Faithfully listening to Obama

Since returning this fall, Craig Dunham has asked his Biblical Ethics students at Westminster Christian Academy to focus on ways that conservative believers can participate in hot public debates, while showing respect for others. This quote from the book "Uncommon Decency" led to timely discussions.

"How can we hold onto strongly felt convictions while still nurturing a spirit that is authentically kind and gentle? ... The answer is that it is not impossible -- but it isn't easy," argued Fuller Seminary President Richard J. Mouw. "Convicted civility is something we have to work at. We have to work at it because both sides of the equation are very important."

These class discussions are sure to continue after Dunham wrote a commentary urging other evangelicals to watch President Barack Obama's back-to-school address with a mixture of respect and skepticism. Now, his students are getting an eyeful while reading fierce online criticisms of their teacher's views.

While his own Christian school near St. Louis didn't show the speech -- which would have required cutting into curriculum several weeks into the semester -- Dunham was stunned to hear that some parents were ready to keep their children at home in order to avoid seeing it.

"Seriously? ... These are the conversations I would think a parent would be PRAYING to take place," wrote Dunham. "At some point, Christians have got to stop putting the mental in fundamentalist and start interacting with the world. Teaching our kids to stick their heads in the sand and ignore anyone they may not totally agree with is, in a word, unChristian. Folks, we can't counter the culture unless we encounter the culture, so let's take off the blinders."

After parsing the president's text, Dunham said he is convinced he needs to use the video in his classroom.

"You know, from a Biblical Ethics perspective, I don't know how not to talk about this," he said. "If we can't talk about these subjects in a Christian school, where can we talk about them?"

Most of Obama's speech to public-school students focused on familiar themes, especially with its drumbeat call for discipline in an age of video games, rap and reality TV. The president used several candid illustrations based on his life as the child of a single mother, including times when she taught him extra lessons at home -- at 4:30 a.m.

"We need every single one of you to develop your talents, skills and intellect so you can help solve our most difficult problems," he said. "If you don't do that -- if you quit on school -- you're not just quitting on yourself, you're quitting on your country."

While Dunham took some lumps online, he was not alone in praising the address.

"This is the speech I expected the president to give to our children -- excellent," wrote the Rev. John Piper of Bethlehem Baptist Church in Minneapolis, a popular evangelical author. "If you settle for the news headlines that say the president tells the kids to wash their hands and take care of the environment, you will miss the wisdom and courage in this speech."

An influential Southern Baptist leader also praised the speech, while criticizing Department of Education lesson plans -- since withdrawn -- that urged students to describe how they could "help the president."

Many criticisms of this event, argued Albert Mohler, Jr., president of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, are "reckless, baseless and plainly irrational. ... At this level, the controversy is a national embarrassment. Conservatives must avoid jumping on every conspiracy theory and labeling every action by the Obama administration as sinister or socialist."

At the very least, this firestorm "smacks of disrespect for the president and, by extension, disrespect for the presidency itself." Even worse, said Mohler, this controversy "threatens to sow seeds of permanent distrust and suspicion in the hearts of the young. In an age of rampant cynicism, this is inexcusable."

Clearly, said Dunham, some religious conservatives are losing their ability to hope "that God can work in any situation," especially during an administration led by a president with whom they have sharp moral and cultural disagreements.

"There is a kind of fatalism on the loose that has many people saying, 'We're doomed'," he said. "That kind of perspective may be a conservative perspective, in a political sense of the word, but it's certainly not a conservative Christian perspective."

Rites, wrongs and Ted Kennedy

In the summer of 2004, the Vatican sent a letter to the United States addressing one of the hottest issues facing the church here -- whether politicians who back abortion rights should receive Holy Communion. The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith sent the guidelines to the leader of the Archdiocese of Washington, D.C. However, Cardinal Theodore McCarrick chose not to share the letter with America's bishops, which kept its blunt contents secret -- until a leak in Italy.

"The Church teaches that abortion or euthanasia is a grave sin," warned the letter, adding that there is a "grave and clear obligation to oppose" civil laws and judicial decisions that "authorize or promote" these acts. At the same time, it explained that there "may be a legitimate diversity of opinion even among Catholics about waging war and applying the death penalty, but not ... with regard to abortion and euthanasia."

On the central issue, the guidelines said when a person's "formal cooperation becomes manifest (understood, in the case of a Catholic politician, as his consistently campaigning and voting for permissive abortion and euthanasia laws), his Pastor should meet with him, instructing him about the Church's teaching, informing him that he is not to present himself for Holy Communion until he brings to an end the objective situation of sin and warning him that he will otherwise be denied the Eucharist."

Months later, the letter's author -- Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger -- became Pope Benedict XVI. There is no evidence his views have changed.

However, the status of politicians who clash with Rome remains controversial, especially when Catholics occupy strategic positions on the U.S. Supreme Court, in the president's cabinet and on Capital Hill.

Tensions from the Ratzinger letter were also felt during the public events marking the passing of Sen. Edward Kennedy, one of the most symbolic and influential Catholics in American political history.

Catholics on both sides of the aisle dissected the rites, seeking signs of favor or disfavor. The outspoken Cardinal Sean O'Malley of Boston presided in the funeral Mass, but played a small role. Was that important? Where were the region's other bishops? Were television crews told to avoid camera angles that would reveal who received Communion?

But the most symbolic moment occurred during the graveside service in Arlington National Cemetery. That's when the now retired Cardinal McCarrick -- a close friend of Kennedy -- read the dying senator's private appeal for a final papal blessing.

"I know that I have been an imperfect human being, but with the help of my faith, I have tried to right my path," wrote Kennedy. "I want you to know, Your Holiness, that in my nearly 50 years of elective office, I have done my best to champion the rights of the poor and open doors of economic opportunity. I've worked to welcome the immigrant, fight discrimination and expand access to health care and education. I have opposed the death penalty and fought to end war. ...

"I have always tried to be a faithful Catholic, Your Holiness, and though I have fallen short through human failings, I have never failed to believe and respect the fundamental teachings."

McCarrick read excerpts from a Vatican reply, keeping some parts private. The final lines, written by a papal aide, were simple: "Commending you and the members of your family to the loving intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the Holy Father cordially imparts his Apostolic Blessing as a pledge of wisdom, comfort and strength in the Lord."

Kennedy's letter raised a familiar and haunting question: Are the Catholic doctrines on the sanctity of every human life, from conception to natural death, part of the church's "fundamental teachings" or not?

While praising the senator's career, McCarrick added what was almost certainly a gentle reference to his clashes with the church on abortion, gay rights and other doctrinal issues. The bottom line: Kennedy maintained a 100 percent pro-abortion-rights voting record, according to NARAL Pro-Choice America.

"They called him, 'The Lion of the Senate,' and indeed that is what he was," said the former shepherd of the Washington archdiocese. "His roar, and his zeal for what he believed, made a difference in our nation's life. Sometimes, of course, we who were his friends and had affection for him would get mad at him when he roared at what we believed was the wrong side of an issue."

Hemlock, health care and Catholic choices

The "Your Life, Your Choices" booklet didn't cause trouble at the Department of Veterans Affairs until late in President George W. Bush's second term. That's when critics spotted an odd detail in this guide for end-of-life medical decisions. It urged aging veterans to seek expert advice from one group -- Compassion & Choices. It helps to know that this organization was created in 2005 through the merger of two groups, Compassion in Dying and End-of-Life Choices and that, until 2003, End-of-Life Choices was known as the Hemlock Society.

The Bush White House pulled that edition of "Your Life, Your Choices," but a revised version -- minus the plug for Compassion & Choices -- has been restored to the VA.gov website. Conservative critics remain worried.

"Obviously, the Catholic church and our bishops have been strong advocates of health-care reform, especially when it comes to making the system more accessible for the poor and needy. That's a no-brainer," said John Haas, president of the National Catholic Bioethics Center and a member of U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops task force on health care.

"But this VA issue shows why we just don't trust the government when it comes to helping people make all the moral and religious decisions that come at the end of life. ... The Hemlock Society? Catholics would rather do our own counseling, thank you very much."

It's easy for outsiders to get lost in the details of the sprawling packages of legislation now being debated on Capitol Hill. However, Haas stressed that critical questions remain unanswered about how efforts to reform America's health-care system will affect hot-button issues such as abortion, stem-cell research and health-care rationing for the elderly and chronically ill.

Thus, a letter from the U.S. bishops to Congress and the White House pledged support for accessible, affordable, universal health-care reform that truly "protects and respects the life and dignity of all people from conception until natural death."

In the headlines, it is easy for these concerns to be crunched into shouted questions in health-care forums about taxpayer-funded abortions and fears that government "death panels" will micromanage critical decisions in nursing homes.

But calmer, quieter voices inside the Washington Beltway still want to know more about the proposed Center for Health Outcomes Research and Evaluation, which legislation sponsored by the late Sen. Edward Kennedy claims would "collect, conduct, support and synthesize research comparing health outcomes, effectiveness and appropriateness of health care services and procedures."

While striving to avoid risky specifics, President Barack Obama has said it will be impossible to expand health-care services without tough-minded reforms that cut costs. This is especially true when discussing care for the elderly.

"That's where I think you just get into some very difficult moral issues. But that's also a huge driver of cost, right? I mean, the chronically ill and those toward the end of their lives are accounting for potentially 80 percent of the total health care bill out here," said Obama, in a much-quoted New York Times interview.

"I think that there is going to have to be a conversation that is guided by doctors, scientists, ethicists. And then there is going to have to be a very difficult democratic conversation that takes place. ... That's part of why you have to have some independent group that can give you guidance."

The president recently went further, according to Twitter postings from a conference call with 1,000 rabbis. Obama reached out to these religious leaders, stressing, "We are God's partners in matters of life and death."

No one doubts that millions of Americans want help while making decisions about end-of-life medical issues, stressed Haas. The question is whether most would prefer to face these ultimate issues with help from government experts or from their own pastors, rabbis, priests, hospice workers and other religious counselors.

"The Catholic Church has a highly developed body of teachings and traditions to help guide people through these kinds of decisions," said Haas. "We believe that hospice care is normal and good. We believe that it's right to die a good death, with an emphasis on the relief of pain and suffering. ...

"But let's be clear. We think the government has an agenda on these kinds of issues and it's not the church's agenda. When it comes to dying, controlling costs is not our primary goal."

Eunice Kennedy Shriver, pro-lifer

There is nothing particularly newsworthy about a coalition of pro-lifers releasing a public manifesto that criticizes politicos who support abortion rights. Nevertheless, a full-page advertisement in the New York Times during the 1992 Democratic National Convention raised eyebrows because a few prominent Democrats endorsed "A New American Compact: Caring about Women, Caring for the Unborn."

One name in particular jumped out in this list -- Kennedy.

"The advocates of abortion on demand falsely assume two things: that women must suffer if the lives of unborn children are legally protected; and that women can only attain equality by having the legal option of destroying their innocent offspring in the womb," proclaimed ad's lengthy and detailed text.

"We propose a new understanding, one that does not pit mother against child. To establish justice and to promote the general welfare, America does not need the abortion license. What America needs are policies that responsibly protect and advance the interest of mothers AND their children, both before AND after birth."

Near the end, the statement added: "We can choose to reaffirm our respect for human life. We can choose to extend once again the mantle of protection to all members of the human family, including the unborn."

It really wasn't a surprise that Eunice Kennedy Shriver -- who died on Aug. 11, after a series of strokes -- was among those who signed the document, along with her husband Sargent Shriver, the 1972 Democratic nominee for vice president.

Yes, she was the sister of President John F. Kennedy, Sen. Robert Kennedy, and Sen. Edward Kennedy and part of a family dynasty that changed how Americans view progressive politics and Catholicism.

But Eunice Shriver also attended convent schools, considered becoming a nun and remained a daily-Mass Catholic throughout her life, while teaching the Rosary prayers to her five children and 19 grandchildren. She was a public supporter of Democrats for Life, Feminists for Life and the Susan B. Anthony List, which supports pro-life women who seek public office.

"She was pious, I think, a very, very pious woman," said Robert F. Kennedy Jr., stating the obvious during a six-hour public wake and Mass for his aunt at Our Lady of Victory Church on Cape Cod.

An official tribute went further while connecting her faith with the issue that dominated her public life.

"Inspired by her love of God, her devotion to her family, and her relentless belief in the dignity and worth of every human life, she worked without ceasing," said the family's public statement. "She was a living prayer. ... She set out to change the world and to change us, and she did that and more. She founded the movement that became Special Olympics, the largest movement for acceptance and inclusion for people with intellectual disabilities in the history of the world. Her work transformed the lives of hundreds of millions of people across the globe, and they in turn are her living legacy."

The mainstream obituaries and media tributes that followed her death also connected Shriver's work with the poignant life of her older sister Rosemary Kennedy, who was mentally disabled. In a historic 1962 article for the Saturday Evening Post, Eunice yanked one of Camelot's most tragic secrets into the open -- under the stark headline, "Hope for Retarded Children." In the decades that followed, she worked tirelessly to pull Rosemary into the family circle.

Nevertheless, elite journalists failed to connect the dots between Shriver's fierce activism on behalf of children facing disabilities and her commitment to defending the lives of the unborn, including babies with Down syndrome and other genetic flaws.

For Eunice Kennedy Shriver, the sanctity of life was a Catholic issue, a political issue and an intensely personal issue.

"She was preeminently pro-life, against abortion and there to protect and underscore the dignity of every person. This, of course, manifested itself in her love for children with disabilities," noted Cardinal Sean P. O'Malley of Boston, in a reflection posted online.

"While Eunice's works were remarkable, I don't want to lose sight of the fact that her Catholic faith and education was a very important part of what motivated her and helped her to interpret reality. ... It was certainly the soil out of which grew her passion and dedication to the less fortunate and those who are challenged by disabilities and mental retardation."

Wafer madness

Editor's note: Tmatt did not write a column for Scripps Howard this week, due to last-minute travel to Atlanta for the funeral of my wife Debra's mother, Jeanne Bridges Kuhn. The following is a post written for GetReligion.org, which will interest many of my regular readers. To read the interactive version of this post, click here. * * * *

There is no question what the Roman Catholic Church calls the holy bread that is consecrated during the Mass. It is called the “host.” Anyone who knows anything about Catholic liturgy knows this.

Now, how do you describe or define the host? Those seeking to be reverent tend to call it “consecrated bread.”

The problem, of course, is that the special bread used in Western Rite services is not simply unleavened bread. As the old saying goes, there are two acts of faith involved in meditating on the host during a Mass. The first is to believe that it is the Body of Christ. The second is to believe that it is, in fact, bread.

Thus, many people refer to the host in a variety of ways. Some people insist on calling the host a “wafer,” a term that angers many Catholics. However, there are Catholics who use this term. Still, most simply call it by its traditional name — a host.

It is true that, if you look up definitions online, there is an ecclesiastical definition for “wafer” that applies. Thus, you end up with these two clashing definitions:

1. A small thin crisp cake, biscuit, or candy.

2. Ecclesiastical -- A small thin disk of unleavened bread used in the Eucharist.

So, is this unique bread the consecrated “host” or some kind of supposedly holy cookie? That seems to be the question.

I raise this because of the interesting and very detailed story that ran in the Boston Globe the other day about rites of “perpetual adoration,” a tradition that is explained well right at the top by religion-beat specialist Michael Paulson. However, many will stumble, or even scream, right at the lede:

The adorers sit in silence before the wafer.

Some settle cross-legged on the floor by the altar. Others kneel in a favorite pew. They read, or say the rosary; they pray, or think, or just allow the mind to wander. Hour after hour, day after day, they take part in an unusual Catholic ritual that appears to be making a modest comeback — a quest for silence in a noisy life, a desire to be part of a team, a hunger to feel closer to God.

The ritual, called perpetual adoration, is, at one level, strikingly simple: around-the-clock, people take turns sitting in a chapel in the presence of a consecrated wafer. But at another level, the ritual reflects an embrace of the teaching of Catholicism that many find hardest to understand: the belief that, during Mass, bread and wine are literally transformed into the body and blood of Jesus.

The lede seems to settle the issue. It’s a wafer. The Catholic church may say that it is the Body of Christ, or even consecrated bread, but it’s a wafer. For many readers, this rite is an act of faith. Others will consider it a mild form of madness.

I think it’s likely that they Globe newsroom stylebook even settles this language question (I’d love to know the actual answer, in fact). The story uses the term “wafer” eight times — including in a direct quote — and the term “host” only once. I found it interesting that the term “host” is left undefined. If the term is so common that it does not need to be defined, then why not use “host,” oh, eight times and the term “wafer” once? Just asking.

I also wondered if this statement is true:

Later this week, in a Back Bay shrine, the Archdiocese of Boston will celebrate the return of perpetual adoration to Boston for the first time in decades. Volunteers at St. Clement Eucharistic Shrine are signing up 336 people — two for every hour of the week except during Mass — who will agree that, starting Saturday and continuing indefinitely, they will spend an hour a week in the presence of the consecrated wafer, a practice they understand as spending an hour a week with God.

That’s interesting. I had no idea that perpetual adoration was this rare, since I have heard about the practice in a number of contexts through the years. Are there no monasteries in Boston? Did this particular archdiocese ban or discourage the practice for some reason? I’m curious.

Please understand that I am not attacking the Globe report (and certainly not Paulson) on the “wafer” vs. “host” issue.

Still, I have no doubt that many Catholics were not offended by the drumbeat references to their adoration of a “wafer.” However, I am sure that some were offended and there is a good chance that some traditional Catholics still read the Globe.

My question is more basic: What was gained by using the blunt “wafer” reference in the lede? Is the word “host” so strange in a heavily Catholic region? Why not open by saying that they are kneeling before the “consecrated bread” that they believe is the Body of Christ? A reference to the belief of the worshippers would be accurate, even for skeptics. Correct?

Behind this question is another: Should journalists cover the beliefs of others with some sense of respect for the language that they would use? What is accomplished by using language that is sure to offend many of the “stakeholders” — that’s a journalistic term used by Poynter.org and in some other academic settings — who will care the most about the accuracy and sensitivity of this fine story?

There is no question that the Catholic church calls this a “host.” And there is no question that the Boston Globe calls this bread a “wafer.” I am asking this question: Why does the “wafer” language need to win in this debate? Is there a way to be both neutral and to show respect?

Real, live, postmodern preacher

The Rev. Gordon Atkinson had few specific goals when he started planning his 13-week sabbatical from his duties at Covenant Baptist Church near San Antonio. "I knew that I didn't want to be in charge of anything," said Atkinson, long known as the "Real, Live, Preacher" to those who read his intensely personal online journal (reallivepreacher.com).

"Preachers talk and talk and I wanted to get away from that. I didn't want to be a worship tourist, but I thought it would be refreshing to worship in some places where I was the person in the room who knew the least about what was going on."

It helps to know that Atkinson leads an unusual Baptist flock, a "contemplative Christian community" that holds spiritual retreats based on the writings of St. Francis of Assisi and men's fellowship meetings over beer and pizza. Covenant's belief statement stresses that the "fullness of the gospel cannot be contained in any one church."

While proud of his Baptist heritage, Atkinson said the "glory days" when "moderate" and "conservative" Baptists fought to control the old corporate machinery are long gone. Now, many congregations are experimenting with "emerging," "post-denominational" and "postmodern" identities and forms of worship.

Thus, Atkinson began his sabbatical by visiting the radical stillness of a Quaker gathering, a tradition that asks believers to remain silent until God inspires someone to speak. For 30 minutes, every cough, sneeze or stomach growl was audible.

"You have to lose a lot of your shame when you sit in silence with people," he wrote. "These sounds are not disturbing to the time of worship. Not at all. They are the delightful sounds of humans trying to be quiet. And we cannot. ... So even the sounds of people trying to be quiet are a part of the lesson."

A few Sundays later, Atkinson found himself swimming in words and symbols when his family visited an Eastern Orthodox sanctuary.

"It was like they were ripping raw chunks of theology out of ancient creeds and throwing them by the handfuls into the congregation," he wrote. "I heard words and phrases I had not heard since seminary. Theotokos, begotten not made, Cherubim and Seraphim borne on their pinions, supplications and oblations."

The experience, he concluded, was an "ADD kid's nightmare," with the "robes, scary art, smoking incense, secret doors in the Iconostas popping open and little robed boys coming out with golden candlesticks, chants and singing from a small choir that rolled across the curved ceiling. ... There was so much going on I couldn't keep up with all the things I couldn't pay attention to."

His family struggled, but Atkinson had tears in his eyes by the end of the nearly two-hour liturgy. After years of focusing on user-friendly ways to attract people to church, he was stunned to attend a service that -- much like the Quaker meeting -- placed intense demands on all the participants.

It was, he concluded, as if visitors were being told: "You don't know what Theotokos means? Get a book and read about it. You have a hard time standing for two hours? Do some sit ups and get yourself into worship shape. It is the Lord our God we worship here, mortal. ... THIS IS BIGGER THAN YOU ARE."

Atkinson was intrigued and eventually attended Russian, Greek and Antiochian Orthodox churches.

Nevertheless, by the end of his sabbatical this liberal Baptist preacher knew he had a problem. While Atkinson appreciated the symbols, rituals and sacraments he encountered, he also knew that he couldn't accept the doctrines that defined the worship, especially the Orthodox rites.

Simply stated, his views on sin, sexuality, salvation, heaven and hell were too modern. There was "no wiggle room" in the ancient doctrines and, Atkinson concluded, "I just couldn't buy all of it."

Now he is returning to his Baptist pulpit, while hearing choirs of voices arguing in his head representing many different eras of church history.

"What I don't know how to do is rank all of these voices and decide who has authority," he said. "Who is right and who is wrong? ... And I want to know, where does Gordon Atkinson fit into this whole picture? I know that I can't go back to the old Protestant, evangelical way that I was, but I don't know where I'm supposed to go now. This is a problem."

Catholic pain in health-care fight

In Catholic debates, it always helps to be able to quote the official Catechism of the Catholic Church. Consider, for example, this reference to health care in its chapter on the biblical instruction, "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."

"Life and physical health are precious gifts entrusted to us by God," notes the catechism. "Concern for the health of its citizens requires that society help in the attainment of living-conditions that allow them to grow and reach maturity: food and clothing, housing, health care, basic education, employment and social assistance."

The implication is that governments -- as a matter of social justice -- should help citizens obtain basic health care, according to a letter sent to Congress and the White House by the Domestic Justice and Human Development Committee of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops.

Health care is a human right, not a privilege, argued Bishop William F. Murphy.

"All people need and should have access to comprehensive, quality health care that they can afford, and it should not depend on their stage of life, where or whether they or their parents work, how much they earn, where they live, or where they were born," wrote Murphy.

But there's a problem. The letter stresses that the church will support accessible, affordable, universal health-care reform if it "protects and respects the life and dignity of all people from conception until natural death."

Try telling that to Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sibelius, Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, surgeon general nominee Regina Benjamin, Vice President Joe Biden and other Catholics who play strategic roles in Washington, D.C., right now -- while rejecting Catholic teachings on many critical health-care issues.

That's the political reality that the bishops are facing, said Leonard J. Nelson III, a health-care law specialist at the Cumberland School of Law at Samford University.

For the bishops, Catholic teachings on the sanctity of human life are crystal clear, from birth to death, from abortion to euthanasia. Yet the bishops also support health-care for all -- rich and poor. It's getting harder and harder to keep these issues woven together.

"The bishops have been talking about social justice and health care for years and years and now the political climate has changed around them," said Nelson, author of the new book, "Diagnosis Critical: The Urgent Threats Confronting Catholic Health Care."

"The politicians who are in command are ready to pass some kind of health-care reform and they have all kinds of reasons to include abortion in that package. ... That's the fix that the bishops are in."

Meanwhile, he said, leaders of Catholic hospitals and health-care systems will almost certainly face challenges in the near future.

For starters, they could be pressured to join networks and cooperatives that have no reason to follow the bioethical guidelines detailed in the "Ethical and Religious Directives for Catholic Health Care Services" adopted by the U.S. Catholic bishops. It will be hard for Catholic leaders to cooperate with government approved health-care programs and receive government funds while declining to offer services such as contraception, sterilizations and referrals for abortions.

Catholic leaders also know that another life-and-death issue looms in the background. As President Barack Obama noted in a recent New York Times interview, it's impossible to cut or control costs without government efforts to shape health care in the final years of life.

"That's where I think you just get into some very difficult moral issues," said Obama. "But that's also a huge driver of cost, right? I mean, the chronically ill and those toward the end of their lives are accounting for potentially 80 percent of the total health care bill out here."

The Catholic bishops, noted Nelson, have not addressed these end-of-life scenarios -- yet. Will government agencies or advisory boards be given the power to decide whether patients facing Alzheimer's or Parkinson's disease receive expensive medications? Who will decide whether elderly patients have a high enough "quality of life" to continue receiving medical care?

"Productive people in the middle years of life are always going to get the health care they need," said Nelson. "The big threats to the sanctity of life come at the very beginning and at the end. If you're going to defend the church's teachings on health care, you have to focus on those threats. The bishops have to find a way to do that."

Why journalists (heart) the Episcopal Church

On a typical Sunday, 4,281 Episcopalians attend services in the world-famous Diocese of New Hampshire, according to official church reports. This isn't a large number of worshippers in the pews of 47 parishes -- roughly the same number that would attend weekend Masses in two or three healthy Catholic parishes in a typical American city.

Episcopal attendance in New Hampshire fell sharply between 2003 and 2007, which is the most recent statistical year available (pdf). Meanwhile, this diocese had 15,621 members in 2003 and 14,160 in 2007 -- a loss of 9.4 percent. The entire Diocese of New Hampshire is about the same size as many individual Protestant megachurches.

However, the influential bishop of this little diocese recently told the New York Times that things have been fine since 2003, when he was consecrated in a rite that rocked the global Anglican Communion.

"There are 15,000 people in the diocese of New Hampshire," claimed the Rt. Rev. Gene Robinson, in what he stressed was an exclusive interview during the national General Convention. This convention made more headlines by approving the selection of gays and lesbians for "any ordained ministry," which means Robinson may soon lose his status as the Episcopal Church's only openly gay, non-celibate bishop.

"We have received so many Roman Catholics and young families," he said, "particularly families who are saying, 'We don't want to raise our daughters in a church that doesn't value young people.' " In fact, the bishop insisted that his diocese "grew by 3 percent last year."

If this early 2008 report is true, then Robinson and his diocese will be in the news again -- offering proof that a liberalized Christianity can lead to growth, rather than decline. If that happens, many reporters will receive a smattering of calls and emails from amazed readers asking: "Why do the Episcopalians get so much news coverage?"

That's a good question, since the Episcopal Church -- with a mere 2 million members -- often draws more attention than the Southern Baptist Convention, the Assemblies of God and several other major denominations combined.

What's going on? After 30 years on the religion beat, I have decided that several factors are at work.

* Many of the Episcopal Church's most vocal leaders -- such as Robinson -- work in the Northeast near elite media institutions. The church's national offices are in New York City. Meanwhile, Episcopal cathedrals elsewhere are usually in urban centers that dominate regional media. For journalists, the Episcopalians are nearby.

* Conservatives have, for decades, been on the outside looking in when the Episcopal establishment made crucial decisions, in part because many conservative dioceses are in the Sunbelt far from the action. But in the Internet age, even conservatives are seeking, and getting, more media attention.

* Colorful photographs and video clips are crucial and it's hard to offer compelling coverage of convention centers and churches full of clergy in dull business suits. Episcopalians, however, know how to dress up. In fact, their bishops even look like the leaders of the Roman Catholic Church -- the biggest religion-news game in town.

* The true religion of journalism is politics and Episcopalians love to talk politics -- from global warming to feminism, from multiculturalism to military spending, from national health care to gay rights. And in recent decades the denomination's stands on controversial social issues have meshed nicely with the editorial stands taken by America's most powerful media corporations.

The bottom line: Episcopalians wear religious garb, work in convenient urban sanctuaries and speak the lingo of progressive politics. Their leaders look like Catholics and think like journalists.

It also helps to remember that the Episcopal Church's roots connect to Church of England, which gives it a unique role in American history, noted Bishop William Frey of the Diocese of the Rio Grande, who was a media professional before seeking ordination. This small, well-established denomination has helped shape the lives of 11 presidents, 35 U.S. Supreme Court justices and legions of journalists.

Like it our not, the Episcopal Church occupies its own corner in the public square -- which leads to news coverage.

Is that a good thing? Sometimes Frey isn't sure.

"I can't understand why some people want the kind of media attention that we get year after year," he said, during one media storm in the 1980s. "I mean, that's like coveting another man's root canal."

Chopping that Anglican timeline

The resolution from the 1979 Episcopal General Convention in Denver inspired a small wave of headlines, even though it simply restated centuries of doctrine about marriage. "We reaffirm the traditional teaching of the Church on marriage, marital fidelity and sexual chastity as the standard of Christian sexual morality," it said. "Candidates for ordination are expected to conform to this standard."

However, 21 bishops disagreed, publicly stating that gay sexual relationships were "no less a sign to the world of God's love" as traditional marriages. These bishops -- including the Rt. Rev. Edmund Browning, who was chosen as America's presiding bishop six years later -- warned that since "we are answerable before almighty God ... we cannot accept these recommendations or implement them in our dioceses."

It was the start of an ecclesiastical war that has dominated the 70-million-member Anglican Communion for decades.

Then again, this conflict may have started in the 1960s, when Bishop James Pike was censured for his "offensive" and "irresponsible" views questioning the Virgin Birth, the divinity of Jesus, the Trinity and other ancient doctrines. And in 1977 a high-profile leader -- Bishop Paul Moore of New York -- created a firestorm when he ordained a priest who identified herself as a lesbian.

It's hard to understand this story without some grasp of this complicated timeline. However, news reports regularly chop off several decades, thus making it appear that these doctrinal clashes began with the 2003 consecration of V. Gene Robinson of New Hampshire as the first openly gay, non-celibate Episcopal bishop.

"This whole conflict is actually about the Bible and how you interpret it," said the Rev. George Conger, a correspondent for The Church of England Newspaper. "The polite warfare has been going on for 30 or 40 years. The open warfare truly began in 1997, when the archbishops from Africa and the rest of the Global South met in Jerusalem and decided to let their voices be heard."

In addition to events in the late 1970s, other crucial dates on this timeline include:

* 1989 -- Bishop John Spong of the Diocese of Newark ordains the first homosexual priest who is openly living in a same-sex relationship.

* 1994 -- Spong drafts his Koinonia Statement affirming the ordination of gays and lesbians living in faithful, monogamous relationships -- with the support of 90 bishops. He also publishes his 12 theses for a liberal Reformation, rejecting belief in the transcendent, personal God of the Bible.

* 1996 -- An ecclesiastical court dismisses heresy charges against Bishop Walter Righter, after another controversial ordination. The court says Episcopalians have "no clear doctrine" clearly forbidding the ordination of persons who are sexually active outside of marriage.

* 1998 -- In a stunning defeat for the left, bishops at the global Lambeth Conference in Canterbury declare that sex outside of marriage, including gay sex, is "incompatible with scripture" and call for a ban on same-sex-union rites and the ordination of non-celibate homosexuals.

* 2000 -- Archbishops from Rwanda and Southeast Asia consecrate two American conservatives as missionary bishops, escalating global efforts to form an alternative structure for Anglican traditionalists in North America.

Since the consecration of Robinson, the Episcopal Church has made several attempts to appease the large, overwhelmingly conservative Anglican churches of Africa, Asia and other regions overseas. Meanwhile, Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams has attempted to calm nerves, while starting the process of creating a doctrinal covenant that he hopes will provide unity on issues of faith and practice.

However, early this week the U.S. House of Bishops voted -- by a 99-45 margin -- to allow dioceses to proceed with the selection of gays and lesbians for "any ordained ministry." This effectively overturned a resolution passed at the 2006 General Convention that urged dioceses to refrain from consecrating bishops whose "manner of life" would offend other churches in the Anglican Communion.

"The key question is whether this is a national story or a global story," said the Rev. Kendall Harmon, canon theologian for the conservative Diocese of South Carolina. "The way most people tell this story, America initiates things and then the rest of the world responds. Then America responds and you repeat this process over and over.

"You see, America is at the center of everything. It's the American church and its concerns that count the most. Meanwhile, Anglicans around the world are trying to tell a different story."