterbury. Today, he still uses this story as a parable about spiritual seekers and those who are quick to judge.

But this kind of story has several levels, said the archbishop, speaking last week at the 25th anniversary celebration of the Trinity Episcopal School for Ministry in Ambridge, Pa. The student's simple confession indicated that he wanted to start a journey. What spiritual leaders are supposed to do is embrace seekers and show them where God wants them to go.

This implies that there is an ultimate destination and even a true path. It is a sign of the times that making such a claim is controversial. So be it. Carey said he was delighted that the primates of the worldwide Anglican Communion recently took just such a stand.

They said: "We believe that God the eternal Son became human for our sake and that in the flesh and blood of Jesus of Nazareth God was uniquely present and active." The archbishop added: "The statement is a full-blooded recommitment to the historic faith of the church. And to that wisdom of glory and weakness all Christians commit themselves."

The key words in the primate's statement are "uniquely present." Many Anglicans, especially in the Third World, are convinced their communion's powerful left wing believes that all spiritual paths are ultimately the same and have the same end. Jesus is one path to salvation, clarity, enlightenment or whatever. But other paths work just as well.

This fundamental disagreement leads to legions of bitter conflicts about biblical authority, creeds, sacraments and, of course, sexuality.

"God has given us sexuality. It is a mysterious gift," Carey told a circle of reporters, before his address. "But I'm of the belief, and I have been consistent on this throughout my tenure, that any sexual relationships beyond the confines of heterosexual marriage is a deviation from scripture. ... I don't approve of that."

The archbishop is used to hearing this question, because fights over the status of sexual acts outside of marriage have been tearing up the Anglican Communion for decades. This is true of virtually all mainline religious groups.

While known as conservative, Carey is - in keeping with the style of his office - a soft-spoken British diplomat who strives not to tread on ecclesiastical toes. He knew that he was in the United States and that its Episcopal hierarchy has a de facto policy of ordaining non-celibate gays and lesbians and allowing same-sex union rites. A church court has ruled that Episcopalians have no "core doctrines" on marriage and sex.

Yet Carey was speaking at an evangelical seminary, one that has served as a strategic bridge to Anglicans in the Third World, especially Africa and Asia. Thus, he gave journalists a candid answer and repeated this stance in his speech.

It is impossible to separate theology and morality, stressed the archbishop. At some point, church politics bleed into real life. The political becomes the personal.

"There have to be boundaries to pastoral care which result in pastoral discipline, just as there are boundaries to doctrinal orthodoxy," he said. "To say, 'Jesus is Lord,' is to accept his discipline. It is to place ourselves under his obedience. We cannot do what we please or believe whatever we decide suits us personally."

There are those who disagree, often hiding their views in lofty language. Carey said he was reminded of one jester's version of the Caesarea Phillippi encounter which begins with Jesus asking Peter: "Who do men say that I am?"

A postmodern Peter might answer: "You are the existentialist flux of Being shimmering in the signifying chains of inchoate Reality. You are the pre-existent Ground of our Being."

To which, Carey noted, Jesus would certainly reply: "I am WHAT?"

It's the doctrine, stupid

Rome would not issue a bishop a red hat and send him to New York City unless he had demonstrated at least some ability to stay cool in a media firestorm.

So reporters in Rome must have been baffled last week when Cardinal Edward Egan uttered this twisted response when asked about his views on gays in the priesthood.

"I would like to say this," the cardinal told the New York Times. "The most important thing is to clean up the truth. And the truth is that I have never said anything."

Yes, most U.S. bishops are saying as little as possible right now, especially about the issue that dares not speak its name. One reason the cardinal of New York was so flustered was that the dean of his own cathedral, the Rev. Msgr. Eugene Clark, had just preached a sermon that echoed in newsrooms as well as in pews. Clark said the Catholic hierarchy has been sinfully silent on homosexuality, in part because it feared being accused of fanning the flames of prejudice.

"When it was said that homosexuality was fixed at birth (which is not true), and therein required civil rights protection, many bishops and others hesitated to criticize homosexual demands for moral acceptance," said his printed text. "Some priests drifted into homosexual circles, then into homosexual license and then into man-boy relationships. ...

"The failure of church authorities to approach the subject as a problem gave these delinquent priests a freedom they should not have had."

A few parishioners stormed out of St. Patrick's Cathedral, while others applauded.

What was lost in the furor was that this sermon was not primarily about homosexuality. Clark didn't just attack homosexuality. He attacked the whole sexual revolution, with a special emphasis on its impact in Catholic higher education -- especially in seminaries.

But this crisis is not just about sex. It's about doctrine. Specifically, Clark said the current scandals are rooted in a fad in moral theology called "Proportionalism." The Vatican condemned this theory in the 1980s, yet it remains popular, he said.

"Simply, it said that while abortion, fornication, adultery, divorce, remarriage and contraception all remained sins, they could be permitted" if someone had a serious enough reason -- a "proportionate reason" for committing the acts, he said. "It severely damaged moral sexual life among vast numbers of college students and young married Catholics. While most priests and seminarians saw the obvious flaws in Proportionalism, it is now clear that some did not."

Some priests, said Clark, decided that their emotional and psychological needs were so great that they had just cause to break their vows and seek sexual release. After all, weren't the experts -- Catholic and secular -- saying that celibacy was an out-of-date concept, one that might even be unhealthy?

"A priest who believed this," said Clark, "could see it as a proportionate reason to put aside sexual abstinence."

This would lead many priests - gay or straight - to remain silent about church teachings on sex and marriage. This would lead some priests to argue that "celibacy" may not always be the same thing as "chastity."

This would surround the church's clerical structures in a fog of secrecy and stall reform.

Thus, Pope John Paul II told the U.S. cardinals that the current crisis is not just about priests with sex problems. It's about children, parents, marriages, homes and a warped culture. It's about doctrine. The church must deal with its own problems, so it can get back to healing souls

To do that, it will need bishops and priests who will answer tough questions.

"People need to know that there is no place in the priesthood ... for those who would harm the young," said the pope. "They must know that bishops and priests are totally committed to the fullness of Catholic truth on matters of sexual morality, a truth as essential to the renewal of the priesthood and the episcopate as it is to the renewal of marriage and family life.

"We must be confident that this time of trial will bring a purification of the entire Catholic community, a purification that is urgently needed. ... So much pain, so much sorrow must lead to a holier priesthood, a holier episcopate and a holier church."

Romeo and Juliet, born again

GRAND RAPIDS, Mich. -- It's hard to imagine "Romeo and Juliet" with a happy ending.

But what if William Shakespeare had been preparing his manuscript for sale in stores linked to what used to be called the Christian Booksellers Association? What changes would he have been pressured to make?

"The lovers would meet, just as before, and the parents would still disapprove. Probably one set would not be Christians at all, providing a convenient subplot of salvation," said novelist Reed Arvin, in a rollicking lecture at the 2002 Calvin College Festival of Faith & Writing.

As newlyweds, Romeo and Juliet would strive to evangelize those lost parents. Shakespeare would manfully struggle to build tension, but "the fix would be in," with a happy ending assured, said Arvin. In the final scene, Romeo's parents would be converted and, as Juliet's father leads them in prayer, the sun would break through the clouds over Verona. Amen.

"I thank my God that William Shakespeare did not write for a CBA publisher, because that version of 'Romeo and Juliet' would have been forgotten 15 minutes after the marketing plan ran out of money," said Arvin.

But Shakespeare, rather than "making his story end like an episode of the 'Love Boat,' taught us about power and young love. ... Above all -- in messages profoundly Christian -- be taught us the importance of forgiveness and showed us how the sins of the fathers are visited on the next generation. The people were real, the situation was real and the stakes were real."

Arvin's lecture on "Why I Left the CBA" was a curve ball at a conference that drew a wide array of Christian publishers, editors, writers and entrepreneurs. People listened, because he was a force in the CBA before he chose to exit. In addition to his books, Arvin is a skilled pianist and producer -- known for years of work with singers Amy Grant and the late Rich Mullins.

But a not-so-funny thing happened when Arvin sought a Christian publisher for a legal thriller called "The Will." He said his friends liked the book, but were sure that it would offend a key CBA audience. Everyone warned him not to anger the "little old ladies."

What Arvin learned is that writers can address issues of sin and salvation, but that certain sins are more offensive than others. In Christian bestsellers -- such as the omnipresent "Left Behind" series by writer Jerry Jenkins and preacher Tim LaHaye -- characters commit a variety of unspeakable acts of evil. No one claims that the authors have endorsed these actions. But authors go to "literary purgatory" if they violate CBA standards on sex and bad language.

"The Will" was a perfect test case, said Arvin.

The key, he explained, is that he is writing about characters that are quite normal, from a secular point of view, which means that they are messed up, from a Christian point of view. Thus, when writing about a high-strung, morally confused lawyer from a Chicago mega-firm, Arvin faced the question of what this character would do -- in real life -- if he fell in love with yet another hot female. The logical question: "Would he have sex with her?"

"Because I am writing a work of fiction and not propaganda, I don't ask questions such as, 'What should I have this character say next in order to lead people to Christ?' Or, 'What should I have this character do in order not to offend someone?' ... Only this: 'What would he say next? What would he do next?' "

There is a happy ending to this story. Arvin took his manuscript to Scribner and the powers that be at Simon & Schuster. They were not worried about its strong Christian sub-plot or that it mentioned Jesus by name -- in the context of salvation, as opposed to cursing. Then Paramount bought the film rights.

"What I am finding out is that there are major, major companies in places like Hollywood that are actively searching for stuff that will speak honestly about spiritual issues and even appeal to Christian audiences," said Arvin. "But it has to be real. It can't be fake. We have to write real stories that speak to real people."

Phillip E. Johnson, rabbi

Call them the Evangelical Alpha Males.

There's Chuck Colson and James Dobson, James Kennedy and Robert Schuller, and Paul Crouch and Pat Robertson. There are many more. They are 60 years old or much older, but they still command the spotlight.

"During this decade the American Church will experience a massive turnover in ... leadership," note researchers George Barna and Mark Hatch, in their book, "Boiling Point." If history is a guide, "the impact of many of the personality-driven ministries will fade as the primary personality departs the scene."

Celebrities are hard to replace. That's why a provocative thinker named Phillip E. Johnson -- patriarch of the "Intelligent Design" movement -- has taken a different path.

It's not that he is terribly modest. But Johnson wants to win and he is convinced that aiming the spotlight at others is good strategy. He wants his cause to thrive after he is gone.

"One of the things that the Christian world is notorious for is a celebrity style of dealing with issues," Johnson said, speaking at a conference at Palm Beach Atlantic College (which is also where I teach). "That puts a big burden on one person. ... I never wanted a movement like that."

So Johnson writes his own books, while promoting those written by his colleagues. And he keeps yielding the stage to biochemist Michael Behe, philosopher Stephen Meyer, mathematician William Dembski, worldview specialist Nancy Pearcey and a host others.

Johnson would rather be a rabbi than an Alpha Male. This is not normal.

Then again, Johnson has not lived a normal, garden-variety Christian life. He is a graduate of both Harvard University and the University of Chicago School of Law and served as clerk for U.S. Supreme Court Justice Earl Warren. Then he joined the faculty of the University of California at Berkeley -- a great home base for a left-of-center agnostic.

However, a personal crisis rocked Johnson's life and he became a Christian believer, of a bookish Presbyterian stripe. Years later, he read Michael Denton's "Evolution: A Theory in Crisis" and was hooked. Johnson became convinced that the legal rhetoric being used to silence critics of Darwinian philosophy was, in fact, a secular fundamentalism.

Acting as fierce, but jolly, academic samurai, Johnson set out to slice up the scientific establishment. The result was "Darwin on Trial" in 1991, followed by numerous other books that have inspired and infuriated readers. Last summer, Johnson suffered a major stroke. He responded by writing yet another book, the upcoming "The Right Questions."

Johnson thrives in secular settings. When he does agree to talk theology, rather than science, he refuses to march straight through the landmines in the first chapters of Genesis. Instead, he starts with the prelude to the Gospel of John, which states: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God; all things were made through him, and without him was not anything made that was made."

After reading this, Johnson asks: "Is that true or false?"

Then he turns this scripture inside out and creates a credo for use in sanctuaries aligned with the National Center for Science Education. It sounds like this: "In the beginning were the particles and the particles somehow became complex, living stuff. And the stuff imagined god."

After reading this, Johnson again asks: "Is that true or false?"

The movement Johnson calls "the Wedge" argues that today's debates over science, creation and morality are, literally, clashes between people who believe there is scientific evidence that God created man and those who believe there is scientific evidence that man created God.

This debate will not be settled overnight, which is why Johnson is convinced he must not fight alone. He believes the stakes are high and getting higher.

"If there is no Creator who has a purpose for your life, then there is no such thing as sin," he said. "Sin would mean that you are in a wrong relationship to your Creator. Well, you can't be in the wrong relationship with the particles. They don't care. So you don't need a Savior, to save you from the consequences of your wrong relationship with the particles. ...

"When you give away creation, you have given away everything."

Bluebonnets, bullets, bombs & balloons -- Year 14

In their visions, key supporters of the U.S. Prayer Center kept seeing fields of bluebonnets, the state flower of Texas.

But that was not all they reporting seeing.

"In the past three weeks, six intercessors, who do not know each other, have reported to us written descriptions of dreams that they have had in which President George W. Bush appeared to have been assassinated," said an email from the Houston-based ministry (www.usprayercenter.org) about this time last year.

There were more visions in the weeks that followed, said Carol Pauwels, the center's prayer coordinator. These "prayer warriors" kept seeing planes in the air and images of warfare and terror. The calls and emails came from around the world and the ministry went on "red alert" prayer status.

"We pulled all of these dreams and visions apart and looked at the common themes," she said. "We finally decided that the threat was real and filed a report with the Secret Service."

That sound you hear is many readers -- secular and devout -- laughing out loud. But if you listen carefully, you will also hear sincere murmurs of concern and affirmation. That's the way things have been going for the past 12 months or so.

It has been a time of tears. Yet, as always, the religion beat has a way of making people shake their heads for a wide variety of reasons. I bring this up, because this is the time of year when I mark this column's anniversary -- this is No. 14 -- by weaving together a few of the mysterious, bizarre, amusing and even poignant items that show up in my mail. Proceed with caution.

* I am pleased to report that www.clonejesus.com appears to have gone out of business.

* A former student passed along an item from Chapel Hill, N.C., about the opening of a nightclub called "NV." A manager said the name stands for "envy," one of the "seven deadly sins" in the hit movie "Seven." Actually, Hollywood didn't create that list.

* A nondenominational radio station in London has set up an online confession site -- www.theconfessor.co.uk. Believe it or not, someone beat the Church of England to this innovation.

* This could be a bad setback for user-friendly, Baby Boomer Buddhism. The Dalai Lama has decreed that masturbation, oral and gay sex are wrong and against the Buddhist way of life. Has anyone told Richard Gere?

* Hold the mascara! Tammy Faye Bakker Messner of PTL infamy is reported to have cut a duet with shock-rocker Marilyn Manson. The song? "Silent Night."

* All kinds of religious folk visit the pluralistic domain called Beliefnet.com -- from angels to Zoroastrians. A friend noticed this striking lament by one writer: "I am a werewolf ... and also Catholic. ... But too progressive for some Catholics." Wait! Did he say "some" Catholics?

* I was not surprised when psychic John Edward announced that he would try to communicate with Sept. 11 victims during several episodes of his show "Crossing Over." But I was surprised when producers scrapped these plans, rather than offend viewers. Does this retreat imply that there is some concept of right and wrong in cable television?

* This confession appeared in the ombudsman's column in the Washington Post: "Religion doesn't seem to play much of a role in a large newsroom, although it plays a big part in the lives of many readers. This is one of the larger disconnects between journalists and their audience." What does this say about efforts to promote diversity in the news business?

* How nervous is Palm Beach County, Fla., these days? Waves of citizens called police when skywriter Jerry Stevens celebrated the arrival of 2002 by writing "God is Great" in the sky. They feared it was an act of terrorism.

* Can news reports from the Middle East get any worse? However, I did receive this touching report from loved ones who live in Nablus. They were eating breakfast a few days ago as the sound of gunfire and cannons echoed off the surrounding hills. The parents realized that their 3-year-old son, Malachi, was gazing off into space. The father asked what he was doing.

"I'm listening to all the balloons," he said.

'Joshua' keeps on preaching

The doctor's verdict was blunt and he didn't want to quibble about details.

The patient's heart and blood were in terrible shape. He was working too hard and the stress was about to kill him. The doctor said he should quit his job -- immediately.

But the 50-year-old patient was a Roman Catholic priest.

"I thought I had, maybe, a year," said Father Joseph Girzone. "I remember thinking: What do I want to do before I die? What is it I need to say? I decided I wanted to write a book about Jesus. I wanted to write a simple little book about the Jesus that ordinary people met and loved, the Jesus that Jewish people saw walking down the street."

That was 20 years ago. The book was called "Joshua" and it became a surprise bestseller, with many sequels. Now "Joshua" is poised to visit movie theaters.

Girzone is alive and well. Still, his once-fragile health plays a role in this story. Because the priest felt he had nothing to lose, he poured his feelings about the modern church into a "parable" based on a simple, but risky, concept: What if Jesus quietly returned and set up a wood-working shop in a small American town?

Then the questions kept coming. What if Joshua visited Northern Ireland? What if he set up shop in the inner city? What if he returned to the bloody Holy Land?

Most of all, Girzone kept asking a question that infuriated many: What if Christreturned and started prying into the affairs of the Catholic Church and otherflocks, as well?

"I want Joshua to have a strong, prophetic voice," said Girzone, who works through offices and retreat centers near Albany, N.Y., and Annapolis, Md. "I want Joshua to point out where his church has gone wrong and to help put his people back on course. ...

"If Jesus came back today, I think he would be very critical of those who abuse their teaching authority. I think Jesus would fight against secrecy and corruption."

Those are loaded words, especially right now.

Joshua doesn't just touch souls -- he critiques Vatican dogmas. He doesn't just heal the blind -- he captivates Jews with his teachings on the Trinity. He doesn't just raise the dead -- he counsels angry Catholic clergy.

"If my father has not given you the gift of celibacy, that is his business," Joshua tells a tired, dispirited priest in the first novel. "The Church must respect the way the Holy Spirit works, especially in the souls of priests, otherwise she will destroy her own priesthood. What Jesus has made optional, the church should not make mandatory."

This scene does not appear in the Christian-television-friendly film that opens April 19 in selected theaters, mostly in smaller Heartland and Bible Belt markets far from the long knives of major-media critics. "Joshua," the movie, omits many scenes in which Joshua judges the actions of specific brands of clergy and churches.

Girzone said the movie had to be careful not to offend too many viewers. It is also strange to see a movie that focuses primarily on Catholic characters, yet clearly -- with its cheerful style and pop-gospel music -- is targeting evangelical Protestants.

"It is hard to capture -- on film -- someone who is gentle and loving, yet powerful and prophetic," he said. "Being un-offensive is not the same thing as being holy."

Yet the film hints at Girzone's main theme, which he believes is at the heart of many struggles in Catholicism and other churches. Love, he insists, must never be confused with law. Here is how Girzone puts it, speaking through Joshua in a confrontation with his Vatican inquisitors at the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrines of the Faith.

"Religion is beautiful only when it is free and flows from the heart. That is why you should guide and inspire but not legislate behavior. And to threaten God's displeasure when people do not follow your rules is being a moral bully and does no service to God. You are shepherds and guides, but not the ultimate judges of human behavior. That belongs only to God."

To which millions of American Catholics and Protestants will now say, "Amen."

Smells, bells & tension at Easter

In the Anglo-Catholic tradition, the last rites of Holy Week offer a procession of images both glorious and sobering -- a drama painted in sacrament, scripture, incense, chants and candlelight, fading into the darkness of a tomb.

It is a time for soul searching. That will certainly be the case this year for Father David L. Moyer of the Church of the Good Shepherd in Rosemont, a sanctuary for Anglican traditionalists on the Philadelphia mainline. He chose to go on retreat at a convent, rather than enduring the pain of watching these services from a pew.

"I am a liturgical nut and I am not the kind of person who can just watch," he said. "I just couldn't take that emotionally, right now. I'd be thinking, 'Now we need to do this' and 'Now it's time to do that.' It would be agonizing, not being at the altar."

Moyer cannot serve at the altar for a simple reason -- Pennsylvania Bishop Charles E. Bennison, Jr., has forbidden him to do so. The bishop has "inhibited" Moyer from his sacred duties, and is proceeding toward deposing him as a priest, because the rector of Good Shepherd has repeatedly denied Bennison the right to preach and celebrate the Eucharist in the parish.

Why would a priest risk his career by locking out his bishop?

"Charles Bennison has removed himself from the church," said Moyer. "He has stepped outside the borders of the ancient Christian faith and of the Anglican tradition. ... I would say that he is in fact a heretic, a false teacher."

Both sides agree there is more to this standoff than power, $2 million in endowment money and the keys to a beautiful Gothic edifice. The bishop and his acolytes believe Moyer wants to split the diocese and the U.S. Episcopal Church. They note that Moyer leads the North American branch of Forward in Faith, a global network of Anglican conservatives.

Also, Moyer is a candidate to become an at-large bishop for traditionalists nationwide, following an upcoming election and consecration that would be held without the blessing of the American hierarchy. Moyer has strong ties to Third World archbishops and is scheduled to meet with several only days before a tense April 10-18 gathering of the Anglican primates in Canterbury.

Doctrine is at stake, too. Moyer responded to Bennison's March 1 "inhibition of ministry" letter with a letter urging the bishop to defuse the crisis by publicly affirming four ancient Christian doctrines. These were the uniqueness of Jesus as "the only way to obtaining eternal salvation," his "bodily Resurrection," the "supremacy of the Holy Scriptures as the inspired Word of God" and that "sexual intimacy and genital relations are only properly expressed in a monogamous, heterosexual marital union."

Bennison has not responded even though he is an outspoken, articulate advocate of changing church teachings on sex and salvation. During a 1997 forum, which was taped, the bishop was asked why he could embrace such sweeping doctrinal revisions. The church wrote the Bible, he responded. "Because we wrote the Bible, we can rewrite it."

Meanwhile, the diocesan standing committee has stated the obvious: no bishop wants to have the rector of a powerful parish publicly calling him a heretic.

"A diocese cannot function without mutual love and respect for duly instituted authority," stated the committee, in its report calling for disciplinary action against Moyer. "Since a Bishop's authority is sacramental, a parish must receive its Bishop to preside at the Holy Eucharist for it to be in communion with the Bishop. The parish must be in communion with the Bishop to be in communion with the diocese. The parish must be in communion with its diocese in order to be in communion with the Episcopal Church and, through it, the Anglican Communion at large."

But for Moyer, modern laws and ecclesiastical structures are not as important as the Bible and centuries of church tradition. Without a common core of doctrine, there can be no communion, he said. That is why he will fight on, even if that means sitting in a pew this Easter.

"I believe that souls are at risk. I really do believe that," he said. "We cannot stand by and watch people being led into hell."