The prayers of Hebrew Catholics

NEW YORK -- It's hard for Roy Schoeman to share his faith without mentioning Abraham, his son Isaac and a sacrificial altar on Mount Moriah.

This story from Genesis is a cornerstone of the Jewish faith in which he was raised and educated, the son of Jews who escaped the Holocaust and came to America. But this familiar passage -- with its covenant between God and Abraham's children -- also is crucial to his testimony as a convert to Roman Catholicism.

For Schoeman, these faiths cannot be pried apart.

"If Christianity was meant for anyone it was meant for the Jews," he said at a gathering of the Association of Hebrew Catholics. Thus, the Catholic faith "is Judaism as it was defined by God Incarnate, Jesus Christ. ... He did not come to bring Christianity to the gentiles and leave the Jews alone."

The Palm Sunday-weekend conference was held at Sts. Cyril and Methodius Church, not far from Times Square. It drew more than 100 Catholics from across the nation and overseas, including a core group of converted Jews.

Some in the audience shed tears as Schoeman emotionally offered a prayer for the conversion of his own mother. They murmured "amen," as he read the biblical account of Abraham preparing to sacrifice "his only son," until being stopped by an angel who said God would provide a lamb. Because Abraham was willing to surrender his son, God said: "I will indeed bless you and I will multiply your descendents as the stars of heaven. ... And by your descendents shall all the nations bless themselves, because you have obeyed my voice."

Surely this prophecy foreshadows the life and sacrifice of Jesus, said Schoeman, a former Harvard Business School professor who now focuses his studies on theology. This is why Hebrew Christians insist that conversion does not destroy Jewish identity, but "fulfills it," "completes it" and even "crowns it."

It would be hard to craft a statement that would be more offensive to millions of religious and secular Jews.

However, leaders of the Association of Hebrew Catholics spend as much, or more, time addressing the beliefs of Catholics who say the Second Vatican Council teaches that Jews can "be saved" without embracing Jesus. This division in Catholic ranks has affected many public debates, from clashes about the goals of Jewish-Christian dialogues to the content of Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ."

The conflict intensified in 2002 when a study committee linked to the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, working with National Council of Synagogues, released a set of theological reflections that inspired blunt headlines. The Washington Post went with "Catholics Reject Evangelization of Jews," while Christianity Today offered " Jews Are Already Saved, Say U.S. Catholic Bishops."

The document argued that while the "Catholic Church regards the saving act of Christ as central to the process of human salvation for all, it also acknowledges that Jews already dwell in a saving covenant with God." Thus, the unique Jewish witness to God's kingdom "must not be curtailed by seeking the conversion of the Jewish people to Christianity."

Cardinal Avery Dulles of Fordham University was one of many rejecting this text as a statement of Catholic teaching.

"Peter on Pentecost Sunday declared that the whole house of Israel should know for certain that Jesus is Lord and Messiah and that every one of his hearers should be baptized in Jesus' name," wrote Dulles, in America magazine. "Paul spent much of his ministry proclaiming the Gospel to Jews throughout the Diaspora. Distressed by their incredulity, he was prepared to wish himself accursed for the sake of their conversion."

The problem is that progressive elements inside Judaism and Catholicism are striving to "redefine both of these faiths," said David Moss, president of the Hebrew Catholic association. Thus, most mainstream Jewish leaders are convinced that the Vatican has officially changed its doctrine.

"The truth is that Catholicism teaches that there is only one path to salvation and that is through Jesus Christ," said Moss. "Now how does that salvation happen for individual people? That's up to God. He's in charge, not us. ...

"But there is nothing in Vatican II that says Catholics are not supposed to take the Gospel of Jesus Christ to his own people."

Archbishop in a tough room

Comedians know the meaning of the phrase "tough room."

Professional speakers of all kinds try to steer clear of openly hostile audiences. Naturally, clergy avoid them as well.

But Denver Archbishop Charles J. Chaput recently accepted a luncheon gig in what he had to know would be a "tough room." Sure enough, his speech in the open City Club forum produced what veteran Rocky Mountain News religion writer Jean Torkelson called "verbal fisticuffs" when Chaput fielded questions on sex, celibacy, contraception, taxes and the state of Sen. John Kerry's soul.

The archbishop came out swinging in the first lines of his address, creating an interesting case study in how the World Wide Web can change the shape of ecclesiastical press relations.

"Some of you may remember that a year ago I was part of a rally on the Capitol steps to protect state funding for the poor and homeless. But you didn't read about it in the 'Rocky' or the Denver Post, because they didn't cover it," he said.

"Last September, just a few weeks before the election, I preached a homily to 5,000 people at Red Rocks, and I had them repeat out loud three times that if we forget the poor, we'll go to hell. That's one of the principles of Catholic social teaching. If we forget the poor, God will forget us. By our indifference, we will damn ourselves. But you didn't read about that in the press either, because -- again -- nobody covered it."

The archbishop was probably not surprised that this part of his speech didn't get covered, either. It's a Catch-22.

In the pre-digital days that would have been the end of that, other than a Catholic newspaper report for the faithful. But Chaput took a simple step that, in the age of email lists and "weblogs," offered his critique to a small, but strategic, national audience. He posted the City Club text on his own Web site and this link spread via a sympathetic network of traditional Catholics.

The reviews were good in many cyber-rooms.

Chiming in at the No Left Turns "blog," political scientist Joseph Knippenberg of Atlanta's Oglethorpe University in Atlanta wrote: "We need more religious leaders like Archbishop Chaput who will challenge the simple-minded separationism that clearly informs the opinions of a significant portion of elite audiences like this one. And we need reporters who will cover these speeches fairly and honestly."

This makes it safer to play "tough rooms." In addition to posting speeches, I think religious leaders -- left and right -- should take advantage of other digital options.

* Why stick to a prepared speech text? Web-savvy leaders can claim the right to digitally record their public appearances and then post online the audio and video files. Was the crowd hostile? Were there hecklers? Supporters and critics can watch for themselves.

* Worried about a hostile media interview? In addition to urging reporters to use recorders, cautious religious leaders can record the interviews for themselves and then transcribe and post the results. This allows the interviewer and the interviewee to know what was said. If readers want to compare press coverage to the verbatim transcript, then so be it. Chaput used this tactic with the New York Times before the 2004 election.

* Tired of stereotypes? It's easier for people of faith to tackle complicated topics when they know they can use digital networks to circulate precise statements of what they believe. They can also post commentaries to help outsiders -- reporters, even -- understand the nuances. Recent National Association of Evangelicals statements on issues such as religious liberty, peace, poverty and the environment have filtered into elite news media, settings in which the term "evangelical" is often a slur.

* Using "blogs" and other digital forums, the faithful can post links to news media reports and then attach jeers and cheers. In an age of declining audiences for mainstream media products, wise newsroom executives might want to pay attention to these forums. What would happen if major religious groups -- such as the Southern Baptist Convention -- opened digital dialogues with media professionals?

It could happen. It would be good if it did happen. It's hard for dedicated, concerned readers to have too much information.

Communion in the Anglican Communion?

The words change from continent to continent, but the world's 77 million Anglicans have always found unity around altars containing bread and wine.

In Ireland's new Book of Common Prayer, the modern rite proclaims: "Father, with this bread and this cup we do as Christ your Son commanded: we remember his passion and death, we celebrate his resurrection and ascension, and we look for the coming of his kingdom.

"Accept through him, our great high priest, this our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving; and as we eat and drink these holy gifts, grant by the power of the life-giving Spirit that we may be made one in your holy Church. ... Amen."

These familiar words failed to unite 38 archbishops when they gathered recently in the Dromantine Conference Centre in County Down, Northern Ireland. In fact, the Eucharistic table became the symbol of division.

The leaders of the Anglican Communion met for business, study and prayer, but could not share Holy Communion.

It's hard to gather at the same altar when bishops lack a common understanding of words such as "salvation," "resurrection," "marriage" and even "God," said Bishop C. FitzSimons Allison, an Anglican historian who is the retired bishop of South Carolina.

"You can't hold a church together with appeals to human emotions. You need stronger stuff than that," he said. "You can get by with bonds of affection at your local Rotary Club, but that won't work for us right now. ... You have to be of one mind on the doctrines that have united Christians through the ages."

In headlines around the world, the clashes behind Dromantine's high walls were caused by a familiar controversy -- the ministry of New Hampshire Bishop V. Gene Robinson, a gay man living in a same-sex relationship.

The primates released a five-page communique that, in its most quoted passage, urgently requested that the "Episcopal Church (USA) and the Anglican Church of Canada voluntarily withdraw their members from the Anglican Consultative Council for the period leading up to the next Lambeth Conference" of the world's bishops in 2008.

The North Americans quickly denied that they had agreed to stand down.

But reports circulated that conservatives, led by Nigerian Archbishop Peter Akinola and others, had moved beyond words into dramatic action. Before the meeting, Akinola wrote Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams and warned that many Third World archbishops would not celebrate communion with U.S. Presiding Bishop Frank Griswold. There are 2 million Episcopalians and between 40 million and 50 million Anglicans in Africa alone.

Seeking compromise, Williams proposed bringing in a chaplain to lead a daily Eucharist.

"Archbishop Akinola responded it was not the worthiness of the minister that prompted their objections, but their belief that unity of doctrine preceded unity of worship. It was not a question of receiving 'from' Bishop Griswold, but 'with' Bishop Griswold," wrote the Rev. George Conger, in the Church of England Newspaper.

Williams relented, "formally recognizing the state of broken Eucharistic communion," wrote Conger. Some Third World archbishops, led by Archbishop Emmanuel Kolini of Rwanda, fasted for the four days.

Griswold was defiant, saying his church welcomes future opportunities to defend its actions on behalf of homosexual clergy, since its leaders believe they have "sought to act with integrity in response to the Spirit, and that we have worked, and continue to work, to honor the different perspectives very much present" in the church.

Yes, these are painful and sobering times, and Allison said he could understand the stance taken by Third World bishops.

After all, it has been a dozen years since he decided he could no longer, with a clear conscience, receive communion during meetings of the U.S. House of Bishops. During a Bible study, several bishops had said that they believed they worshipped a god that is "older and greater" than the God of the Bible. Others said they could not affirm this belief, but would not condemn it.

"This is apostasy," Allison said.

When it came time for all the bishops to go to the altar and receive communion, Allison declined.

"If you do not share the same faith, you cannot share the same communion," he said, recalling that moment. "When people start talking about new revelations and creating some kind of new faith, that's when the red flags have to go up."

Those Oscar-winning sermons

Rare is the movie lover who hasn't glared at the television and muttered: "If I could pick the Oscars, things would be different."

This year, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops (usccb.org) urged Catholics, and anyone else who heard about the online poll, to cast their own votes for the major Academy Awards.

And the winners are? The best picture winner was "Million Dollar Baby." Clint Eastwood won best director, for "Million Dollar Baby." The best actress honor went to Hilary Swank, for "Million Dollar Baby." In a big switch from the real Oscars, the Catholic-poll voters didn't pick Jamie Foxx as best actor for his work in "Ray." They selected Clint Eastwood, for "Million Dollar Baby."

The bottom line: It was a knockout for the sucker-punch melodrama in which a gritty boxer (with a gold cross around her neck) asks her surrogate-father trainer (a daily-Mass Catholic) to kill her because she does not want to live as a quadriplegic after tragedy ends her meteoric rise to fame.

Meanwhile, the bishops' own film critics gave "Million Dollar Baby" an "O" -- morally offensive -- rating and warned that its "guilt-wracked, but ultimately permissive" take on euthanasia "will leave Catholic viewers emotionally against the ropes."

This movie did not have the catechism in its corner.

"We praised it on the artistic level and, in many ways, it is a fine film," said Harry Forbes, director of the USCCB Office for Film and Broadcasting. "But we also felt duty-bound to give it the worst rating we can give, in terms of moral content. ... In the end, we did not believe it was propaganda for the euthanasia cause, although we know some people did."

Thus, the office's review said: "The pain and devastation of those involved is achingly evident. However, in spite of all the soul-searching that precedes it, the deed itself is presented as an act of reluctant heroism. ... Our sympathies and humane inclinations may argue in favor of such misguided compassion, but our Catholic faith prohibits us from getting around the fact that, in this case, the best-intended ends cannot justify the chosen means: the taking of a life."

Catholic ethicist Thomas Hibbs went even further, calling "Million Dollar Baby" a trip into a "nihilistic hell" in which Eastwood meditates on life in a chaotic, amoral and ultimately hopeless universe. At the movie's heart is the ultimate question: "What if God does not exist?"

The fierce debates about this movie underline a sobering reality, said Hibbs, author of "Shows About Nothing: Nihilism in Popular Culture from The Exorcist to Seinfeld." Modern consumers are more likely to find guidance at the mall or multiplex than in a religious sanctuary. Thus, whether they admit it or not, artists such as Eastwood are moral leaders when it comes time to wrestle with America's most divisive issues.

"What happens in pop culture shapes so many of our debates -- even political debates -- about these kinds of issues," said Hibbs, dean of the Honors College at Baylor University. "So maybe you haven't seen this movie. But you've heard about it on the news, seen it on magazine covers and read about it in the checkout line at the grocery store. And an Oscar-winning film like this influences other films. ...

"We have a vacuum in our society and this is what fills it -- politics and movies. Where is the church in this picture?"

Forbes said feedback to the Conference of Catholic Bishops indicates that many readers do consult its film reviews. The Office of Film and Broadcasting critiqued 225 movies in 2004, publishing its reviews online and through Catholic News Service. The staff suspects that many of these readers are parents, looking for that friendly "A-I" rating that says the church believes a movie is appropriate for all ages.

Movies for adults are another matter.

"There was a time when what the bishops said had more clout," Forbes said. "They could say, 'Don't go to see that movie' and it would be so. We're in a different age and people go see what they want to see.

No need for Orthodox pickles

Week after week, Eastern Orthodox hierarchs guide their flocks through the incense-shrouded rites that define their ancient faith.

Bishops also become experts at another intricate ritual -- banquets.

So Metropolitan Philip, the Antiochian Orthodox archbishop of North America, was not surprised when he was asked to make a few remarks at the final banquet of the 2004 Clergy-Laity Congress of the Greek Orthodox Church in New York City. He was surprised when Greek Archbishop Demetrios indicated that this was more than a polite request.

"I reminded him that when I speak, I tell it like it is," said Philip.

What happened next caused shock waves that reached all the way to Istanbul, even if the archbishop's words would have seemed mild to outsiders who could not break the Byzantine code.

Philip addressed the delegates as Americans -- not Greeks.

The Lebanese-born archbishop said it was time to challenge the ties that bind the new world to the old. He said what he has been saying since 1966, when he assumed control of a diocese that has grown from 66 to 250 parishes on his watch.

Philip brought greetings from Patriarch Ignatius IV in Damascus and his ancient church founded by Peter and Paul. Then he ventured into an ecclesiastical minefield, offering greetings from the 1000 Antiochian Orthodox delegates who, days earlier, had voted unanimously to approve what many Greek lay people have long demanded -- a constitution granting them control of their own church in North America.

The delegates burst into applause. Philip plunged on.

"I told them that if I could sum up this new constitution, I would begin with the words, 'We the people,' " he said. "The hall erupted again. I told them we cannot ignore this truth -- Americans are infested with freedom. We cannot ignore that our churches are in America and we are here to stay."

That was all Philip needed to say. Nikki Stephanopoulos, the veteran press officer for the Greek archdiocese, described the scene this way: "It would be accurate to say that he received an enthusiastic response."

The response was different in Istanbul. According to the National Herald, the Greek-American daily newspaper, Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew criticized Demetrios for allowing Philip to "spread his propaganda in favor of establishing an autocephalous," or independent, "Orthodox Church in America!" When Demetrios said that Philip spoke as vice president of the Standing Council of Canonical Bishops in the Americas, Bartholomew reportedly exclaimed: "You should have stopped him!"

Months later, Metropolitan Philip continues to travel from altar to altar and banquet to banquet, offering his own people an even blunter version of the sermon he preached to the Greeks. This past week he was in West Palm Beach, Fla.

The archbishop continues to tell familiar stories about life in the Middle East. He still asks second- and third-generation Arab children if they can speak Arabic.

But Philip said Eastern Orthodox Christians must embrace Americans who seek ancient roots in the confusion of modern times. This will mean learning from converts who are not afraid to use words like "missions," "tithing" and even "evangelism." A symbolic sign of change: One of his newly consecrated bishops once taught biblical studies at Oral Roberts University.

Change will be difficult, but bishops must realize that they are called to spread their faith to others, not just to "to preserve it for ourselves," he said. The heart of Orthodoxy must stay the same, but it is not enough to "put our faith into pickle jar and preserve it. We have enough pickles in America already."

Orthodox leaders will find a way to save the traditions of their homelands, said Philip. But the clergy and laity must realize that their own children and grandchildren are Americans who need a faith that is stronger than old music, familiar foods, folk dancing and traces of an ancient language.

"I believe in Orthodox unity, with diversity," he stressed. "We will not melt into the Greek archdiocese and the Greeks will not melt into our archdiocese. ... But we must have a united synod that speaks to this country. We must speak to America, not as Arabs and Greeks and Russians and Romanians and Bulgarians. We need to speak with one Orthodox voice on the issues that affect our country and our country is America."

Pope John Paul II: What's the lead?

Theologian George Weigel needs a Global Positioning System transmitter on his wrist so journalists can keep track of him.

As author of the 1008-page "Witness to Hope: The Biography of Pope John Paul II," his life has been hectic since the news flash that the shepherd of the world's 1 billion Catholics had been rushed to hospital, gasping for breath.

Weigel said a network-news reporter recently called and asked, " 'Where are you going to be tonight, in case something happens to the pope?' Well, I said, 'I'm going to church and I'm going home and eat dinner with my family. That's what we do on Ash Wednesday. Is that OK?' "

Reporters are trying to cover their bases. The panic also may have been fueled by another reality. This pope's life is impossible to capture in a few dramatic images, a three-minute sound-bite blitz and a sentence or two about the length of his tenure (second longest ever) and the number of nations he has visited (125 so far).

Journalists must ask: What is the lead on this story? Thus, I contacted a circle of commentators and asked that question. Here is a sample of what I heard.

* Catholic Internet scribe Amy Welborn said she would focus this question: "Has this pope "permanently redefined the papacy?" Will it be possible for future popes to be anything other than "a big-thinking world traveler?" Many Catholics admire wonder if "management-related issues have suffered" with this emphasis on travel and media.

* Steven Waldman, CEO at Beliefnet.com, began with: "Pope John Paul II, who perhaps did more than any other person to end communism ..." Who can forget when Lech Walesa signed the labor agreement at Gdansk shipyard, incarnating the Solidarity movement that helped trigger the collapse of the Soviet empire? Walesa used a pen topped with an image of the Polish pope.

* Baptist scholar Timothy George, part of the 1994 "Evangelicals and Catholics Together" coalition, cited both John Paul's hunger for church unity and his writings, especially "Veritatis Splendor (The Splendor of Truth)." Nevertheless, George said he would lead with: "The pope has advocated the sanctity of life in a century suffused with the smell of death, whether that is the stench of the Holocaust ovens or the abortion clinics or innocent victims of terrorism and military conflict. ... He is certainly the greatest pope since the Reformation."

* Adoremus.org editor Helen Hitchcock emphasized the pope's "Theology of the Body" reflections -- gathered from Wednesday public audiences -- on what it means to be human, male and female, and how this affects marriage, children, the elderly, the unborn and the sick.

While liberal Catholics complain about a "reign of terror," Hitchcock said many conservatives also have concerns about John Paul's legacy. "Some believe that he has been very strong on proclaiming the truth, but weaker when it comes to defending the truth. ... After all, he appointed all of our bishops. They are his. That is the reality."

* Russell Chandler, the retired religion writer for the Los Angeles Times, said he isn't ready to write a lead yet. After all, this pope has appointed all but three of the 120 cardinal-electors who will choose his successor, including waves of red hats from Third World nations.

"I think it is not clear that the so-called John Paul II era -- the Pope for the World -- is going to be over," said Chandler. "Pope John Paul II is dead. Long live the Pope. Is this era ... going to continue? Watch for the smoke signal at the Vatican chimney."

Meanwhile, Weigel is convinced reporters do not need to rush to judgment. Based on his personal contacts, he is convinced that the pope's health is actually quite sound for an 84-year-old man who is suffering from arthritis and Parkinson's disease.

"This whole idea that the next breath of wind that comes along is going to blow him over is just wrong," said Weigel.

"The truth of the matter is that he is going to have his ups and his downs. We may see six or seven of these episodes in the next year or two or longer. So are we going to go crazy every time? That is going to get old fast."

Baylor, Bibles, boots and education

Soon after David Solomon arrived at Baylor University in 1960, he realized that one of his new friends had a problem -- this rancher's kid had spent his life in boots.

"That's all he had," said Solomon, a philosopher who leads the Notre Dame Center for Ethics & Culture. "We went out and he bought his first pair of lace-up shoes. ... That's what Baylor was about, back then. Baylor was supposed to take Baptist kids from small-town Texas churches, knock the dust off them and hit them with the Enlightenment. You know, civilize them."

Texas has changed. But anyone digging beneath the headlines about the Waco wars over faith and learning will find that the past has power. The old assumption was that students arrived rooted into a brand of faith that was rich and rigid. Thus, Solomon said most of his professors set out to "shake everybody up" and teach students a more complex, progressive set of beliefs than what they learned at home and church.

Baylor life was baptized in faith, symbolized by chimes that played hymns as students -- like me, during the 1970s -- walked to chapel.

But in the classrooms, most professors assumed that piety was a good thing, but had little to do with the wisdom in secular textbooks, said Solomon, who has stayed active in debates at his alma mater. Thus, the world's largest Southern Baptist school was a "university with a Christian atmosphere," but not a "Christian university" that blended ancient faith and modern learning.

This worked for decades, until reports about sex, drugs and nihilism pushed millions of parents to hunt for distinctively Christian campuses. As the Wall Street Journal recently noted, enrollment in the 105 members of the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities -- an organization in which I teach journalism -- soared 60 percent between 1990 and 2002, while numbers at public and secular private schools edged up or stayed level.

Recently, Baylor has steered toward "Christian university" status, led by its regents and an academic team headed by a brash president named Robert Sloan.

The result was Baylor 2012, a controversial plan calling for a larger endowment, a 36 percent tuition hike, more scholarships, 230 new faculty positions and a wave of construction, most noticeably a $103 million science building. Sloan's team also began asking prospective professors -- Protestants, Catholics and Jews alike -- to explain how faith affected their teaching and research. This was a direct challenge to the "Christian atmosphere" tradition, with its separate zones for faith and learning.

Sloan fought for a decade, before the Jan. 21 news that he will step down to become chancellor. Baylor's civil war had become national news, especially when combined with a tragic basketball scandal.

While Sloan made painful mistakes, Baylor 2012 provoked a public statement of support from an ecumenical coalition of Christian educators -- including Solomon -- from Notre Dame, Yale, Harvard, Duke, the University of Chicago and elsewhere.

"Baylor has charted a bold course," it said. "It has strengthened the mission entrusted to it by its founders, preserving its Baptist heritage while making it intellectually relevant. ... In matters of faculty hiring and curricular innovation Baylor has assumed a leadership role among the remaining Christian colleges and universities."

News reports have often linked the Baylor controversy to decades of conflict between Southern Baptist "moderates" and "fundamentalists." But what Sloan and the regents say they want is a "big tent Christian orthodoxy" that transcends Baptist politics, according to Robert Benne of Roanoke College.

These are fighting words to many Baylor loyalists.

"Above all, traditional Baptists disagree with Sloan's contention that Christianity has intellectual content," argued Benne, writing in the Christian Century. "In the view of Baylor's new leaders, faith is more than atmospheric. There is a deposit of Christian belief that all Christians should hold to. On the basis of that belief they should engage the secular claims of the various academic disciplines."

This attempt to wed soul and intellect encouraged, or infuriated, many educators in postmodern America, said Solomon.

"We can no longer assume that our students know much at all about the faith once delivered to the saints," he said. "It's a new world, even for church kids. The days of bringing boys in off the farm are gone."

Hell through the Hollywood lens

LOS ANGELES -- Hell looks really cool, when seen through a Hollywood lens.

The good guys in the upcoming thriller "Constantine" do comment on the sulfur smell in the hell edition of Los Angeles and it's a pain coping with all those extra tortured, brainless, flesh-eating demons on the 101 Freeway. But the city still looks like Los Angeles, even after an eternity of hurricane-force firestorms.

The other place can't compete, when it comes to entertainment value.

"The reason why heaven isn't shown as much in these kinds of movies, honestly, is that no one knows how to depict it in a cool way," said screenwriter Frank Cappello, after the film's press screenings.

"Audiences love to see hell. They want to see demonic images. But if you show them angelic beings, if you show them the light ... it's like they say, 'Oh, gosh.' "

So it's no surprise that "Constantine" offers a mere glimpse of a heavenly reward, before its chain-smoking, hard-drinking, cussing antihero is yanked back to his life as a rock 'n' roll exorcist. The John Constantine character was born in stacks of "Hellblazer" comic books and, as played by the neo-messianic Keanu Reeves, is part Dirty Harry and part Indiana Jones, channeling "The Matrix" and "Men in Black."

How dark is this movie? The angel Gabriel gets ticked off at humanity and decides to cue the apocalypse.

The director and writers agreed that their movie raises big questions about salvation and damnation, sin and repentance, fate and free will. It will raise eyebrows among the 81 percent of Americans who, according to a 2004 Gallup Poll, believe in heaven and the 70 percent who believe in hell.

"I'm a skeptic, myself," said director Francis Lawrence. "For all I know, you die and rot in a box and that's it."

This response was par for the course, as the "Constantine" cast and crew fielded questions from critics and reporters, including a room full of Catholic and Protestant writers. One after another, the Hollywood professionals said they wanted their movie to inspire questions, but remain agnostic about answers.

A Catholic priest among the press agreed that it doesn't make sense to expect coherent doctrine from a horror movie, even one this packed with references to Catholic rituals, relics and art. Yet "Constantine" is precisely the kind of pop-culture event that may cause young people to ask questions.

"It's based on a comic book and looks like a video game," said Father Joe Krupp of FaithMag.com and Lansing (Mich.) Catholic High School. "Like it or not, you just know that the kids are going to be talking about this and we need to pay attention. ...

"This movie is messy, but it does say that there is a heaven and a hell and it says that our choices are powerful and matter for eternity. It also says that each of us was created by God for a purpose. It says that several times."

Spiritual warfare is quite literally the key, with the antihero fighting to earn his way into heaven. At one point, Constantine chants Latin prayers and threatens to send the demonic Balthazar to heaven instead of hell in a brass-knuckles version of Last Rites. But just before he pulls the trigger -- on a shotgun shaped like a cross -- he reminds his adversary that he must "ask for absolution to be saved."

Constantine knows how to get to heaven, stressed Cappello. He is simply too angry and cynical to obey. Seek God's forgiveness? Forget about it.

"His pride gets in the way of him asking to be let off the hook," said Cappello. "It's basically, 'I'm going to do it myself.' "

Yet Reeves urged moviegoers not to judge his world-weary character too harshly, because he does muster up one act of self sacrifice. In the "secular religiosity" of this film, that is enough.

"That's what, you know, gives him a chance of going upstairs," said Reeves. "But ... did he make the sacrifice so that he could go to heaven, or does he really mean it?" In the end, "the man upstairs knows, just like Santa Claus, if you're telling a lie or if you're really nice. He knows."

And all the people said: Whoa.

Free Bibles, free speech

As a rule, newspaper readers do not protest when the Sunday edition includes free soap, toothpaste, shampoo, detergent, AOL software or a razor.

Then again, these products do not include pronouncements on sin, sex, money, marriage, heaven, hell and a host of spiritual issues -- including the belief that salvation comes through faith in a messiah named Jesus.

So International Bible Society leaders were not surprised that some people were upset by their decision to distribute 91,000 New Testaments in a pre-Christmas edition of the Colorado Springs Gazette. They were surprised when the project made national headlines, inspiring debate about free speech, religious tolerance and the role of newspapers in the marketplace of ideas.

"Whenever we try to put the word of God into people's hands there are going to be negative reactions. We have to accept that as a given," said Bob Jackson, head of this national project. "You're going to hear from atheists and agnostics. You're going to hear from people in other faiths and Christians who disagree with what you're doing. ... We know that this stirs up emotions that you just don't see when you are giving away packets of oatmeal."

Right now, the Colorado Springs-based Bible society is evaluating the results of this New Testament project, which was funded by 125 nearby churches, businesses and evangelical ministries, such as Focus on the Family and Youth for Christ. Jackson said it cost $125,000 to print and distribute the 200-page volume, with its cover photo of Pikes Peak and testimonies by local believers.

Some Jewish and Muslim readers protested, arguing that the "Our City" title implied that Colorado Springs was an all-Christian community. Other critics said it was wrong for a mainstream newspaper -- which was paid its standard fee for such an insert -- to distribute material that was unapologetically evangelistic.

After all, the back cover said: "The heart and soul of the Bible is its account of God's intention to bring all things back to Himself. That includes this great place. And that includes you. This New Testament is being given to you to help you find your place in this drama of restoration."

The New York Times reported that the Gazette received 195 positive reactions and 69 negative, with five readers canceling their subscriptions.

While declining to discuss the future, Jackson said he has received calls from supporters for possible efforts to distribute customized New Testaments in the mainstream newspapers in at least 20 U.S. cities. He would not confirm or deny press reports about Denver, Nashville, Seattle and Santa Rosa, Calif.

Meanwhile, the International Bible Society has been involved in another tussle in the mass-media marketplace -- Rolling Stone's refusal to advertise its new youth-oriented Today's New International Version of the Bible. While Modern Bride, The Onion, MTV and some other outlets cooperated, Rolling Stone cited an unwritten policy against religious messages in ads.

While avoiding obvious God-talk, the Zondervan ad did carry this blunt slogan: "Timeless truth; Today's language."

Rolling Stone balked and then, this week, quietly relented.

The bottom line, said Jackson, is that it's hard for religious organizations to take their messages into the public square without stepping on some toes.

The Bible society freely admits that its goal is to get New Testaments into the hands of people who are not already Christian believers. The goal is to reach "seekers" or even active opponents of the faith, said Jackson. Some may decide to read some of it, simply to "see what all of the fuss is about." Others may throw it in a drawer and then, weeks or months later, pull it out in the midst of some personal trial.

This is the hard truth. From the "Our City" team's evangelical perspective, the people who need to be reached are almost certainly the same people who are most likely to be offended.

"We really believe that we are trying to share the powerful word of God. We believe it can change lives," he said. "So we believe that we're doing what God has commanded us to do. We can't stop trying, because we sincerely believe that lives will be changed -- even among those who oppose us. You just can't reach the searchers without offending people."