Stay? Go? Four Mainline Camps, Pt. I

One of the first decisions David and Jean Leu Stanley faced when they got married 48 years ago was where to go to church.

Their options were pretty clear. There was the Methodist church in which he grew up or, across the street, the Presbyterian church in which she grew up. His church got the nod and, today, they remain active in Wesley United Methodist in Muscatine, Iowa.

But much has changed since 1948. That was before some bishops began protesting church teachings on marriage, before seminaries started importing pagan rites and before the Stanleys found themselves, year after year, opposing social causes led by people who received money out of their own church's offering plates.

"Obviously, it would really hurt to leave our church," said David Stanley, who, like his wife, has been active at the local, regional and national levels of United Methodist life. "We keep thinking that if it's God's will for us to leave, then he'll make that absolutely clear. We keep asking: `Is this the sign? Is it time to go?'"

Jean Leu Stanley interjected: "But we keep getting mixed signals. We keep seeing good things happening, as well as bad."

On one level, this is old news. Since the 1960s, America's old-line Protestant denominations have lost about a third of their members. These churches, known as the "seven sisters," are the American Baptist Churches in the U.S.A., the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), the Episcopal Church, the Evangelical Lutheran Church, the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), the United Church of Christ and the United Methodist Church.

Nevertheless, many clergy and laity continue to embrace the creeds and traditions of these historic churches, stressed historian Thomas Reeves, in his new book, "The Empty Church: The Suicide of Liberal Christianity." They will not find it easy to shop for a new church.

"Millions of mainline Christians have spent all or much of their lives worshipping in the same congregation, and in many cases their ancestors also belonged," he said. "Their faith is intimately linked with a specific denomination and a particular building. ... To be cast from it could be personally devastating."

Meanwhile, it's agonizing to stay, said David Stanley. People on both sides are hurting. The truth is, he said, "United Methodists are now ... two churches within the shell of one denomination, separated by a chasm of conscience."

To outsiders, these civil wars do appear to be clashes between two groups. The "orthodox," as defined by University of Virginia sociologist James Davison Hunter, believe their faith is rooted in eternal, transcendent truths. The "progressives" argue that truth evolves, shaped by personal experience and changes in society. Both sides include people who will compromise to maintain unity. Yet each compromise leads them further from historic orthodoxy.

Future events are now being shaped by another reality: that the strategic roles played by bishops and other regional leaders make it easier for some to stay, while others are pressured to leave. Conceding that progressives control most of the national high ground, such as seminaries and bureaucracies, the result is a pattern of four camps in liberal denominations. In a few orthodox regions, progressives live in camps that mirror these four.

1. Camp I: Orthodox people, in an orthodox parish, in a region with orthodox leaders.
2. Camp II: Orthodox people, in an orthodox parish, in a region led by progressives who continue to be charitable and fair.
3. Camp III: Orthodox people, in an orthodox parish, in a progressive region.
4. Camp IV: Orthodox people, in a progressive or apathetic parish in a progressive region.

People in these camps worship in different churches, even if the brand name on their local church sign is the same. The more progressive the national church establishment, the more likely orthodox people are to flee from the third and fourth camps. The more who flee, the greater the pain of those who remain.

John Paul vs. Darwinian Orthodoxy

No one will ever accuse Pope John Paul II of being a master of the media-friendly "sound bite."

Thus, his highly nuanced theological pronouncements often produce two quite different, or even contradictory, waves of information. First come the headlines and video clips, as reporters crunch complex texts into clusters of words. Then, days later, the pope's actual text circulates via fax machines and the Internet.

A case in point: John Paul's recent speech to the Pontifical Academy of Sciences inspired headlines such as "John Paul II Embraces Darwin" and most experts declared that the Vatican had endorsed evolution and taken a belated step into modernity.

Once again, the pope had delivered an address that defied easy editing. Also, it should be noted that one popular quotation -- in which he supposedly said that "new knowledge leads us to recognize that the theory of evolution is more than a hypothesis" -- does not appear in many translations of his text.

Instead, he said: "Rather than the theory of evolution, we should speak of several theories of evolution. On the one hand, this plurality has to do with the different explanations advanced for the mechanism of evolution, and on the other, with the various philosophies on which it is based. Hence the existence of materialist, reductionist and spiritualist interpretations."

John Paul went on to reject materialism and any evolutionary theory that says humanity is the product of a random, uncaring cosmos. In other words, he attacked the philosophy that forms the dividing line between today's scientific establishment and those who insist that the creation contains evidence of a Creator.

"Theories of evolution which, because of the philosophies which inspire them, regard the spirit either as emerging from the forces of living matter, or as a simple epiphenomenon of that matter, are incompatible with the truth about man," he said. "They are therefore unable to serve as the basis for the dignity of the human person."

This presents a problem, since the National Association of Biology Teachers has officially defined evolution as an "unsupervised, impersonal, unpredictable, and natural process ... that is affected by natural selection, chance, historical contingencies and changing environments."

John Paul obviously didn't endorse "evolution" in that sense of the word, noted Phillip E. Johnson, author of the controversial book "Darwin on Trial" and a law professor at the University of California at Berkeley. Darwinists who read the full papal address will quickly realize that this pope is not their ally.

"To the materialists who dominate the scientific culture," said Johnson, any "theory of evolution involving a non-material spiritual element is as unscientific as outright creationism."

In addition to referring to "theories of evolution" -- plural instead of singular -- the pope also stressed that scientists must remain critical of their own work. They must not allow any one theory to evolve into a doctrine that cannot be challenged.

A scientific theory, according to John Paul, only "proves its validity by the measure to which it can be verified. It is constantly being tested against the facts. When it can no longer explain these facts, it shows its limits and its lack of usefulness, and it must be revised."

Writing in the New York Times, a prominent Catholic scientist applauded the pope for noting this obvious point. Right now, defenders of Darwinian orthodoxy appear anxious to avoid any evidence that the building blocks of life are too complex to have evolved randomly, said Michael J. Behe, author of ``Darwin's Black Box: The Biochemical Challenge to Evolution.''

"The complex design of the cell has provoked me to stake out a distinctly minority view ... on the question of what caused evolution," said Behe, who teaches at Lehigh University. "I believe that Darwin's mechanism for evolution doesn't explain much of what is seen under a microscope. Cells are simply too complex to have evolved randomly; intelligence was required to produce them."

If evidence continues to emerge that supports Behe's heretical theory, then the pope would argue that Darwin's disciples will need to revise their dogmas.

Penthouse, the Bible & ECUSA

Penthouse isn't known for its religion coverage.

Still, the Episcopal Church establishment went into damage- control mode this week as the soft-porn magazine's latest issue hit news stands, featuring news of an alleged clergy sex ring in the Diocese of Long Island. It's the latest twist in the convoluted story of the Episcopalians and their evolving teachings on sex.

The expose centers on the testimony of Wasticlinio Barros and Jairo Pereira, two Brazilian males in their mid-20s. They say they were brought to America and pressed into joining sexual orgies led by the Rev. William Lloyd Andries at the altar of St. Gabriel's Parish in Brooklyn.

Barros and Pereira provided credit card receipts and other records as evidence of their travels and affairs with Andries. Eventually Pereira was baptized and then united with Andries in a same-sex union rite. Yes, Penthouse has photographs of both the ceremony and the sexual romp that followed. In one X-rated scene, Andries appears to be wearing liturgical garb.

There's much more to this story of sex, money, cocaine and the "boys from Brazil," writes former Washington Post gossip reporter Rudy Maxa. "They were playthings for priests whose commitment to the Scriptures had long ago been replaced by a pursuit of pleasure that would have fit nicely in Sodom and Gomorrah."

Actually, this suggests that Penthouse has a more conservative view of the Bible than can currently be defended under Episcopal law. In May, an Episcopal court ruled that the church has no law or "core doctrine" that forbids the ordination a those sexually active outside of marriage. Right now, local bishops call the shots.

This raises questions more shocking than the Penthouse expose. If Barros has no proof he was given drugs, and if those involved in these complicated sexual relationships were consenting adults, and if church money wasn't used, and if Episcopal "core doctrines" don't forbid sex outside of marriage or define "marriage," then what did Andries do that was wrong? Was he merely guilty of trusting someone with a camera? Are charges pending?

Nevertheless, Long Island Bishop Orris Walker, Jr., quickly announced that Andries had resigned from the priesthood and that Penthouse's charges would be investigated. A church official told Newsday that Andries had "denied many" of the allegations.

Other questions remain. Barros said he first met Andries in Buenos Aires, where the priest was traveling with another priest, the Rev. Harold Williams. Later, Barros flew to New York to begin what he thought was a job as a translator in Andries' multicultural parish. It was Williams, he noted, who picked him up at the airport and drove him to stay with Andries.

This is a provocative detail, since Williams directs the U.S. church's ministries with children. Presiding Bishop Edmond Browning was shown the Penthouse article on Oct. 24 and immediately placed Williams on administrative leave, even though Barros specifically said he didn't know if Williams was involved with the sex ring. Apparently, Barros and Pereira did provide other names, including that of the priest who performed the marriage rite. But Penthouse didn't name those who hung up when called for interviews.

Another crucial question: How much did the bishop know? Maxa writes that while Walker denied "personal involvement with any of the boys from Brazil" he did say that he had "seen them around." As for the wedding, Walker said it "would be dishonest to say that I don't know that there are those services going on."

Walker told Penthouse that he didn't investigate earlier reports about Andries, in part because so many rumors circulate in the church. Episcopalians, stressed the bishop, are in the midst of heated debates about sexuality.

That's a fact. The debate will only heat up as events rush towards July's General Convention in Philadelphia.

"In the absence of canonical action by the whole church, these kinds of issues have been left to the local church. ... Obviously, we're going to try again in Philadelphia," said Episcopal spokesman Jim Solheim, referring to efforts to pass laws clarifying church teachings. "Right now, the sleaze factor is so heavy. This kind of incident isn't going to make things any easier for us."

Requiems on the Religious Right

Once again, it's time for Religious Right strategists to sing requiems while the chaplains of the Lifestyle Left prepare to dance at inaugural balls.

Two years ago, everything was different. Evangelicals were drinking non-alcoholic toasts on Capitol Hill and oldline Protestant progressives were holding crisis prayer meetings in the Oval Office. And two years from now, who knows? Some of the players may even consider dropping out or forming new teams.

"Obviously, many Christians have encouraged a virtual blanket identification of their cause with the Republican Party," said retired Denver Seminary President Vernon Grounds, an 82-year-old Baptist patriarch who has influenced generations of activists. "Surely we have reached the point where some of them are starting to question the wisdom of that decision. ... What have they received in return for their displays of loyalty?"

Also, millions of morally conservative Democrats crossed over in 1994 and helped Republicans seize congressional power. Then, in a matter of weeks, the GOP leadership became culturally tone deaf. Once the White House race began, Bob Dole seemed to be leading a contest to see who could inspire the most apathy in pews. Everyone expects lots of finger pointing after the election.

While many have focused on the rising and falling fortunes of groups such as the Christian Coalition, Grounds said it's important to remember that most conservative Protestants are newcomers to the muddy ruts of politics. A few decades ago, fundamentalists preached that it was sinful for churches to enter politics. Then everything changed in the '70s and '80s. Things could change again.

"Now we're seeing signs that some Christians who have been very politically active are becoming quite disillusioned with the whole political process. They may be tempted to retreat, again," he said. "One minute it seems like they're on the inside and making progress. Then things turn around and they're on the outside and looks like they haven't even made a dent."

Grounds knows politics can be frustrating. In 1973, he helped form Evangelicals For Social Action, which links issues many consider incompatible, such as opposing both abortion and the death penalty. He's used to hearing blessings and curses on both sides. During one such clash, Grounds created a list of temptations that Christians -- on left and right -- face while pursuing eternal goals in the public square. They may, he said, be tempted:

• To believe that their "finite, relatively correct perceptions are an exact transcript of the divine mind."
• To use the name of God to serve their own ends, rather than "humbly serving God as instruments for fulfilling his purposes."
• To act as if only one position "on a multifaceted matter is biblically mandated, when actually there may be several ... viable approaches that are in harmony with scripture."
• To "equate personal piety with legislative and administrative competence," forgetting that spirituality does not equal statecraft.
• To use "sub-Christian means" to reach worthy ends. Instead, they must be honest, fair and accurate in their portrayals of rivals' policies, while resisting the urge to stereotype.
• To forget that this is a pluralistic, secular society, not a "covenant nation standing in a unique relationship with God."
• To reject all attempts at compromise, even on issues that do not clearly involve moral principles. Many forget that politics is the "art of doing the possible."

Both political parties face identity crises as America's culture wars continue. At some point, said Grounds, it might make sense for some Democrats and Republicans to flee and create a new party, if only to define boundary lines in an era of change. Right now, the leaders of both parties know that voters who are economic moderates and moral conservatives have few satisfying options.

"You could call it something like the Bull Moose Party or some other kind of harmless name," said Grounds. "But, by all means, they must not call it a `Christian' party. If they fall for that temptation they will only make the word `Christian' meaningless. I fear that would only do much more harm than good."

Pastors in Glass Houses

Every month, 1,300 U.S. pastors are fired or forced to resign.

Nearly 30 percent of ministers have been terminated at least once. In a decade, 40 percent of today's pastors will be in another line of work. Seventy percent say they have no close friends.

The numbers don't improve at home. The divorce rate for U.S. pastors is up at least 65 percent in 25 years. More than a third admit to "inappropriate sexual behavior" with church members. Eighty percent say their work has a negative impact at home. One in three goes even further, saying the pastorate has been a "hazard" to their families.

"In other words, they wish somebody had stuck a warning label on the bottom of their seminary diploma," said Simon J. Dahlman, editor of a new bimonthly magazine called "Pastor's Family."

It's been said many times: the pastorate is a high calling but can be a hellish job. Also, most parsonages have glass walls. In one revealing 1992 statistic, 94 percent of ministers said they feel pressured to have an "ideal family."

"When you hear that you have to ask, `OK, what is an `ideal family' for a pastor?' We'll need to do a story on that," said Dahlman, who has been both a pastor and a journalist. "But it's not enough to ask some ministers, `What is an `ideal family?' We'll have to ask lay people, `What do YOU mean when you say your pastor should have an `ideal family?'"

Thousands of families live somewhere between these high expectations and the realities of their lives. The team at Focus on the Family that created "Pastor's Family" seriously considered using a more aggressive name, "Sanctuary," with its implications that clergy families literally need a place to hide. "Balance" also has become a key word.

"We keep hearing people talking about how hard it is ... to find a healthy balance between what they owe the church and what they owe their families," said Dahlman. "It's like they're up on a wire and they keep falling off."

Pastors' families face all of the problems faced by others -- everything from adultery to problem children, workaholism to tight finances. But the fact that church staff members also "work for God" brings unique pressures. God may issue "divine callings," but human beings sign paychecks and do job evaluations.

Meanwhile, church trends keep rewriting the job descriptions of ministers and those who work for them. Many pastors never expected to serve as chief executive officers and lack the skills to do so. Small-church pastors face higher expectations as their flocks ask to receive the same variety of services as megachurches. It's a buyer's market.

Excellent journals already exist to help clergy improve their preaching and administrative skills, said Dahlman. "Pastor's Family" will stick to marriage, parenting, time management, home finances and other domestic issues. Instead of a technical article on preaching, it might offer advice on how to preach during a family crisis or whether to tell family stories in the pulpit. A cartoon in the first "Better Homes & Parsons" page shows a couple in bed. He says, "I hope you didn't mind me telling that funny little anecdote about you in my sermon," while she is poised to smack him in the head.

But more serious issues lurk everywhere. Another cartoon shows a preacher reading a scribbled note that says: "Dear Dad, I Aksidantly Burnt Your Surman, Love Sana." The caption: "At 11:25 a.m. Sunday, June 30, Pastor Smedes discovers that he has been neglecting his youngest daughter."

Ministers aren't perfect and they don't have the option of living in a perfect world or working with perfect churches, said Dahlman. Some of that pain and sin will come home with them.

"Pastors see it all. They see humanity at its best and at its worst," he said. "That's going to affect their families, one way or another. If we're going to try to help pastors' families, we'd better put out a magazine that's honest and forthright. If not, they're going to laugh us off the face of the earth."

New Church-State Storm in Colorado

Looking at a map, it's obvious that warm, volatile masses of religiosity rolling out of the Bible Belt will sooner or later hit the icy, skeptical air of the wide-open West.

The fronts often collide near Colorado Springs -- home base for dozens of national and international Christian ministries -- creating awesome church-state storms.

"I think of it more in terms of tectonic plates," said State Treasurer Bill Owens. "It's like Colorado's where these two great forces come together and the earth starts buckling and shifting. ... Obviously, they've hit critical mass down in Colorado Springs."

So pick a metaphor -- any metaphor. The key issue is whether Colorado is a sign of what's to come elsewhere.

The next battle is the Nov. 5 vote on Amendment 11, which would give Colorado the nation's first state constitution requiring most religious institutions and other non-profit groups to pay property taxes.

"People say the vote's too close to call," said John Patrick Michael Murphy, a radio talk show host, attorney, Colorado Springs iconoclast and mastermind of Amendment 11. "Personally, I think we're going to flip this thing over like a flapjack."

One Murphy manifesto says that since non-profit groups use "police and fire protection, they should pay taxes to support these services along with schools. ... If this proposal passes, taxpayers can then contribute the extra money from their decreased tax bills ... to the church or non-profit of their choice. It would be their choice, not the government's!"

Supporters argue that, in terms of dollar values, religious groups own 80 percent of Colorado's tax-exempt property. They say Amendment 11 would raise about $70 million.

Opponents note this is only 3 percent of Colorado's annual property-tax revenue. Also, complexities in state laws may funnel the savings to commercial property owners, while resulting cuts in non-profit social services could force residential-tax increases.

Recent polls suggest the amendment will fail, said Owens. Still, this new church-state showdown raises crucial issues.

"Right now, anyone who knows anything about what's going on knows that government officials are having to ask churches and non- profits to step up and take a larger role in social issues," he said. If Amendment 11 passed, and inspired others to use the same strategy, "we'd be sending precisely the wrong signal. If you tax something, you get less of it. ... We need churches and community groups to do more, not less."

On one level, this isn't just a fight over religion. By threatening the wallets of both secular non-profit groups and religious groups, Amendment 11 created one of the most bizarre coalitions in recent American history. The opponents literally range from Planned Parenthood to Focus on the Family.

Still, it's impossible to gloss over the church-state implications. Supporters insist that making churches pay property taxes will promote the separation of church and state. However, Amendment 11 clearly attempts to reward some religious activities while taxing others. It would allow exemptions for property owned by some non-profit institutions, such as schools, orphanages and facilities to help the elderly, abused, homeless and disabled.

While this sounds good, the result would be to hopelessly ensnare the state in religious affairs, said Joseph Conn of Americans United for Separation of Church and State. Colorado would be saying that some forms of religion are good for the community, and thus worthy of tax exemptions, while other forms are not as good for the community, and thus deserve to be taxed.

"This is a fatal flaw and reflects a basic misunderstanding of the law," said Conn. "Think about it: this would allow religious schools to be tax-exempt, but not the actual buildings in which people worship, while the whole point of religious schools is to support what's being taught in those churches. What kind of sense does that make? ...

"We can't allow the government to get tangled up in religion like that. The state has no right to tell us what is good religion and what is bad religion."

Billy Graham and the Age of Altar Calls

Billy Graham always reminds his listeners that they don't know if they'll live another day or have another chance to repent.

A decade or so ago, variations on this theme began appearing in news reports after his crusades. A kind of "last altar call syndrome" developed, with reporters reminding readers that this would probably be the evangelist's last visit to their region.

Certainly, no one missed the symbolism of June's crusade in Minneapolis -- the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association's home since 1950. And last week, the 77-year-old evangelist preached to 336,100 in Charlotte, N.C. Once again, people came forward -- 22,249 in four days.

"It's not too late. ... You have a moment before God that may never come again," he said, ending his last rally in the city in which he was born and, 16 years later, born again. "I'm going to ask you to come and say `yes' to Christ. You don't understand it all, or have to. You just say, `Lord ... I acknowledge that I have sinned. I believe that Jesus is the only way.'"

Graham says he'll preach until God makes him quit. Parkinson's disease has weakened him so much that crusade planners provided a hydraulic lift to take him on and off the high stage in Charlotte. Still, he plans to lead 1997 crusades in San Antonio, Tex., and in the San Francisco Bay area. Aides are studying invitations from South Africa and Brazil.

Many say Graham's finale will end the era of mass evangelistic meetings in North America. Truth is, his own work points to changes that began years ago. For two decades, Graham has stressed the need to find new Third World evangelists, saying that his true heirs will be found there. Also, his crusades have increasingly used advertising and media to target single adults, teens and children. His son, Franklin, has found his largest audiences in another "niche" -- Promise Keeper rallies for men.

Evangelism will evolve, if people have faith that God can still change lives, said the manager of the Charlotte crusade. The "altar call" will only pass away when church leaders become too timid to challenge people to repent.

"There is a certain foolishness to this kind of evangelism in what is supposed to be such a sophisticated age," said Richard Marshall, who has worked in 50 Graham crusades. "There's a kind of intolerance to the Gospel and people today pride themselves on a certain kind of tolerance."

This is even true in Bible Belt cities such as Charlotte. Not long before this crusade, the veteran publisher of the city's newspaper went so far as to write a series of editorials blaming many of the world's problems on Christian orthodoxy.

"It intrigues me that many speak with such certitude -- such choking, stifling, judgmental certainty" on eternal issues, wrote Rolfe Neill of the Charlotte Observer. He offered waves of critical quotes, such as this from a freethinking Presbyterian: "The belief that ... salvation comes only through Jesus Christ, that all other religions are false -- is not the whole Gospel."

Graham has kept preaching his basic message in the face of such criticism, while many others have surrendered, said Marshall. Even conservative "megachurches" may avoid altar calls and clear calls for repentance for another reason: fear of scaring those seeking less pushy ways to turn around their lives.

Too often, preachers become obsessed with people's problems, which seem to have "increased tenfold" amid blitzes of media and the sheer pace of life, said Marshall. The goal is to address the "felt needs" of today's religious consumers. The result may be sermons that substitute personal growth for conversion. Altar calls become anachronisms.

"You end up with churches built on murmurs of the past, murmurs of the faith of your grandparents," he said. "You take out the altar call. Then you take out the confession of sin. Soon, you are left with a kind of religious show. It looks good. It feels good. But does it have any power to inspire people to make decisions that can change their lives?"

Persecution? What Persecution?

The dominoes began falling when Haik Hovsepian-Mehr dared to start a global campaign to save a fellow Iranian pastor.

Mahedi Dibaj was on death row in 1994, charged with apostasy for converting from Islam to Christianity. He was released, to the joyful surprise of Iran's tiny Protestant community.

Then Hovsepian-Mehr was kidnapped, tortured and murdered. Then Dibaj disappeared. Then Tateos Machaellian, who followed Hovsepian- Mehr as leader of Iran's Protestants, was murdered. Police said they had discovered Dibaj's body while hunting Machaellian's killers. These crimes remain unsolved. Since then, 20 Christian leaders from Iran have fled for their lives. The U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service has denied their pleas for asylum.

"This is just one tragic example of what's going on," said Faith McDonnell of the conservative Institute on Religion and Democracy. "There are many other cases just as bad."

The falling dominoes in Iran, China, Kuwait, Sudan and elsewhere officially reached Washington, D.C., during the past two weeks. After months of lobbying, religious conservatives and human- rights activists convinced Congress to call for action -- including the appointment of a White House specialist and a thorough review of all U.S. policies affecting "persecuted Christians."

A Sept. 17 Senate resolution noted: "In the past, the United States has used its international leadership to vigorously take up the cause of other persecuted religious minorities. Unfortunately, the United States has in many instances failed to raise forcefully the issue of anti-Christian persecution."

The House resolution this week said more Christians have been martyred in the 20th century than in the previous 19 combined. In one blast of politically sensitive text, it noted that China's Communist leaders have called underground Evangelical and Catholic congregations "a principal threat to political stability."

Meanwhile, the White House braced for criticism during this Sunday's "International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church" in thousands of churches linked to the Worldwide Evangelical Fellowship. Earlier this week, the administration began circulating its plans to heed the advice of more liberal religious groups and appoint a study commission linked to the State Department, instead of taking more confrontational actions.

"From day one, the White House position has been that this isn't really about the persecution of Christians," said Nina Shea of Freedom House, who has verbally agreed to serve on the new commission. She was, at mid-week, awaiting written confirmation of the panel's existence and details of its mandate.

White House officials, said Shea, are "especially interested in what they call the positive uses of religion, like finding ways for religious groups to work together. ... That's fine, but it would be tragic if issues of religious persecution turn into one item on some commission's long list."

The political and theological lines in this debate can be seen in this weekend's first annual "Persecution Sunday" activities. Supporters include the Southern Baptist Convention, the Assemblies of God, the National Association of Evangelicals and a host of Episcopal, United Methodist, Lutheran and other oldline Protestant groups that have rebelled against their hierarchies by taking conservative stands on moral and social issues.

Meanwhile, National Council of Churches leaders say persecution reports are being overstated. The council's Asian specialist, for example, told a religious news agency that he "would definitely not use the word `persecution'" to describe recent events in China.

Another NCC official, Albert Pennybacker, opposed the naming of a special presidential advisor and called for a commission on global religious issues. He told a House subcommittee: "What may appear as `persecution' and indeed resistance may in fact be the wish to preserve authentic religious and cultural traditions. ... If it is true that the persecution of believers of all faiths is pervasive, it is rightly a cause for deep concern and lament."

This stance stuns McDonnell and other conservatives.

"`If'? `If' there is persecution of believers?", she said, sarcastically. "We don't need some kind of Howdy-Doody commission to know that Christians are dying for their faith. It's time for action, not more politically correct talk."

Yom Kippur, sin and Dr. Laura

On Yom Kippur, Jews are asked to meditate on their sins, vow to make changes and then soberly face the future.

For 10 million-plus radio listeners, this probably sounds like calling in to talk with Laura Schlessinger. While most radio counselors offer moral cosmetic surgery, "Dr. Laura" has stormed ahead of the pack by performing radical operations -- with little or no anesthesia.

It all comes down to the Ten Commandments, she said. Basic moral laws are becoming even more relevant in an age of easy excuses and smorgasbord religion.

"Lots of people say `I'm not religious,' but when you ask them to describe their values they basically start quoting you the Ten Commandments," said Schlessinger, who last weekend delivered a Rosh Hashanah address entitled "Why Bother Being Jewish?" at the synagogue she attends. The High Holy Days end with Yom Kippur, which begins at sundown Sunday.

"Most of our moral laws come from religion," she added. "There's something above us that says some things are right and some are wrong. ... I find it hard to take anyone seriously who won't admit that."

Most moral mavericks quickly change their tunes when the tables are turned, she noted. Truth is, they "want the freedom to hurt other people, but then they don't want to be hurt."

Schlessinger has both a Columbia University doctorate in physiology and a post-doctorate certificate in marriage and family counseling. While many call her a conservative, she shuns labels and has even declined to create her own -- other than to call her blunt style "preaching, teaching and nagging."

Social liberals knock her because she attacks premarital sex, adultery and easy divorces. She says abortion is wrong and that children should be raised by their mothers and fathers -- at home. Most of all, she grills adults who put their own interests ahead of those of children. Meanwhile, some conservatives are not sure she's pure enough. Many question her acceptance of some gay and lesbian relationships. Others wonder about the sources of her moral code.

While baptized as a Catholic, Schlessinger converted to Judaism as an adult. She also has said that meditation and martial- arts training -- she has a karate black belt -- played roles in her "philosophical evolution." She recently offered this on-air summation of her faith: "I am as religious a Jew as I can struggle to be at this point."

Her personal strategy for handling tough issues is to match wits with her rabbi. She also keeps a file of letters and telephone numbers sent in by other clergy -- a valuable resource when handling religious issues on her show.

But most callers already know what's right and wrong, she said. The problem is that they just don't want to do it.

A self-proclaimed born-again Christian once said he was separated from his wife and shacked up with another woman. Yes, he knew this was sinful. His problem? Pangs of guilt. Another caller admitted that he felt guilty having sex with his girlfriend. He didn't want to marry her because she wasn't a Christian "like he is." An Orthodox Jewish woman asked for help solving a problem linked to driving on the Sabbath, which is forbidden in Orthodoxy. She got upset when asked to explain her statement that she already was living with her fiance.

Clergy must realize that it isn't enough, these days, to talk about "sin," said Schlessinger. At some point they will have to risk making sustained arguments in favor of virtue. In her bestseller, "How Could You Do That?", she noted: "I am saddened that too many pulpits don't challenge the folks in the pews (lest attendance drop?) about their personal behaviors in the context of moral choices, which ultimately give dignity to fundamentally animal behaviors."

Her show's popularity may be evidence of this sad silence. If people can't find practical answers in places that were once moral sanctuaries, they may turn to other forums -- such as talk radio.

"I guess," she said, "my program is filling that gap, somehow, for a great many people."