The Southern Baptist Name Game

The more Baptist Standard editor Toby Druin thought about all the new titles he kept typing, the more ironic they became.

In June, the Southern Baptist Convention officially begins operating under a "Covenant for a New Century," a corporate reorganization plan that collapses its 19 agencies into 12. The name of almost every bureaucracy will be affected - except for the one at the top of the chart. This inspired a semi-serious Druin editorial in the weekly newspaper for Texas Baptists.

"I have always opposed the thought of changing the name of the Southern Baptist Convention," he wrote. "But doesn't it sound a bit strange to say 'missionaries of the INTERNATIONAL Mission Board of the SOUTHERN Baptist Convention' or 'missionaries of the NORTH AMERICAN Mission Board of the SOUTHERN Baptist Convention'?"

America's largest non-Catholic flock has certainly outgrown its Civil War-era name. In this case, it also might be a good marketing move to change the franchise name on thousands of signs from coast to coast and around the world. The Southern Baptist name hasn't exactly been baptized in good publicity during the past two decades, as "fundamentalists" and "moderates" fought a bitter war of words over the authority, or "inerrancy" of the Bible.

Druin knows it would be almost impossible to pass a motion to change the SBC's name. That's why he could get away with the heresy of joking about it.

"I think they ought to change the name to the International Baptist Convention," he said. "Then at some point - when we get ready to start mission work on other planets - we could switch to the Interstellar Baptist Convention. ... That way, the initials would stay the same and we wouldn't even have to change the logo."

This is serious business. Nationwide, denominational loyalty is at an all-time low. Forget "Southern" – legions of churches are taking "Baptist" off their signs. Meanwhile, the doctrinal land mines of the late 20th Century are causing new splits in once major bodies. For example, the Episcopal Church is not the same as the Charismatic Episcopal Church, the Reformed Episcopal Church, the Evangelical Episcopal Church or the Anglican Catholic Church in America.

To make matters worse for Southern Baptists, most of the other obvious adjectives have already been claimed. The Yankees already own the rights to "American" – even though there are many more Southern Baptist churches north of the Mason-Dixon Line than there are American Baptist churches in the South. Another appropriate name would be "conservative" - except that evangelicals who long ago fled the American Baptist fold have already claimed it.

"National" Baptists? Taken. "North American" Baptists? Taken. "Primitive" Baptists? Taken. "Free-Will" Baptists? Taken. "Cooperative" Baptists? Taken. "Independent" Baptists? Obviously, that's been taken.

One of the SBC's old lions, the Rev. W.A. Criswell of Dallas, once jokingly suggested jumping in the opposite direction and using "Cosmic Baptist Convention," noted conservative historian Timothy George of Samford University's Beeson Divinity School.

"Seriously, it's easy to focus on the issue of names and all of the fragmentation that's taking place," said George. "Or you can look at it the other way and say that the most important thing that's happening, today, is the way so many churches – conservative churches as well – are realigning and working together, no matter what the name is on the front of their building."

Another major Baptist trend has been an emphasis on the power of pastors and people at the grassroots, said moderate historian Bill Leonard of Wake Forest University's new divinity school. Thus, an appropriate name might be the Populist Baptist Convention. Meanwhile, SBC leaders know that they have rolled the dice by daring to change as many names as they have.

"When you talk about the Foreign Mission Board and the Brotherhood Commission and the Christian Life Commission, you're talking about names that are deeply rooted in the identities and the psyches of your people out there at the grassroots," he said. "It's tough to make those kinds of changes, especially in an era when denominational loyalties are so shaky anyway. ... Believe me, Southern Baptists are not folks who welcome changes, anyway."

A Unitarian Generation Gap

No collection of religious humor would be complete without some Unitarian jokes featuring punch lines about this elite flock's love of esoteric seminars, stodgy foreign sedans, left-wing causes and wine-and-cheese parties.

Above all, Unitarians cherish their reputation as open-minded, tolerant souls. Still, the Rev. Forrest Church knows that sometimes even a Unitarian minister can go too far.

The senior minister of New York City's historic Church of All Souls ends his services with a benediction that begins with: "And now, in our going, may God bless and keep us. May the light of God shine upon us, and out from within us, and be gracious unto us, and bring us peace." While his church has grown accustomed to hearing the word "God," he has heard negative feedback in other Unitarian settings.

"I used to get booed when I would visit other churches," said Church. "That doesn't happen much, these days. The idea of using the word 'God' in a benediction isn't as radical as it used to be. ... I get away with God language with impunity, now."

Yes, spirituality is so hot in America today that even the Unitarians are talking about God and some even advocate talking to God. This has created interesting tensions in a denomination that has, for generations, served as the official left border of mainline religion in America.

The Boston-based Unitarian Universalist Association was born in 1961 when the Unitarians, who reject the Christian doctrine of the Trinity, merged with the Universalists, who believe God saves all people, no matter what they believe or do. The association currently has 210,000 members and more than 1000 churches. While much has been written about the decline of liberal Protestantism, Unitarian Universalists have enjoyed 15 years of modest growth. There have been growing pains.

"The Unitarians of the '50s and '60s were people who turned to us as a way of escaping other churches," said Church. "It was like they were deep-sea divers trying to swim up out of the depths of traditional religion. The Unitarian Church was like a decompression chamber where they could stop – half way to the surface – to keep from getting the bends."

Asked to describe their beliefs, these Unitarians defiantly testify about the doctrines they no longer believe. Thus, this entrenched older generation tends to shun rites, symbols and most religious language. In a strange twist of fate, these older Unitarians have become – relatively speaking – the conservatives who fidget with sweaty palms as a new generation of seekers enters the pews and pulpits, eager to explore new spiritual frontiers.

"What we are seeing today is an influx of people who are escaping from secularism," said Church. "These are people who are coming to us because they want to be more religious than they were before – not less religious. ... That's a switch."

The newcomers often bring with them religious trends from mass media and the mall. Many want to experience the presence of God, the goddess or some other god to be named later. Meanwhile, the old guard distrusts talk-TV mystics almost as much as Christian televangelists. It's hard for iconoclasts who fled the supernatural worldview of evangelicalism or Catholicism to say "amen" when youngsters launch into sermons about the supernatural powers of Mother Earth.

Church said he isn't worried about the advent of a "Unitarian paganism," but does reject many assumptions of the modern human-potential movements. In his most recent book, "Life Lines: Holding on (and Letting Go)," he argues that much of the New Age movement is rooted in an ancient gnosticism that tells believers to deny their pain, tap their inner powers, ignore the needs of others and, thus, achieve liberation.

"There are people out there who are suckers for anything that advertises itself as a source of ultimate religious truth – so long as it isn't attached to a traditional religion," said Church. "They end up denying the reality of evil and suffering and death. Ironically, these subjects are at the heart of the questions that Unitarians want to encourage people to keep asking."

My e-mail: Silly, Sobering or Both

When I moved to the Appalachian Mountains, I briefly worried that it would be hard to write a national religion column based in this somewhat remote region.

Well, the experts are right when they say it matters less and less where you locate your mailbox, telephone, fax machine and computer modem. Last year, I marked this column's birthday by trying to dig out my desk. Now, I'll start year 10 by trying to thin my digital files. Some of these e-mail items are silly and some sobering. Some are both.

* In 1998, the national Southern Baptist Convention meets in (cue: drum roll) – Salt Lake City. This raises all kinds of apocalyptic questions, such as: What happens if the Baptists do their traditional door-to-door evangelism blitz? That could get interesting on Mormon turf. Also, visitors often whine about Utah's shortage of bars. The Baptists will love its many, many ice cream parlors.

* The London Daily Telegraph reported – under the headline, "The seed of the church" – that the World Council of Churches has received assurances that Zimbabwe will not enforce its laws against homosexual acts when the council meets in Harare next year.

* The Protestant sex wars rage on. In her book "Our Selves, Our Souls and Bodies," the Episcopal Church's youth ministry leader offered this core doctrine: "You are holy. Sexuality is good. Sexuality is powerful. You are not alone. You must take responsibility." Some noted that Rev. Sheryl Kujawa's credo didn't mention virginity, marriage, sin or repentance.

* Out in California, the La Casa de La Luz center's offerings included this fusion of Druidic, Wiccan and Catholic themes: "Rekindling the Sacred Feminine: Come celebrate Beltane with us. This is a celebration of rebirth and cleansing, as we travel with Mother Earth, Mary the Mother of Jesus, Sophia and the collective sacred feminine." Oh, to have a travel budget.

* Some members of England's United Reformed Church believe that, instead of a cross, Christianity's symbol should be a fish, a candle, a flower or an egg. One church media specialist noted that "while crosses spell death, eggs betoken life."

* Reporters are used to religious liberals forming coalitions. Some of today's most interesting interfaith work is on the right. One Orthodox wit suggested this slogan: "Enemies of ecumenism unite."

* After 40 books and decades of research, the Rev. Lyle Schaller knows that churches' deeds often do not match their words. While the United Methodist Church has proclaimed its desire to grow, he recently wrote that its "operational'' policies have emphasized adding small churches, shrinking large churches, doubling the number of clergy, shrinking the number of missionaries, increasing the size of denominational bureaucracies and courting those born before 1945. The system, he said, assumes that "Christian people in general, and congregational leaders in particular, cannot be trusted."

* Readers passed along several Ebonics versions of "The Lord's Prayer." No, I do not what to share them.

* CNN czar Ted Turner upset many folks when he said the Heaven's Gate tragedy was "a good way to get rid of a few nuts." Few noted his theological commentary on the Hale-Bopp comet: "I've been looking at it. I would kinda like to go up there myself. I mean, is that much different from other religions that say you're going to heaven?"

* As each "Simpsons" episode begins, bad-boy Bart is shown writing a new phrase over and over on a school chalkboard. My all-time favorite: "I will not carve gods."

* As a pastor's son, the following anonymous piece rang true for me. "If a pastor preaches over 12 minutes, he's a windbag; if his sermon is short, he came unprepared. ... If he visits church members in their homes, he's nosy; if he doesn't, he's a snob and doesn't care. If he's young, he's not experienced; if he's old, he should retire. If he lives, the pastor at the church down the block is a better preacher and counselor than he is; if he dies, there was nobody like him and his equal will never be seen again."

And all the people said, "Amen."

Is TV about to get Religion

Another Easter season has come and gone, with the usual flurry of religion stories on newsstands, religious images on TV screens and more research reports asking why elite media tend to ignore, botch or bash religion the rest of the year.

"God on prime-time television is like God in American culture: submerged most of the time, emerging only as a guest star whose appearance is rarely announced," stated Jack Miles, author of "God: A Biography," in TV Guide's "God and Television" cover story.

This statement actually illustrates the problem. It's unlikely that any pollster or politician would agree that religion's power is "submerged" in American life. Out in fly-over country, religion tends to sit right out in the open. If religion is a sub-plot in the American drama, it's because folks in Los Angeles and New York rarely aim cameras at it.

This can been seen in the data in what has become another rite of spring - the conservative Media Research Center's "Faith in a Box" research report. Last year, the center's content-analysis team found a mere 436 references to faith - anything from a punch line to a plot line - in the commercial broadcast networks' entertainment offerings. Still, the numbers have risen nearly 400 percent in four years.

"The good news is that shows like 'Touched by an Angel,' 'Promised Land,' '7th Heaven' and others depict religion and faith positively," said actor Dean Jones, in a Los Angeles press conference statement. "The bad news ... is that nearly seven out of 10 laypeople – people like me – are portrayed negatively on prime-time television."

TV Guide says viewers want to see more religion and "moral" messages, with 56 percent of the adults polled saying that faith does not receive enough attention in prime time. Turning the question around, 68 percent said they wanted to see more "spirituality" - as opposed to specific "organized religions" - on television.

So why don't they? For years, most conservative critics have pointed to a wealth of poll data indicating that media gatekeepers are either ignorant or apathetic about religion, or biased against traditional religion and strongly religious people. However, I'm convinced at least three other factors are also at work.

* Perhaps religion is too complex. Many of religion's most powerful images and themes are rooted in intricate beliefs held by those in specific sets of pews. The more profound the belief, the more likely it is to be jargon to outsiders. It would, for example, be hard to stop the flow of an apocalyptic drama and explain the mind-numbing distinctions between conservative Protestant doctrines about the end of the world. That would even be hard on the "X-Files" or "Millennium."

* Perhaps Hollywood's brand of religion doesn't play in Peoria. Most religion on television centers on inspiring stories that tug at the heart strings, while avoiding all doctrinal ties that bind. This may appeal to many, but it also offends millions of viewers whose beliefs are rock solid. Vague or modernized doctrine is still doctrine. Thus, it's hard to appeal to New Agers and Southern Baptists at the same time. An inspiring story about a female rabbi will appeal to many Jews, but make others furious.

* Perhaps conservatives don't walk their talk. After all, researcher George Barna and others have noted that media habits in households that claim to be highly religious aren't radically different from their more secular counterparts. Legions of Christian consumers who claim to want uplifting dramas about missionaries may, in reality, prefer to watch "Friends," Disney, MTV and the Atlanta Braves with everyone else. Odds are that the media lives of folks in households that each contain four TVs and VCRs – one for Mom, Dad, Johnny and Jane – are going to be similar whether the occupants are agnostics or born again.

Perhaps the best answer is "all of the above," or some other unsettling combination of these factors. But stay tuned, because debates about ratings and religion will heat up soon. TV Guide ended its report by noting that "Hollywood now has at least four new shows about angels, spirits and ministers in the pipeline for next season."

The Web, the Cults and the Church

Wherever he roams on the World Wide Web, Rick Bauer finds people obsessed with computers, science fiction, entertainment, the supernatural, conspiracies and UFOs – not necessarily in that order.

Whenever the leader of Freedom House Ministries visits churches or their Web pages he finds that they have almost nothing to say about computers, science fiction, entertainment, the supernatural, conspiracies and UFOs. Meanwhile, the Web sites of less conventional spiritual entrepreneurs often include provocative stuff about – that's right – computers, science fiction, entertainment, the supernatural, conspiracies and UFOs.

Do the math. No wonder the Heaven's Gate media blitz has so many traditional religious leaders acting as if Satan designed the Internet for the expressed purpose of stealing and slaughtering sheep. No wonder old-fashioned shepherds feel so threatened: they appear to know zilch when it comes to talking about the lives of many Americans in the digital age.

"There's so much soft-headedness in the church," said Bauer, who is both a computer-systems professional and a Harvard Divinity School-educated researcher on new religious movements. "Church people aren't dealing with reality. ... If churches won't address the interests and obsessions of real people - especially the young - then the cults and the alternative religions will. ... What we're hearing right now is a wake-up call. To me, these cults represent the church's unpaid bills."

Anyone on this planet – or living elsewhere in the universe – has probably heard many details of the life and death of Marshall Applewhite and 38 other androgynous members of his Heaven's Gate movement. They told customers of their computer-consulting business that they were part of a Christian monastery, while using their Web pages to spread a gospel that was equal parts Star Trek and the book of Revelation.

One Applewhite manifesto sets the tone: "Two thousand years ago, a crew of members of the Kingdom of Heaven ... determined that a percentage of the human 'plants' of the present civilization of this Garden (Earth) had developed enough that some of those bodies might be ready to be used as 'containers' for soul deposits." Eventually, an extra-terrestrial "left behind His body in that Next Level" and occupied a human body "called Jesus."

There was much more, including talk of the war between the good aliens and the "Luciferians" who lead Judeo-Christian groups that do not understand spaceships, metaphysics, alternative lifestyles and other "fringe" topics. Actually, this kind of "X-Files on steroids" theology isn't all that unusual on the Web, said Bauer. He first became familiar with Applewhite's work when he read about Heaven's Gate in the online commentaries of other UFO-related cults.

It is sad – yet predictable – that many religious leaders and politicians appear ready to blame the Internet for this tragedy, said Bauer, who is based in Bowie, Md. Global computer networks are, of course, an effective way to find isolated listeners and communicate highly detailed, personal messages. This may be a boon to cult leaders, but it is also good news for parents, pastors and others building support networks to help people escape from cults, he said.

Thus, Bauer found himself on ABC News' "This Week" talk show last weekend defending the free-speech rights of people on both sides of this tense standoff. His message: It's just as wrong for traditional religious leaders to try to silence "cult" leaders as it is for alternative religious leaders to try to silence "anti-cult" professionals, such as himself. Meanwhile, the freewheeling nature of Internet life will almost certainly frustrate and frighten everyone.

As a rule, said Bauer, religious groups just can't seem to decide whether they love mass media or hate them.

"We see this over and over, with radio and television, with movies and popular music and now with the Internet," he said. "Either our churches can't grasp the impact that a new form of technology has on people's lives, or they panic and start saying that the new medium is part of a Satanic plot. ... It's so much easier to blame the technology, instead of asking questions about what the church is doing or not doing."