Anti-war is not enough

It's no surprise that Johann Christoph Arnold opposes the war in Iraq.

The senior elder of the Bruderhof communes in America and England opposed U.S. intervention in Afghanistan, the Holy Week bombings of Serbia, the first Gulf War, the Vietnam War and the Korean War. He marched with the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. His social-activist resume covers half a century.

"I am more than a pacifist," he said. "The teachings of Jesus do not permit war. They do not permit armed conflict. ... Yes, I know that there is torture. I know that there are genocides and massacres. But I do not even believe that war is the answer to great evils of this kind. Violence leads to more violence."

But this time around, Arnold has not joined the marchers.

In fact, he has become troubled by the barrage of images of anti-war protests in the U.S. and abroad. Arnold said he respects the motives of the marchers, but he believes that it's time for anti-war activists to shun tactics that lead to bitterness, division and, in extreme cases, violence.

Right now, he said, people of faith -- on both sides of the Iraq debate -- must strive to actually help people whose lives are being touched by the war. It's hard to work for peace, while attacking others.

"How can we judge others without judging ourselves?", he asked. "What do we gain from angry words, now that war has started? What do we gain by pointing fingers at our president, our Congress and our soldiers? ... Now is the time for desperate prayers, not more protests. I am afraid that more protests will do more harm than good."

These are idealistic words, but Arnold leads a highly idealistic community of believers. The Bruderhof movement -- the name means "place of the brothers" -- began in the rubble of World War I Germany. Before long, the tiny Protestant group's commitment to nonviolence led to persecution. Arnold's parents were refugees who fled Nazism.

Today, the Bruderhof remain committed to simple living and the sanctity of life. While sharing some characteristics of the Amish and Mennonites, their communes are highly active in technology and publishing -- especially through the Internet.

On the World Wide Web, Arnold has begun pleading for a change among his colleagues in the anti-war movement. The bottom line, he said, is that being anti-war is not enough. The war is real. Thus, it's time to focus on the needs of real people. The pain in military families might be a good place to start, he said.

"As stories of injury, capture, imprisonment and death seep home from the front lines, it will become unbearably, overwhelmingly real," he wrote, in an epistle at www.Bruderhof.org. "And unlike those of us who can turn off the TV set when it all becomes too much, these people will have no choice in the matter. They will have to grapple with the suffering of their loved ones until they find a purpose or meaning in it. And we must too."

What would this look like, in real life?

If peace activists hold vigils, he said, they might seek to create prayer services that truly welcome veterans and members of military families, rather than offend and antagonize them. More churches should organize gatherings to write letters of support to the troops stationed in the Persian Gulf and at home. Someone will need to organize efforts to counsel and console those who lose loved ones and the soldiers who return home, their lives changed forever by combat.

It would help if churches -- on the left and right -- offered day care, babysitting and after-school activities for young children whose mothers or fathers have been called into active military service. Who will help the mothers who will soon give birth while their husbands are on the front lines?

"This is how we can work for peace," said Arnold. "If we can help one child of a soldier, if we can comfort one grieving family, it we can share the pain of one soldier who has been wounded in soul and body, then we will have done something positive. Then we will have done what Christ calls us to do."

Cliffs notes for confession

It's time for the Catholic bishops to go to confession.

It's time for all of the Catholic priests to go to confession.

Actually, with Easter a few weeks away, this is a time when all Catholics are supposed to go to confession.

But most of America's 65 million Catholics no longer know or no longer care that their church requires them to go to confession at least once a year in order to receive Holy Communion. Confession is especially important during this season of Lent.

If bishops and priests want Catholics to go to confession, they must demonstrate that the Sacrament of Penance still matters, said Msgr. James Moroney, who leads the U.S. bishops' liturgy office. The shepherds could, for example, start leading public rites that end with opportunities for private confession -- including their own.

"Our bishops and our priests have to preach the practice of penance," he said. "But they are also have to participate in the practice of penance. Then they have to make the practice of penance available to their people in a variety of ways. ...

"We know that our people need this. Everybody in our culture is bleeding from the eyes. Everybody has pain they need to get rid of and wounds that need to be healed. Well, we know how to do that. We have the tools and we need to use them."

Thus, the U.S. liturgy office has published a new brochure to teach Catholics how to do something that once was as familiar as breathing -- confess their sins to a priest. The back page is perforated, so penitents can tear off an eight-step "How to Go to Confession" list and carry it with them.

Catholics used to line up for confession on Saturdays. But by the mid-1970s, surveys found that monthly confession among American Catholics had fallen from 38 to 17 percent in a decade, while those who never or rarely went rose from 18 to 38 percent. In the mid-1980s, a University of Notre Dame study found that 26 percent of active, "core Catholics" never went to confession and another 35 percent went once a year.

It's hard to know how many confessions priests hear these days, said Moroney. Confession is a private matter. No one likes to discuss statistics.

But bishops and priests know that more Catholics need to go to confession. They know "The Catechism of the Catholic Church" still teaches "having attained the age of discretion, each of the faithful is bound by an obligation faithfully to confess serious sins at least once a year."

This may come as news to millions of Catholics.

"This Easter will mark my 10th year as a Catholic," noted one convert, in an online discussion. "I have very rarely missed Sunday mass or a holy day of obligation. Sometimes I've even gone to daily mass. Point is, I've heard well over 500 sermons. Not once -- not once -- do I recall having heard confession mentioned. ... For most American Catholics today, confession is almost as rare and exotic a devotional practice as donning a hair shirt."

Sadly, these words ring true, said Moroney. Many priests feel overwhelmed and have fallen silent. Many doubt their parishioners will accept the need for confession. But clergy must grasp that there is no shortage of sin and guilt in the pews. The problem is that Catholics are "surrounded 24/7 by a culture that teaches them to either deny their pain or to wallow in it as victims," he said.

Someone must take the time -- Sunday after Sunday -- to remind Catholics of the teachings of their church. Silence will not work.

"In some of our parishes there are enormous numbers of people who are going to confession. ... Then there are many parishes where we're talking about four or five people on a typical Saturday afternoon," said Moroney.

"So what's the difference? It's like that movie says, 'If you build it, they will come.' If priests constantly preach this and if they offer a variety of times and ways for people to celebrate the sacrament, then you're going to see people come to confession. But you have to give people a chance. You have to help them get over their fears."

Faith, freedom, free pornography

Attention all families and friends preparing to send "care packages" to U.S. soldiers: Not all gifts are created equal on the Arabian Peninsula.

Powered-drink mixes, beef jerky, pretzels and chewing gum are fine, say the veterans at www.West-Point.org. Chocolate will melt. Fly swatters, footballs, lip balm, sun-block lotion, foot powder and other logical items will be appreciated.

Do not send pork or tobacco. Do not send religious materials. And do not send pornography. In other words, send nothing that will bring grief -- or danger -- to soldiers in the lands surrounding Mecca.

Thus, scores of religious leaders got upset when they heard about a DirectLink Media Group offer to send pornographic videotapes and DVDs to U.S. soldiers and veterans anywhere, with the soldiers paying shipping and handling charges.

The pornographer's press release was blunt. The company merely wants to help defend democracy, free speech and the American way.

"These young men and women are out there fighting for our freedom," said Aaron Gordon, president of FreePornForOurTroops.com. "They deserve any support we can give. ... If you have ever honored our country, in the past or in the present, by risking your life to defend our freedom and our way of life, we want to say thank you with free adult products."

Cultural conservatives were outraged. A Focus on the Family report, for example, noted that a wave of free pornography would be especially demeaning to women who serve alongside men in today's armed services.

"This is an abominable marketing trick by pornographers who care nothing about our troops," added Jan LaRue of Concerned Women of America. Plus, these "Muslim countries generally don't allow anything like this."

On one level, this is merely another firefight in the culture wars that have followed the sexual revolution.

It's a familiar story. Someone on the cultural left does something outrageous. The usual suspects on the cultural right respond with sermons. A late-night comic or two turns this into punch lines about whacko preachers. Journalists yawn.

But this time, at least one pastor did something unusual. The Rev. Martin Drummond of Miami Shores (Fla.) Christian Church took the time to write the pornographer a sincere, low-key appeal to stop his marketing blitz. There was more to this issue than another moralistic minister pitching a fit, he said.

After all, Osama bin Laden and his disciples have issued stacks of fatwas blaming the United States for spreading filth and immorality worldwide. This could be a matter of life and death for troops near the Persian Gulf.

"Do you realize," wrote Drummond, "that one of the reasons the radical Islamic movement so dislikes America is because of its tolerance of pornography? What kind of support will our troops find in Middle Eastern countries if the soldiers are seen as porn-starved trigger jockeys? Your effort will give new life to the allegation that we are not a nation of character, but instead of carnal compromise."

Gordon has not responded to interview requests about his Free Porn For Our Troops campaign. But he did reply to Drummond's email.

"With all due respect," he said, "if I were to change anything I did because the 'radical Islamic movement' does not approve of it, then I would have to forgo most of my beliefs in a free society, my way of life in a free society, and together, we would be forgoing the freedom of people who live in this society."

This argument does carry some weight with Drummond, who is both a pastor and a working journalist with two decades of experience reporting for secular newspapers. Anyone who has taken a class in media law and ethics knows that - here in the safety of America - Gordon has a right to outrage the faithful to his heart's content.

"But this has to be a classic case of someone crying 'Fire!' in a crowded theater," said Drummond. "Sometimes, enough is enough. This kind of stunt is not going to help our troops. This is just going to pour gasoline on the flames of hatred that they already face over there. ...

"Sure, we have freedom of speech. But sometimes we have to restrain ourselves, if, by exercising our freedoms, we can get other people hurt."

Postmodern Celtic Baptists

The first thing people do after entering the quiet sanctuary is pause at a table to light prayer candles for friends and loved ones, the tiny flames adding to the glow of nearby candle trees.

The ministers wear oat-colored, hooded robes tied at the waist with ropes and guide their flock through ancient prayers, a litany of confession and silent meditations marked by a series of bells. Hymns are accompanied by an ensemble that includes fiddle, acoustic guitar, wind chimes, pennywhistles, a Bodhran and even bagpipes.

This coming Sunday is the day before the feast of St. Patrick.

Thus, worshippers at Rivermont Avenue Baptist Church will sing the great prayer of Ireland's missionary bishop: "Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me. ... I arise today through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity, through a belief in the Threeness, through a confession of the Oneness of the Creator of creation."

This is not your typical Southern Baptist service.

Nevertheless, this Celtic service is held every Sunday at this historic church in Lynchburg, Va. The goal is to use ancient rituals to touch postmodern souls.

"Postmodern people -- like Baptists in general -- like to take some of the old and mix it up with some of the new and then put it all together. We're comfortable with the unusual juxtapositions that may occur when you do that," said Karen Swallow Prior, who selects and reads many of the rite's Celtic prayers. She is an English professor at nearby Liberty University.

"We don't think that what we're doing is getting back to the ancient ways. We think that we're using elements of the past in ways that make sense to people who are alive today. The goal is to create something new."

In the lingo of Southern Baptist life, Rivermont is known as a "moderate," or even progressive, congregation. In addition to the Celtic service, it also offers the plugged-in, energetic contemporary worship common in "seeker-friendly" congregations across America. The bottom line: Different kinds of people worship in different ways.

The contemporary service is larger and the pews are filled with Baby Boomers who have become the established, middle-aged core of the congregation. For them, pop praise choruses and a chatty atmosphere have become normal. What was once "modern" is now strangely "traditional."

Meanwhile, said Prior, the Celtic service is attracting a unique blend of young adults, who are drawn by its beauty and mysticism, and the elderly, who appreciate peace and quiet. Church leaders refer to this as a gathering of the "pre-moderns and the postmoderns." What was once "traditional" is now strangely "innovative."

"How will the postmodern church worship?", asked Chad Hall of the Baptist State Convention of North Carolina, writing at www.coolchurches.com. "One thing we know about postmoderns is that they are extremely experiential. That is, they learn, grow, develop and commit based on their own experience with truth not according to someone else's encounter or someone else's retelling of an encounter."

Postmodern believers want to use all of their senses, stressed Hall. They want smells and bells. They want to see icons and statues, as well as drama and digital clips from movies. They look for God in nature, as well as scripture. They want to encounter God, not mere words about God.

But this doesn't mean they want to change their beliefs. The faithful at Rivermont Avenue remain steadfastly Baptist, said music minister Wayne Bulson. While they use elements of ancient liturgy, they believe that the Irish Bannock bread is still bread and the grape juice is still grape juice. They are embracing symbols, not sacraments.

"People want a sense of the ancient, but they still want something that they feel is appropriate to their lives, today," said Bulson. "I mean, we're still Baptists. We're not Catholic or Orthodox or anything else. ... We're not pushing for Baptist monasteries. What we're trying to do is find out what will be meaningful to our people, what will help them experience God in their lives.

"We're not proud. We're willing to borrow things from all kinds of traditions, as long as they work for us."

(Pro) Life after Scheidler

There was a time in the late 1980s when Georgette Forney didn't want to turn on the evening news because she kept seeing the same frightening scenes over and over.

Waves of Operation Rescue activists were doing sit-ins at abortion facilities, often handcuffing themselves to the doors while others collapsed nearby chanting, singing, praying and reading scripture. Then police would drag everyone off to jail. This cycle of civil disobedience kept repeating itself at other clinics, in other towns, in other states.

"I remember thinking, 'They're all nut cases,' " said Forney. "Those tactics were so intimidating to me as a woman and, especially, as a woman who had had an abortion. ... I wanted to stay as far away from that extreme anti-abortion stuff as I possibly could. It was all dangerous, as far as I was concerned."

Then her spiritual walls began to collapse. She had a daughter, which reminded her again of the daughter lost in her 1976 abortion. Eventually Forney had a soul-shaking experience of grief, reconciliation and healing. By the late '90s she was a leader in the National Organization of Episcopalians for Life. But she still could not embrace the tactics of the Operation Rescue era.

Nevertheless, Forney was one of many who cheered after the U.S. Supreme Court's 8-1 decision that the federal Racketeer Influenced Corrupt Organizations Act could not be used against groups that protest at abortion facilities. While the cases -- Scheidler v. NOW and Operation Rescue v. NOW -- stirred up the usual combatants, the anti-abortion coalition also drew wide legal support from other activists who saw the importance of this legal precedent for all forms of protest. Among those showing support were People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, Greenpeace, the Seamless Garment Network, Citizens United for Alternatives to the Death Penalty and Pax Christi USA. Actor Martin Sheen and the activist priest Daniel Berrigan even signed on.

This decision may have closed the door on an era in which anyone who wanted to oppose abortion had to worry about being associated with illegal forms of protest.

Finally, an intimidating link to the past is gone, said Forney. The emphasis now is on finding ways to reach women before and after their abortions. In January, she helped lead a "Silent No More" campaign in 46 states built on the testimonies of women who have had abortions. They held quiet demonstrations at state capitols and other public places, holding black-and-white "I regret my abortion" signs.

"After 30 years, we have to try to teach our choir a new song," she said. "We can't keep using the same pro-life words and images that we've always used. We have to talk to the women and try to see things through their eyes. We have to let women know that they deserve something better than abortion."

Meanwhile, there are still legal issues to be resolved about the legal rights of those who still want to pray, preach and protest on public sidewalks, said Joe Scheidler, the activist whose Chicago-based Pro-Life Action League was caught up in the Operation Rescue-era legal wars.

After all, the 1994 Freedom of Access to Clinic Entrances Act calls for sanctions against those who conduct "threatening" protests in or near the "safety zones" around abortion clinics. And after this Supreme Court decision, NOW President Kim Gandy vowed to see to it that "religious and political extremists do not resume their reign of terror at women's clinics. We are looking at every avenue, including the U.S.A. Patriot Act, in order to protect women, doctors and clinic staff from these ideological terrorists."

No one expects conflicts to cease near abortion facilities, said Scheidler. But the momentum is behind those willing to find ways to do sidewalk counseling, hold vigils and to distribute information -- even coupons for free ultrasound tests -- without inspiring fear or lawsuits.

Nevertheless, one person's free speech may be another's harassment.

"I don't know how often we've been outside Planned Parenthood saying the Rosary and then suddenly four squad cars roll up," said Scheidler. "The cops say, 'We got a call saying you have weapons.' So we hold up our Rosary beads. ... For some people, saying the Rosary can be a form of intimidation."

A Hail Mary for Hollywood

In the Hollywood culture wars, Barbara Nicolosi is an army of one, a former nun turned screenwriter who constantly urges angry believers to love the artists who so frequently mock them.

"How many of you have complained -- or been enraged even -- in the last month by something you have seen on television or in a movie theater?", she asked a recent audience in Los Angeles.

Hundreds of hands went up.

Nicolosi gently pounced: "Now, how many of you, when you saw that something on the screen that offended you, paused and said a prayer for the filmmakers or producers behind that production?"

Two or three hands were raised -- slowly.

This is part of the problem, she said. The entertainment industry needs diversity. It needs new talent, viewpoints, passion and stories. But a creative sea change will not occur until churches grasp Hollywood's importance in American and global culture and -- yes -- even begin praying about it.

Most of the time, Nicolosi speaks to flocks of Evangelicals on behalf of a national educational project she leads called Act One: Writing for Hollywood. But on this day she was facing members of Legatus, a network of Catholic CEOs and philanthropists.

This allowed Nicolosi to do something she said she had long wanted to do, but lacked the right forum. Bowing her head, she asked the Catholics gathered before her to focus on the Hollywood community and then join her as she said: "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. ..."

Nicolosi plays a unique role, but she is not alone. She is part of a growing nondenominational effort to convince schools and ministries to get serious about creating real entertainment for real audiences, instead of cranking out Christian products that preach to the choir. Her passion for this cause began while working at Paulist Productions with the late Father Ellwood "Bud" Kieser, who was best known for making the movie "Romero" and years of "Insight" television programs.

Someone had to read the large stacks of scripts offered by Christians convinced that God had inspired their work. That sad person was Nicolosi. All but a few of these efforts, she said, dryly, were "badly written, banal, on the nose, pedantic schlock."

For some reason, most of Hollywood's critics think that because movies are easy to watch, they must be easy to make. Thus, tiny squads of true believers -- with no experience and little training -- keep attempting Mission Impossible.

"We think we're going to raise $5 million and make a movie about St. John Chrysostom and suddenly people are going to fall down on their knees all over the world and Jesus will float down from heaven on a cloud," said Nicolosi.

This isn't how Hollywood works. It is a town that is fiercely committed to excellence and its high-stakes projects require teamwork and compromise by almost everyone involved, she said. It is a town fueled by unbelievable amounts of pressure, power, paranoia and agonizing moral choices.

The way to prepare to enter this arena is to learn from professionals who already thrive there. This is why Act One's seminars are taught by a team of 75 Christians with credits in shows ranging from "MASH" to "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," from "Braveheart" to the "X-Men." The screenwriting program (www.actoneprogram.com) is based at Hollywood Presbyterian Church, but will soon become independent and take on new topics, such as directing and producing.

Hollywood's critics need to get serious or they will continue to look foolish, said Nicolosi.

"There is a sense of outrage in many Christians that the industry should instinctively know how to make the movies that we want to see, and should make them," she said. "That is ridiculous. They are making the movies that THEY want to see, which is their right. ...Just suppose that the situation were reversed and we were the ones who had all of the cultural power in our hands. Would we feel obligated to make a few disgusting films for those groups of perverted folks out there to enjoy, just to be fair?

"Of course not. We have to stop begging and whining."

Those Anglican Hitlers in Africa

An Episcopal bishop could not find a more natural place to preach than on National Public Radio.

Long ago, witty commentators called the Episcopal Church the "Republican Party at prayer." Today, "NPR at prayer" would be more like it.

So Bishop Charles Bennison of Philadelphia picked a great place to air his views about current tensions between his church's hierarchy and Third World Anglicans, especially Africans. While it's true that African churches are much larger than the Episcopal Church, he told NPR that numbers are not everything when it comes to faith.

The bishop was quoted saying that "just because there are millions of conservative Christians who rally around issues like homosexuality, that doesn't mean they're right." Adolf Hitler, he noted, had many followers as well.

Bennison immediately tried to clarify what he was saying about conservative Episcopalians and their Third World allies.

"Please, I'm not saying the people in this country or my colleagues in the episcopate in Africa are necessarily gathering people around something as dastardly as Adolf Hitler," he told NPR. "I am trying to make the point, however, that growth and truth are two different things."

Outraged conservatives noted the use of "necessarily" in this clarification.

Either way, this was clearly the most candid quote by a First World Anglican since the Rt. Rev. Richard Holloway of Scotland said he felt "lynched" when bishops gathered in Canterbury overwhelmingly passed a 1998 resolution affirming ancient doctrines that all sex outside of marriage is sin. He blamed African and Asian bishops.

"They live in Islamic countries and, therefore, Islamify Christianity, making it more severe, Protestant and legalistic," he said.

This kind of angry language is especially shocking since Episcopal bishops and other mainline leaders have long proclaimed the need for racial harmony and dialogue with other cultures. But today the politics of sex, money, evangelism and power have created a painful dilemma for First World elites.

"The liberals basically spent the last 40 years saying, 'Let's hear the voice of the Third World,' " said historian Philip Jenkins of Pennsylvania State University, addressing a recent Anglican Mission in America conference. "And now they've heard it and they'd like the Third World to shut up for several decades."

Episcopal leaders are livid that African bishops are backing the Anglican Mission in America, an evangelical network that is building -- without permission from local bishops -- scores of new U.S. parishes and providing a haven for disenfranchised traditionalists. This network has even begun consecrating its own bishops.

Meanwhile, African and Asian bishops are shocked that their brothers and sisters in America are poised to approve formal rites to bless homosexual unions, a step that could take place next summer at the church's General Convention in Minneapolis.

While these events grab the headlines, Jenkins believes this split is rooted in an emerging global reality -- the explosive growth of Christianity in the Southern hemisphere and the decline of more liberal Christian churches in the North.

A few stunning numbers show the big picture, argues Jenkins, in his book "The Next Christendom."

By 2050, there will be 3 billion Christians in the world and only one in five will be a "non-Latino white." In 1900 there were 10 million Christians in Africa and, today, there are 360 million -- nearly 50 percent of the continent. There are between 40 and 50 million Anglicans in Africa.

There are 25 million Anglicans in England, but 800,000 frequent the pews. The Episcopal Church claims 2 million members.

In a few decades, said Jenkins, the heart of Christendom will be Africa, not Europe or North America. So it is understandable if leaders in these lands are experiencing shock and denial. They are losing control.

"If Christianity is going to be centered in Africa," he said, "what that means is that in 50 or 100 years Christianity will be defined according to its relationship with that culture. If might be that Americans will point to it and say, 'But that's not the Christianity that we know. That's not what we are used to. It's not what it's meant to be.' "

Christians in Europe and North America may want to cry out, "It's OUR Christianity," he said. "But it isn't anymore. You lost it."

The Gospel According to the Gospel According to books

As author of "The Gospel According to The Simpsons," Mark Pinsky is well aware that there are no sacred cows in Springfield.

So sooner or later he expects to see Lisa Simpson walk into the family room reading a book that claims to have found theological gems in some ridiculous animated series. The book will be called "The Gospel According to Itchy and Scratchy" or maybe "Smirk On: The Spiritual Journey of Krusty the Clown."

Homer will, of course, mock her mercilessly.

Pinsky's 15 seconds of cartoon immortality could even come this weekend, when the series hits its 300th episode. "The Simpsons" has been renewed through 2005, making it the longest-running U.S. sitcom ever.

"I expect to get laughed at someday and deservedly so," said Pinsky, the veteran religion writer for the Orlando Sentinel. "Anything that's worth mocking is going to get mocked on 'The Simpsons.' They don't miss much."

If that's the case, the scribes behind Homer, Marge, Bart and the gang are sure to have noticed that Pinsky is not alone. All kinds of scholars, theologians and preachers are suddenly sojourning in the once forbidden world of popular culture -- probing everything from Bob Dylan to the Brady Bunch, from Middle Earth to Mayberry, from Tony Soprano to Harry Potter.

Pinsky's next book will be "The Gospel According to Disney: Cartoon Faith & Values." After all, Orlando is Orlando.

"On one level, all of this is simply more evidence -- as if more was required -- of the evaporating attention span of modern Americans," he said. "Should we be embarrassed that we have to turn to popular culture in order to find ways to talk about serious religious issues? Without a doubt, yes. But this is reality."

Anyone attempting to get a handle on the faith that is soaked into TV, movies, popular music and the rest of the mass-media universe should be prepared for surprises.

Consider the case of Homer's next-door neighbor, the uber-evangelical Ned Flanders. He is the subject of endless jokes and sight gags, as well as the occasional salute since he is clearly the town's most trustworthy and compassionate citizen.

"Everyone knows that Ned lives a Christian life. But even he doesn't talk about the heart of his Christian faith," noted Pinsky. "If you asked him how he knows that he's saved and going to heaven, he would say he saved by grace and faith in Jesus. That's how a Christian would answer. But nobody ever asks Ned that question."

Thus, "The Gospel According to The Simpsons" ultimately sounds a lot like the faith proclaimed in most mainstream media. It's the lowest-common-denominator civic faith that Pinsky summed up in five words: "Love God and do good." Another nice summary can be found in the familiar words of the Ten Commandments.

"It's ironic. You have what is clearly meant to be seen as a Christian family, going to a Christian church, constantly talking about Christian things, but the theological constant in 'The Simpsons' is Judaism," said Pinsky, who is Jewish. Anyone who pays close attention to the faith references that weave through about 70 percent of the show's episodes knows that "it teaches that people are saved by works, not by grace."

"Maybe salvation by grace isn't as funny as the Ten Commandments," he said.

This wave of "Gospel According to" books is rooted in two trends. Some evangelicals are digging into popular culture because they are willing to take risks to reach new people. Meanwhile, the fading world of mainline religion is desperately trying to appeal to the young.

Everyone wants a new "starting point," said Pinsky. The key is to find "starting points" that have widespread appeal, trigger strong feelings and stand the test of time. Whether religious bureaucrats like it or not, television shows, movies and songs are where Americans invest much of their time, money and emotions.

"Popular culture, if used properly, can be a kind of wedge into the consciousness of ordinary people," said Pinsky. "All a good pastor or a youth leader or a Sunday school teacher needs is a common set of images, a language that everybody understands and stories that they already care about.

"It's up to clergy to take it from there."

Edgy Orthodoxy 4 Seekers

One of the Rev. Dwight Moody's favorite perks as dean of the Georgetown College chapel is that he is free to spend most Sundays exploring other churches in Lexington, Ky.

That's how the Baptist preacher ended up in St. Andrew Antiochian Orthodox Church in a cloud of incense, trying to figure out what the worshippers were chanting, why they rarely sat down and when the 9 o'clock service was going to end so that the 10 o'clock service could begin.

Everything was a mystery.

"When the main service ended they just kept going and had two more. ...I couldn't figure out what was going on," said Moody. "It was the most in-your-face, retrograde old stuff you could imagine. What fascinated me was that this was the TOTAL antithesis of everything that is happening in the contemporary church."

But he looked around and realized he wasn't the only visitor in the multi-ethnic crowd. Afterwards, a cluster of ex-Methodists helped him get oriented. Moody had toured Orthodox churches in Jerusalem and elsewhere, but had never actually attended a service.

It was while he was driving home that he had a crazy idea.

During his Sunday adventures, Moody has seen his share of megachurches offering "seeker-friendly services" for media-soaked Americans. These are the ones with shiny auditoriums that seat 5,000 or so people, complete with rock-concert quality sound and lights. Many have been shaped by the work of consulting firms that specialize in church design and marketing.

Moody thought to himself: How would a church-growth professional critique the smells, bells and sacraments he had just witnessed?

Before long, he had written a satirical "Survival Guide" for an imaginary "St. Pachomius Byzantine Orthodox Church."

The church's name, for example, was simply not acceptable today.

Moody's imaginary consultant was blunt: "Nobody -- and I mean NOBODY -- understands any part of your name. (I actually commissioned a survey.) Most assumed you were Jewish, others thought of a travel agency and one was sure 'Byzantine' was a link to al-Qaeda.

"My recommendation: Be bold! Embrace the third millennium! Take a new name, one derived from the old but in a clever sort of way. Our people suggest you utilize the word BOX: how about 'p-BOX'? Edgy, isn't it, but evocative and mysterious, as well. Remember how United States Steel Corporation became USXX? Brilliant: strong but subtle, distinctive and vague."

The sanctuary would need a makeover, starting with the exit of all those "painted panels of old people." Besides, the icons were taking up space that would be needed for large video screens for movie clips and pop-rock hymnody. The firm suggested replacing the incense with "some very nice potpourri planters in a selection of scents: Miracle Moonlight, Oceans of Peace and Farm Fresh Faith."

The a cappella quartet of overweight male chanters would have to go, as well.

"Modern, younger people -- those you must seek to appease, I mean, attract -- are drawn toward drum sets and speakers," he added. "Make them very visible, even if you actually utilize sound tracks (sample enclosed)."

And Holy Communion? Adding a Starbucks would be a better idea. If the church insisted on serving bread and wine at the altar, "research indicates that videos shown during the lag time are well received."

The article was published in several Kentucky newspapers and then in the Christian Century, a mainline weekly. Moody was relieved to learn that Orthodox readers had gotten the joke and were rolling in the aisles. Well, some were rolling in the aisles. Many Orthodox Christians would not have aisles in which to roll, since their sanctuaries are traditionally built without the modern amenities called pews.

Then members of other churches began to respond. Moody hit a nerve with his backhanded tribute to a flock that was clinging to 2000 years worth of roots.

"You see, I was not making fun of the Orthodox," he said. "I was making fun of the whole contemporary church scene. ... There are people in all kinds of traditional churches who are being told, 'If you don't change, you're going to die. If you don't buy into the latest fads, you're history.' Ministers are under incredible pressure to strip away anything that's connected to the past. Well, some people have had enough."