Preaching to the Anti-Persecution Choir

WASHINGTON, D.C. -- Sen. Arlen Specter was preaching to the choir and he knew it.

As the veteran Pennsylvania senator studied the crowd, he tried to spot the journalists sprinkled among the clergy, social activists and politicos jammed into the U.S. Senate's Mansfield conference room.

"I have been in this room many times," he said, at this week's press conference introducing the Freedom from Religious Persecution Act of 1997. "I have never seen such a disproportionate imbalance between the number of the distinguished people on the podium and the number of cameras."

The bill would require increased U.S. efforts against religious persecution, with special emphasis on attacks on Christians, Buddhists in Tibet and Baha'is in Iran. Sponsored by Specter, Rep. Frank Wolf of Virginia and a bipartisan coalition, it would create a White House office monitoring persecution and authorize sanctions against offending nations, echoing earlier efforts on behalf of Soviet Jews and blacks in South Africa.

The long line of speakers backing the legislation ranged from Religious Right strategists to nationally known rabbis. Quiet, but intense, testimonies were offered by an associate of the Dalai Lama and the exiled Roman Catholic bishop of the southern Sudan, where Christians have been sold into slavery and, in some cases, crucified.

One after another, they addressed a handful of reporters - trying to find the right mixture of horror stories and appeals to shared moral values. Christians made it clear that they recognize that there is more to the persecution issue than bloody crackdowns on churches in China, North Korea and in countries led by militant Islamic regimes. Jews went out of their way to stress that it is no longer possible to deny that Christians are being tortured and killed for their faith.

The result was a series of political and religious role reversals. "We believe that human and civil rights and religious freedom and liberty should be at the center of our foreign policy," said one speaker. "We believe that if the United States makes the center of its foreign policy profits, rather than people, and money, rather than human rights, then we will have lost our soul as a nation."

This blast of global idealism didn't come from a World Council of Churches official, a U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops staff member or a moderate Baptist with ties to the Jimmy Carter era. No, it came from Ralph Reed of the Christian Coalition. He also stressed that this issue is "far more important than eliminating the deficit, far more important than lowering taxes."

Progressives face wrenching debates, as well. Many have hesitated to back this cause because so many of today's persecution reports center on evangelicals and Catholics. Often, those persecuted are not the polite believers who worship quietly in state-sanctioned pews, but those who aggressively - or even obnoxiously - proclaim their faith to their neighbors and in the public square. Another speaker alluded to these tensions.

"When God's children are denied their basic human rights because of their efforts ... to reach out to God, then America must speak out," he said. "When God's children are in prison for praying, America must speak out. When God's children are put to death for proselytizing, then America must speak out."

This defense of evangelism didn't come from a charismatic televangelist, a National Association of Evangelicals executive or a Southern Baptist missionary. No, it came from Rabbi David Saperstein of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism - a body of liberal believers that frequently clashes with evangelicals.

The bottom line: this issue may be too complex to fit into a convenient news niche. It threatens the economic interests of many powerful nations, corporations and lobby groups. But religious persecution must not remain hidden in the shadows, said Wolf.

"We cannot be silent any longer," he said. "When we come to the defense of the 'least of these,' ... we raise the comfort level for all who are persecuted by dictators. When we speak for Christians, we also speak for Muslims. When we speak for Jews, we also speak for Baha'is. We are speaking for all."

Breaking the Silence on Sudan

Every month or so, Bona Malwal slips over the border into his south Sudanese homeland.

There are, in this age of satellite telephones, safer ways for an exiled journalist to contact his sources during one of the world's longest-running civil wars. But Malwal keeps going home - to see the bulldozed churches, to interview grieving parents, to document the torture.

The government declared him an enemy of the state in 1989. The Roman Catholic activist was writing stories that outsiders said were too outrageous to be true - reports that militias working for the National Islamic Front regime were kidnapping women and children from Christian and animist homes and selling them as slaves. Many still ignore the facts.

"Why is it that the Christian world continues to ignore the conflict in the Sudan?", asked Malwal, speaking last week to a conference for Christians in journalism at the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C. "Why doesn't the Christian world see ... that this conflict is really about whether Christianity will be able to survive in the south Sudan and in the rest of Africa?"

Finally, the work of Malwal and other human-rights activists is yielding results in the media and political arenas. Last summer, the Baltimore Sun conducted a fact-finding mission in the South Sudan. Traveling with a team from Christian Solidarity International, the journalists sought the most basic form of evidence. They paid a slave trader the equivalent of $1,000 -- the value of 10 cows -- for two young Africans and then reunited them with their families.

Here is how reporters Gilbert Lewthwaite and Gregory Lane described the moment of truth in a village marketplace: "Before us ... is a sight to chill the human heart: a dozen young boys, their bodies caked with dust, their eyes downcast. If we were Sudanese slaveholders, we might use such children for herding or for household chores. ...We might give them Arabic names and convert them to Islam. We might use a girl for sexual pleasure, perhaps as a wife."

Religion and race are key factors in these crimes. The northern two- thirds of the Sudan is ruled by a rebellious Islamic regime led by Arabs. The leaders in southern Sudan are African Catholics, Anglicans and Presbyterians. However, the most recent issue of Malwal's London-based Sudan Democratic Gazette noted a United Nations report that the northern regime's recent violations of religious freedom have included the increased "harassment and arrest of prominent religious figures belonging to the traditional Sudanese Islamic orders."

As always, politics and trade loom behind the clashes over faith and tribal ties. These issues will return to the news on Tuesday, when Sen. Arlen Specter of Pennsylvania and Rep. Frank Wolf of Virginia introduce the Freedom from Religious Persecution Act of 1997. This follows months of lobbying by conservatives outraged by reports of growing persecution of Christians in China and other Communist lands and in at least eight countries led by Islamic regimes. The bill has a number of prominent Democratic cosponsors and specifically calls for increased efforts to protect two other religious groups -- Buddhists in Tibet and Baha'is in Iran.

The legislation includes planks establishing a White House office on religious persecution, stopping non-humanitarian U.S. aid and loans to sanctioned nations and requiring the U.S. to actively oppose international aid to such countries. It would make sanctioned-country status a "serious factor" in world trade issues -- such as divisive votes of the status of China. The bill also gives the Sudan the same kind of treatment previously granted to South Africa. To underline its already bold-letter intentions, the bill calls for sweeping changes in the Sudan by Christmas Day.

"The goal is to make Sudan the poster boy for incarnate evil," said Michael Horowitz of the Hudson Institute. "Otherwise, we're telling the world that it's open season on Christians."

Help cannot come too soon, stressed Malwal, after his speech. Right now, his tribesmen have few churches left in which to celebrate Holy Days.

"There are is not a single church left standing in the south Sudan," he said. "They are the first thing that the northern armies destroy. ... People meet under a tree. The buildings have been destroyed, but the church is still there."

A Musician Stuck in Orthodixie

NASHVILLE - G. Thomas Walker is a country singer who also happens to be a Christian.

The good news is that he lives in the capital of country and Contemporary Christian Music. The bad news is that he's the wrong brand of Christian. Executives in the Protestant-packed CCM market flinch when they learn Walker is a convert to Eastern Orthodoxy. Secular professionals quickly note that he writes more than the country-music quota of songs about faith and family. Meanwhile, Orthodoxy has no idea what to do with an American with a guitar.

"I'm stuck. My music is built on my faith. I can't deny that," he said. "But I have learned that I don't have ANYTHING in common with the CCM industry. . Whenever I listen to Christian music, I always reach the same conclusion: I don't want to listen to it. It's empty."

Walker reached over and started punching buttons on his car radio. Every one tuned in a country station.

"At least these guys aren't lying about what's going on in their lives," he said. "Life just isn't as simplistic as most Christian music says it is. . Country singers have to sing about real life. I want to do that, too. But where?"

Right now, Walker continues to follow a common Guitar Town strategy. He has recorded a disc of music on his own, while keeping his day job. Most of his concerts are for folks who don't quite know what to make of the music he calls "Orthodixie."

In one gospel chorus, Walker blends Bible Belt language with images of ancient traditions: "I have come to the faith of saints and angels, and I have come to believe in mystery, and through windows of heaven I see Jesus, reaching out His endless love to me." Protestants sing along, but few realize that the "mystery" is the Eucharist and that the "windows of heaven" are icons. He has even managed to write a country song about going to confession.

Walker would love to share his gifts with the Orthodox. However, musicians who want to bring Western music with them into Orthodoxy are about as welcome as chanting monks at the Southern Baptist Convention. Some musicians have even been rejected when they set Orthodox texts to hymn tunes that are familiar to millions of Americans. The cultural gap is just too wide.

"Orthodoxy doesn't know what to do with us. At least, not yet," said Walker. "We aren't going to be Greeks. We aren't going to be Russians. We aren't going to be Arabs. We're Americans. We want to be Americans who are truly Orthodox."

And the converts keep coming. Walker, for example, is the son of Father Gordon Walker, a Southern Baptist minister and Campus Crusade for Christ leader who was one of the founders of a group called the Evangelical Orthodox Church. Ten years ago, this small body of evangelists and born-again believers made headlines when it joined the Antiochian Orthodox Church.

Today, G. Thomas Walker is active in a Greek Orthodox parish, singing its ancient hymns with the help of phonetics sheets. While he revels in Orthodox worship, he still wonders if it was necessary to cut all of his ties to the sacred music of his past. He would gladly - as a skilled musician and committed Orthodox Christian - assist in efforts to learn what parts of American culture are worthy of use in Orthodox worship.

Walker poured his feelings into a song called "Standing Here," which is rooted in his church's tradition of worshippers standing during most of the service. The chorus: "Singing Holy, Holy Lord. Through the joy, through the tears, through the seasons of the year, with the saints and holy angels, I'll be standing here."

"Evangelicals just love that song," he said. "They love the images, but they don't understand them. The Orthodox understand the images, but not the music. They don't understand the music that reaches most Americans. ... I don't expect to see this gap bridged during my lifetime -- maybe during my daughter's lifetime or her daughter's lifetime. Maybe."

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.”