The Southern Baptist Name Game

The more Baptist Standard editor Toby Druin thought about all the new titles he kept typing, the more ironic they became.

In June, the Southern Baptist Convention officially begins operating under a "Covenant for a New Century," a corporate reorganization plan that collapses its 19 agencies into 12. The name of almost every bureaucracy will be affected - except for the one at the top of the chart. This inspired a semi-serious Druin editorial in the weekly newspaper for Texas Baptists.

"I have always opposed the thought of changing the name of the Southern Baptist Convention," he wrote. "But doesn't it sound a bit strange to say 'missionaries of the INTERNATIONAL Mission Board of the SOUTHERN Baptist Convention' or 'missionaries of the NORTH AMERICAN Mission Board of the SOUTHERN Baptist Convention'?"

America's largest non-Catholic flock has certainly outgrown its Civil War-era name. In this case, it also might be a good marketing move to change the franchise name on thousands of signs from coast to coast and around the world. The Southern Baptist name hasn't exactly been baptized in good publicity during the past two decades, as "fundamentalists" and "moderates" fought a bitter war of words over the authority, or "inerrancy" of the Bible.

Druin knows it would be almost impossible to pass a motion to change the SBC's name. That's why he could get away with the heresy of joking about it.

"I think they ought to change the name to the International Baptist Convention," he said. "Then at some point - when we get ready to start mission work on other planets - we could switch to the Interstellar Baptist Convention. ... That way, the initials would stay the same and we wouldn't even have to change the logo."

This is serious business. Nationwide, denominational loyalty is at an all-time low. Forget "Southern" -- legions of churches are taking "Baptist" off their signs. Meanwhile, the doctrinal land mines of the late 20th Century are causing new splits in once major bodies. For example, the Episcopal Church is not the same as the Charismatic Episcopal Church, the Reformed Episcopal Church, the Evangelical Episcopal Church or the Anglican Catholic Church in America.

To make matters worse for Southern Baptists, most of the other obvious adjectives have already been claimed. The Yankees already own the rights to "American" -- even though there are many more Southern Baptist churches north of the Mason-Dixon Line than there are American Baptist churches in the South. Another appropriate name would be "conservative" - except that evangelicals who long ago fled the American Baptist fold have already claimed it.

"National" Baptists? Taken. "North American" Baptists? Taken. "Primitive" Baptists? Taken. "Free-Will" Baptists? Taken. "Cooperative" Baptists? Taken. "Independent" Baptists? Obviously, that's been taken.

One of the SBC's old lions, the Rev. W.A. Criswell of Dallas, once jokingly suggested jumping in the opposite direction and using "Cosmic Baptist Convention," noted conservative historian Timothy George of Samford University's Beeson Divinity School.

"Seriously, it's easy to focus on the issue of names and all of the fragmentation that's taking place," said George. "Or you can look at it the other way and say that the most important thing that's happening, today, is the way so many churches -- conservative churches as well -- are realigning and working together, no matter what the name is on the front of their building."

Another major Baptist trend has been an emphasis on the power of pastors and people at the grassroots, said moderate historian Bill Leonard of Wake Forest University's new divinity school. Thus, an appropriate name might be the Populist Baptist Convention. Meanwhile, SBC leaders know that they have rolled the dice by daring to change as many names as they have.

"When you talk about the Foreign Mission Board and the Brotherhood Commission and the Christian Life Commission, you're talking about names that are deeply rooted in the identities and the psyches of your people out there at the grassroots," he said. "It's tough to make those kinds of changes, especially in an era when denominational loyalties are so shaky anyway. ... Believe me, Southern Baptists are not folks who welcome changes, anyway."

A Unitarian Generation Gap

No collection of religious humor would be complete without some Unitarian jokes featuring punch lines about this elite flock's love of esoteric seminars, stodgy foreign sedans, left-wing causes and wine-and-cheese parties.

Above all, Unitarians cherish their reputation as open-minded, tolerant souls. Still, the Rev. Forrest Church knows that sometimes even a Unitarian minister can go too far.

The senior minister of New York City's historic Church of All Souls ends his services with a benediction that begins with: "And now, in our going, may God bless and keep us. May the light of God shine upon us, and out from within us, and be gracious unto us, and bring us peace." While his church has grown accustomed to hearing the word "God," he has heard negative feedback in other Unitarian settings.

"I used to get booed when I would visit other churches," said Church. "That doesn't happen much, these days. The idea of using the word 'God' in a benediction isn't as radical as it used to be. ... I get away with God language with impunity, now."

Yes, spirituality is so hot in America today that even the Unitarians are talking about God and some even advocate talking to God. This has created interesting tensions in a denomination that has, for generations, served as the official left border of mainline religion in America.

The Boston-based Unitarian Universalist Association was born in 1961 when the Unitarians, who reject the Christian doctrine of the Trinity, merged with the Universalists, who believe God saves all people, no matter what they believe or do. The association currently has 210,000 members and more than 1000 churches. While much has been written about the decline of liberal Protestantism, Unitarian Universalists have enjoyed 15 years of modest growth. There have been growing pains.

"The Unitarians of the '50s and '60s were people who turned to us as a way of escaping other churches," said Church. "It was like they were deep-sea divers trying to swim up out of the depths of traditional religion. The Unitarian Church was like a decompression chamber where they could stop -- half way to the surface -- to keep from getting the bends."

Asked to describe their beliefs, these Unitarians defiantly testify about the doctrines they no longer believe. Thus, this entrenched older generation tends to shun rites, symbols and most religious language. In a strange twist of fate, these older Unitarians have become -- relatively speaking -- the conservatives who fidget with sweaty palms as a new generation of seekers enters the pews and pulpits, eager to explore new spiritual frontiers.

"What we are seeing today is an influx of people who are escaping from secularism," said Church. "These are people who are coming to us because they want to be more religious than they were before -- not less religious. ... That's a switch."

The newcomers often bring with them religious trends from mass media and the mall. Many want to experience the presence of God, the goddess or some other god to be named later. Meanwhile, the old guard distrusts talk-TV mystics almost as much as Christian televangelists. It's hard for iconoclasts who fled the supernatural worldview of evangelicalism or Catholicism to say "amen" when youngsters launch into sermons about the supernatural powers of Mother Earth.

Church said he isn't worried about the advent of a "Unitarian paganism," but does reject many assumptions of the modern human-potential movements. In his most recent book, "Life Lines: Holding on (and Letting Go)," he argues that much of the New Age movement is rooted in an ancient gnosticism that tells believers to deny their pain, tap their inner powers, ignore the needs of others and, thus, achieve liberation.

"There are people out there who are suckers for anything that advertises itself as a source of ultimate religious truth -- so long as it isn't attached to a traditional religion," said Church. "They end up denying the reality of evil and suffering and death. Ironically, these subjects are at the heart of the questions that Unitarians want to encourage people to keep asking."

My e-mail: Silly, Sobering or Both

When I moved to the Appalachian Mountains, I briefly worried that it would be hard to write a national religion column based in this somewhat remote region.

Well, the experts are right when they say it matters less and less where you locate your mailbox, telephone, fax machine and computer modem. Last year, I marked this column's birthday by trying to dig out my desk. Now, I'll start year 10 by trying to thin my digital files. Some of these e-mail items are silly and some sobering. Some are both.

* In 1998, the national Southern Baptist Convention meets in (cue: drum roll) -- Salt Lake City. This raises all kinds of apocalyptic questions, such as: What happens if the Baptists do their traditional door-to-door evangelism blitz? That could get interesting on Mormon turf. Also, visitors often whine about Utah's shortage of bars. The Baptists will love its many, many ice cream parlors.

* The London Daily Telegraph reported -- under the headline, "The seed of the church" -- that the World Council of Churches has received assurances that Zimbabwe will not enforce its laws against homosexual acts when the council meets in Harare next year.

* The Protestant sex wars rage on. In her book "Our Selves, Our Souls and Bodies," the Episcopal Church's youth ministry leader offered this core doctrine: "You are holy. Sexuality is good. Sexuality is powerful. You are not alone. You must take responsibility." Some noted that Rev. Sheryl Kujawa's credo didn't mention virginity, marriage, sin or repentance.

* Out in California, the La Casa de La Luz center's offerings included this fusion of Druidic, Wiccan and Catholic themes: "Rekindling the Sacred Feminine: Come celebrate Beltane with us. This is a celebration of rebirth and cleansing, as we travel with Mother Earth, Mary the Mother of Jesus, Sophia and the collective sacred feminine." Oh, to have a travel budget.

* Some members of England's United Reformed Church believe that, instead of a cross, Christianity's symbol should be a fish, a candle, a flower or an egg. One church media specialist noted that "while crosses spell death, eggs betoken life."

* Reporters are used to religious liberals forming coalitions. Some of today's most interesting interfaith work is on the right. One Orthodox wit suggested this slogan: "Enemies of ecumenism unite."

* After 40 books and decades of research, the Rev. Lyle Schaller knows that churches' deeds often do not match their words. While the United Methodist Church has proclaimed its desire to grow, he recently wrote that its "operational'' policies have emphasized adding small churches, shrinking large churches, doubling the number of clergy, shrinking the number of missionaries, increasing the size of denominational bureaucracies and courting those born before 1945. The system, he said, assumes that "Christian people in general, and congregational leaders in particular, cannot be trusted."

* Readers passed along several Ebonics versions of "The Lord's Prayer." No, I do not what to share them.

* CNN czar Ted Turner upset many folks when he said the Heaven's Gate tragedy was "a good way to get rid of a few nuts." Few noted his theological commentary on the Hale-Bopp comet: "I've been looking at it. I would kinda like to go up there myself. I mean, is that much different from other religions that say you're going to heaven?"

* As each "Simpsons" episode begins, bad-boy Bart is shown writing a new phrase over and over on a school chalkboard. My all-time favorite: "I will not carve gods."

* As a pastor's son, the following anonymous piece rang true for me. "If a pastor preaches over 12 minutes, he's a windbag; if his sermon is short, he came unprepared. ... If he visits church members in their homes, he's nosy; if he doesn't, he's a snob and doesn't care. If he's young, he's not experienced; if he's old, he should retire. If he lives, the pastor at the church down the block is a better preacher and counselor than he is; if he dies, there was nobody like him and his equal will never be seen again."

And all the people said, "Amen."

Is TV about to get Religion

Another Easter season has come and gone, with the usual flurry of religion stories on newsstands, religious images on TV screens and more research reports asking why elite media tend to ignore, botch or bash religion the rest of the year.

"God on prime-time television is like God in American culture: submerged most of the time, emerging only as a guest star whose appearance is rarely announced," stated Jack Miles, author of "God: A Biography," in TV Guide's "God and Television" cover story.

This statement actually illustrates the problem. It's unlikely that any pollster or politician would agree that religion's power is "submerged" in American life. Out in fly-over country, religion tends to sit right out in the open. If religion is a sub-plot in the American drama, it's because folks in Los Angeles and New York rarely aim cameras at it.

This can been seen in the data in what has become another rite of spring - the conservative Media Research Center's "Faith in a Box" research report. Last year, the center's content-analysis team found a mere 436 references to faith - anything from a punch line to a plot line - in the commercial broadcast networks' entertainment offerings. Still, the numbers have risen nearly 400 percent in four years.

"The good news is that shows like 'Touched by an Angel,' 'Promised Land,' '7th Heaven' and others depict religion and faith positively," said actor Dean Jones, in a Los Angeles press conference statement. "The bad news ... is that nearly seven out of 10 laypeople -- people like me -- are portrayed negatively on prime-time television."

TV Guide says viewers want to see more religion and "moral" messages, with 56 percent of the adults polled saying that faith does not receive enough attention in prime time. Turning the question around, 68 percent said they wanted to see more "spirituality" - as opposed to specific "organized religions" - on television.

So why don't they? For years, most conservative critics have pointed to a wealth of poll data indicating that media gatekeepers are either ignorant or apathetic about religion, or biased against traditional religion and strongly religious people. However, I'm convinced at least three other factors are also at work.

* Perhaps religion is too complex. Many of religion's most powerful images and themes are rooted in intricate beliefs held by those in specific sets of pews. The more profound the belief, the more likely it is to be jargon to outsiders. It would, for example, be hard to stop the flow of an apocalyptic drama and explain the mind-numbing distinctions between conservative Protestant doctrines about the end of the world. That would even be hard on the "X-Files" or "Millennium."

* Perhaps Hollywood's brand of religion doesn't play in Peoria. Most religion on television centers on inspiring stories that tug at the heart strings, while avoiding all doctrinal ties that bind. This may appeal to many, but it also offends millions of viewers whose beliefs are rock solid. Vague or modernized doctrine is still doctrine. Thus, it's hard to appeal to New Agers and Southern Baptists at the same time. An inspiring story about a female rabbi will appeal to many Jews, but make others furious.

* Perhaps conservatives don't walk their talk. After all, researcher George Barna and others have noted that media habits in households that claim to be highly religious aren't radically different from their more secular counterparts. Legions of Christian consumers who claim to want uplifting dramas about missionaries may, in reality, prefer to watch "Friends," Disney, MTV and the Atlanta Braves with everyone else. Odds are that the media lives of folks in households that each contain four TVs and VCRs -- one for Mom, Dad, Johnny and Jane -- are going to be similar whether the occupants are agnostics or born again.

Perhaps the best answer is "all of the above," or some other unsettling combination of these factors. But stay tuned, because debates about ratings and religion will heat up soon. TV Guide ended its report by noting that "Hollywood now has at least four new shows about angels, spirits and ministers in the pipeline for next season."

The Web, the Cults and the Church

Wherever he roams on the World Wide Web, Rick Bauer finds people obsessed with computers, science fiction, entertainment, the supernatural, conspiracies and UFOs -- not necessarily in that order.

Whenever the leader of Freedom House Ministries visits churches or their Web pages he finds that they have almost nothing to say about computers, science fiction, entertainment, the supernatural, conspiracies and UFOs. Meanwhile, the Web sites of less conventional spiritual entrepreneurs often include provocative stuff about -- that's right -- computers, science fiction, entertainment, the supernatural, conspiracies and UFOs.

Do the math. No wonder the Heaven's Gate media blitz has so many traditional religious leaders acting as if Satan designed the Internet for the expressed purpose of stealing and slaughtering sheep. No wonder old-fashioned shepherds feel so threatened: they appear to know zilch when it comes to talking about the lives of many Americans in the digital age.

"There's so much soft-headedness in the church," said Bauer, who is both a computer-systems professional and a Harvard Divinity School-educated researcher on new religious movements. "Church people aren't dealing with reality. ... If churches won't address the interests and obsessions of real people - especially the young - then the cults and the alternative religions will. ... What we're hearing right now is a wake-up call. To me, these cults represent the church's unpaid bills."

Anyone on this planet -- or living elsewhere in the universe -- has probably heard many details of the life and death of Marshall Applewhite and 38 other androgynous members of his Heaven's Gate movement. They told customers of their computer-consulting business that they were part of a Christian monastery, while using their Web pages to spread a gospel that was equal parts Star Trek and the book of Revelation.

One Applewhite manifesto sets the tone: "Two thousand years ago, a crew of members of the Kingdom of Heaven ... determined that a percentage of the human 'plants' of the present civilization of this Garden (Earth) had developed enough that some of those bodies might be ready to be used as 'containers' for soul deposits." Eventually, an extra-terrestrial "left behind His body in that Next Level" and occupied a human body "called Jesus."

There was much more, including talk of the war between the good aliens and the "Luciferians" who lead Judeo-Christian groups that do not understand spaceships, metaphysics, alternative lifestyles and other "fringe" topics. Actually, this kind of "X-Files on steroids" theology isn't all that unusual on the Web, said Bauer. He first became familiar with Applewhite's work when he read about Heaven's Gate in the online commentaries of other UFO-related cults.

It is sad -- yet predictable -- that many religious leaders and politicians appear ready to blame the Internet for this tragedy, said Bauer, who is based in Bowie, Md. Global computer networks are, of course, an effective way to find isolated listeners and communicate highly detailed, personal messages. This may be a boon to cult leaders, but it is also good news for parents, pastors and others building support networks to help people escape from cults, he said.

Thus, Bauer found himself on ABC News' "This Week" talk show last weekend defending the free-speech rights of people on both sides of this tense standoff. His message: It's just as wrong for traditional religious leaders to try to silence "cult" leaders as it is for alternative religious leaders to try to silence "anti-cult" professionals, such as himself. Meanwhile, the freewheeling nature of Internet life will almost certainly frustrate and frighten everyone.

As a rule, said Bauer, religious groups just can't seem to decide whether they love mass media or hate them.

"We see this over and over, with radio and television, with movies and popular music and now with the Internet," he said. "Either our churches can't grasp the impact that a new form of technology has on people's lives, or they panic and start saying that the new medium is part of a Satanic plot. ... It's so much easier to blame the technology, instead of asking questions about what the church is doing or not doing."

Death, Eternal Life and Easter

Johann Christoph Arnold doesn't mince words when describing his mother's death.

The matriarch of the Bruderhof community learned she had cancer of the lymph nodes late in 1979 and her condition rapidly deteriorated, accompanied by tremendous pain. After decades of serving others, she also found it hard to be an invalid who needed constant care. Still, there were transcendent moments. Throughout her five-month ordeal, children gathered to sing hymns and pray at her bedroom window.

"Just hearing their voices had an almost magical impact on her -- physically and spiritually," said Johann Christoph Arnold, a writer and social activist who now serves as senior elder of the eight Bruderhof communes in the U.S. and England. "Her face would radiate the love they were giving her. Some of her last words were, 'The children. The children.' "

The inspiration flowed both ways. As the children learned about her suffering, many wrestled with questions of life, death and eternity. Annemarie Arnold knew this and, on her deathbed, prayed for those making life-changing decisions on the other side of the windowpane.

No one found it strange that children found inspiration in the dying days of an elderly woman. No one found it strange that she took comfort in the fact that her life and death inspired others. In a simple book called I Tell You A Mystery," Arnold describes many similar passages from life into death. These scenes may sound strange to many, he said, because so many churches fail to teach one of life's crucial lessons -- that it's possible to die a good death.

This fear of touching death results in a haunting sense of emptiness in many Holy Week services. Churches that avoid the tragedy of Good Friday and the silence of Holy Saturday will have little to say that rings true on Easter.

"Death is not a sweet thing that needs to be glorified," said Arnold, who lives in the Bruderhof community in Rifton, N.Y. "But you have to deal with the subject of death in order to say anything meaningful about the subject of life after death. You fall silent on one and you fall silent on the other."

It's impossible to address the hopes and fears in human hearts without talking about eternal life. Nevertheless, most modern church leaders seem People still believe in it: it's just that their concept of exactly what it is has grown foggier, and they hear about it much less frequently from their pastors."

Churches that hesitate to teach people how to live and die eventually lose confidence in their ability to talk about life after death. Part of the problem is that families and religious leaders have allowed outsiders almost total control of death and dying, said Arnold.

This would be unthinkable in the Bruderhof (place of the brothers"), a tiny Protestant movement that began in Germany before its commitment to pacifism and the sanctity of life led to Nazi persecution. Today, its 2,500 members remain committed to simple living, but do not reject hospitals, medical technology and many other benefits of modern life. They even offer a spiritual advice forum on the World Wide Web (www.bruderhof.org).

But they will not adandon their way of dying, said Arnold. This includes singing, prayer and worship at the bedside. After death, family members wash and prepare the body for burial. The entire community takes part in the funeral, a procession to the grave, the burial and testimonial meals. The goal is to celebrate the person's legacy and help everyone face their grief.

"I have seen many, many people die. It involves one's whole being -- one's body, one's emotions, one's spirit," said Arnold. Those close to the dying person experience a tangle of emotions: dread, anguish, sorrow, hope, exhaustion and pain. But at the moment of departing, we often can sense signs of the resurrection and the life beyond. We may see a smile, a new look in the eyes, perhaps an unexpected movement or speech, as if the dying one is standing on the edge of eternity. It can be a moment of victory.”

The Torah, John Grisham and the Mall

At first glance, verse 22 in Genesis, chapter 18, doesn't seem all that important.

God has just told Abraham Sodom and Gomorrah are in big trouble. Then a strange clause in verse 22 notes that "Abraham remained standing before the Lord." It appears, says a footnote in a major new commentary on Genesis, that the nomad who would become a patriarch briefly struggles with himself, debating whether it is possible to change God's mind.

"Abraham can't decide whether to be silent or to argue with God," said novelist and playwright Chaim Potok, the project's literary editor. "Finally, he decides not to walk away and he begins to argue with God. . It's just a pause. But in that pause, something happens that changes everything. It's a moment that defines an individual. It defines a story, it defines a people, it defines a culture, it transforms everything. Abraham changes and, thus, we change."

It would be wonderful, said Potok, if more readers dug into these kinds of tomes to uncover the riches buried between the lines. However, the events and stories covered in the Jewish Publication Society's Torah Commentary are now part of our cultural air. Those who watch the evil Darth Vader struggle to rediscover his conscience, or who agonize along with the latest flawed protagonist in a John Grisham morality tale, are traveling in the footsteps of Abraham and other biblical characters.

"The basic assumptions of our popular culture -- even Star Wars or John Grisham's novels -- are built on the images and the themes and the great truths of these narratives," said Potok, who is best known for novels such as "The Chosen" and plays such as "Sins of the Father." "The big ideas, the big symbols, filter down into the popular culture and into our lives. Without Genesis, you can't have a Grisham."

However, it's unlikely that copies of scholar Nahum Sarna's massive, but surprisingly accessible, commentaries on Genesis and Exodus will appear anytime soon in airport book racks, or find a niche on shopping mall shelves next to the wisdom of television talk-show stars. But there are times, stressed Potok, when "life presses us up against the wall" and all kinds of people feel the need to take another look at unfiltered, archetypal texts.

One of the defining characteristics of what historians call "modernity" was that "modern" people automatically distrusted ancient texts and stories. There were religious answers to life's questions and then there were scientific, or "real," answers. Now, people are talking about "post-modernism" and one of its central tenets is that science doesn't have all of the answers. People who no longer believe that science is God often hunt for God elsewhere.

"What this has done is level the playing field and made the great narratives of literature, philosophy and religion as valid as any of those so-called 'modern' narratives -- such as science -- in terms of giving meaning to life," said Potok. "It turns out that the answers to life's big questions may not be in the bottom of a test tube. . They may even be found in the pages of a book."

Meanwhile, the clock is racing toward a new millennium. On a less apocalyptic level, many post-modern people have concluded that it's impossible to find meaning without regaining a sense of family and community. For millions raised in homes that were, to one degree or another, Jewish or Christian, this means coming to terms with the Bible -- the ultimate multigenerational family narrative. If they approach these texts with an open mind and an active imagination, they may be surprised, said Potok.

"This isn't Star Wars. It's not that kind of fun. But at the same time, these narratives do move right along. You could even say -- in movie terms -- that there is a lot of jump cutting from scene to scene and from theme to theme. You have murders, dysfunctional families, flights from danger, great battles, close calls, broken promises, brothers betraying brothers, redemption and love. And everything happens very fast."

Major Abortion News in a Pulpit

It's fitting that journalists couldn't even agree on where New York Cardinal John O'Connor was standing as he opened another chapter in America's bitter struggle over abortion.

The New York Daily News said he was at the St. Patrick's Cathedral altar as he read: "Mr. President, you are in a unique position to insure respect for all human rights, including the right to life which is denied to infants who are brutally killed in partial-birth abortion." But the Associated Press reported that O'Connor spoke out in his "mid-Mass homily, delivered from the pulpit."

It isn't unusual for prelates to speak in cathedrals. Calling attention to the fact that a cardinal delivered a sermon in a pulpit, in the middle of Mass, is like noting that a teacher delivered a lecture in a school classroom. Reading between the lines, the key is that this statement by the seven U.S. cardinals was read in churches that represent undeniable power in mainstream America.

Offered a choice, President Clinton would rather stand next to the cardinals of Baltimore, Boston, Detroit, Los Angeles, New York, Philadelphia and Washington, D.C., not turn his back on them. It's easier to score political points by blasting anti-abortion radicals than by repeatedly rejecting the counsel of pro-life clergy who consistently teach that all human life is sacred.

"As long as it's bomb throwers that we keep hearing about in the media, then it's easy for the president to say, `This is what the abortion issue is all about. These right-to-lifers are all right-wing fanatics,' " said Father Paul Keenan, assistant director of communications for the New York archdiocese. "But when the cardinals step out front ... it changes the shape of the debate."

Another reason the cardinals released their statement when they did was the media storm caused by Ron Fitzsimmons, executive director of the National Coalition of Abortion Providers. In an unusual public confession, he said that he "lied through my teeth" during last year's debates over banning the procedure that opponents call "partial-birth abortion" and its defenders call "intact dilation and evacuation." At that time he said the procedure was used no more than 450 times a year. Fitzsimmons recently said it is used as often as 5,000 times a year and that in most cases both the mother and fetus are healthy.

"The abortion-rights folks know it, the anti-abortion folks know it, and so, probably, does everyone else," he said, in a March 3 article in the Medical News.

No one disputes the basic facts of the procedure. It begins with the manipulation of the unborn child into a breech position in the womb. The doctor then delivers the body, except for the head, punches a hole at the base of the skull and suctions out the brain. The skull is then crushed and the delivery completed.

Everything Fitzsimmons said had already been stated in Capitol Hill testimony and in isolated news reports. But this time around, the mainstream media ran the story and abortion-rights leaders had to play defense.

"No sooner does abortion receive a tiny ... bruise than a fresh coat of makeup is applied to its cheek," wrote Frank Bruni of the New York Times. This suggests a "movement enveloped by an extremism that prohibits concessions, compromise, maybe even candor. ... It is a siege mentality that has kept many who favor abortion rights silent about their qualms over late-term abortions."

In this new atmosphere, some are publicly asking questions about the safety of late-term abortions, the role that abusive men play in forcing women to abort, the emotional cost of abortions and how early fetuses become "viable," or capable of living outside the womb.

Meanwhile, O'Connor openly used theological language and compared the abortion issue with a recent Passion Play controversy in New Jersey. The cast there includes a black actor in the role of Jesus and bigots have responded with death threats. Some people, said the outraged cardinal, "can't see the image of Christ in the face of a black man. ... Others struggle to see the image of Christ in the face of the unborn."

Hollywood, TV Ratings and Religion

Rabbi Yechiel Eckstein admits that he laughed early and often during the Steve Martin comedy "Leap of Faith."

But afterwards, he was troubled by the 1992 film's portrait of a barnstorming preacher, faith healer and fraud who fleeces halls full of trusting, simpleminded and ultimately pathetic sheep. Surely such hucksters exist, Eckstein decided. However, as president of the Center for Jewish and Christian Values, the rabbi had worked with enough Christians to know that charlatans are not the norm.

And there's the rub. Anyone seeking more balanced, sympathetic images of preachers at the local multiplex and video store will need to hunt a long, long time.

"Is it any wonder that so many have negative views toward evangelists and, I would say, evangelical Christians as a whole?", asked Eckstein, during a Washington, D.C., forum on Hollywood and religion. "The fact is that Christian beliefs are belittled. ... The cherished symbols of their faith are put to blasphemous uses. If there is a Christian character in a film, you can almost always be sure that he is . a fool, a liar, a cheater, a murderer, a fraud or a crazy person."

At the very least, said Eckstein, such displays of media bias have hurt efforts to promote tolerance and understanding between opposing camps in America's culture wars. It's highly likely they've poured fuel on the flames.

The rabbi's remarks came before the start of the latest clash between the entertainment establishment and critics who accuse it of undercutting parents, clergy and other moral leaders. Right now, the usual suspects are debating the merits of the new television ratings system.

It's significant that many key actors in the TV Parental Guidelines drama have played leading roles in disputes over Hollywood and religion. Thus, in the months ahead, Jack Valenti and the Motion Picture Association will continue to sing the praises of those flickering icons that proclaim TV-G (general), TV-PG (parental guidance), TV-M (mature) and so forth. Off stage, others will quip that studio executives should be candid and stick other initials in the top-left corner of TV screens, such as PG-ABC (anything but Christianity).

It's hard not to notice the "peculiar wall of separation between God and screen," said Sen. Joseph Lieberman (D-Conn.). "The common, Judeo-Christian principles that motivated our Founding Fathers' thoughts and actions and that have served as our society's moral safety net have been replaced with a brand of moral relativism that not only tolerates but frequently celebrates the perverse, the grotesque and the degrading."

The senator and other critics noted the irony of a recent Fox network decision to pull an episode of its horror series "Millennium" which centered on a series of clergy murders. The Washington Post reported that producers felt the timing was awkward, since this program would have aired the night after the death of Chicago Cardinal Joseph Bernardin. However, Fox decided it would be fine to use the episode a week later - dead priests and all.

Meanwhile, a rare chorus of feminists and evangelicals is attacking the critically acclaimed film "The People vs. Larry Flynt." Both groups are furious that it whitewashes parts of the Hustler publisher's perverse past, while fundamentalists also wonder if part of the film's popularity with Hollywood insiders is its use of the Rev. Jerry Falwell as a villain.

And so it goes, world without end. Hollywood bashes conservative religious leaders, many of whom respond with simplistic attacks on Hollywood.

Clergy must realize that it isn't enough to curse the darkness, said the Rev. Doug Millham, preaching at the First Presbyterian Church of Hollywood. They should tell the faithful to pray for those who create the media products consumed by millions and support efforts to minister to the more than 2,000 committed Christians in Hollywood. They can encourage talented young people to enter the entertainment industry.

"There's no middle ground," he said, in a sermon reprinted in Movieguide magazine. "One change of producer, one change in script, one change in network leadership, will alter the course of what millions of people think and feel and believe about life itself."