Fox, Families and 'safe TV'

VIRGINIA BEACH, Va. - They're out there, perched on family-room couches, trigger fingers poised to punch the "mute" buttons on their TV remotes.

They have TV listings nearby, marked with highlighter-pen slashes indicating the few shows that have been deemed worthy. They can program their VCRs while blindfolded and quote chapter and verse from media reviews in various sacred and secular publications.

They are the few, the proud, the parents who try to monitor what their children watch on television. And last week many of them winced when they heard that Rupert Murdoch's Fox Kids Worldwide Inc., plans to spend $1.9 billion to buy half of the Family Channel, a cable TV network linked to the media empire of religious broadcaster Pat Robertson.

Newspapers pounced on the differences between these media giants and their two brands of conservatism - contrasting video bimbos with biblical values, "The Simpsons" with "The Waltons," "The X Files" with the 10 Commandments, the capitalistic fervor of cable television's dark prince with the Pentecostal convictions of the Religious Right's high priest. The big question: Will Murdoch's crew create what millions will see as a dysfunctional Family Channel?

"When we talk with our viewers, they say that the Family Channel is 'safe' - that we are 'safe TV,' " said Douglas Symons, vice president for marketing at International Family Entertainment, Inc. "They tell us things like, 'We like the fact that we don't have to keep hitting the remote.' ... It's right there in our name. We are what we are. We have to be one of the most clearly positioned channels in the modern TV market and that's worth something. That has market value, today. I assume that Rupert Murdoch wouldn't spend $1.9 billion to buy that identity and then wreck it."

Another safe assumption is that Fox, after locking down a reputation for producing programs that define the edge of TV youth culture, wanted a partner on the other side of the cultural spectrum. After all, waves of worries about kids, sex and violence keep rolling over Capitol Hill. Also, there is some ratings evidence that an audience exists for family-oriented shows such as "Touched By An Angel," "7th Heaven," "Soul Man" and "Promised Land." TV Guide recently reported that studios have "at least four new shows about angels, spirits and ministers in the pipeline for next season."

Earlier this year, the Family Channel hired the Yankelovich Partners to conduct a "Barometer of the American Family" media study. It found that almost all parents (94 percent) support the availability of some kind of TV-control devices. Most (86 percent) claim to be monitoring their kids' TV viewing and 40 percent said they increased such efforts last year. On the hot issue of TV ratings, 69 percent said they preferred a content-based system. And almost everyone - 97 percent of parents, 91 percent of singles - said they wanted more "family-oriented" programs."

The problem, of course, is that "family-oriented" means different things to different people and it does not necessarily mean programs that address the role that religion plays in American life. After all, the Family Channel itself - with the exception of Robertson's "700 Club" - is better known for its comedy and detective show reruns than for new programs about faith and spirituality.

But the Yankelovich team found that Americans do have some characteristics in mind when they say "family-oriented." The top three criteria were that programs should "be compelling and interesting," "teach and encourage positive values" and "stimulate the imagination." As always, the problem will be finding shows that are "compelling," yet "safe;" that teach common "values" in a schizophrenic age; that "stimulate" plugged-in kids, without shocking cautious parents.

"I am convinced the Family Channel can keep its identity, but that Fox will have some room to maneuver," said Symons. "Sometimes, to show what positive values are, you need contrast that with the negative. You need real, believable bad guys, so that the good guys become more compelling. You can't serve up milquetoast. You may not always have a happy ending."

World war II: How biased is too biased?

Marvin Olasky is a biased journalist.

World magazine's editor freely admits that he often asks his reporters to ditch traditional journalistic standards of fairness and objectivity. Instead, he says journalists should write the stories that God wants them to write, the way God wants them written. The goal is "true objectivity" or "the God's-eye view."

"Biblically, there is no neutrality. ... Christian reporters should give equal space to a variety of perspectives only when the Bible is unclear," argues Olasky, in his book "Telling the Truth." "A solidly Christian news publication should not be balanced. Its goal should be provocative and evocative, colorful and gripping, Bible-based news analysis."

Olasky calls this "directed reporting" or, with a laugh, "biblical sensationalism." Many others - including Christians - call it heresy. This doesn't surprise him, since he says most of what he sees "that is called 'Christian journalism' is merely baptized secularism."

The University of Texas journalism professor is best known as a historian whose work on poverty, abortion and other cultural issues have influenced Newt Gingrich and others during the GOP surge in the 1990s. But in the claustrophobic world of Christian publishing, Olasky is known as a rebel who keeps splashing ink in the faces of dignified church leaders. Some say he runs the evangelical version of The American Spectator.

Recent articles claimed that a trio of powerful groups was quietly preparing a "gender-neutral" revision of the New International Version Bible translation. World's slant was captured in headlines such as "The Stealth Bible" and "The Feminist Seduction of the Evangelical Church." After weeks of warfare, the International Bible Society said it would abandon plans to revise the text, return traditional gender references to its New International Readers Version and ask a British publisher to pull an inclusive-language NIV. World's critics did not, however, withdraw a formal complaint to the Evangelical Press Association ethics committee.

Echoing specific language in the EPA code, the 10-page complaint claims: "Rather than avoiding distortion and sensationalism, World employed them. Utmost care was not exercised. Opposing views were not treated honestly and fairly. And World seems to be unconscious of its duty to protect the good names and reputations of Zondervan Publishing House, International Bible Society and Committee on Bible Translation."

World's editors say their facts are solid. However, noting the public- relations language in the complaint, Olasky admits that World is guilty of being pushy and of covering stories that others are not willing to risk printing. The controversy has underlined the "distinction between ... journalists and public relations officials," says a World response to the complaint. Ethics committee members face a "historic decision: they have the power to promote independent Christian journalism or to stifle it."

The problem is that the media marketplace includes at least three clashing versions of what is "good journalism," let alone good "Christian journalism." They are:

* A modern American model that preaches "objectivity" or, at the very least, insists that journalists should provide a fair balance of viewpoints. Many conservatives - including Olasky - believe that most American media have abandoned this model.

* A classically European model in which media admit their subjectivity and advocate specific viewpoints. Ironically, while this approach is usually identified with overtly progressive publications, or covertly progressive mainstream media, Olasky's "directed reporting" concept offers a conservative Christian version of this approach.

* A public relations, or church press, model that promotes "good news" that strengthens institutions and causes. It may even justify efforts to hide news or coerce publications to bypass embarrassing stories. The result is what one pro calls "happy little Christian stories."

If those who use other approaches disagree with his style or slant, then Olasky thinks they should start breaking some of these stories on their own. Meanwhile, World will keep giving its readers what they pay for - an openly conservative, "biblical" take on the news.

"We're hearing about quite a few other developments in Bible publishing that are very interesting and, after all that's happened, we'll certainly be looking into them," he said. "There are a lot of stories out there to be written and we're going to keep writing them."

The Bible and Journalism

In the Gospel of John, a high priest makes a stark pronouncement about Jesus that sets the stage for Holy Week.

In the New International Version translation, Caiaphas tells the Pharisees: "You do not realize that it is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish." But in the NIV Inclusive Language Edition the words "that one man die" have been translated "that one person die."

For millions of readers, this change represents an attempt to be sensitive to modern issues of gender and equality. But millions of others believe that changes of this sort warp God's Word.

Thus, a recent World magazine expose about efforts to update the NIV created a firestorm in Christian publishing. This story involves the Bible, millions of dollars, sex roles, doctrine and some of today's most powerful religious leaders and institutions. It also has sparked another round of debate about whether "Christian" and "journalism" are mutually exclusive terms.

World's cover showed a Bible morphing into a black warplane, with the headline, "The Stealth Bible: The popular New International Version Bible is quietly going 'gender-neutral.' " The inside headline was just as provocative: "Femme fatale: The Feminist Seduction of the Evangelical Church."

The NIV isn't just another volume on the crowded shelf of Bible translations at the mall bookstore. It is today's most popular Bible -- with more than 100 million copies in print and a staggering 45 percent share in the highly competitive Bible sales market. The NIV translation is jealously guarded by the International Bible Society, which holds the copyright, and the powerful Zondervan Publishing House, which has exclusive commercial rights to the text. The latter is owned by HarperCollins, which is part of Rupert Murdoch's secular multimedia empire.

Zondervan publicists immediately screamed "foul," circulating a letter noting that World had not contacted the publishing house for comment and claiming that the story followed a "predetermined agenda" that suggested a "conspiracy of evangelical Bible translation with radical social feminism." According to Zondervan, the result was unethical -- an article full of "innuendo and sensationalism, containing unconscionable slander."

While an NIV Inclusive Language Edition is available in England, published there by Hodder & Stoughton, Zondervan's leaders stressed that no final decision had been made to publish a "gender-accurate version" for the U.S. market.

World publisher Joel Belz stood his ground. In a follow-up editorial, he noted that no one had challenged World's thesis - that the 15-scholar panel that controls the NIV text, called the Committee on Bible Translations, has given its blessing to the inclusive-language edition in England and was quietly working to produce a similar text here.

"This story about the NIV revision is about people who, for supposedly good reasons, are willing to misquote God," Belz said.

For the NIV camp, this is a clash between two different styles of conservatism. Attempts to modernize gender references, stressed Zondervan's media statements, would focus on words for humanity - not language about God. But World argued that even gender-neutral language for human beings can blur biblical descriptions of differing roles for men and women and, in some cases, weaken references to the humanity and divinity of Jesus. World's editors insist that those who support an egalitarian approach to gender roles in the home, pew and pulpit have surrendered too much turf to feminism.

The battle lines were clear. "Egalitarians" backed a revised NIV. On the other side were "complementarians" who say men and women have differing, but complementary, roles. One of evangelicalism's most powerful figures, James Dobson of Focus on the Family, quickly opposed a "politically correct" NIV. Leaders of the nation's 16-million-plus Southern Baptists began making plans for open revolt against the proposed gender revisions.

Thus, the International Bible Society on May 27 waved a white flag, saying it would abandon plans to revise the NIV, return traditional gender references to its New International Readers Version and ask the British publisher to cease printing its inclusive-language NIV.

A Proud Skeptic in the Pew

WASHINGTON, D.C. -- James Kelley doesn't believe in God - Father, Son or Holy Spirit.

Kelley doesn't believe in the virgin birth, the resurrection or any of the miracles the Bible says happened in between. Kelley doesn't believe in heaven or hell. He isn't a Christian. He isn't even a theist. But Kelley is an Episcopalian and proud of it and he thinks that more skeptics should sign up - just as they are.

"I pay my pledge. I've taught Sunday school and been on the vestry," said the former Justice Department lawyer, who is now a full-time writer. "This is my church. I belong here."

It's been 14 years since Kelley and other members of his confirmation class faced the bishop of Washington, D.C., and took their vows. In his new book, "Skeptic in the House of God," Kelley recalls many details of that scene - but not how he answered the pivotal question: "Do you renew your commitment to Jesus Christ?" He was supposed to respond: "I do, and with God's grace I will follow him as my Savior and Lord."

"I honestly don't remember. ... I might have said nothing. I might have just mumbled," he said. "Then again, I might have said what was proscribed. But if I did that, then I did what I always do. I just translated it - line by line - in my head. I do that all the time with the creed and the prayers. ... I just do the agnostic's translation. But it doesn't really matter. They let me in."

Kelley knows that there are legions of Episcopalians who want to see a link between church membership and some basic Christian doctrines. That's fine. He also knows that there are plenty of bishops, priests and laity who are just as unorthodox as he is. Kelley is an active member of an historic parish - St. Mark's on Capitol Hill -- in a prestigious diocese. He's safe.

These kinds of clashes are common in the "seven sisters," of liberal American Protestantism -- the American Baptist Churches, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), the Evangelical Lutheran Church, the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), the United Church of Christ, the United Methodist Church and the Episcopal Church. Year after year, they make news with their heated debates - usually about sex. Meanwhile, fights over the nature of God, biblical authority, salvation and many other crucial subjects continue behind the scenes.

The crucial question: What provides unity in churches in which members and even clergy are free to reject the basic doctrines of the faith?

Based on his own poll data, Kelley believes that 10 percent or more of the members of his home parish are skeptics. In his confirmation class, the priest wrote out the phrases of the Nicene Creed on newsprint and asked people to vote yea or nay. There were no wrong votes. Kelley said he signed up "expecting it to focus on the theology of the Episcopal Church. Coming from a Catholic background, I assumed there was such a thing."

Truth is, the sources of this parish's unity are its identity as an "open" community and its commitment to using specific rites - even if the clergy and worshippers have radically redefined or abandoned the conventional meanings of the words they recite. This has led to an inevitable side effect that could be seen in another recent parish poll. The least satisfied members were the few who hold any traditional Christian beliefs. It is the orthodox who are the heretics.

Kelley said he hopes they choose to stay, but he will understand if they choose to leave. Meanwhile, his years at St. Mark's have convinced him that pluralistic churches can survive and even thrive in urban areas close to universities, government complexes and other centers of skepticism and progressive lifestyles. They have something to offer.

"We all love the incense, the stained-glass windows, the organ music, the vestments and all of that," he said. "There will always be people who love that. ... It's drama. It's aesthetics. It's the ritual. That's neat stuff. I don't want to give all that up, just because I don't believe in God and all that."

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."