The church, technology and birth control

When a technology enters a culture, it quickly spreads until it changes everything -- like a drop of red ink in a glass of water.

The result is a "Faustian bargain," said scholar Neil Postman, at a conference hosted by the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Denver. "Technological change is not additive. It is ecological. After television, America was not America plus television. Television gave a new coloration to every political campaign, to every home, to every school, to every church."

As he listened, Denver Archbishop Charles Chaput linked Postman's words with another subject mixing technology and moral choices -- the upcoming 30th anniversary of Pope John Paul VI's controversial encyclical Humanae Vitae (Of Human Life). While most people focus on this document's teachings on birth control, said the archbishop, Postman's warnings about technology helped him see Humanae Vitae in a wider context.

"From the church's point of view, there is a lot more to sex than human communication," said Chaput. "But contraception has certainly changed how human beings relate to one another. If you think of it as a technology, contraception has changed the world. It changed everything. It's hard to see that. We have a tendency to miss the bigger picture because we only focus on the details. Now, these changes have become a part of us."

The question is whether anyone - even Catholics - will take another look at this picture now that the likes of Hugh Hefner and Oprah Winfrey are middle-of-the-road authorities on marriage and sex. The Denver archbishop's new pastoral letter has emerged as one of the few Catholic statements daring to note the July 25 anniversary of this encyclical. Chaput's letter has been circulated widely on the Internet (www.sni.net/archden) and, so far, translated into Spanish, Italian, French and Japanese.

All pastors know it's hard to get addicts to face their addictions, so it helps to show them the side effects, he said. Thus, he noted that the pope warned, in Humanae Vitae, that four cultural problems would worsen, if church teachings were ignored.

* The first would be a rise in "conjugal infidelity and the general lowering of morality." Clearly, the rates of "abortion, divorce, family breakdown, wife and child abuse, venereal disease and out of wedlock births" have soared since the sexual revolution of the 1960s, noted Chaput.

* Second, men would lose respect for woman, ignoring issues of their physical and emotional health even more than in the past and exploit them as instruments of selfish pleasure. In other words, while contraception would be hailed as a boon to women, the real winners would be men.

* Third, contraception would be abused by "public authorities who take no heed of moral exigencies." Today, first- world leaders regularly export "contraceptives, abortion and sterilization" to developing nations, often as a prerequisite for financial aid, said Chaput.

* Finally, human beings would be tempted to believe that they have "unlimited dominion" over their bodies." Today, scientists and ethicists struggle to draw moral lines in the brave new world of in vitro fertilization, cloning, genetic manipulation and embryo experimentation. News reports feature teens killing their newborn babies, debates over the definition of marriage and other signs of cultural distress.

"It's obvious to everyone but an addict: We have a problem," said Chaput. "It's killing us as a people. So what are we going to do about it?"

At the very least, the 53-year-old archbishop wants to send a signal to his own flock. The first step to touching the culture is to convince Catholic women and men -- from tenured theologians to Sunday school teachers, from timid priests to soccer moms -- to at least talk about their church's teachings.

Thirty years ago, wrote Chaput, Pope Paul VI "triggered a struggle within the Church which continues to mark American Catholic life even today. The irony is that the people who dismissed Church teaching in the 1960s soon discovered that they had subverted their own ability to pass anything along to their children. The result is that the Church now must evangelize a world of their children's children -- adolescents and young adults raised in moral confusion, often unaware of their own moral heritage, who hunger for meaning, community, and love with real substance."

Ship of Fools: Laughing or crying?

The Christian's Guide to Small Arms site shoots straight with World Wide Web users, offering information on safety, ammunition, marksmanship and photos of 40-plus weapons.

Clicking on another icon leads to Bible-study materials arguing that it isn't just "the right, but in fact, the DUTY of Christians to be armed." After all, Jesus told his followers: "But now, he that hath a purse, let him take it, and likewise his scrip: and he that hath no sword, let him sell his garment, and buy one."

This site is dead serious. But is it also funny?

Stephen Goddard thinks so. So do the other editors of "Ship of Fools: The Magazine of Christian Unrest," a new "e-zine" based in Liverpool, England. They've included a salute, and an Internet link, to the small-arms site in their "Fruitcake Zone" page - along other sites such as "Live chat with God" and the "Christian Naturists" home page, with its biblical defense of nudism and the obligatory photos.

Goddard couldn't make up this stuff, yet he also knows that one man's satire is another's sacrilege. But humor also can be a sacrament, he said. The online publication has claimed as its patron St. Simeon the Holy Fool, who left his Dead Sea cave to throw nuts at clergy, blow out candles during liturgies, cavort with dancing girls and live on a shockingly bean-intensive diet.

"God uses humor a lot. In the Book of Job he is almost sarcastic," said Goddard, a veteran publicist and former editor of a British magazine for Christian young people called Buzz. "Jesus is not above ridiculing some people's opinions, but he never ridicules people. So we are trying to walk that thin line. We want to hammer things that deserve to be hammered, but we don't want to demean people."

The site - at http://ship-of-fools.com - opened in April and last month received 10,000 "hits" from readers, including what Goddard said was a rising number of letters and humorous tidbits from the United States. In Britain, the site has received coverage from The Times of London, The Guardian, BBC Radio 1, The Daily Telegraph and the Church Times.

But the Ship of Fools crew received a rockier reception when it contacted a Christian site called The Magazine Rack to request a listing in its guide to 100-plus free online publications. That site's webmaster wrote back to say that he didn't laugh when he examined Ship of Fools.

"To our regret, we were unable to find any social, moral, or redeeming value," said David Parsons. "Instead, we discovered sarcasm. I would like to bring you to remembrance that we are suppose to build up the Church and not destroy it." He also reminded Goddard and company that Jesus once said, "whosoever shall say, 'thou fool,' shall be in danger of hell fire."

Ship of Fools does contain waves of foolish stuff, such as a "Mystery Worshipper" page offering reviews of services in major churches. Coming soon: Christian "urban legends" and outrages from the theological left. Other regular features include:

* Gadgets for God, such as the "Jesus Saves" air freshener, a JC/DC shirt, a Burning Bush necktie, Share the Good Chews snacks, Hot 'n' Holy pepper sauce and lots more.

* John Calvin's Newsround, featuring strange news stories. For example, a Polish computer programmer has created a software package for those preparing for confession. The Ship of Fools crew dubbed this Penance 2.1.

* Signs and Blunders, offering bizarre images from advertisements, church signs, bumper stickers and the world at large. In one Brazilian ad, soccer superstar Ronaldo is posed atop Corcovado Mountain overlooking Rio de Janeiro, taking the place of its famous statue of Jesus.

Goddard stressed that the site's ultimate goal is constructive.

"We are actually very orthodox," he said. "But what we are discovering is that there are lots of people like us. They feel like they are on the fringe of the religious establishment or in the cracks. But they are believers. They are not liberals. They are not secularists. Whether we want to or not, we are ministering to these people by letting them laugh at this crazy world, rather than just cry about it."

The prayers of the Romanovs

Among the few belongings that survived the Romanovs' last days, anti-Bolshevik troops found a book containing a poem given to the family that Grand Duchess Olga had hand-copied and hidden in its pages.

"Lord of the world, God of creation, give us Thy blessing through our prayer," it concluded. "Give peace of heart to us, O Master, this hour of utmost dread to bear. And on the threshold of the grave, breathe power divine into our clay, that we, Thy children, may find strength in meekness for our foes to pray."

Members of the royal family wrote prayers, spiritual questions and commentaries in the margins of many books. Their letters and diaries, and the testimony of their guards, yielded more evidence that their faith deepened as they suffered. Their executioners said the Romanovs died trying to pray and make the sign of the cross amid the barrage of bullets on July 17, 1918.

In his lifetime, Nicholas II was cursed as a bloody tyrant, while others said he was too weak. Today, many say he was merely inept or trapped in a tragic role -- an articulate, gentle man better suited to be a symbolic leader than an absolute monarch. But for some Russians, these temporal disputes have little or nothing to do with an larger, eternal question: Should the Romanovs be venerated as saints?

"Yes, Nicholas II was the czar. That's important and that made his death highly symbolic," said Father Alexander Lebedeff of Los Angeles, a Russian Orthodox Church Abroad historian. "But it really doesn't matter if he was a great czar. The important question is whether he died as a martyr for the faith. We believe that the Romanov family became an extraordinary example of piety and submission to the will of God. They died praying for Russia and for their persecutors."

The exiled church canonized the Romanovs in 1981, a step the Moscow hierarchy has declined to take. But settling the status of the czar may be simple, in comparison with answering questions about thousands of bishops, priests, monks and nuns who were jailed, tortured and killed. And what should be said about those who compromised, rather than die?

Meanwhile, the burial of the Romanovs sparked bitter debates among Russian historians, politicians, nationalists and the nation as a whole. Most scientists are convinced that the remains buried on the 80th anniversary of the Yekaterinburg massacre were those of the imperial family and its loyal servants. Others, especially Orthodox leaders, insist that they still have doubts

Russian President Boris Yeltsin bluntly talked about sin, innocence, redemption and guilt during the rites in the Cathedral of Saints Peter and Paul in St. Petersburg.

"Those who committed this crime are guilty as are those who approved of it for decades. We are all guilty," he said. "We must end this century, which has been an age of blood and violence in Russia, with repentance and peace. ^E This is our historical chance."

Moscow Patriarch Alexy II, who refused to attend the rites, had earlier issued a national call for repentance for the sin of "apostasy and regicide."

"Repentance for it should become a sign of the unity of our people, which is reached not through indifferent acquiescence but thoughtful reflection on what happened to the country and the people. Only then it will be a unity not in form but in spirit," he said.

It may take a generation or more to find any unity in the soul of Russia. But Lebedeff noted that the Russian Orthodox Church Abroad and the Moscow Patriarchate have, ironically, found common ground on one issue -- perhaps the first time they've been united on anything.

"Both churches have strong doubts about whether these remains are, in fact, the bodies of the czar and his family," he said. "But beyond that, we just don't believe that this is the kind of issue that can be settled on a timetable set by the government. You simply cannot settle for the work of scientific commissions and DNA research when you are dealing with questions about what may or may not be the holy relics of martyrs."

Anglicanism's most controversial missionary

Father Thomas Johnston of Arkansas is without a doubt the world's most controversial missionary, at least among prelates who wear purple shirts and Anglican collars.

It isn't his years of overseas work that will have insiders whispering, or cursing, his name during the next three weeks as 800 Anglican bishops gather at Canterbury for their once-a-decade Lambeth Conference. No, Johnston is controversial because he is currently, under church law, a foreign missionary in his own land. He is an American priest who works for an African bishop, leading an American congregation that exists in open defiance of its American bishop.

The story of St. Andrew's Church in Little Rock is extremely complicated -- almost as complicated as the puzzle facing Archbishop of Canterbury George Carey and others striving to preserve unity among the world's 70 million Anglicans.

"Times of reformation are always messy and painful," said Johnston. "But some of us have been praying for just such a time -- a time when people will have to take a stand on the substance of their faith. They will have to cling to some things and surrender others. So be it."

It's easy to sense the pain in letters exchanged between Johnston, Arkansas Bishop Larry Maze and Bishop John Rucyahana of the Province of Rwanda. While most of the headlines produced by the 13th Lambeth gathering will center on sex, this Little Rock dispute represents the cutting edge of Anglican conflicts over wider issues -- from biblical authority to the relevance of ancient creeds proclaiming a Trinitarian God of Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Two years ago, Maze rejected a local evangelical group's appeal to start a new parish. The bishop was convinced that he was dealing with rebels who merely oppose the work of those, such as himself, who are committed to modernizing church teachings on sexuality and marriage. Instead of surrendering, the fledgling congregation sought help from a national and international network of like-minded Anglicans.

Eventually, the mission hired Johnston. Maze and his diocese refused to give the priest permission to serve in Little Rock and quickly began the process of asking his former diocese in South Carolina to recall or discipline him. The Arkansas bishop learned that Johnston had, legally, been transferred to the Diocese of Shyira, Rwanda.

"It seems clear that Mr. Johnston has no intention of moving to Rwanda ... and that action was taken only to remove himself from accountability in the American church," wrote Maze, in an April statement. "What had been a national dispute involving the integrity of diocesan boundaries, is now an issue transplanted to the larger Anglican Communion."

Maze asked Rucyahana to "redeploy" Johnston to "a diocese that might request this presence." The African bishop replied that he remains committed to giving the priest and his flock "spiritual asylum." The bishop is scheduled to visit Little Rock in September.

"The Unity of the Church is centered only in Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior, who died for our sins, rose from the dead and lives (as we have it in the Christian creeds)," wrote Rucyahana. "So the issue of boundaries and collegiality can not hold when the central Unity in Jesus is damaged." The African bishop isn't alone. Other African and Asian bishops have signaled that if Americans keep making unilateral doctrinal changes that affect Anglicans worldwide, then the Third World may respond with unilateral legal steps that affect Episcopalians in America.

In effect, many Americans argue that Anglicanism must defend ancient traditions about church laws and holy orders, while embracing doctrinal ambiguities. Third World bishops are saying that they will live with ambiguities affecting property laws, pensions and holy orders, in order to defend ancient doctrines. Both sides are clashing with another tradition: that the church must be defined by right doctrine and right orders.

"It's a really sick situation," said Johnston. "Truth is, the sexuality issue is just a symptom of a much greater evil and darkness at the very heart of the Episcopal Church. ... Many of our leaders no longer teach the Nicene faith. They no longer believe in the faith of the ancient church. When that happens -- it's all over. God will not bless that kind of church."

A Catholic critic -- on the right

Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas returned home to Roman Catholicism two years ago and, more recently, a few high-profile conservatives have converted -- ranging from Norma "Jane Roe" McCorvey to Florida Wasp Jeb Bush.

While the Evangelical Right gets the most ink, it isn't hard to figure out what's happening, said Joseph D'Agostino of Human Events, a conservative weekly based in Washington, D.C.

"It's a reaction to an incredible decline in Western and American culture. The very concept of truth has, today, come under attack. We've come that far. Meanwhile, the Catholic church is still viewed as being a defender of truth, reason and traditional values," he said. "So, despite the best efforts of the church hierarchy ... some conservatives are converting."

D'Agostino understands because he, too, feels the pull of centuries of tradition and faith. But in a recent article in a traditionalist magazine, The Latin Mass, he described why he hasn't joined the procession. While most criticism of Roman Catholicism comes from the left, his confession -- "Why I'm Almost a Catholic" -- offers a rare unbeliever's view from the right.

When Catholic leaders prepare to face skeptics, they don't prep to handle the theological questions of someone who was raised as a Reform Jew, majored in Latin and classics in college, and then found his niche in political journalism.

The bottom line is that D'Agostino is a free agent. He has looked at other options, such as Orthodox Judaism. He bluntly said he considers Protestantism "a joke." He believes that the Protestant right offers "faith without intellect," while the left offers "intellect without faith." Needless to say, this viewpoint isn't very popular among Southern Baptists, traditional Lutherans, doctrinaire Calvinists and legions of other religious conservatives.

D'Agostino said he has always felt drawn to Catholicism's emphasis on reason, order, structure, beauty and "simply goodness." As a conservative, he also believes that Rome has all the right enemies.

"The resentment men, including most Catholics, hold against the Church intrigues me. ... I believe this, and the Church's willingness to take a stand in a society of moral cowards, drew me toward the Church before all else," he wrote. "When I look at the Church's enemies present and past the Church comes out looking very good. I suspect that men resent her because, consciously or not, they fear that her demanding doctrines might be true."

Quite frankly, D'Agostino puts himself in this latter category. While not an atheist, he describes himself as an "Aristotelian Deist" who accepts some role for God in governing the universe and he believes reason can lead to moral laws, as well. But D'Agostino just can't make the leap to Christian faith. He has been left with big questions, such as: Why is the world so messed up? Why am I so messed up? What happens after death?

"At some point, you either go with Aristotle or you go with Jesus and that's that," he said. "Reason can only take you so far. ... My problem is that I just don't have faith. In the end, I have not accepted, by faith, that Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior."

But there is another hurdle that stands between him and conversion. Most of the Catholic clergy that he has met seem to lack confidence that they have solid answers for tough questions, said D'Agostino. They seem more comfortable working with converts who will quickly accept some, but not all, Catholic teachings, than they are wrestling with someone who hungers for the faith of the ages -- all of it.

As a skeptic, D'Agostino said he is convinced Catholicism cannot afford to make peace with its critics.

"Most Catholicism today seems so soft. It doesn't openly compromise with the world, but it doesn't really attack modernity," he said. "You see, I don't think it's the church's job to hold polite dialogues with the world. The church's job is to give people the answers that Christians have lived and died to defend through the ages. If I'm going to convert, that's what will convert me -- the real thing."

Facing the 'fantasy world' of media

The pastors who wear Roman collars believe they can see the wreckage caused by pornography and other media addictions whenever they stand at their altars and scan the faces before them.

While researchers continue to debate the links between mass media and in real life, the members of the National Conference of Catholic Bishops have heard enough. The bishops think it's time to admit that sordid images sometimes can become reality -- leading to moral numbness, shattered marriages and, in some cases, rape, murder and child abuse.

Decades of statistics cannot be ignored. But priests also know what they hear in confession booths and counseling sessions. The spiritual fathers see the dark side of the media lives of many families.

"From long pastoral experience, the Church knows that many people do experience a connection between pornography and tendencies toward these personal and social ills," wrote the bishops, in a 28-page statement approved on a 207-11 vote at their spring meeting. "Research today supports this pastoral experience, in particular with regard to pornography that is sexually violent. Individual studies have observed such negative consequences with regard to nonviolent pornography that is degrading in its use of women as sexual objects."

As a rule, Americans try to blame others for this sad situation. Many blame Hollywood. Others blame the government for deregulating so much of the marketplace in which modern media giants frolic, or blame legislators for failing to pass stricter laws, or blame law officials for failing to enforce laws already on the books.

But the bishops noted that consumers must share much of the blame, since so many use their entertainment dollars to create and sustain a "fantasy world" full of sex and violence. "Many more consumers fail to speak out about the lesser but still offensive examples of sexually explicit or violent material they come across every day in mainstream media," said the bishops.

Truth is, it's time for everyone -- even those who think they don't consume high doses of media -- to stop looking for scapegoats and to realize that pornography and violent media of all kinds affect the culture as a whole. This issue will not go away. Most Americans, said the bishops, seem to be so distracted by daily waves of titillating media signals that they no longer can even tell right from wrong.

Meanwhile, many parents seem to be waving white flags of surrender, creating a moral vacuum in the most crucial media- education school of all -- the home. Parents should not be too quick, noted the bishops, to "denigrate their own influence," even when their children's lives seem to be dominated by hostile media. For starters, parents need to fight the pop culture's efforts to shove family members into tiny, isolated, age-defined media niches.

"While we hesitate to place additional burdens on parents in today's complex world, we urge them ... to know the media to which their children relate and to help them understand the messages they send," said the bishops. "Parents should be clear about the media they reject. Sharing the reasons why a video game is too violent or a particular show lacks good values about sex can contribute to a youngster's moral growth."

All of this raises an important question: Will church leaders take these issues seriously? The bishops suggest that pulpits and adult-education classes be used to increase awareness of the effects of pornography and violent media. Parental guidelines, the "V-chip" and increased feedback to the news and entertainment industry may help. Clergy may need to specifically link media issues to celebrations of the Sacrament of Reconciliation -- another name for confession. Parish leaders need to develop media resource centers and discussion groups, to help families make practical changes in their lives.

After all, it would help if the church helped parents walk their talk.

"There must be times," wrote the bishops, "when the almost continuous noise from televisions, radios, computers and telephones -- often while the family is together for meals -- gives way to quieter times for family discussion, prayer and homework. Many parents, no less than children, need to become less media dependent."

Copernicus. Galileo. Newton. Darwin. Freud. Spong?

Anglicanism begins and ends with The Book of Common Prayer.

Obviously, this volume is full of prayers -- morning prayers, evening prayers and prayers for all the times in between. There are hundreds of pages of prayers for Holy Communion, baptisms, ordinations, funerals and other events and most begin with "O God," "Heavenly Father," "Eternal Lord God" or similar phrases. The working assumption is that the God of the Bible hears these prayers and can answer them.

Wrong, argues America's most famous Episcopal bishop.

The Rt. Rev. John Shelby Spong believes the time has come for intelligent Christians to grow up and admit there isn't a personal God of any kind on the receiving end of these prayers and petitions. The bishop of Newark fired this shot over the bow in a recent missive containing 12 theses, starting with: "Theism, as a way of defining God, is dead." The logical implication appears as his 10th thesis: "Prayer cannot be a request made to a theistic deity to act in human history in a particular way."

Traditionalists will jeer him, writes Spong, just as they attacked Copernicus, Galileo, Newton, Darwin and Freud. Also, this call for what one bishop describes as a "virtual atheism" may cause fireworks in Canterbury at next month's once-a-decade Lambeth Conference of the world's Anglican bishops -- including Spong.

"The renewal of Christianity will not come from fundamentalism, secularism or the irrelevant mainline tradition" of Catholicism or Protestantism, writes Spong. "History has come to a point where only one thing will save this venerable faith tradition at this critical time in Christian history, and that is a new Reformation far more radical than Christianity has ever before known. ... This Reformation will recognize that the pre- modern concepts in which Christianity has traditionally been carried will never again speak to the post-modern world we now inhabit. This Reformation will be about the very life and death of Christianity."

After ditching theism, the bishop says it's "nonsensical to seek to understand Jesus as the incarnation of the theistic deity." He rejects miracles in general, humanity's fall into sin and any belief that the Bible contains revealed, transcendent moral laws. He rejects the virgin birth, resurrection and ascension of Jesus as historical events.

In some of his most sweeping language, Spong writes: "The view of the cross as the sacrifice for the sins of the world is a barbarian idea based on primitive concepts of God and must be dismissed." Later he adds: "The hope for life after death must be separated forever from the behavior control mentality of reward and punishment."

Spong asked for open debate and 50 bishops responded with a letter publicly disassociating themselves from his views. "A bishop of the Episcopal Church," they note, "vows to guard and defend exactly the truths John Spong now denies. As a bishop he requires those he confirms and those he ordains to confess beliefs he himself now repudiates. Such self-contradiction is morally fraudulent and spiritually bankrupt."

The bishop of Newark's supporters cheerfully note that nearly 100 bishops have signed an earlier Spong statement opposing traditional church teachings on marriage and sex. As for the statement of disassociation, none of the 50 bishops dared to break communion with Spong or called for him to be disciplined. One Spong supporter, Father J. Michael Povey of Pittsfield, Mass., notes the bishop's Anglo-Catholic and evangelical critics didn't even call for public rites praying for the bishop's conversion. "I have to ask," adds Povey, "why is this statement so spiritually wimpy?"

The bottom line is that Spong yearns for a media-friendly trial and the candor it will force on his church. Also, bishops on an Episcopal court in 1996 -- hearing charges against one of Spong's assistant bishops -- decided that their church has no "core doctrines" on sex and marriage. However, the bishops said some "core doctrines" do exist, including doctrines that "God became incarnate in Jesus Christ," "Christ was crucified," "Christ rose again" and "There will be a day of judgment."

The question facing the Lambeth Conference is whether a specific bishop can get away with attacking the few specifics in Anglicanism's doctrinal core.

Big hats and black-church tradition

WASHINGTON -- Viewed from their balconies, the pews in traditional black churches looked like waves of polished wood curving down to the pulpit and, through decades of Sundays, the crests were topped by graceful rows of women's hats.

Before the sea change of the 1960s, it was much more common for women to cover their heads in congregations of all kinds. Nevertheless, visitors would have to have been blind not to see that there was more to the hats in black churches than mere fashion.

"This is part of part of a distinction between the work-day world and that whole Sunday-go-to-meeting tradition," said Gail S. Lowe, curator and principal researcher for a new Smithsonian Institution exhibit on African-American faith. "If your whole week was ruled by uniforms and aprons and work clothes and boots, then you kept one good suit and you kept one really nice dress.

"And if the culture says that ladies are supposed to cover their heads, and the culture certainly said that the Bible said you were supposed to do that, then that meant you needed a hat. And if you needed a hat and it was Sunday, then you needed a SUNDAY hat. So the hats became more and more elaborate, to say the least."

On one level, this symbolized reverence for God, said Lowe. It also displayed respect for the church and for the authority of elders. But there was one more level to this tradition: a hunger for beauty and for self-respect in the generations leading up to the Civil Rights Movement.

A display of Sunday hats is merely one detail in the mosaic of this latest offering by the Smithsonian's Center for African American History and Culture. However, similar themes of tradition and change appear throughout the aisles of the exhibit, which is entitled "Speak to my Heart: Communities of Faith and Contemporary African American Life." It will remain open through the spring of 2000 and the museum plans a traveling version of the exhibition.

One of the most striking items is a set of glass-and-brass doors from Wheeler Avenue Baptist Church in Houston -- doors that had once served as the entrance to a segregated movie theater. Another display features bricks and a burned lamppost from First Baptist in Centralia, Va., one of several churches hit by arsonists in the 1990s.

But most of the museum cases feature more subtle signs of what has changed and what has stayed the same -- from the formal white gloves on a statue of a deaconess to the flowing robes of liturgical dancers and female pastors. "Speak To My Heart" also covers a wide range of religious traditions, including the worship and work of Muslims, Black Hebrews and others with African roots.

While black-church life has certainly changed in recent decades, it's impossible to predict which changes are permanent and which traditions will simply evolve into new forms, said Lowe. The key is that black Americans are, like so many others in this culture, picking and choosing which spiritual rites and symbols speak to them on a highly personal level.

"My generation doesn't wear hats. Why? Because we hated all of that," said Lowe, who attends a progressive Christian Methodist Episcopal congregation. "We understood that women wore hats because of modesty and because of the traditional values of the community. So we all said, 'That has to go. We're not going to do it.' "

But most of the pastors' wives, or "first ladies" of the congregations, kept the tradition alive, along with the revered older women often known as the "mothers of the church." And then the cultural search for African traditions led some women to try wearing forms of headdresses. Many Muslim women continued to wear simple head coverings. A few younger women simply decided gloves and hats were fashionable.

"Today, you may see hats or you may not see hats," said Lowe. "The key is that this is all a matter of personal choice. The theology is no longer there to back up the tradition. The links to the past are almost gone. Whether that's good or bad depends on your point of view."

Women and children first

WASHINGTON -- The train from New York City was jammed as Matthew Chancey traveled back to the nation's capital after this spring's meeting of the Titanic Historical Society.

Lucky passengers sat shoulder-to-shoulder while others spent four hours on their feet. As he stood, Chancey quietly became angry when he noticed those seated included young and middle-aged men, while the throng swaying in the aisles included several elderly women. One pregnant woman eventually slumped to the floor to rest. No one offered her a seat.

"I saw the same thing in other cars," he said. "I started thinking about the Titanic. Certain principles are eternal. They are timeless. They deserve to be defended. One such principle is the idea that men are supposed to make sacrifices on behalf of women and children. What I saw on that train was just another sign of what we've lost."

This hasn't been an easy year to talk about the Titanic and traditional values, in the wake of director James Cameron's blockbuster about romance, modern art, class warfare and social rebellion. Nevertheless, Chancey and others in the Christian Boys' and Men's Titanic Society are doing everything they can to resurrect an earlier interpretation of April 15, 1912. This message is summed up in a sermon delivered only three days after the tragedy.

The Rev. Henry Van Dyke of Princeton, N.J., stressed that the Titanic left behind more than debts, sorrow and bitter lessons about North Atlantic icebergs, lifeboats and technology. This was a morality play that taught a sobering rule for life.

"It is the rule that 'the strong ought to bear the infirmities of the weak'," he said. "Without it, no doubt, we may have riches and power and dominion. But what a world to live in! Only through the belief that the strong are bound to protect and save the weak because God wills it so, can we hope to keep self- sacrifice, and love, and heroism, and all the things that make us glad to live and not afraid to die."

To promote this unabashedly old-fashioned message, the Christian Boys' and Men's Titanic Society has reprinted one of the first books about the tragedy, "The Sinking of the Titanic," and is producing a documentary, "Women and Children First: The True Legacy of the R.M.S. Titanic."

One reason the Titanic story remains so intriguing is its blend of human drama with cosmic themes of fate, sacrifice and sin. It is the "closest thing we have to a modern Bible story," said Douglas Phillips, president of the two-year-old society. Also, this was the "the last stand of an older order" of cultural values, the last time when people heard the cry "women and children first" and obeyed without challenging its basic assumptions, he said.

"It isn't our goal to project a pristine, idealized view of the Titanic. That wouldn't be true," said Phillips. "And we know there were all kinds of people on that ship -- Christians, Jews, agnostics and everybody else. What we are saying is that there were certain values, certain absolutes that these people accepted and were willing to die for. One of those truths was that the groom dies to save the bride."

Here in Washington, an 18-foot granite statue symbolizes how this message has slipped into obscurity. It shows a robed man rising out of the waves, his arms outstretched like a cross. At least 25,000 women, led by First Lady Helen Taft, donated $1 each to build it. The engraving reads: "To the brave men who gave their lives that women and children might be saved."

This Titanic memorial once had a prominent position near the Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Bridge. Today it's hidden behind Fort McNair, next to the waters of the Washington Channel. Few people see it, other than occasional fishermen and joggers. On a recent afternoon, the back was stained where men had used it as a urinal. A soiled condom marked the spot.

"If you ask a cabbie to bring you to the Titanic Memorial, they'll drive around for an hour or more. You could end up just about anywhere," said Chancey. "It seems like nobody has a clue where this statue is and what it stands for."