Yes, Christmas is 12 Days Long

No doubt about it, 25 minus 12 does equal 13.

Christmas is Dec. 25th. Lovers of carols and party games also know this season has 12 days, packed with pears, gold rings, birds and various kinds of gentry, musicians and domestic workers.

Do the math. It's easy to see why many leaders of newspapers, television networks, shopping malls and other cultural fortresses annually deliver some kind of "Twelve Days Of Christmas" blitz beginning on Dec. 13.

But there's a problem. There really are 12 days of Christmas and, for centuries, church calendars in the East and West have agreed that they begin on Christmas and end on Jan. 6, the Feast of the Epiphany.

"Somebody needs to teach Bryant Gumbel and all the other Powers That Be some church history. They keep getting it wrong," said Father Patrick Henry Reardon, a philosophy professor and priest at St. Anthony's Orthodox Church in Butler, Pa. "If saying that upsets people, so be it. Orthodoxy has been in the business of upsetting people for centuries. ... But there isn't a bit of doubt that the 12 days of Christmas come after Dec. 25."

Journalism's bible -- the Associated Press Stylebook -- is agnostic on this matter. It merely notes that Christmas is a federal holiday observed on Dec. 25 or on "Friday if Dec. 25 falls on a Saturday, on Monday if it falls on a Sunday." There are no entries for the penitential season of Advent, the four weeks preceding Christmas, or Epiphany.

The latter feast -- the name means "manifestation" -- probably began in the second century. In the East, this initially included references to the birth of Jesus, along with other signs of the incarnation. Meanwhile, the Western church in Rome developed its own Nativity feast and timed it, for various reasons, to co-opt the date used for pagan celebrations of the Winter Solstice or the feast of Sol Invictus, the "Unconquered Sun."

A sermon by St. John Chrysostom in 386 A.D. notes that the East had recently begun celebrating Christmas on Dec. 25 and, about the same time, the West adopted Epiphany. This liturgical exchange created a 12-day celebration, a sacred and secular festival after the quiet season of Advent, or "Winter Lent." However, note that Advent does include one festive date -- the Dec. 6 feast honoring St. Nicholas of Myra.

Different cultures celebrated in different ways, but the basic season -- Advent, Christmas and Epiphany -- remained intact. The Protestant Reformation complicated matters and, in the New World of America, the Puritans actually banned Christmas celebrations. Later, waves of immigrants arrived with their religious traditions, especially Italian Catholics and German Lutherans. But this did little to change the civic and commercial nature of the American season. Another pivotal event was the 1822 publication of "A Visit From St. Nicholas," written by a Clement Clarke Moore, a powerful New York Episcopalian.

"Actually, the Dutch already had brought us a secularized St. Nicholas and everything that went along with him," said Evelyn Vitz of New York University, author of "A Continual Feast," a cookbook and theological commentary on the Christian calendar. "But you throw in this amazing mythology created by Moore's poem -- this kind of jolly, pagan elf up on the roof -- and ... you end up with an entire season that has been commercialized and stripped of its larger Christian context."

The big question: What can parents and churches do? Meditations on centuries of Christian tradition can easily be drowned out by the clamor of popular culture. Americans clearly prefer the rites of Madison Avenue to those of Rome or Jerusalem.

"We live in this culture. Our children live in this culture. We can fight, I guess," said Vitz. "We can go so far that we make everybody in our families so miserable that they want to quit being Christians. But it is clear that we can't accept business as usual. We need to recapture a sense of time and a sense of the sacred. We can start by insisting that the church's calendar really matters."

Bakker's Other Conspiracy

It's impossible to tell Jim Bakker's story without mentioning his conspiracy theories.

The former PTL leader has always felt that people were conspiring against him -- especially journalists, politicians and judges. After the 1987 collapse of his empire, he said he had been betrayed by other televangelists.

Naturally, Bakker adds variations on these themes in his tell- all memoir, "I Was Wrong." But one of its most intriguing details is evidence of yet another conspiracy that he doesn't want to discuss. Note this angry passage in Bakker's remarks as he resigned as PTL's president.

"I sorrowfully acknowledge that seven years ago ... I was wickedly manipulated by treacherous former friends and colleagues who victimized me with the aid of a female confederate," he said. "They conspired to betray me into a sexual encounter at a time of great stress in my marital life. ... I was set up as part of a scheme to co-opt me and obtain some advantage for themselves over me in connection with their hope for position in the ministry."

In other words, the first domino at PTL was a scheme that preceded Bakker's 1980 sexual liaison with Jessica Hahn, a conspiracy within his inner circle that preceded "Pearlygate." Yet Bakker has nothing new to say about these "friends and colleagues" and their scheme. In particular, he downplays the role of the bisexual evangelist John Wesley Fletcher, who arranged the tryst with Hahn, and he hardly mentions James and David Taggart, the brothers who many claim controlled Bakker in his final PTL years.

In his book, Bakker confesses many sins. He repents of his "health and wealth" theology, saying he sinfully twisted scripture. He offers 647 pages of near-stream-of-consciousness details about lessons he learned during his trial, divorce and prison years. But he continues to avoid some questions.

"For most Pentecostal and charismatic people, the most serious questions about Jim Bakker were all those allegations of moral misconduct. ... People haven't forgotten that," said historian Vinson Synan of Regent University in Virginia Beach, Va. "There does appear to have been a kind of subterranean, homosexual world inside PTL that has never been fully described. That's where so many questions remain."

Many of the questions center on Fletcher. In addition to his ties to Hahn, it was Fletcher who made anonymous calls in 1983 spreading dirt about Bakker. One of those calls went to me, when I was working as a religion writer in Charlotte, N.C., and I later shared my information with reporter Charles E. Shepard, author of "Forgiven: The Rise and Fall of Jim Bakker and the PTL Ministry." Years later, Shepard confirmed that Fletcher was my mystery caller.

Fletcher mentioned Hahn by name in 1983 and also said David Taggart was Bakker's lover. Fletcher was bitter and said Bakker had failed to keep promises and had forsaken him during tough times. But Fletcher did not, during those calls, say what he later said during the "Pearlygate" media storm -- that he, too, had been sexually involved with Bakker.

"I never knew a more corrupt person in my life, period, than Jim Bakker," Fletcher told me. "Now I see him for what he is."

Today, those at the Massapequa (N.Y.) Full Gospel Tabernacle Church, where Fletcher preached in the early '90s, refuse to answer questions -- merely saying that he recently passed away. Tabloid reports said he suffered from AIDS.

The key: Did Fletcher try to manipulate Bakker to gain power at PTL, starting a chain reaction? Or did Bakker betray Fletcher?

"I Was Wrong" neither asks nor answers this question. On the homosexuality issue, Bakker does include a chapter saying that, as a teen, he was molested -- for several years -- by a young man he knew at church. This left Bakker confused about his own sexual identity and he said that while in prison he sought, and received, assurances from a counselor that he isn't gay.

And so the story continues, with Bakker attempting a comeback as a humbled counselor for those who face pain in their own lives. Yet he clearly knows that his return is threatened more by the ghosts of his complicated sexual past than by the legal demons that sent him to prison.

Hanukkah's Alight with Ironies

It was a simple, if mischievous, way to open one of those holiday stories that religion reporters write year after year: "It's beginning to look a lot like Hanukkah."

The rest of my story focused on the history of Hanukkah and the modern trends that have turned this minor holiday into one of Judaism's most important dates.

The telephone began ringing with a vengeance. Some devout Jews never made it past the first sentence and thought I was siding with those who promote Hanukkah as a "Jewish Christmas." Others thought the whole article attacked anyone who wanted to hitch a ride on the train that merchants and bureaucrats call "The Holidays."

The first group of callers stressed the message and traditions of the eight-day "Festival of Lights," which begins at sundown on Thursday (Dec. 5). The latter emphasized the reality of what it has become. Today, Hanukkah is alight with irony.

"The link with Christmas has been made and there's not much that we can do about it," said Niv Bleich, president of the on-line Jewish Communications Network (www.jcn18.com). "It's the old chicken and the egg situation and it doesn't really matter which came first. The big question now is, `What are we going to do?'"

The bottom line: How many Jews want to keep a distinctively Jewish spark alive in this season, as opposed to marching to the mall with everyone else?

The holiday in question isn't even mentioned in Hebrew scriptures. Hanukkah is based on events in 165 B.C., when Jewish rebels, led by the Maccabees, defeated their Greek and Syrian oppressors. The rite of lighting menorah candles -- one on the first day, increasing to eight -- is based on a miracle linked with this victory. Tradition says that when it came time to purify the recaptured temple, only one container of ritually pure oil could be found for its eternal flame. This one-day supply is said to have burned for eight days.

Thus, Hanukkah teaches that Jews must defend the purity of their faith, rather than heed the siren call of the dominant culture. This is a troubling message in the age of Hanukkah bushes and children pleading for taller and taller stacks of presents.

The Jewish Communication Network offers some tongue-in-cheek "Hanukkah Carols" that capture some of these paradoxes, complete with titles such as "On the First Day of Hanukkah" and "I'm Dreaming of a Bright Menorah." The inevitable "Maccabees are Coming to Town" includes these lines: "You'd best be a Jew, or suffer your fate. It does no good to assimilate. Maccabees are coming to town. They know if you're Assyrian. They know if you dig Greeks. They see you on the temple mount, consorting with Hellenistic freaks."

From there, it's only a few clicks to the on-line Jewish Mall (www.jewishmall.com), which offers everything from traditional gifts to UFO dreidels and ceramic-baseball menorahs. The site opened on Nov. 13 and one of the first large orders was from South Korea, said Bleich.

"This isn't for the Jews in New York or Brooklyn. They have a store right around the corner," he said. "But lots of Jews don't live in places like that, anymore. They can't find what they need at their local mall."

Nevertheless, there must be more to Hanukkah than different gift options, said Yosef Abramowitz, editor of Jewish Family & Life! (www.jewishfamily.com). It's important that children go to the mall -- to buy items for the poor. It's important for Jews to network with others who are striving to stay faithful. It's important that parents fight behind the scenes or co-opt modern fads to serve old causes. The times may demand Maccabean tactics.

"But let's be honest. These kinds of strategies will only appeal to a minority," he said. "Only a small percentage of Jews, and I imagine this is also true of Christians, are living lives that have much to do with the actual traditions and teachings of their faith. ... That's especially obvious this time of year."

Stay? Leave? Mainline Tensions, Pt. II

Jim Pinto was hooked on drugs and shacked up with his girlfriend when his life was changed by a soul-shaking conversion experience.

So he quit his job as a bartender, got married and went to tell his local bishop that God wanted him to become an Episcopal priest. This was 1977 and, since Pinto lived in New Jersey, that meant visiting the Rt. Rev. John Shelby Spong.

"I told him all about the miracles that God had done in my life," said Pinto, recalling his encounter with a bishop now known as a global trendsetter among liberal Protestants. "He looked at me and, I'll never forget it, he said: `I believed like you do when I was a little boy. But I grew up.'"

Pinto found another diocese. But he never forgot Spong's warning that he wouldn't be at home in the Episcopal Church.

A few weeks ago, Pinto and most of his interracial church near Birmingham, Ala., decided it was time to go. Christ Church is located in an impoverished neighborhood and had 30 members when Pinto arrived in 1980. Recently, its 300 members completed constructing $2 million worth of buildings to house their work with the poor. The Diocese of Alabama kept the buildings, which is business as usual when a church leaves a mainline denomination.

Pinto is known as a moral traditionalist, including high- profile work in crusades against abortion. So it wasn't a surprise that this priest left a church whose national leaders promote progressive theology and social causes such as homosexual and abortion rights. What caught many off guard was the setting for this story. It isn't news when a traditionalist exits a liberal diocese. This one jumped ship in the Bible Belt.

As described in last week's column, the "seven sisters" of old-line Protestantism face issues more complex than national clashes between left and right. Some parts of the American Baptist Churches, 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 are more conservative or more progressive than others. Tensions also exist between local conservatives who clash with liberal regional leaders and between conservatives who differ on how to respond to national trends.

People in orthodox regions are affected by events in progressive regions. People camped in orthodox regions are touched by the decisions of the orthodox who feel trapped in progressive regions. This tune has countless variations.

Some stress hope, others holiness. This painful tension keeps growing as the ecclesiastical pie shrinks.

"We're trying to get people to stay and fight for the faith, rather than walking out and handing things over to the people who want to change everything," said David Stanley, a layman in Muscatine, Iowa, who has been active at all levels of United Methodist life. "We have to keep asking: Does God still have a propose for our church? If he does, then God must be planning to revive our church. We have to have faith that is still possible."

Others stress the sacred ties that bind -- here and now. Week after week, Pinto found himself trying to explain why the Gospel preached in his church differs so radically from that proclaimed by progressives such as Spong. It's all one church, one communion, gathered at one altar, stressed Pinto.

Nevertheless, it's hard to make painful choices about local realities, such as paychecks and property laws, based on decisions in national bureaucracies or even ancient church councils. But, sooner or later, everyone will face choices.

At the moment, many local churches are like airplanes, said Pinto. Even if the planes work fine, and most of the pilots are trustworthy, thousands of passengers remain at risk.

"The problem is with the air-traffic controllers, with the people who run the whole Episcopal Church," he said. "They no longer seem to care when planes keep crashing into each other or flying into mountains. ... Things are out of control because the people in the planes can't trust the people in the control tower."

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."