Where does the Baptist buck stop?

The clergy sexual abuse statistics were staggering.

Local reports from angry, hurt and humiliated laypeople were too horrifying to ignore.

So the assembled church leaders decided that they had to say something, they had to call for some kind of action because they were facing a nasty moral crisis.

"We encourage those religious bodies dealing with the tragedy of clergy abuse in their efforts to rid their ranks of predatory ministers," said their June 12 resolution. "We call on civil authorities to punish to the fullest extent of the law sexual abuse among clergy and counselors. ...

"We call on our churches to discipline those guilty of any sexual abuse ... as well as to cooperate with civil authorities in the prosecution of those cases."

Thus, the "messengers" to the annual meeting of the Southern Baptist Convention acknowledged that America's largest non-Catholic flock has been hit by waves of clergy sexual abuse affecting untold numbers of women, men, teen-agers and children. The resolution, which passed with little opposition, called for "ministers of the gospel -- whether they are pastors, counselors, educators, missionaries, chaplains or others -- to be above reproach morally, both within the body of Christ and in the larger community."

The intent of this is clear. Yet the statement also demonstrates why it will be hard for freewheeling and autonomous Protestant congregations to attack clergy sexual abuse.

While news media have repeatedly focused on abuse among Catholics, Protestant insiders have also long known that many of their own clergy -- especially youth workers and pastors who do counseling -- were breaking the laws of God and man.

"The incidence of sexual abuse by clergy has reached 'horrific proportions,' " according to a 2000 report to the Baptist General Convention of Texas. It noted that studies conducted in the 1980s found that about 12 percent of ministers had "engaged in sexual intercourse with members" and nearly 40 percent had "acknowledged sexually inappropriate behavior."

Sadly, this report added: "Recent surveys by religious journals and research institutes support these figures. The disturbing aspect of all research is that the rate of incidence for clergy exceeds the client-professional rate for both physicians and psychologists."

Where does the buck stop, when sexual abuse hits Protestant pulpits? The Southern Baptist resolution calls on local churches to discipline sex offenders. Yet the most powerful person in modern Protestantism is a successful pastor whose preaching and people skills keep packing people into the pews. Can his own church board truly investigate and discipline that pastor?

Once that question is asked, others quickly follow.

If the board of deacons in a Southern Baptist congregation faced an in-house sex scandal and wanted help, where could it turn? It could seek help from its competition, the circle of churches in its local association. Or it could appeal to its state convention. In some states, "conservative" and "moderate" churches would need to choose between competing conventions linked to these rival Baptist camps. Or could a church appeal for help from the boards and agencies of the 16-million-member national convention?

Everything depends on that local church and everything is voluntary. One more question: What Baptist leader would dare face the liability issues involved in guiding such a process?

"Just think of all the places where this process could go off the rails," said historian Timothy Weber, dean of Northern Baptist Theological Seminary near Chicago. "One church would have to take the initiative to voluntarily report the information on a bad pastor. Then another church would have to voluntarily go through the process of asking for information so that they can screen a pastor that it is thinking about hiring."

Some state conventions might have the staff and know how to create a data bank of information of clergy sexual abuse. But for Baptist leaders to do so, they would risk clashing with their tradition's total commitment to the freedom and the autonomy of the local congregation.

"The fact is," said Weber, "there is no Baptist clearing house for this information -- anywhere. There is no one keeper of the files, nobody out there who has the power to intervene when something goes wrong and people start pointing fingers. There is no there, out there."

A Vatican email gap?

For years, Father Joseph F. Wilson studied the U.S. Catholic clergy register, following the career of the priest who once delivered an unforgettable sexuality lecture at the Dallas seminary.

This mid-1980s forum was attended by all diocesan clergy and embraced by the local bishop, Wilson recalled, even though the speaker warned that the Vatican was reining in his ministry to gays. One urgent question from that talk: Did gay Catholics have only three true options - chastity, sin or suicide?

"The issue of gay teen-agers did come up," said Wilson, now a priest in Brooklyn. "He said he would like to discuss how priests can minister to boys in this situation, but that this was not a subject that could be addressed rationally in the church. He said people got too emotional when discussing this kind of subject."

The speaker was Father Paul R. Shanley.

At the time, the Boston "street priest" was a trailblazer in ministry to sexual minorities. Now he stands accused of being a serial child molester and an apologist for man-boy love.

The Shanley story is emerging in waves of legal documents and headlines from Boston to Dallas to San Diego. But, like so many other plot lines in the sex-abuse crisis, it is also unfolding on the Internet. These days, it's hard to ignore the role of email list operators, chat-room masters, "web log" commentators and ordinary Catholics -- with and without collars -- who can click "forward" with a mouse.

Wilson, for example, included his reflections on that long-ago Dallas lecture and a host of other issues in a formal letter to the organization Priests For Life. But the conservative priest also emailed it to a few friends, who sent it to some Internet lists, where it reached activists who posted it on the World Wide Web. And so it goes.

Eventually, Wilson's essay surfaced in a media forum at the Ethics and Public Policy Center in Washington, D.C., where it was quoted along with coverage from The New York Times, The Boston Globe, Commonweal and mainstream sources. This is merely one example of a torrent of digital commentary that is now a normal part of Catholic life behind the scenes.

Designated news media free-for-alls -- such as this week's U.S. Catholic Bishops meeting in Dallas - will continue to produce policy statements that inspire close scrutiny and responses from Rome. Everyone pays attention when a crisis hits the global networks and newspapers.

But is the Vatican paying attention to the digital chorus?

During an Easter season trip to Rome, journalist and scholar George Weigel said he felt as if he had stepped into a "time warp" as he met Vatican officials who were only then facing revelations and emotions that had rocked American Catholics three to four months earlier.

"People were not sure how much of this was real and how much of it was hype. People were unsure as to how much more was coming," said Weigel, author of "Witness to Hope," the 992-page authorized biography of Pope John Paul II.

Weigel was amazed. Clearly there was some kind of "information gap" between the U.S. Catholic establishment and Rome, he said. Also, the worldly European press had remained silent, perhaps due to a jaded view of American obsessions about sex. But something else was wrong.

"Suddenly it dawned on me that the Vatican is simply not, to this day, a part of the Internet culture," said Weigel. "There are a few people who take the trouble to go online every morning or evening. ... But in the main, what we have become used to and what frames our emotional responses to these questions, namely real-time information and a constant flow of chat, commentary, argument and so forth, ... none of this exists over there."

Wilson, for one, finds it hard to believe that such an "information gap" still exists.

"I know people in Rome have that attitude: We look backward over 2000 years and forward into eternity," he said. "But there are Americans over there who understand what is happening. ... And this information has been sent to Rome for years, by mail, special delivery, telegram, fax, FedEx, Candy-Gram and however Americans choose to deliver information of vital importance."

Religion, relief and risk in Afghanistan

WASHINGTON -- There are rumblings from western Afghanistan that the office for the "Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice" is back.

That may not sound bad. But this is the network that enforced the Taliban's codes for clothing, grooming, family life, prayers and myriad other details of daily life. It used beatings, torture, imprisonment, discrimination and other forms of terror.

On the evening news, the Taliban is defeated and on the run. But the reality on the ground may be different. If the office for the "Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice" is alive, the Taliban's heart is still beating.

"Significant numbers of former Taliban officials or supporters appear to be in the process of attaching themselves to the new power structures," according to the U.S. Commission on International Religious Freedom. "Many elements of the victorious anti-Taliban forces also have past records of human rights abuse, including religious intolerance and restrictions of the rights of women."

Far from the diplomats and satellite dishes in Kabul, the Taliban's version of Sunni Islamic law may rule -- with summary public executions for murder, amputations for theft and stoning and lashing for adultery.

Nobody really knows. The commission thinks somebody needs to find out.

In a report this week to the White House and Congress, it urged the expansion of an international security presence beyond Kabul, with more attention focused on the actions of local commanders and tribal leaders. It is crucial -- since religion is at the root of this crisis -- that someone promptly be assigned to the Kabul embassy to defend religious liberty.

"If the United States government is not prepared to send such a person, our commission is," said commissioner Felice Gaer, of the American Jewish Committee.

Gaer repeated this pledge a half dozen times during one press briefing. The commission will decide on a course of action by the end of June.

It may seem strange to place such an emphasis on religious liberty for minorities in a land in which Hindus, Sikhs, Buddhists, Jews and Christians may number only in the hundreds. But there also have been atrocities committed by the Sunni Muslims -- 85 percent of the population -- against Shiite Muslims.

"Some people have the view, 'Well, what do you need religious freedom for?' because this is a country that is 99 percent Muslim," said commissioner Nina Shea of Freedom House. "There are many difficulties with that. Under the Taliban we saw how a harsh interpretation of Islam was imposed on everyone, whether they wanted that interpretation or not. This is a concern for the individual rights of Muslims as well as for minority religious groups within Afghanistan."

The commission report's bottom line is that "a future Afghanistan that respects human rights, including freedom of thought, conscience and religion," is much less likely to be a staging ground for terrorism. But there is another reason to stress issues of faith and tolerance -- it is crucial that religious charities and relief groups are able to safely resume their work.

But who decides who is a relief worker and who gets jailed as a missionary? Ask Dayna Curry and Heather Mercer if this question matters in Afghanistan.

The U.N. Universal Declaration of Human Rights states: "Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; this right includes freedom to change his religion or belief, and freedom, either alone or in community with others and in public or private, to manifest his religion in teaching, practice, worship and observance."

This implies that all kinds of people -- from atheists to evangelists -- can speak their minds and strive to change other people's minds. But Afghanistan remains a land in which converting to another faith can be fatal. Inviting someone to convert to another faith can be fatal, as well.

The goal right now, said Shea, is to focus on issues of security and the rule of law.

"This report," she said, "is not about making Afghanistan safe for Christian missionaries to go in and convert the country. ... We are talking about basic rights of religious freedom that have been violated, probably more severely in Afghanistan than in almost any other country in the world in recent years."

Buddhism for sale

It was a logical question for the Dalai Lama to ask his Jewish visitors, yet it caught them completely off guard.

Poet Rodger Kamenetz has pondered his question for a decade: "Can you tell me the secret of Jewish spiritual survival in exile?"

"Notice that the Dalai Lama asked about spiritual survival, not cultural survival," said Kamenetz, author of "The Jew in the Lotus," a classic travelogue of uncharted terrain between two spiritual traditions. "What he was really asking was, 'How do you survive spiritually until you can return to your homeland?' "

The exiled Tibetan Buddhist leader assumed that Jews had learned valuable lessons about survival during centuries of life in foreign, often hostile, cultures and lands. But he also assumed that this ability to survive was linked to the practice of the rites and prayers of the Jewish faith.

This is a haunting question for Jews in an age when so few actively practice their faith, said Kamenetz, during a prayer seminar for the Palm Beach (Fla.) Fellowship of Christians and Jews. But this question about spiritual survival should haunt all devout believers in an age in which ancient faiths seem to under attack -- by forces both obvious and subtle.

It's easy to focus on threats such as persecution, terrorism and war. While these forces are real, Kamenetz warned that ancient religious traditions are also being buried in commercialism and entertainment. Faith has become a "consumer good." For millions, a religious tradition is now a product that they purchase, not a way of life that they practice.

In his opinion, the worship, prayer and ethical traditions at the heart of Judaism, Buddhism, Christianity and Islam should be added to a spiritual "endangered species" list.

Take Buddhism, for example, which appears to be flourishing and winning converts in media-soaked America. Simply stated, Buddhism is being bought and sold. And Kamenetz is not the only scholar who is worried about the rise of a consumer-friendly Buddhism in the spirituality marketplace.

Indeed, some forms of exile are subtler than others.

"All of the world's great religions provide profound challenges to the unexamined life," noted Stephen Prothero of Boston University, at Salon.com. "At their best, they offer devastating diagnoses of human sickness and radical remedies for it. They demand crazy things -- that we love our enemies, that we deny ourselves. ... At their best, religions are difficult, confusing and mysterious."

Meanwhile, the fad that many call Baby Boomer Buddhism is "all too often shallow and small," he said. "It soothes rather than upsets, smoothing out the palpable friction between Buddhist practice and the banalities of contemporary American life."

Consider one item sold in many spiritual bookstores. Consumers can now buy rocks with this inscription -- "What Would Buddha Do?"

There are other seekers -- including growing numbers of "JUBUs" or Jewish Buddhists -- who find Buddhism attractive because they see it as a form of spirituality without dogmas, creeds, beliefs, commandments and rituals that resemble anything they were required to learn as children. They simply ignore what traditional Buddhist leaders such as the Dalai Lama have to say about hot-button moral issues, such as abortion, homosexuality of sexual abstinence.

"Let's face it," said Kamenetz, "one of the reasons Buddhism has become so popular, with so many Americans, so fast, is that people have stripped away all of the rules and the precepts and the work that has to do with how you are supposed to live your life. In doing so, they have stripped Buddhism of its ethical content.

"You are left with a religion that makes very few demands of you. Is that Buddhism?"

Interfaith dialogues between Jews, Christians and Buddhists are sure to increase, as more Buddhists blend into the American mainstream. The number of Americans converting to Buddhism will also continue to rise.

Will the new Buddhists compromise and assimilate? Will they be able to spiritually survive while "exiled" in this strange land?

"It may take 300 years for a true Buddhism to come to America," said Kamenetz. "In the meantime, you're going to continue to see all of these hybrid forms. People are taking pieces of this faith and combining it with pieces of that faith. ...

"This is all so, so American."

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."