Divided by the Creeds?

The words are ancient, yet affirmed by all who join the Episcopal Church.

The bishop asks them: "Do you believe in God the Father?" New members reply: "I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth."

The bishop asks: "Do you believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God?" They reply: "I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord. He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the Virgin Mary."

There are more doctrinal questions where those came from. This covenant is based on the Nicene Creed (325 A.D.), which is affirmed at Anglican altars everywhere.

This is good, according to one network of progressive Episcopalians, because the way to avoid a global Anglican schism will be to focus on creeds, rather than trying to agree on what the Bible teaches about sex.

The bottom line, argues the Claiming the Blessing coalition, is that "there is no universal 'plain truth of Scripture' in our tradition, save that interpreted for us by the universal creeds. To claim differently is ... to propose a change in the fundamental nature of Anglicanism."

But what if postmodern believers can't agree on what the ancient creeds teach?

The Claiming the Blessing document is backed by groups such as the Episcopal Women's Caucus and Integrity, the caucus for gay, lesbian and bisexual Episcopalians. It was released after the election of a noncelibate homosexual as bishop of New Hampshire.

While Bishop V. Gene Robinson has continued to dominate news reports, many Anglicans are trying to move on and debate more fundamental issues, said the Rev. Susan Russell, director of Claiming the Blessing and president of Integrity.

"Believe me, I would much rather be having deep conversations about peoples' theological orientations than their sexual orientations," she said. "But anything that is about sex is, well, sexy and that's going to get attention. ... Those issues are so polarizing. What we need to find is some unity."

The Claiming the Blessing document is crucial precisely for this reason, said journalist Douglas LeBlanc, writing in the Episcopal Life newspaper. It has candidly underlined the "clash of worldviews that is ultimately at the foundation of our church's arguments about sex. To the letter's question about whether the Nicene and Apostles' Creeds are our common confession, I must answer: I sure hope so."

But creeds only provide unity if people agree on what the words mean. LeBlanc asked, for example, if Claiming the Blessing's leaders believe the creeds are literally "statements of theological reality?

2003 -- Divided by the Sacraments

The atmosphere could not have been tenser as the world's Anglican archbishops gathered in the privacy of Lambeth Palace in London. The world was watching. Conservative Anglicans -- most from Third World altars -- were furious that the U.S. Episcopal Church and its allies were ignoring global calls not to enthrone a noncelibate gay bishop in New Hampshire.

No doubt about it, the consecration of Bishop V. Gene Robinson grabbed headlines and easily won the Religion Newswriters Association poll to determine its top 10 events of 2003. More than 80 percent of the religion-beat specialists named Robinson as Religion Newsmaker of the Year, beating out Pope John Paul II and deposed Alabama Chief Justice Roy Moore.

But there was much more to this story than the election of one bishop in a tiny Episcopal diocese and the development of same-sex union rites for Anglican altars in North America. After all, there are 2 million Episcopalians. There are between 40 and 50 million Anglicans in Africa, alone.

Robinson's consecration raised a question that could no longer be avoided: How can the Anglican Communion remain intact when it is divided by sacraments, rather than united by them?

Consider a symbolic moment in the Lambeth Palace summit, when traditionalists learned that Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams would open that October meeting with the Holy Eucharist. Archbishop Peter Akinola of Nigeria quickly informed Williams that several primates could not take part, since they no longer considered themselves in Communion with U.S. Presiding Bishop Frank Griswold.

"They did this privately, as a courtesy, because they didn't want to create a scene," said an American priest active in debriefing sessions with the archbishops.

Williams was horrified, his face flushed. The archbishop of Canterbury pleaded with Akinola and members of the Third World coalition to receive Communion.

"Rowan asked them to receive since they remained in Communion with him," said another activist close to the African archbishops. "They did so. If they had not had the discussion about not receiving, they would not have been able to produce the tough statement that came out of the meeting. "If they had not received, the meeting would have been over."

Williams drew a sacramental line at the altar and demanded that the Third World archbishops cross it. But will they continue to do so? For how long?

Anglicans are not alone in wrestling with these moral, doctrinal and sacramental questions. Just ask the Presbyterians, Lutherans and United Methodists.

Their answers will affect everything from the number of bodies in pews, to the number of dollars in offering plates, to the number of lawyers on denominational payrolls.

Here are the rest of the top 10 stories in the RNA poll:

(2) The war in Iraq divided some religious communities, with the National Council of Churches and other mainline churches opposed while most evangelical Protestants supported the White House. Some relief efforts also caused controversy.

(3) Clashing definitions of "marriage" continued to cause controversy as the Massachusetts Supreme Court overturned a gay-marriage ban. Meanwhile conservatives debated how to word a proposed constitutional amendment on marriage. A sharply divided U.S. Supreme Court ended a Texas ban against homosexual sodomy.

(4) Amid a flurry of protest and litigation, a Ten Commandments monument was removed from Alabama's Judicial Building. Justice Moore was removed from office.

(5) The Roman Catholic Church earned both praise and scorn as it tried to implement plans to combat priestly sex abuse. Bishop Sean Patrick O'Malley of Palm Beach succeeded Cardinal Bernard Law in Boston and earned high marks. Convicted sex-abuser John Geoghan was killed in prison.

(6) The pope celebrated the 25th anniversary of his election, while growing concerns about his health fueled renewed speculation about his eventual successor.

(7) A tough economy and, in many cases, strife in pews caused red ink and budget cuts in many denominations.

(8) After intense debate, the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) retained its "fidelity and chastity" standards for clergy sexual behavior.

(9) The U.S. Supreme Court agreed to hear a California case challenging the inclusion of the words "under God" in the Pledge of Allegiance.

(10) The Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod overturned the suspension of New York President David Benke for participation in an interfaith service after Sept.11. Further debate on interfaith worship is expected in 2004.

What is a 'carol' anyway?

EDITOR'S NOTE: Second of two columns on traditional carols.

The story begins with the Empress Helena, who commanded that the relics of the Wise Men of the East be brought to Byzantium.

These three skulls were eventually taken to Milan and, in 1162, to Cologne. According to folk tradition, the relics made their journey from Bethlehem to Cologne in three ships. As minstrels kept singing the songs, the destination changed and so did the identity of the travelers.

The result was a carol: "I saw three ships come sailing in, on Christmas Day on Christmas day. I saw three ships come sailing in, on Christmas Day in the morning." It asked, "And what was in those ships all three?" The answer was the Holy Family, or "Our Savior Christ and his lady." The carol asked, "And where they sailed those ships all three?" The obvious answer: "All they sailed in to Bethlehem."

The logic may escape singers today. But it worked for centuries of carolers in the pageants, processions and parties during Christmas and the 12-day season that followed.

"The true Christmas carol is anonymous, both the text and the tune. A true carol is something like 'I Saw Three Ships' or 'The First Noel.' Many of them are very, very old," said scholar Hugh T. McElrath, author of "The History of Our Christian Faith In Hymns."

"Hymns tend to be more formal and church-centered and from a particular composer in a particular place and time. Carols just spring up among the people and it's common to find many different versions handed down from generation to generation."

The question now is whether centuries of carols can survive modern trends, from the secularization of public holiday music to the contemporary church's hunger for music that constantly changes to mirror pop sales charts.

Christmas carols can be traced to St. Francis of Assisi and his Nativity dramas in 1223. Carols were sung as "intermezzi" between scenes of the "mystery plays" for centuries. The carols became so popular that theater players and members of the audience began processing into the streets, singing and dancing.

After all, noted Erik Routley in his classic book "The English Carol," early definitions of "carol," "carole" or "karolle" define this music as a round dance. "Even if we say that to all general purposes today a carol is a cheerful seasonal song ... we shall never understand its extraordinary history if we forget that it began not as a pious religious gesture but as a dance," he wrote.

When it came time for Christmas festivals, few drew a stark line between sacred and secular. Thus, the home of the true Christmas carol was not in the safety of a church sanctuary, surrounded by marble and pure candlelight. Carols were sung on sidewalks and in the marketplace, in homes and in taverns.

"The dance could be trivial, but the church would spiritualize it," noted Routley. "Feasting could be orgiastic, but the church would balance it with fasting. Joy could be selfish and frantic, but the church would make it sane."

This happened in many cultures, from the festive Christmas carols of Latin America to the rousing Russian "kolyadki," which were shared by carolers who gladly accepted food, drink and coins as they moved from house to house. North American folk music has already yielded classic carols such as "Go Tell It on the Mountain" and "Away in a Manger."

And what about today?

As long as people gather to celebrate Christmas together, they will produce new carols and pass along classics to future generations, said Kenneth W. Osbeck, author of "101 Hymn Stories" and many similar books. There have been hard times for carolers in the past, such as the Puritan era when such public revelry was banned.

If the Christmas season is celebrated with joy, then the carols will survive.

"I can't think of a single carol that has a note of sadness and tragedy to it," said Osbeck. "Maybe there are a few, I don't know. But what unites these simple songs -- from culture to culture and in all settings and times -- is that simple sense of joy in celebrating Christmas and the birth of Jesus Christ.

"If people want to share that joy with others, then that's what the carols are for."

A Caroling We (Don't) Go

Sometime just before Christmas, maestro Patrick Kavanaugh will gather a few friends to take part in a quietly subversive public rite.

Slipping from house to house under cover of darkness, it is their intention to sing pieces of explicit, doctrinal religious music to family, neighbors and even strangers. They do this every year, even if it is snowing.

Historians refer to this rare activity as "Christmas caroling."

"People really do love it," said Kavanaugh, conductor for the Christian Performing Artists Fellowship in Haymarket, Va. "Wherever you go, people hear the singing and they meet you at the door and they're just glowing. I guess it's like a form of Americana for some people, like a glimpse of the past."

Kavanaugh paused for a second and laughed. It was a sad laugh.

"People love it, but I have to admit that I don't know many others who are still out there doing this. ... What are you supposed to do with a carol like 'Away in a Manger' if people think you're celebrating something called the Winter Festival?"

Christmas carols have not vanished.

People still sing them at family reunions, in church services and at safe, private parties. Churches may also send cars full of carolers to nursing homes or jails as a form of community service.

What is fading is the tradition of singers caroling in neighborhoods or shopping districts as part of their Christmas festivities. Of course, it's hard to imagine carolers mingling with shoppers and singing "Lo, How A Rose 'Er Blooming" outside Abercrombie & Fitch. Also, the odds are good that the local shopping mall will have adopted a code limiting religious activities on the premises.

Caroling in the black hole of the parking lot is not a lovely option. It's hard to sing to passing cars.

The result is what Southern Baptist scholar Hugh T. McElrath called "Frosty the Snowman" syndrome, a culture in which people sing secular songs at public celebrations and hymns and carols in worship services.

"What we've lost is the whole sense of a complete Christmas season, one that really gets started on Christmas Eve and then lasts for those 12 days and includes all kinds of parties and festivities and, yes, going out caroling," said McElrath, author of "The History of Our Christian Faith In Hymns."

"You lose the season and you lose the context for the carols themselves."

The traditional 12-day Christmas season begins -- not ends -- on Dec. 25th. Not that long ago, the faithful held parties throughout this season in different homes, with participants singing carols as they walked to the next round of festivities. This would build in intensity through the 12th night, "Three Kings Day" or the Epiphany celebration.

Traditions would vary from church to church and culture to culture, with the carols themselves emerging as true folk songs. Thus, carolers in different places would sing many different songs, with unique carols from Latin America, Africa, Russia and around the globe.

Most carols sung in North America can be traced to England and elsewhere in Europe. Still, it would seem logical that as America grows more diverse, the modern church's repertoire of Christmas carols would keep growing. If the Latin Grammy Awards are here, can true Spanish Christmas carols be far behind? Apparently not.

Instead, a blanket of sanitized holiday music -- spread through media, commerce and a highly mobile population -- covers the land. Christmas in Miami sounds the same as Minneapolis and Seattle tends to sound like Savannah. Steel-drum bands play "White Christmas" in the Bahamas.

This trend affects churches as well as shopping malls.

What is at stake are centuries of lovely Christmas music, said McElrath. Carols are supposed to be the songs of the people, binding one generation to the next. Is the very act of going Christmas caroling out of date?

"I guess that it's hard to go Christmas caroling when it's hard to even talk about Christmas in public," he said. "You end up with people sitting in church singing a few Christmas carols one or two days out of the year. That's lovely, but it's not what Christmas carols are about."

NEXT WEEK: What is a Christmas "carol" anyway?

Vague faith in Middle Earth

LOS ANGELES -- Faced with the end of his world, even the cheery hobbit Pippin lost hope.

"I didn't think it would end this way," he tells Gandalf, as they watch the forces of evil advance in Peter Jackson's epic "The Return of the King."

"End? No, the journey doesn't end here," replies the wizard, who has already had one near-death experience and been reborn. "There's another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back and it will change to silver glass and then you see it."

Confused, Pippin asks: "See what?"

With a wry smile, Gandalf replies: "White shores and beyond them, a far green country under a swift sunrise."

This speech is based on some of J.R.R. Tolkien's most beautiful language at the end of "The Lord of the Rings" and poetically expresses his belief in a life to come.

Yet there are other ways to interpret this scene and the whole 500,000-word trilogy, noted the actor inside those wizard's robes. As an openly gay atheist, Sir Ian McKellen said he had no problem putting his own spin on Tolkien's visions. The key, he said, is that this is a work of cultural myth, not Christian allegory.

"The interesting thing about Hobbiton to me is that it doesn't have a church," said McKellen, during a blitz of interviews hours before the premiere of "The Return of the King" in Los Angeles. "It's appealing to me that people like these stories and yet there isn't an archbishop and there isn't a pope telling you what to believe. ...

"Despite being a Catholic, I don't think he was trying to write a Catholic parable, so I don't think we were meant to draw conclusions about faith from it. But I am sure that other people disagree."

Yes, they certainly do and the global success of these movies -- $3 billion at the box office is a safe guess -- only raises the stakes in such debates.

Many Christians quickly quote Tolkien's claim that his trilogy was a "fundamentally religious and Catholic work." Others criticize its lack of clear, evangelistic Christian content and distrust his love of magic and myths. Meanwhile, some readers prefer to embrace its elves, wizards and back-to-nature themes.

Almost everyone involved in the movies believes "The Lord of the Rings" contains "spiritual" or even "sacred" themes. But they struggle to define these words.

Facing a circle of reporters from religious publications, members of Jackson's team emphasized that they strove to avoid personal agendas that might betray Tolkien. Yet they also stressed they did not believe Tolkien had a dogmatic agenda.

The central "tenet that is underlying the story is his Catholicism, which is at the heart ... of the book," said Fran Walsh, a producer, screenwriter and mother of two children with Jackson. "In the end, if there is anything to be taken from the film it's that it's about faith." The story is also about death and the knowledge that its heroes "will endure in some form" after their passage to another land, she said.

So this is a story about "faith," "hope," "courage," "decency," "sacrifice," and even eternal life. It's about the triumph of "simple goodness." But it is not, as screenwriter Philippa Boyens put it, about moral absolutes that proclaim, "This is good and this is evil! And this is what you must do!' "

Yet the final outcome -- the destruction of the one ring of power -- depends on key characters making agonizing choices between good and evil.

The tormented Gollum chooses poorly and reaps what he has sown. The noble Frodo chooses poorly as well, yet is saved by his earlier acts of compassion toward Gollum.

"It was Frodo's destiny to accept this ring," said Elijah Wood, who plays Frodo. "But it's Frodo's mercy that actually destroys the ring. The ring is not destroyed by any person's will. I mean, it is the will of Frodo that gets it to where it needs to go. But it is indeed his mercy for Gollum that allows Gollum to meet them at the Crack of Doom and to stop Frodo."

The whole thing, said Wood, is "a bit of a puzzle piece."

The movie's director was asked if the word "providence" might apply to this mystery.

"Yes," said Jackson.

A Baptist take on St. Nicholas

The bureaucrats charged with turning Russia into a godless utopia had a December dilemma and a big part of their problem was St. Nicholas.

The early Communists needed to purge Christmas of its Savior, sacraments and beloved symbols, including this patron saint of widows and children. What they needed was a faith-free icon for a safe, secular New Year's season. Digging into pre-Christian Slavic legends they found their superman -- Father Frost.

"It's so ironic," said the Rev. James Parker III of Louisville, Ky. In order to wrest control of Christmas, "one of the things the Communists had to do was to get people to forget the real St. Nicholas. ... Here in America we've forgotten all about the real St. Nicholas because he has turned into this Santa Claus guy. It's like we're taking a different route to the same place."

It would not be unusual to hear Eastern Orthodox, Catholic or Anglican clergy voice these sentiments in the days leading to Dec. 6, the feast day of St. Nicholas, the 4th Century bishop of Myra in Asia Minor. Parker, however, is associate dean at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. Still, he is convinced it's time for more churches -- even Southern Baptist churches -- to embrace the real St. Nicholas.

"I have often wondered how a Martian reporter would do a story on Christmas," he wrote, in a Baptist Press commentary. "If one only had the dominant cultural icons of TV, movies, news media and retail stores, my guess is that the Martian viewing audience wouldn't have a clue as to what Christmas was about.

"They might think it had something to do with snowmen or reindeer or retail store sales. And if any particular person rose to the top in the public's conscious awareness, it would be a jolly secular guy at risk for stroke or cardiac arrest who liked to dress in red and let his beard grow."

Rather than whine about what has happened to St. Nicholas, more churches need to "remythologize" this hero of the faith, said Parker.

Little solid historical information is known about Nicholas except that he was born into a wealthy family and, after the early death of his pious parents, he entered a monastery and became a bishop. Some early writers claim he participated in the Council of Nicea and, when theological debate failed, that he punched a heretic who argued that Jesus was not fully divine.

"The mental image of Santa Claus punching out Arius ... has to fundamentally change the way one would ever see Santa Claus again," said Parker. "While I might not agree with his methods, I certainly admire his passion for Christological orthodoxy."

Nicholas was imprisoned under the Emperor Diocletian, tortured and then hailed as a "confessor" because he refused to renounce his faith. He was released under Constantine and died around 350 A.D.

Another detail in accounts of his life is that Nicholas gave away his inheritance helping the poor. One famous icon shows him taking small bags of gold to parents who could not provide dowries for their daughters, which meant they could not marry. Thus, the bishop would rescue the girls from lives as slaves or prostitutes by dropping gold coins through their windows during the night. These gifts often fell into their stockings, which were hung up to dry.

This unforgettable image of was especially popular with children. Through the centuries, this story blended with other legends in other lands. The result was Father Christmas, Pere Noel and many others, including Sinter Klaas, who came with the Dutch to New York City.

Now Santa is everywhere, the smiling face on one of American culture's most popular exports -- the holiday season formerly known as Christmas.

"In the circles that I run in, people can get pretty worked up about things like this," said Parker. "These are they people who keep saying that they want to put Christ back into Christmas. So while they're doing that, why not put the real St. Nicholas back into the picture as well. He was a bishop. He cared for the poor. He was a great Christian leader who defended the faith.

"That's all good, isn't it? Wouldn't it be good to reclaim that?"

Not a Catholic 'Mass factory'

Catholics who treasure ancient liturgies smirk and call them "Mass factories."

These churches are visions of horizontal utilitarianism, their flat, plain walls broken by patches of metal and glass while rows of chairs face ultramodern altars. The faithful are more likely to see balloons drift to the rafters than clouds of incense veil images of Jesus, Mary and the saints.

Blessed Sacrament Catholic Church in Dallas is certainly not a "Mass factory," as both critics and fans of this poor but lively parish in a battered barrio would agree. Its Italian windows have been lovingly restored, Romanesque walls repaired and statuary augmented by treasures abandoned by others. Roses are popular, often in waves of 700 or more.

"Beauty is terribly important, especially for people who have so little beauty in their lives," said Father Paul Weinberger, 44, a beefy, energetic Anglo who arrived 10 years ago after a Spanish-language immersion program.

"People need something that lifts them up, that lets them glimpse something higher. So I want worship here to be extravagant. I want their church to be like a garden in this workaday world. ... I can't guarantee that they'll listen to me, but if their eyes wander around this church they're going to drawn to things that point them toward the mysteries of the faith."

But it was a change in the 1999 midnight Mass that helped create a buzz in Dallas and on the Internet.

Weinberger estimates that 70 percent of his flock speaks Spanish and the rest English. The challenge was to find a way for worshippers to gather in the same pews, at the same time, sharing a common language.

The priest's solution raised eyebrows. He embraced the modern Catholic rite -- the Novus Ordo -- but elected to use the Vatican's Latin text, accompanied by preaching in Spanish and English. This rite then filled the 10:45 a.m. slot in the parish's Sunday schedule, mixed in with two Spanish Masses and three in English.

Now Weinberger is being transferred -- against his will -- and supporters believe his love of Latin is one reason for the decision. They fear sweeping changes in this revived parish.

This is nonsense, said Deacon Bronson Havard, spokesperson for Bishop Charles V. Grahmann. It's perfectly normal for a priest to be rotated to another parish after 10 years and the next pastor will make the decision about Latin at Blessed Sacrament.

However, Havard stressed that the Dallas diocese does require priests to seek permission to use Latin rites -- ancient or modern. This is an issue of loyalty. Only a directive from Rome can override the local bishop's authority on matters such as this, he said.

As for Weinberger's conviction that a Latin Mass is a symbol of unity, Havard said: "Using the Latin may mean something to him, but it means nothing to the people in the pews -- especially not to the Mexican immigrants who come into this area. We've had many complaints about that."

This is news to Weinberger. Diocesan policy requires that pastors receive copies of all complaints, he noted, and none have reached his desk.

This whole Dallas dispute sounds sadly familiar, said Helen Hull Hitchcock, editor of Adoremus, a conservative journal about liturgy.

"We hear reports from Catholics across the nation who are accused of doing all kinds of horrible things, like kneeling at places in the Mass where people have been kneeling for centuries," she said. "Then people tell them that if they clash with their bishop ... they're being disloyal to the pope.

"It's all very annoying. Some people are mad that these priests and parishes still exist."

This is precisely what worries Weinberger.

The days of the Advent season are passing as he prepares for a final midnight Christmas Mass at Blessed Sacrament. Poinsettias, stacked 15 to 20 feet high, will frame the altar. Pews will be packed for the Latin Mass.

"What father does not want to see his whole family gathered around the same table? That has always been my goal," he said. "I want to see our whole parish there, from the first-generation immigrants who only speak Spanish to the native Dallasites who only speak English.

"I don't want the language to divide us. I want it to unite us."

Watching Billy and the pope

The old voice was shaky and the pre-recorded tape was poor, but the Rev. Billy Graham's words hit home during the recent Nashville tribute to June and Johnny Cash.

"Millions admired him and adored him, but only a few got into John and June's inner spiritual life," said Graham, who shared many a crusade stage with Cash. "He and June are in heaven, and we are looking forward to seeing them relatively soon."

The words "relatively soon" did not require explanation.

Another American giant will almost certainly be departing soon. There is talk of the world's most famous evangelist returning to London yet again for a 2004 crusade, but few would be surprised if Parkinson's disease prevents those altar calls.

Of course, Graham is too towering a figure to merely belong to America. And the impact of the man some already call Pope John Paul the Great has been too universal to discuss his work only in terms of Roman Catholicism. Both men belong to the ages and to the world.

Scholars and scribes who study religion are bracing for changes that are hard to fathom.

An editorial in The Christian Century asks: "Did a politically shrewd and theologically sophisticated Polish pope trigger the collapse of Communism? Did an energetic and telegenic southern evangelist foster the resurgence of evangelical Christianity in the post-World War II era?" The fact that questions of this magnitude make sense is remarkable, especially in an age that only assigns greatness to sports and entertainment celebrities.

As a journal for Protestant progressives, the Century noted that both men have always had their critics -- especially on the left. In 1957, mainline theologian Reinhold Niebuhr said Graham's appeal "depends on oversimplifying every issue." The British Council of Churches once said that he uses "all the tricks of the modern demagogue." Catholic pundit Garry Wills has credited Graham with selling "golf-course spirituality" to the powerful.

On the other side of the aisle, fundamentalist Protestants accused the evangelist of fatal compromises with Catholics and liberals and warned that he had become the most "dangerous man" in Christianity.

Pope John Paul II would understand. He has faced similar sniper fire from both directions, with liberals accusing him of crushing dissent while some traditionalists insist he has failed to adequately crack down on dissent.

This is actually a sign of how influential both of these men have been, said historian Mark Noll, who teaches at Graham's alma mater, Wheaton College.

"If a person is getting criticism from radically different points on the ideological compass, at the very least that implies that they have displayed a certain degree of independence and courage," he said. It is also crucial to note that both men "worked on a great and grand stage in times of tremendous change. Billy Graham was not merely a great evangelist. He was the great evangelist at the time when evangelicalism walked onto the world stage."

Graham and John Paul became statesmen and both mastered modern media, noted journalist David Aikman, author of "Great Souls: Six Who Changed the Century." Both built bridges to the thriving churches of the Third World and defended religious liberty worldwide.

The pope's 1989 Vatican meeting with Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev was merely one dramatic example.

"You can imagine this scene," said Aikman. "The pope greets Gorbachev in Russian and begins lecturing him IN RUSSIAN on how Christians make great citizens and how their beliefs and values are worthy of respect and even favor. Who knows what that meant to Russia? Who knows what impact words such as that might have in China?"

Who knows if new leaders of this stature will emerge quickly? There will be a papal lection and a new pope, noted Noll. But with Graham, there is no way for the diverse and splintered world of evangelical Protestantism to select a true successor. It is a matter of gifts and timing.

"This truly is a case of trying to say 'hail and farewell' as we face the passing of two remarkable men," said Noll. "Everyone knows that this is a moment of great meaning, but no one knows exactly what it means.

"No one knows what will happen next. This is why we struggle for words."

Episcopal actions, orthodox reactions

Few would fault the clarity of the Orthodox response to the September marriage of Denis Gogolyev and Mikhail Morozev in the Vladimir Icon of the Mother of God Chapel in Nizhny Novgorod, Russia.

The bishops defrocked the priest, bulldozed the church and burned the wreckage.

"Father Vladimir Enert, who married the gay couple, committed a sin in doing so," a church spokesman told the Komsomolskaya Pravda newspaper. "He desecrated the place. We therefore needed to destroy the chapel."

They call it the Orthodox Church for a reason. This is why ecclesiastical politicos gasped when they read that an Orthodox bishop attended rites consecrating Bishop V. Gene Robinson as the Episcopal Church's first noncelibate, openly gay bishop.

This was an historic occasion and the whole ecumenical world was watching.

"Frankly, I have been surprised that so many people are upset about this," said Bishop Paul Peter Jesep of the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church-Sobornopravna. "I believe Bishop Robinson was duly and prayerfully elected and, besides, I think it's inappropriate for one church to try and tell another how to fulfill its mission."

The 39-year-old bishop -- a former lawyer, journalist, U.S. Senate aide and founder of ModerateRepublican.net -- stressed that acted on his own and that his church has not addressed Robinson's consecration.

Orthodox leaders also noted that Jesep serves a tiny splinter church that plays no role in the Standing Conference of Canonical Orthodox Bishops in the Americas. There are dozens of non-canonical "Orthodox" flocks, including at least 16 other Ukrainian bodies.

Meanwhile, the American bishops are standing their ground. The conference proclaimed: "The Orthodox Christian teaching on marriage and sexuality, firmly grounded in Holy Scripture, 2000 years of church tradition, and canon law, holds that marriage consists in the conjugal union of a man and a woman. ... Neither Scripture nor Holy Tradition blesses or sanctions such a union between persons of the same sex."

Greek Metropolitan Maximos of Pittsburgh was blunter: "Do these Anglican thinkers realize that an evil spirit may be behind all these things? What the Orthodox denounce in these false practices and teachings is that they are the practices and teachings which oppose the Will of God as taught by the Bible, thus, being the result of our fallen, sinful, human 'experience!' "

Nevertheless, the New Hampshire rites drew many mainline clerics. The ecumenical procession included representatives of the American Baptists, the United Church of Christ, the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), Unitarian-Universalists, United Methodists and others.

Lutheran Bishop Krister Stendahl of Sweden took part and it was announced that he also represented the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, said Father Robert Stiefel of the diocesan transition team. This was symbolic, because of an ELCA and Episcopal accord to share sacraments and clergy.

Apparently no Catholic clergy took part, although Jesep said several Catholic lay leaders joined the procession. Catholic bishops have often been observers at Anglican consecrations -- but not this time.

Pope John Paul II recently warned Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams that the ties that bind them are at the breaking point. "New and serious" obstacles block the path to unity.

"These difficulties are not all of a merely disciplinary nature," said the papal text. "Some extend to essential matters of faith and morals. ... Faced with the increasing secularism of today's world, the church must ensure that the deposit of faith is proclaimed in its integrity and preserved from erroneous and misguided interpretations."

No additional commentary was needed, especially in a time when the powerful Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger is showing a willingness to build new bridges to Anglican traditionalists in America and England. Might there even be a new "Anglican rite" in communion with Rome?

Whatever happens will happen, said Jesep. While the New Hampshire consecration may rattle other altars and pews, critics of Robinson's ministry must realize that the U.S. Episcopal Church has made its choice and acted on it.

"The larger issue is not who participated and who did not participate," he said. "The real issue is that there is a gay bishop -- period. The issue now is how the church reacts to this as a Christian family.