George Lucas, the Force and God

A long time ago, in a movie multiplex not so far away, a child looked up and asked: "Mom, Dad, is the Force the same thing as God?"

Children have been asking that question for 20 years. The simple answer is "yes." But this raises another question: Which god or God is at the center of the "Star Wars" universe?

The trilogy's creator was well aware that his work invaded turf traditionally reserved for parents, priests and preachers. George Lucas wrote "Star Wars" shortly after the cultural revolution of the '60s. He sensed a spiritual void.

"I wanted it to be a traditional moral study, to have some sort of palpable precepts in it that children could understand," said Lucas, in a recent New Yorker interview. "There is always a lesson to be learned. ... Traditionally, we get them from church, the family, art and in the modern world we get them from the media – from movies."

Lucas set out to create a modern mythology to teach right and wrong. The result was a fusion of "Flash Gordon Conquers the Universe" and Joseph Campbell's "The Hero with a Thousand Faces," of Arthurian legends and Japanese samurai epics, of Carlos Castaneda's "Tales of Power" and the Narnia tales of C.S. Lewis. Along the way, Lucas sold $1.3 billion worth of tickets and "Star Wars" merchandise sales have topped $4 billion. Now, a revamped "Star Wars" is back in theaters, to be followed by its sequels, "The Empire Strikes Back" and "The Return of the Jedi." A trilogy of "prequels" is set to begin in 1999.

The impact of Lucas' work has led some researchers to speak in terms of a "Star Wars" generation. A modern preacher who wants to discuss self sacrifice will be understood by more people if he refers to the death of Jedi knight Obi Wan Kenobi, rather than that of St. Stephen.

"It was natural that my generation would latch on to these stories," said Jason Ruspini, webmaster of the unofficial "Star Wars Home Page," one of nearly 1,000 "Star Wars" Internet sites. "They were much more attractive and appropriate than the ancient myths of Judeo-Christian theology. How could these draconian and antiquated stories possibly compete with the majesty and scope of the Star Wars universe?"

Lucas grew up in the 1950s in Modesto, Calif., reading comics, escaping to movies and watching TV. Although he attended a Methodist church with his family, biographer Dale Pollock notes that he was turned off by the "self-serving piety" of Sunday school. Lucas also visited the housekeeper's German Lutheran congregation, where he was impressed by the elaborate rituals.

Traces of these experiences are woven into his work. "The message of `Star Wars' is religious: God isn't dead, he's there if you want him to be," writes Pollock, in his book "Skywalking." Lucas puts it this way: "The laws really are in yourself."

The faith in "Star Wars" is hard to label. The Force is defined as "an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us." It contains both good and evil. Jedi master Yoda clearly teaches a form of Buddhism. Yet the Lucas liturgy also proclaims "May the Force be with you," a variation on the Christian phrase "May the Lord be with you." The plot includes other symbols and themes from biblical faith. Lucas has embraced both "passive Oriental philosophies and the Judeo- Christian ethic of responsibility and self-sacrifice," according to Pollock.

Thus, some Christians hail "Star Wars" as evidence of a cultural search for moral absolutes. On the World Wide Web, others use the films as glowing icons that teach Eastern philosophy. Welcome to the theological mall.

At the end of Pollock's book, Lucas acknowledges that, by setting his goals so high, he is asking to be judged by very high standards. The creator of "Star Wars" explains that one of his least favorite fantasies is about what will happen when he dies. Perhaps, he said, he will come face to face with God and hear these words: "You've had your chance and you blew it. Get out."

Truth is Marching?

As governor of Arkansas, Bill Clinton spent many of his Sunday mornings in the choir at Little Rock's Immanuel Baptist Church.

Thus, President Clinton beamed with pride as his choir mates performed the "Battle Hymn of the Republic" after his second inaugural address. The anthem was so familiar that many in this elite congregation may have missed its ironic message.

"He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat," sang the choir, within shouting distance of the U.S. Supreme Court. "He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat. ... Our God is marching on."

Inaugurations are the holy days of what historians call "civil religion," which blends references to God and country into a vague, lowest-common-denominator faith. Julia Ward Howe's hymn remains popular at events of this kind, even though it includes explicit references to Christ, God's wrath, the crucifixion and other sensitive subjects. In one verse the men repeatedly sing, without apology: "Truth is marching."

Suffice it to say that people have gotten into trouble for singing much tamer songs at graduation ceremonies and other public rites. Today, the very concept of truth is controversial.

Moments before the choir sang, President Clinton warned against the dangers of religious extremism. The wrong kind of faith leads directly to division and conflict, he said. "The challenge of our past remains the challenge of our future. ... Will we all come together, or come apart?"

While focusing initially on racism, the president clearly had other targets in mind – all critics of cultural and moral pluralism. It was hard to miss this shot at the Religious Right.

"Prejudice and contempt, cloaked in the pretense of religious or political conviction are no different," he said. "These forces have nearly destroyed our nation in the past. They plague us still. ... We cannot, we will not, succumb to the dark impulses that lurk in the far regions of the soul everywhere. We shall overcome them. And we shall replace them with the generous spirit of a people who feel at home with one another."

Despite that touch of optimism, there is little evidence in the polls that America's conflicts will end any time soon on issues ranging from late-term abortions to physician-assisted suicide, from tax-funded safe-sex programs to legislation attempting to define the meaning of marriage.

The U.S. Supreme Court has been asked to provide secular answers to the kinds of sacred questions that for centuries belonged to theologians. People on both sides of the philosophical aisle agree that the court crossed a crucial line in its 1992 Planned Parenthood v. Casey decision on abortion rights.

"Our obligation is to define the liberty of all, not to mandate our own moral code," said the court. It then defined "liberty" in the broadest possible language and tied this new definition to the 14th Amendment. "At the heart of liberty is the right to define one's own concept of existence, of meaning, of the universe, and of the mystery of human life," said the court.

Many asked if this made it unconstitutional to say that any actions are "right" and others "wrong." What if individuals decide that euthanasia, polygamy, infanticide or cocaine is essential to their concepts of "existence," "meaning" or selfhood? What if government enforcement of an individual's liberty leads to actions that threaten or injure others?

Evangelical activist Charles Colson pointedly asked if the court had shredded the nation's social contract. It is highly likely that Colson, and others, will be asked to march onto Capitol Hill during the next four years and argue their case in public.

"People of different beliefs -br from Christians to atheists to New Agers -br may disagree vehemently over the meaning of life; yet we can all agree to stop when the traffic signal is red," he argued, in Christianity Today. "The distinction between private belief and public philosophy is crucial if we are to maintain public order. But it is precisely this distinction that Casey denied. It simply ... transferred the most fundamental decisions about life and death to the purely private realm."

Carl Sagan: TV Evangelist

While he often played the role of scientific high priest, the late Carl Sagan didn't own a set of liturgical vestments.

Thus, he wore his academic regalia as he ascended into the pulpit of New York's Cathedral of St. John the Divine on Oct. 3, 1993, the Feast of St. Francis. The rite for the day – the ``Missa Gaia (Earth Mass)'' – included taped cries of wolves and whales and a procession featuring an elephant, a camel, a vulture, a swarm of bees and a bowl of blue-green algae. Musicians sang praises to Ra, Ausar and other gods, as well as to Jehovah.

The astronomer was right at home, weaving threads of science into a mystical litany – while remaining light years from theism.

"Life fills every nook and cranny of our planet's surface," said Sagan. "There are bacteria in the upper air, jumping spiders at the tops of the highest mountains, sulfur-metabolizing worms in the deep ocean trenches and heat-loving microbes kilometers below the surface of the land. Almost all of these beings are in intimate contact. They eat and drink one another, breathe each other's waste gases, inhabit one another's bodies. ... They have generated a web of mutual dependence and interaction that embraces the planet."

After his death on Dec. 20, Sagan was praised for his work as director of Cornell University's Laboratory for Planetary Studies, as a Pulitzer Prize- winning author and as an apologist for science on public television. He was the rare intellectual who could trade gags with Johnny Carson.

Truth is, Sagan was a talented "TV evangelist," said Robert C. Newman, who, while he has a Cornell doctorate in astrophysics, teaches at Biblical Theological Seminary in Hatfield, Pa. Sagan even opened his most famous programs with an unbeliever's creed: "The Cosmos is all that is or ever was or ever will be."

"Now, by Sagan's own definition of the methodology of science, this is not a scientific statement. This is a religious statement," said Newman, in a 1981 lecture at Cornell. Sagan could not have researched everything in the past and it's impossible to do lab work in the future. Thus, "the Cosmos is all that is," must be considered a "faith statement," said Newman.

After the Mass at St. John the Divine, I asked Sagan whether his religious views had evolved in recent years. Was he, perhaps, trying to create a kind of modern deism or some fusion of science and Eastern spirituality?

Sagan said that while some of his images may have changed, he continued to reject the notion of a transcendent God that existed outside the world, universe or cosmos.

"I remain inexorably opposed to any kind of revealed religion and reject any talk of a personal god," said Sagan, while posing for news crews with clergy on the cathedral steps. "But millions of people believe in a god that is not that kind of god." Using the classic image of a divine watchmaker, he added: "Some might say, for example, that there is some kind of force or power in the watch – a set of laws, perhaps. Then the watch creates itself. I'm more comfortable with that kind of language."

In his novel, "Contact," Sagan was very specific about which religions can embrace this concept, and which cannot. In a debate with a Christian, his protagonist explains why she rejects belief in the God of Judaism, Christianity and Islam.

"When I say I'm an agnostic, I only mean that the evidence isn't in," says astronomer Eleanor Arroway, who will be played by actress Jodie Foster in an upcoming Hollywood movie. "There isn't compelling evidence that God exists – at least your kind of god – and there isn't compelling evidence that he doesn't." By the end of the book, Sagan's heroine accepts that the universe was "made on purpose" and contains evidence of an "artist's signature."

At that point, said Newman, Sagan may have been "dabbling with the concept of a god. ... He may even have been moving toward some form of pantheism. It's hard to tell. What we do know is that he remained totally opposed to the God of the Bible."

Jimmy Carter and the Politics of Sin

In the beginning there was candidate Jimmy Carter, facing waves of reporters demanding an answer to the urgent question: What exactly is a "born-again Christian?"

Most political insiders were shocked to learn that millions of evangelicals, fundamentalists, Pentecostals, charismatics and even some people in historic-church pews fit under this theological umbrella. Most of these folks even planned to vote.

There were more plot twists ahead. The born-again crowd wasn't well organized – yet. Also, many evangelicals didn't want this particular Southern Baptist in the White House, while others cheered him on. It was all very complex and most journalists acted as if the Martians had landed. The earth moved.

"When I ran in 1976 ... the Moral Majority, so called, Jerry Falwell and them, were not even known. I mean, it was a tiny little movement," said Carter. "Somebody told me, once when I was on the campaign trail, that there was a fellow named Jerry Falwell who was criticizing my Christian beliefs. I didn't know who he was."

Soon, Falwell was on the cover of Time and the media had discovered the Religious Right. Meanwhile, many on the left asked how Carter could mix evangelicalism and politics. Many on the right said his faith wasn't influencing his politics enough.

Today, these debates rage on. While Carter remains a strong supporter of church-state separation, he said he never has understood how anyone can expect politicians to make this kind of division at the personal level. This issue is at the heart of "Living Faith," the former president's introspective new book.

"You can't separate one's own religious faith from your experiences if you're a classroom teacher, or if you're a medical doctor, or if you're a lawyer, or if you have a job in a grocery store," he said. "I never have found any serious disharmony between my own religious faith, which has fluctuated during my lifetime in its sincerity or fervency, ... (and) with my responsibilities as a senator, or governor or president."

Nevertheless, Carter's 11th book contains many references to the religious tensions that shaped his years in the White House and afterwards – from his chat with Playboy about sexual temptation to theological lessons learned in Middle East diplomacy. He also discusses his agonizing internal debates over abortion, his military career and other issues of life and death.

It will surprise no one that "Living Faith" includes many criticisms of the Religious Right. Obviously, Carter said he doesn't mind that Christians have become more politically active. But he does worry that some evangelical superstars appear to have become more interested in government policies than in asking people to repent of their sins. For example, many act as if homosexuality is the single greatest problem facing America, while avoiding sins – statistically – affect many more people in church pews.

For example, writes Carter, "almost all Protestants, including those allied with the Christian Right, will now acknowledge divorce as an acceptable choice for unhappy couples, and they rarely speak out against `fornication' or adultery, although Jesus repeatedly condemned these acts." He notes that the church has fallen silent on other lifestyle issues that threaten millions, such as "smoking, improper diet, lack of exercise, sexual promiscuity, carelessness with firearms and driving while intoxicated."

It may actually be easier for religious leaders to avoid clarity today than it is for politicians – who are finding it harder and harder to hide. Carter found it especially ironic that Pat Robertson choose to publicly address some of the moral and ethical issues in his own life when he ran for president in 1988. Apparently, no such clarifications were needed when he was merely a powerful Christian broadcaster and educator.

It's important for Christians to be active in the public square, said Carter. But it's even more important for believers to face tough issues in their private lives.

"We are all," stressed Carter, "inclined as human beings to condemn people who commit sins of which we are not guilty. That's human nature."n the beginning there was candidate Jimmy Carter, facing waves of reporters demanding an answer to the urgent question: What exactly is a "born-again Christian?"

Most political insiders were shocked to learn that millions of evangelicals, fundamentalists, Pentecostals, charismatics and even some people in historic-church pews fit under this theological umbrella. Most of these folks even planned to vote.

There were more plot twists ahead. The born-again crowd wasn't well organized – yet. Also, many evangelicals didn't want this particular Southern Baptist in the White House, while others cheered him on. It was all very complex and most journalists acted as if the Martians had landed. The earth moved.

It's important for Christians to be active in the public square, said Carter. But it's even more important for believers to face tough issues in their private lives.

"We are all," stressed Carter, "inclined as human beings to condemn people who commit sins of which we are not guilty. That's human nature."

Oil, Blood, Money and Ink

Moments after celebrating the 70th anniversary of the first Chinese bishops consecrated in Rome, John Paul II delivered an emotional message to his suffering flock in China.

The underground church is a "precious pearl," he said, in a Dec. 3 broadcast into China on Manila's Radio Veritas. The pope praised the 6 million or more who refuse to surrender and join "a church that corresponds neither to the will of Christ, nor to the Catholic faith."

This was a clear reference to China's state-run Catholic Patriotic Association and the latest sign that John Paul won't surrender in China or Hong Kong. Still, his words drew little media attention. Few U.S. publications have much room, today, for international news and religion news remains a low priority. Thus, it would be hard to name a subject with less journalistic sex appeal than religion news on the other side of the world.

Meanwhile, China is cracking down – closing many secret parishes and jailing clergy, including at least four bishops. Last fall, reports circulated about more attacks on China's 60 million or more underground evangelicals, while officials circulated a wanted list of 4,000 illegal pastors.

"It's hard to get precise numbers. ... But all the reports agree: more Christians are in jail in China because of their faith than in any other nation in the world," said Jeff Taylor of Compass Direct, a news service that covers global religious issues.

Recently, he noted, his Hong Kong reporter showed a Chinese leader a Far East Economic Review cover that said "God is Back." The Beijing official replied, off the record: "If God had the face of a 70-year-old man, we wouldn't care if he was back. But he has the face of millions of 20-year-olds, so we are very worried."

The China crisis was one of many in 1996. Christians were slaughtered in Indonesia and East Timor, where Catholic Bishop Carlos Filip Ximenes Belo was given the Nobel Peace Prize. Yet another Protestant leader was murdered in Iran. The slave trade continued in Sudan. Terrorists kept killing Catholic priests in Algeria. In Kuwait, Christians remained in hiding.

The oil keeps flowing from many of these nations, mixed with blood. Markets are growing, and so are the graveyards. What this story needs is a political hook to yank it into the headlines.

Last year, a coalition of religious conservatives and human rights activists convinced Congress to hold hearings on religious persecution. This year, the subject may surface in confirmation hearings for Secretary of State-nominee Madeline Albright. Also, Republicans may ask about the persecution of Christians in China and Indonesia, while digging into White House fundraising efforts among that region's amoral entrepreneurs.

But words are no longer enough, said conservative Jewish activist Michael Horowitz. It's time to pass laws similar to those used against the former Soviet Union in the 1980s. Clues to the shape of this legislation can be seen in a 1996 "Statement of Conscience" by the National Association of Evangelicals, which called for:

– "Public acknowledgment of today's widespread and mounting anti-Christian persecution," including a presidential address, the appointment of a White House advisor on the issue and detailed rules for U.S. diplomats on how to deal with persecution claims.

– "More fully documented and less politically edited" reports from the State Department's Human Rights Bureau. Human rights officers could, for example, be required to research claims of persecution, rather than choosing an "option of silence" in their annual reports.

– Cessation of the Immigration and Naturalization Service's "indifferent," "occasionally hostile" and often unreported handling of asylum petitions by refugees fleeing religious persecution.

– And, finally, the "termination of non-humanitarian foreign assistance to countries that fail to take vigorous action to end anti-Christian or other religious persecution."

"We're not talking about utopia," said Horowitz, a senior fellow at the Hudson Institute in Washington, D.C. "In the 1980s, no one could stand up and vote in favor of persecuting Soviet Jews. That's what has to happen now, if we're going to stop China and these other regimes from murdering and torturing Christians."