Can today's church veto the saints?

Just because the early church taught that certain doctrines were true doesn't mean the modern church can't change and preach something else, according to the Arkansas bishop who is a key figure in a global Anglican dispute.

The early church had opinions about truth. Now, the modern church has opinions of its own, said the Rt. Rev. Larry Maze, preaching recently to a regional gathering of Integrity, the Episcopal Church's official gay-rights lobby. But opinions, even ancient ones, remain opinions and it would be wrong to let people who cling to opinions from the past veto those who embrace the present.

"There are those who speak as though they know the mind of God and, with startling clarity, they tell us what pleases God and what displeases God," he said. "They speak of certainty as the hallmark of faithful people. Yet, some of us continue to experience God as the one who chooses to live in the midst of our tensions, in the midst of our ambiguities ... always drawing us to truths greater than the truth of a given moment."

The Arkansas bishop has been in the news this year because of clashes with the newborn St. Andrews Church in Little Rock, which was formed by traditionalists who reject his views on the Bible, marriage, sex, salvation and many other doctrinal issues. When the bishop refused to allow the mission's priest to serve in Arkansas, Father Thomas Johnston had his credentials transferred to the Diocese of Shyira, Rwanda. Ever since, the priest's African bishop has been under pressure to abandon his Little Rock flock.

There's more to this story. Anglicans from Africa and other Two-Thirds World churches regularly use appeals to the past while attacking modernized doctrines in the First World. During this summer's Lambeth Conference in Canterbury, traditionalists stressed that they were defending biblical truths, handed down through the ages.

Maze said that the real split is between those who believe their faith is based on ancient, unchanging truths and modernists who accept ambiguity and change. Ultimately, it is the search for truth that matters. Traditionalists, he said, should admit that they possess opinions -- not truths and certainties -- about sexuality, abortion, family, life and death.

"Opinions that have for generations been layered in sanctified language are, nonetheless, opinions," said Maze. "May God grant us the grace to not deify our own opinions."

Maze isn't the only mainstream Anglican airing variations on this theme. Preaching recently at New York's Grace Episcopal Church, Presiding Bishop Frank Griswold said all churches will need to surrender some traditions in order to join in an ongoing search for new truths. Some ancient traditions may in fact be evil, he argued, noting that St. Paul said, "Even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light" to deceive believers.

"And what is the shadow side of our own particular traditions? ... Some of our singularities and seeming ecclesial virtues may, in actual fact, be impediments to the realization of God's desire," said Griswold.

Meanwhile, a Canadian bishop openly says that one ancient doctrine that the modern church should shed is "Christian exclusivism," which teaches that salvation is found only through faith in Jesus. Historically, this stance has been closely linked with belief in the literal truth of creedal doctrines such as the virgin birth, the resurrection and the Second Coming of Jesus.

The early church's dogmatic "exclusivism" makes it hard to affirm that God saves souls through all of the world's religions, not just Christianity, writes the Rt. Rev. Michael Ingham, in "Mansions of the Spirit: The Gospel in a Multi-Faith World." This doctrine offends non-Christians.

The bishop doesn't mince words. Traditionalists who defend "Christian exclusivism" and other judgmental ancient dogmas may, in fact, worship a different god than the interfaith deity who inspires modern pluralists, he said.

This will not be an easy rift to close.

"The problem with exclusivism is that it presents us with a god from whom we need to be delivered, rather than the living God who is the hope of the world," writes Ingham. "The exclusivist god is narrow, rigid and blind. Such a god is not worthy of honor, glory, worship or praise."

United Methodists: Breaking up is hard to do

The Rev. Charles Sineath wasn't surprised when a close friend responded to a cancer diagnosis by soberly focusing on defeating that tumor.

A serious response was appropriate, in a life-and-death crisis. Try to imagine the response he would have received, said the pastor, if he had cheerily told his friend: "Why are you focusing on that prostate that is malignant? After all, your eyes are healthy, your hearing is good, your hair is in good shape, your teeth are sound, your arms and legs and liver and heart are all in good shape. With so much that is good, why don't you focus on that instead of on your prostate?"

That would be insane. Yet this parable sums up what Sineath and others at First United Methodist Church in Marietta, Ga., started hearing when they leapt to the forefront of efforts to address the health of their denomination. Last spring, the 5,000- member church steered nearly $60,000 of the "apportionment" it is supposed to send to the national church into regional United Methodist causes that its leaders believe "honor God" and are "scripturally sound."

Naturally, United Methodists on the left side of the theological aisle oppose this stance, since it hurts their agencies and seminaries. Centrists and even some conservatives argue that the Marietta congregation and others that are taking similar financial steps are being too negative. Why focus on the bad, they ask, when there is so much good in the church?

One side is convinced the United Methodist Church has cancer. The other disagrees and rejects calls for surgery. It's hard to find a safe, happy compromise when the issue is a cancer diagnosis. Ask the Presbyterians, Episcopalians, the Disciples of Christ and others.

So it raised eyebrows when United Methodism's best-known expert on church growth and decay called for open discussions of strategies to split or radically restructure the national church. Research indicates that United Methodists are increasingly polarized around issues of scripture, salvation, sexuality, money, politics, multiculturalism, church government, worship and even the identity of God, said the Rev. Lyle E. Schaller of Naperville, Ill.

Many people are in denial, while their 8.5-million-member church continues to age and decline, he said, in the Circuit Rider magazine for United Methodist clergy. Others know what's happening, yet remain passive. One group says the church should only pursue a positive agenda of missions and evangelism. This assumes United Methodists can agree on definitions of loaded terms such as "missions" and "evangelism." Another group yearns to find common ground on issues - such as redefining marriage, or the reality of the resurrection of Jesus - on which compromises would be just as controversial as orthodoxy or modernism.

It might be necessary, he said, to offer unhappy congregations a chance to pay a fee and exit the national church's tight legal structure, receiving in return clear titles to their real estate. United Methodist leaders may have to use a word they have refused to utter - "schism."

But Schaller is convinced there is another option - creating a tent big enough to hold liberal and conservative networks within a more flexible national church. Clashing churches would agree to disagree and the denomination would allow people the freedom to put their money where their mouths are.

The result would be United Methodist conferences defined by region, ideology, cultural heritage or some combination of the above factors. Evangelicals could go ahead and form their own conference and so could others pushing for gay rights, feminism and other liberal causes. There could be a conference for Hispanic or Korean churches. Urban churches might form a network and rural churches could, too.

Perhaps, suggested Schaller, modern America is so simply too divided to allow unity in a centralized structure of church government. Yes, breaking up would be hard to do.

"What is your preference?", he asked. "Should United Methodists continue to quarrel under the roof of a relatively small tent with a shrinking number of people in that tent? A more productive approach would be to accept the growing ideological polarization as the inevitable price tag on pluralism and as a fact of contemporary American culture."

Moses, Dr. Laura and the rabbi

The Ten Commandments are so hot, right now, that its amazing some Beltway politico hasn't tried to hit Moses with a grand jury subpoena or a blast of rumors about his private life during all those mysterious years out in the desert.

America's political establishment is struggling with the implications of Commandment No. 7: "Thou shalt not commit adultery." No. 9 issues a timely warning against perjury: "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor." Meanwhile, legislators and legions of social activists are fighting over whether it's legal to post this particular top 10 list anywhere in the public square.

After all, they are called the Ten Commandments, which implies that someone - make that Someone - wants people to obey them, said Rabbi Stewart Vogel, co-author of a new book, with radio superstar Laura Schlessinger, entitled "The Ten Commandments: The Significance of God's Laws in Everyday Life." The book has gained a double-shot of momentum from the White House scandals and the Jewish High Holy Days, which conclude with Yom Kippur on Wednesday (Sept. 30).

"Without a God ... you end up with a subjective morality. There's no way around that," said the rabbi," who leads Temple Aliyah in Woodland Hills, Calif. "To believe in God is to believe that human beings are not mere accidents of nature. ... Without God, there is no objective meaning to life and there is no objective morality. I don't want to live in a world where right and wrong are subjective."

Theologians and philosophers debate these kinds of lofty issues all the time without causing a ripple in homes and shopping malls. But this book may be different, because Dr. Laura's take-few-prisoners style of family counseling has won her a loyal audience of 20 million, leading to a string of bestsellers with punchy titles such as "How Could You Do That?!"

The book grew out of several years of personal discussions, since the talk-show host is active in Vogel's synagogue. While he is a Conservative Jewish rabbi, Schlessinger and her family recently completed a complicated religious journey by converting to Orthodox Judaism. Once a fierce skeptic, she describes herself as the product of an "inter-faithless marriage" between an unbelieving Jewish father and a culturally Catholic mother.

As might be expected, the book blends two very different styles. The first-person singular voice is Dr. Laura's and she is clearly the source of the radio-based parables. But the rabbi said readers shouldn't assume that he wrote all the theological commentary, while she added doses of "real life." Schlessinger has strong viewpoints on scriptural issues, he said, and rabbis also have to deal with tough, practical problems.

"But we do tend to separate what we call 'religious life' from the kinds of issues Dr. Laura deals with day after day," said Vogel. "We end up with 'religious life' over here and 'radio life' over there and they never meet face to face. We tried to bring the two together."

Thus, the book addresses both cultural and highly personal questions. The chapter on the sixth commandment, "Thou shalt not kill," covers issues ranging from murder to abortion, from acts of self-destruction to gossip that crushes the reputation of others. When addressing idolatry and other gods, the authors spend as much time on the old-fashioned worship of success as they do on trendy gospels of self-esteem.

Hardly anyone wants to ditch the Ten Commandments, said the rabbi. Most people want their neighbors to follow the Ten Commandments, because that creates a safer, kinder, more just world in which to live. The problem is that so many people are simply too easy on themselves.

"One thing leads to another," he said. "So people commit adultery and then they have to lie to cover it up. So No. 7 leads straight to No. 9. ... And when people start lying, they are really setting themselves up as idols. So we're back to the issue of God. People are saying that they get to set up their own standards for what is right and wrong and it doesn't matter what happens to others. They put themselves in the place of God."

Dobson and Wallis sing a rare duet

It would be hard to imagine two more radically different evangelicals than Dr. James Dobson of Focus on the Family and Jim Wallis of Sojourners magazine.

One is a superstar on the Religious Right, the quietly authoritative radio counselor who has used his multimedia empire to pummel President Clinton and political progressives. The other is a veteran social activist who has fiercely criticized the political establishment from the left on economic and military issues, while needling Clinton and others from the right on social issues such as abortion.

These two voices rarely sing in harmony. But right now, Dobson and Wallis are airing strikingly similar views of the morality play in Washington, D.C.

"Never has an American president been more comfortable with the symbols of religion than Bill Clinton," notes Wallis, in a recent MSNBC commentary. "He seems at ease in any available pulpit. But as adroitly as he has used the name and word of God, Clinton has also abused it. Resignation or impeachment are the political topics now, but the real issue here is moral accountability -- for Clinton and the rest of us."

Dobson agrees that the main crisis is not in the White House. No matter what details spew out about Clinton's moral or legal conduct, most Americans seem convinced they cannot pass judgment on what is right and what is wrong in this case. Perhaps they have lost the ability to make such judgments -- period.

"I just don't understand it. Why aren't parents more concerned?", asks Dobson, in his latest letter to 2.4 million Focus on the Family supporters. "What have we taught our boys about respecting women? What have our little girls learned about men? We are facing a profound moral crisis - not only because one man has disgraced us - but because our people no longer recognize the nature of evil. And when a nation reaches that state of depravity - judgment is a certainty."

The irony is that this is precisely the kind of fiery rhetoric that Wallis and others focused on mainstream Americans during the Vietnam conflict, the Civil Rights Movement, the war on poverty and the revolutions of Central America. It made sense, a quarter of a century ago, for Wallis and other inner-city activists to start a magazine called "Post American," which evolved into Sojourners. Now, Dobson and many others on the Religious Right also sound like aliens in a strange, amoral land.

Addressing the Clinton crisis, both Wallis and Dobson say it's impossible to dismiss his affair with Monica Lewinsky as a merely "private" since it took place in the Oval Office, with the most powerful boss any government employee could have pairing off with an intern. Any academic leader, military officer, pastor, doctor or counselor who did the same thing would be fired, due to policies that have drawn support both from feminists and moral conservatives.

Dobson and Wallis also believe Americans place too much trust in glib, talented, aggressive people who spin their way to success in a media marketplace. Both worry that Americans now care less about lies and laws, simply because the economy has left them so comfortable for so long. Both fear a rising tide of cynicism.

Meanwhile, the president used a recent interfaith breakfast as a forum to preach to himself on repentance. The audience included many clergy who have prayed with Clinton throughout his tenure, including a famous Nov. 18, 1995, rite in which National Council of Churches leaders laid hands on him and asked God to bless him. It was the day after Lewinsky's second Oval Office tryst with Clinton.

Everyone would have been better off, including the many clergy who trusted him, if the president had confessed much earlier, says Wallis.

"Some of his spiritual advisors have been counseling Clinton for many months to tell the truth about this for the sake of his own soul, his family, and the nation. To mention God now has not persuaded everyone of the sincerity of the president's repentance. My religious mother --who voted for Clinton -- put it this way: 'He didn't really repent, he just got caught.' "

After the crash: Where is God?

The images of debris and death from Swissair 111 are all too familiar, as are the scenes of grieving families gazing at a distant crash site.

Four years ago, Father Thaddeus Barnum was caught up in a similar drama, when USAir flight 427 fell in a 23-second death dive into the wooded hills about a mile from his church outside Pittsburgh. The Sept. 8 crash killed 132, virtually shredded the aircraft and remains one of the great mysteries in aviation history.

After rushing to the hellish scene, Barnum became one of the few clergy allowed inside the yellow security tape to minister to the stunned investigators and rescue crews. Over and over, he rushed through the same kind of media gauntlet clergy are facing this week in Nova Scotia.

The Episcopal priest kept hearing the same question: "Why did this happen?"

"Everybody knows what that means," he said. "What they were asking was, 'Where was God? Why did God allow this to happen?' What else could that question mean?' "

After all, Barnum wasn't a mechanic, a federal investigator, a coroner or a pilot. He was just a man in a clerical collar, someone who is supposed to provide comforting answers on demand. The reporters were asking questions about the very nature of God, live and on camera.

"That's fair. We need to face tough theological questions. The problem was that they really didn't want a real answer. They wanted a sound bite," said Barnum, who wrote a book called "Where Is God in Suffering and Tragedy" about the crash. "I wanted to tell them, 'Come on. You're journalists. You cover accidents and murder and death all the time. Does a plane have to fall out of the sky for you to realize this is a sinful, fallen world?' "

Truth is, jet crashes provide today's archetypal images of sudden death and grief in a land that has little direct experience with war and mass terrorism. While heart attacks and car wrecks lurk in private nightmares, the fall of a jetliner is big news. This hits close to home, especially since millions of people regularly spend time strapped into airplane seats, thinking about life and death as the wheels leave the ground.

But life goes on. On the first anniversary of the USAir 427 crash, noted Barnum, mourners gathered at the site, waiting in silence for the clock to reach 7:03 p.m. Then the weeping was interrupted by a familiar sound - another Boeing 737 following same flight path, at exactly the same time. It was just part of the routine.

Life goes on, but the questions linger. Theologians have given a technical name - "theodicy" - to the ultimate question raised by such tragedies. Barnum states the equation bluntly in his book: "Either God caused the tragedy and is not good, or He couldn't stop it and is not all-powerful. Either way, God is less than God." One bitter rescue worker simply said, "Do me a favor when you get up in your pulpit. ... Don't let God off the hook."

There is no sound-bite answer to questions about free will, evil and the impact of sin on all of creation, said Barnum. Christianity also insists that God is not above suffering and death, but chose to experience both in human flesh. In the end, Christmas leads to Good Friday, which is followed by Easter. This answer infuriates many people, while offering hope to others.

Near the point of impact, Barnum discovered a torn human body hanging on a scorched tree on the hillside. He wept, yet this horrible sight also reminded him of the cross. It was impossible for a priest to avoid that kind of mysterious experience while wearing a decontamination suit in that particular valley of the shadow of death.

"When we went into the crash site, we were facing the facts and I guess that shocked some people," he said. "It's OK for clergy to sit on the outside and comfort the grieving families. We're allowed to offer our answers in places like that. But we're not supposed to take Jesus Christ with us inside the yellow tape where everything is broken and bloody."

The Meaning of Life 101

A new year has begun at America's 3,500 or so institutions of higher learning, which means it's time for yet another cycle of news about alcohol, sex, suicide and cheating.

As dean of the Duke University chapel, theologian William Willimon has heard more than his share of sobering statistics and angry debates about who is to blame. Instead of going around in old circles, he thinks it would be good if more educators had to sit down with students - sharing books or coffee or maybe both - and work on some big question of mutual concern.

Here's a good one: What is the meaning of life?

"The fact that many people are scared to ask that kind of question says a lot about the state of higher education," said Willimon. "People are afraid that it might lead to discussions of good and evil, of right and wrong, and we're not supposed to do that. But we need to be honest and admit there is no such thing as value-neutral education. We are teaching our students some kind of values, whether we want to or not."

So here's another good question: What is the meaning of meaninglessness?

At that point, students and teachers might find themselves talking about binge drinking, date rape, eating disorders, careerism and a legion of other issues. Willimon believes it's time for teachers to realize students need input from their elders - before it's too late.

"How can we be neutral on the role that alcohol plays on campuses?", he said. "How many people are going to have to fall off of fire escapes and die before we take this seriously? Somewhere along the line we lost our nerve, when it comes to talking about the things that matter the most."

Willimon is speaking from experience. Back in early 1990s, the theologian teamed with economist Thomas Naylor to create a freshman seminar called "The Search for Meaning." For starters, students had to write short papers about their lives. The results from a 1994 class were pretty typical. Seven of the 16 students said the event that most shaped them was their parents' divorce. Only one of the papers included any other reference to having had a father.

When it comes to meaningful relationships with adults, many students may as well be orphans, concluded Willimon and Naylor, in their book "The Abandoned Generation: Rethinking Higher Education." The irony is that most live on campuses led by adults who, when they were students, attacked "in loco parentis" policies in which the college played a protective, parental role. Thus, most educators now use what Calvinist philosopher David Hoekema has called the "non sum mater tua (I am not your mama)" approach.

Willimon and Naylor don't mince words about the result: "We have failed to teach an ethic of concern. We have created a culture characterized by dysfunctional families, mass schooling that demands only minimal effort and media idols subliminally teaching disrespect for authority and wisdom. It is as if there were a conspiracy of parents and educators to deliberately ruin our children."

But it's too late, especially on secular campuses, for "in loco parentis." Instead, they suggest an "in loco amicis" approach, in which faculty dare to play the role of wise, experienced friends. At the very least, the advertising slogan "Friends don't let friends drive drunk" could be applied to sexual promiscuity, cheating, drug abuse and other moral issues.

This would require teachers to spend more time with students in and out of the classroom, requiring changes in academic policies that stress research, over teaching. Colleges may need to find alternatives to massive dormitories that depress and depersonalize students. Administrators will have to confront painful problems instead of hiding behind public-relations officers.

Parents and religious leaders also need to realize that today's campuses are even more risky - to body, mind and spirit - than those they knew, said Willimon.

"The average campus is not a benign or neutral environment," he said. "Sometimes the paganism comes in bottles. Sometimes it comes in books. But there's no denying that it's out there. Somebody or something is going to mold these students, one way or another."

Clinton & that loaded word 'sin'

Caught in a web of news and rumors about sex games so sordid that journalists declined to report many details, the big man decided he had to speak.

"I do not plan to whitewash my sin," he said. "I take the blame. I take the fall."

The key word was "sin," when the Rev. Jimmy Swaggart set the standard for media confessions a decade ago. For 30 tear-drenched minutes he confessed sins against God, his wife, his children and his church. He even commended journalists for reporting his sins. Finally, he faced the camera and said: "I sinned against you. I beg you to forgive me."

Swaggart knew his followers needed him to repent, before they could forgive him. President Clinton is stuck with a more mysterious and divided flock. For a generation, America has been torn by culture wars over the moral status of sex outside of marriage -- affecting issues from abortion to the legal status of same-sex and live-in relationships.

The bottom line: It's hard to repent of sexual sins in your personal life when, in your political life, you're in charge of defending the sexual revolution. On sexual issues, it would be hard for Clinton to embrace the word "sin" without being accused of political blasphemy by the lifestyle left. Meanwhile, the government's sexual harassment laws are more morally conservative than the doctrines being proclaimed by some churches.

It was easy to detect these religious tensions after the president said his inappropriate relationship with intern Monica Lewinsky is now a private matter "between me, the two people I love the most and our God." Here's a sample of reactions.

* While her father, the Rev. Billy Graham, has remained politely silent, writer Anne Graham Lotz said the president "has no moral character." She was just as appalled by the public's reaction. "When I drove to this studio this morning, I had to obey all the traffic laws, the markings on the street. I couldn't crash through a red light," she told Fox News. "God's moral laws are like those traffic markings. They're for our benefit." The president, she said, is a reckless driver and "he's going to hurt himself and a lot of others, and the American people seem to stand by and cheer him on."

* The dean of Washington National (Episcopal) Cathedral praised Clinton for his efforts on behalf of women, minorities and homosexuals. But the Rev. Nathan Baxter added, in a Sunday sermon: "Our desire to keep sin private is a judgment upon all of us. Unless we acknowledge moral failing - without excuse - the soul of our nation will not heal. More importantly, our children will be even more confused as to whether the truest treasure of our common life is found in the state of the economy or the character of our moral integrity."

* As always, Clinton and other Southern Baptists have been free to disagree. The denomination's spokesman on social issues called for Clinton's resignation and suggested that former President Jimmy Carter, a Southern Baptist, be asked to serve as vice president under Southern Baptist Al Gore. "Bill Clinton looked the American people in the eye and lied to them for seven months, then refused to apologize. And there is probably worse news to come," the Rev. Richard Land told Baptist Press.

Meanwhile, a Baptist Alliance leader tried to walk a fine line, speaking to the "moderate" Associated Baptist Press. "Let's don't define morality so narrowly that only personal concerns count and at the same time let's not define morality so broadly that personal moral concerns don't count," said the Rev. C. Welton Gaddy, author of the book "Adultery and Grace."

* The president remains a Southern Baptist, but he now worships at Foundry United Methodist, his wife's church and a center for progressives. Shortly before Clinton spoke, Foundry's pastor appeared on CNN and compared him with a troubled biblical leader. "King David did something that was much worse than anything that President Clinton is alleged to have done," said the Rev. J. Philip Wogaman, referring to David's plot to kill his lover's husband. "And King David, if I read my Bible correctly, was not impeached."

Lambeth II -- The threat of new missionaries

The Rt. Rev. Richard Holloway was so upset he did something sophisticated church leaders rarely do - he said precisely what was on his mind.

The Anglican primate of Scotland told reporters he felt "lynched," "gutted" and "shafted" when Anglican bishops assembled at Canterbury strongly affirmed centuries of doctrine that sex outside of marriage is sin. This was a stunning blow for bishops who support gay rights in pulpits and pews. Thus, Holloway lashed out at the Africans and Asians who dominated the vote.

"We tried to understand that they live in Islamic countries and therefore Islamify Christianity, making it more severe, Protestant and legalistic," he said.

Holloway could not have tossed a more infuriating verbal grenade at the African and Asian bishops, many of whose families and flocks had been torn in bitter conflicts in the Sudan, Uganda, Pakistan, Indonesia and elsewhere. But he didn't stop there, as he addressed the major role that Two-Thirds World bishops are beginning to play in Anglican affairs. They must learn to use reason, he said, not just simple displays of authority, if they want to change minds in "northern Atlantic" and other "post-traditionalist" societies.

Perhaps the Africans and Asians weren't to blame. Perhaps they were manipulated by American conservatives who wooed them with free barbecues, strategic advice and technological support throughout the 13th Lambeth Conference, a once-a-decade gathering that ended on Aug. 9. Holloway wasn't alone in suggesting many had been swayed by "chicken dinners."

Archbishop Emmanuel Kolini of Rwanda wasn't amused at the charge. "We have chicken back home in Africa, you know," he told the Christian Challenge. "Only one thing bought me and still buys me, and that's the cross and nothing else."

Actually, lobbyists on both sides worked overtime. The left said conservatives waved money at bishops from lands that desperately lack resources. Activists on the right said many in the Anglican establishment were poised to cut mission grants to bishops who rejected the ordination of women and other modernization efforts.

Meanwhile, conservative groups did share a high-tech headquarters. While they cornered bishops during dinners and seminars at the Franciscan Centre, progressives pushed the gay- rights cause during open-bar sessions at Canterbury's Bishop's Finger pub. Also, the First World enjoyed its usual advantage in the Lambeth staff offices. As Lambeth veterans say -- Americans pay, Africans pray and the British write the resolutions.

It's reasonable for the left to feel threatened, right now. Africans and Asians are considering traveling to the First World as missionaries, to pray at altars supposedly under the jurisdiction of other bishops. Thus, Anglicanism's old guard won a key victory when the Lambeth conference voted, in its final business session, to urge bishops not to invade each other's dioceses. The resolution urged primates to remind bishops in their provinces not to "exercise episcopal or pastoral ministry within another diocese without first obtaining the permission ... of the ecclesiastical authority thereof."

This was part of an effort to convince Bishop John Rucyahana of Shyira, Rwanda, to cancel an upcoming visit to one of his missions - the newborn St. Andrews Church in Little Rock, Ark. Shortly after the diocesan-borders resolution passed, Rucyahana said he would take the vote seriously. However, he also said, "we must defend the Bible and the doctrines of our church, above all else. We will find some kind of strategy to do this."

Early this week, Father Thomas Johnston said he has been assured his African bishop will visit his flock in Little Rock on Sept. 20, whether Arkansas Bishop Larry Maze and U.S. Presiding Bishop Frank Tracy Griswold III want him to or not. Ironically, Newark Bishop Jack Spong -- who recently rejected theism, the resurrection and other basic Christian doctrines -- will be in town, with Maze's blessing, on the same weekend.

"So we will have two episcopal visitors in Little Rock," noted Johnston. "Bishop John will represent the clear direction set by the Anglican Communion, as expressed at Canterbury. Bishop Spong represents a 180-degree turn away from Lambeth. ... We couldn't ask for a more symbolic pair of visitors, now could we?"

Lambeth: Doctrine and diversity

CANTERBURY - As television crews zoomed in, a Nigerian bishop and a British gay-rights activist demonstrated why it's so hard to operate a totally inclusive church.

Facing demonstrators at the 13th global Lambeth Conference, Anglican Bishop Emmanuel Chukwuma urgently offered prayers of healing for Richard Kirker of the Lesbian and Gay Christian Movement. Kirker insisted he did not need to repent, since God had made him gay. In a gesture as old as the apostles, the Nigerian tried to place a hand on Kirker's head to pray for him. The gay-rights leader caught the bishop's hand and held it aloft, their black and white fingers intertwined in a grip that was not a symbol of unity.

"Jesus will deliver you!" shouted the bishop.

Tensions were high last week, as Anglican bishops debated and then passed a resolution saying that sex outside of marriage, including gay sex, is "incompatible with scripture" and urging a ban on same-sex unions and the ordination of non-celibate homosexuals.

There were two ways to look at this once-a-decade gathering that brought nearly 750 bishops to Canterbury, Anglicanism's symbolic heart. Leaders of a powerful new conservative coalition, mostly Africans, Asians and a few bishops from England and America, were convinced they had prevented a global schism. Leaders of the Anglican establishment were stunned, yet left comforted by the knowledge that Lambeth votes are advisory. The vote on the pivotal resolution on marriage and sex was 526 in favor, with 70 opposed and 45 abstentions.

Tensions between the First World churches and those in the rapidly growing Two-Thirds World -- especially between Americans and Africans -- touched almost every event here.

The Americans portrayed themselves as leaders of a living church, one evolving to minister to the modern world. The Africans, they whispered, represent the past -- a church chained to traditional views of creeds and scriptures. The Africans said it is their church that is alive, bringing waves of believers into jam-packed sanctuaries. Trendy Americans, they suggested, are married to the present.

In the final Eucharist, Archbishop of Canterbury George Carey stated the obvious.

"We know what it is to move from a diversity which can be delighted in and celebrated, so something quite different: a differing from each other which gathers heat and turns into a very painful dispute," said Carey, an evangelical who backed traditional teachings on sex. "It is so easy to demonize one another when that happens and to part company in the family."

Africans and Asians stressed that they welcome diversity, especially in culture, worship and church leadership. But they clearly consider diversity a bad word, when applied to basic doctrinal issues - such as biblical authority, the resurrection or defining the Sacrament of Marriage.

It is their highly traditional churches that gaining power, while the First World's numbers are stagnant or declining. At this point, the Church of England may have 26 million members, but only a million in pews each week. But England had 100-plus bishops at Lambeth. The Episcopal Church has only 2 million members - but nearly 180 votes. By contrast, Africans have infinitely smaller financial resources and, thus, fewer dioceses and bishops.

But this is changing. First-World progressives showed signs of frustration at Lambeth.

Newark Bishop John Spong, in a taped interview, said many Africans have "moved out of animism into a very superstitious kind of Christianity," failing even to grasp the "intellectual revolution of Copernicus and Einstein." The Church of England Newspaper put a bold headline on its story: "African Christians? They're just one step up from witchcraft." When asked if Africans might be offended, Spong added: "If they feel patronized that's too bad. I'm not going to cease to be a 20th-Century person for fear of offending somebody in the Third World."

African bishops were stunned. Spong issued a weak apology, while most Americans were silent. Bishop Alexis Bilindabagabo of Rwanda wondered if many Anglican churches still share the same faith, with a common view of tradition and scripture.

"The wider our family becomes, the more you want to have something in common," he said, in one debate. "When you talk about sin in certain places, it has ceased to exist. When you talk about repentance in certain places, it has ceased to exist."