God, man & the U.S. Senate

During one of his shifts wielding the U.S. Senate gavel, Sen. Sam Brownback of Kansas found himself reflecting on faith, politics and some of the most famous words in the Gospel According to St. John.

Looking down from the dais, he thought: "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whosever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him."

It was the second half of the passage – especially the word "condemn" – that hit him as he watched his colleagues slog through another day of business, said Brownback, speaking at the first annual Robert Casey Lecture on Faith and Public Life at the John Paul II Center in Denver.

As controversial as it may sound, Brownback began to think less about the senators' votes and more about their souls. He started to study each of those famous faces.

"What do you see," he asked, "when you see Ted Kennedy walk into the room? What do you see when you see Ben Nighthorse Campbell walk into the room? ... I had to confess and admit that what I saw – what my mind was immediately doing – was categorizing and judging people."

The conservative Republican also realized that when he rushed to judge these senators, he was making it easy for them to return the favor. Yes, they had undeniable political differences. But this cycle of judgment was not helping anyone, he said. "When I saw these individuals – my colleagues – walk into the room, I was immediately sorting them and judging them into friend or foe, liberal or conservative. ... It was something I was doing subconsciously."

What was the point of this political parable?

Brownback said he believes that lawmakers who are believers cannot afford to separate faith and work. Since converting to Catholicism a year ago, he has become even more convinced that public life cannot be disconnected from morality. But politicians must remember that faith must shape how they relate to people as well as policies, he said.

The bottom line: Hypocrisy is a sin.

It's risky to talk openly about these issues. This is an age in which activists, politicians and journalists dissect political speech looking for telltale signs that saints or sinners have veered out of bounds in church-state territory.

Catholics lawmakers, for example, know Rome is watching. But so is the New York Times.

Ask Sen. Tom Daschle, who has long clashed with Catholic doctrine on abortion and scores of other moral issues. Now, there are news reports that Sioux Falls Bishop Robert Carlson has told the South Dakota Democrat to stop calling himself a Catholic.

After all, the Vatican's Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith recently stated: "A well-formed Christian conscience does not permit one to vote for a political program or an individual law which contradicts the fundamental contents of faith and morals."

Ask Sen. Rick Santorum, who is caught in a media acid bath after bluntly stating – among other things – his belief that homosexual acts, adultery and bigamy are "antithetical to a healthy, stable, traditional family." This conviction is not surprising since he is a traditional Catholic.

Or ask Brownback himself, since he has recently taken fire because he has an apartment in a Capitol Hill home subsidized by the "Fellowship," a non-profit group that organizes the National Prayer Breakfast. He shares the house with five other Christian lawmakers – two Democrats and three Republicans. There have been no accusations of improper lobbying or access.

The shocking news: The lawmakers dine together once a week for Bible study.

The crucial issue, said Brownback, is that believers – whether doctors, lawyers, teachers, carpenters or politicians – are supposed to let their faith shape their beliefs and actions. They are called to find this "unity of life" on Mondays as well as on Sundays.

"That call involves our cooperation with God in the transformation of our hearts, our entire lives, our families and in the conversion of our culture," he said. This includes "the culture we create around us and the culture in our nation."

Mission? Filling hole in Hollywood

Look up "mission" in a dictionary and it's clear why the word makes Hollywood nervous.

A "mission" can be "an aim in life, arising from a conviction or sense of calling." That's nice and secular. But what if "mission" means a group set apart "by a church or other religious organization to make conversions"?

So film insiders flinch when a studio's mission statement proclaims: "Walden Media believes that quality entertainment is inherently educational. We believe that by providing children, parents and educators with a wide range of great entertainment ... we can recapture young imaginations, rekindle curiosity and demonstrate the rewards of knowledge and virtue."

Say what? When a studio starts combining words such as "parents" and "virtue," Hollywood folks assume all its movies will start with a roar from Dr. James Dobson, instead of a lion. Wait, isn't that William "Book of Virtues" Bennett atop the Walden advisory committee?

"Our goal is wholesome, uplifting, family-friendly entertainment that is still competitive in the marketplace," said the Rev. Bob Beltz, director of special media projects for billionaire investor Philip Anschutz. "I'm not going to say that all of our films will be faith-based. But I can say that we hope they will all be faith-friendly. ...

"We want to be a positive influence in Hollywood. But we have to sell tickets to do that."

Take "Holes," for example, which features Louis Sachar's screenplay based on his Newbery-medal winning novel. The movie opened on 2,331 screens last weekend and soared towards $20 million at the box office.

"In a time when mainstream action is rigidly contained within formulas," noted critic Roger Ebert, "maybe there's more freedom to be found in a young people's adventure. 'Holes' jumps the rails, leaves all expectations behind and tells a story that's not funny ha-ha but funny peculiar."

Amen, said Beltz. This story does have a strange, edgy "parable-like feel to it," he said. But it is the movie's serious themes of good and evil, hope and despair, grace and judgment that are catching viewers off guard. Still, while "Holes" contains many religious themes and symbols, it never resorts to preaching. That made it perfect for this new studio.

"When you have a story like that, you don't want to add anything to it or take anything away," he said. "You just want the story to speak for itself."

Millions of American students already know about Stanley Yelnats IV, a good kid who ends up in the wrong place at the right time and is sentenced to dig holes at the hellish Camp Green Lake in West Texas. The lake is dry and the lovely town on the shore is long dead. But there are serpents, scorpions, killer lizards, bitter memories, buried secrets and enough shame to cover everybody. The sins of the fathers are literally being visited upon the sons.

On one level, "Holes" revolves around a gypsy fortuneteller's curse on Stanley's "no-good-dirty-rotten-pig-stealing-great-great-grandfather." But the emotional heart of this multi-generational tale is the divine judgment that hangs over Green Lake. The town's elite once killed an innocent black onion-picker for the crime of falling in love with a white schoolteacher.

The book spells out what the movie acts out: "That all happened 110 years ago. Since then, not one drop of rain has fallen on Green Lake. You make the decision: Whom did God punish?"

In the end the guilty are brought to justice, the innocent go free and the curses are lifted. Stanley and his friends dance as life-giving water pours from the sky onto the parched earth. The big question: Who can make it rain?

Viewers can make up their own minds about that, said educator Michael Flaherty, the president of Walden Media. But if movies are good enough, many will want to dig deeper.

"Many companies that set out to produce family entertainment make the mistake of defining themselves in terms of what they are not going to do," he said. "They say, 'Don't worry. We're not going to have any bad language in our movies.' Or they say, 'Don't worry. Our stories won't have all those bad parts.'

"We think we can do better than that. We think we can make high-quality films and still be true to our mission."

Arabs! Jews! Lighten up!

At the end of their shows, the unlikely duo of Rabbi Robert Alper and Muslim comic Ahmed Ahmed let the laughter die down so they can get serious.

It doesn't matter if the gig is in a synagogue, yet backed by an alliance of Jews and Muslims, or in a community center, with a smattering of Christians in the crowd. The duo has even performed one show in a mosque.

"We know what people are thinking. They've been laughing together all night, but things are still a little tense," said Alper, who has been a professional comedian and part-time rabbi for 17 years. "So we talk to them in very serious tones for few minutes. We say that we know terrible, tragic issues divide our people. We say that we're not politicians or social psychologists. We don't have the answers.

"But there is hope. We have found one thing that can bring us together."

The room falls silent. Then the Celtic "Riverdance" music blasts out of the sound system. The gray-haired Reform rabbi from Vermont and the edgy Arab funnyman from Hollywood start dancing. The result is kind of Irish, kind of Arab, kind of Jewish and totally goofy.

"It works," said Alper. "I think people come out to see us because they expect some kind of healing experience, and that's what it is. It's a start."

They call the act "One Arab, One Jew, One Stage." But sometimes the post-Sept. 11 duo gets a more daring billing: "Arabs! Jews! Lighten Up!"

Easier said than done. At a recent South Florida show, people were more concerned about the local history with Mohammed Atta and his al-Qaeda cell than Jerry Seinfeld and company. The audience filed past three Boca Raton police cars and the concrete planters that block the synagogue driveway. It didn't help that this was a day when Al-Jazeera was airing forced interviews with American POWs and images of dead GIs.

One Orange County, Calif., show was sponsored by an alliance of Jews and Arabs. Bantering with Muslims in the audience, Ahmed noted that security guards frisked him beforehand and he assumed other Arabs got the same treatment. A Jewish man a few rows back called out: "Hey! They patted us down, too." Oh great, cracked Ahmed. Now they frisk the Jews as they enter the synagogue. That's progress.

Nervous laughter is a given, once the Egyptian-born comic starts sharing what life is like for a young, bearded, Muslim frequent flier. He goes to airports a month and a half early. His in-flight meals are pre-cut, since no one will give him a knife. When jittery travelers ask his destination, he says he has a "one-way ticket to paradise." He pauses and adds, "Hawaii."

Nevertheless, Ahmed says Jews and Muslims have a lot in common. They don't eat pork or celebrate Christmas. They use that throaty "CCCCHHHHH sound" a lot, as in l'chaim. "We're both hairy creatures of God," he added. "The major difference is that Jews don't like to spend any money and Muslims never have any money to spend. ... So let's all get along and share, people."

Actually, anyone who pays attention can find other common elements in the routines. The comics could swap scores of jokes about ethnic traditions and family life without missing a beat. It's clear that Muslim and Jewish mothers have much in common. Many urban and suburban Muslims feel more at home in modern America than their elders. When Ahmed announced that he wanted to be an actor, his father shouted, "But God does not live in Hollywood!"

Once upon a time, said Alper, Jewish immigrants faced this painful assimilation process and they struggle with it still. Yes, the two comics steer clear of politics and it's hard to joke about their faiths. But these are not the only taboo topics. Take the issue of intermarriage. Please.

"We can't make people too uncomfortable," said the rabbi. "You use a joke that takes them down low and their minds go off to some place that's really painful and you can't get them back. We can't do that, yet. It's too personal. We're just getting started talking about these kinds of issues and we have a long way to go."

Irony abounds – Year 15

One of the great challenges of being a minister is finding something fresh and inspiring to say every year during holiday seasons.

The challenge must be especially daunting for liberal clerics who walk a tightrope between ancient doctrines and their own postmodern beliefs. They must say something innovative and daring – Christmas after Christmas, Easter after Easter, Earth Day after Earth Day.

Which brings us to a recent epistle by Bishop Charles E. Bennison, Jr., of Philadelphia, an ultra-candid voice in the Episcopal Church establishment. In "The Challenge of Easter" he claims that the ministry of Jesus was rooted in irony and transcended imperialistic laws, codes and creeds. He worked by trial and error. He bent the rules.

"This is what causes fear – Jesus forgives sins," wrote Bennison. "He claims the authority of God in doing so. ... He acknowledges his own sin. He knows himself to be forgiven."

Wait a minute, said many careful readers. Jesus was a sinner? Says who?

Bennison quickly issued a statement saying he didn't mean to contradict scripture and centuries of doctrine. But he stopped short of a clear retraction.

And so it goes on the religion beat. Year after year readers send me bizarre items from all kinds of sources, from church bulletins to the World Wide Web. Some of this stuff is too good to throw away. Thus, I always mark this column's anniversary – this is No. 15 – by sharing out-takes.

It helps to read between the doctrinal lines.

* According to a survey by the Barna Research Group, non-Christian Americans rank "evangelicals" 10th out of 11 categories of people. Evangelicals, for example, were viewed less kindly than real-estate agents, movie stars and lawyers. They placed just ahead of prostitutes.

* Media stereotypes are hard to defeat. Carl Rosen of New York Magazine notes: "When VeggieTales first came out, my office received promo copies of the first three videos. I saw the word 'Christian' and threw them away. Then my wife bought one without reading the fine print and we watched it with our son and we all thought it was great."

* For a decade or two, social activist Tony Campolo has been firing up audiences by asking if it's a sin for Christians to drive BMWs. Now, saints and sinners alike are pondering the significance of last year's "Chevrolet Presents: Come Together and Worship" concert tour. Inquiring minds want to know: What would Jesus drive?

* Catholic prelates in Germany have expressed dismay that the Langnese company is marketing ice creams named after the seven deadly sins of envy, gluttony, greed, lust, pride, sloth and wrath. "Gluttony" ice cream I can grasp. What would "sloth" taste like?

* Does anyone know why the anti-war anarchists – www.actagainstwar.org – who are trying to paralyze the streets of San Francisco keep meeting at the St. Boniface Catholic Church? Just asking.

* The most popular satire site in cyberspace is www.theonion.com. Now, some Eastern Orthodox Christians with too much time on their hands have created its Byzantine counterpart – www.theoniondome.com. Anyone seeking evangelical satire should visit www.larknews.com. Meanwhile, I can't decide if www.yourgoingtohell.com is satire or not.

* Someone needs to check the urban legends files. Wire services report that a 30-year-old Dutch student named Jennifer Hoes has set her wedding date. On May 28 she plans a civil ceremony in which she plans to marry herself.

* This was a wild year for Patricia Heaton, the outspoken star of the hit sitcom "Everybody Loves Raymond." In addition to walking out of the raunchy American Music Awards, she continued to speak out against abortion. Is she feeling the heat in Hollywood? "When my final judgment comes," Heaton replied, "I don't think I'll be answering to Barbra Streisand."

* Need an unofficial "Harry Potter" school tie? It turns out that the maroon-and-gold ties sold in the Calvin College bookstore are dead ringers for the tie in the young wizard's school uniform. Was this predestined?

* And finally, Canadian newspapers reported that Anglican bishops are complaining about Father Dorian Baxter's popular "Elvis Priestly" ministry, in which he performs weddings and funerals in a velvet Elvis suit.

The bishops believe this is in poor taste. Perhaps the priest is merely being ironic.

Anti-war is not enough

It's no surprise that Johann Christoph Arnold opposes the war in Iraq.

The senior elder of the Bruderhof communes in America and England opposed U.S. intervention in Afghanistan, the Holy Week bombings of Serbia, the first Gulf War, the Vietnam War and the Korean War. He marched with the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. His social-activist resume covers half a century.

"I am more than a pacifist," he said. "The teachings of Jesus do not permit war. They do not permit armed conflict. ... Yes, I know that there is torture. I know that there are genocides and massacres. But I do not even believe that war is the answer to great evils of this kind. Violence leads to more violence."

But this time around, Arnold has not joined the marchers.

In fact, he has become troubled by the barrage of images of anti-war protests in the U.S. and abroad. Arnold said he respects the motives of the marchers, but he believes that it's time for anti-war activists to shun tactics that lead to bitterness, division and, in extreme cases, violence.

Right now, he said, people of faith – on both sides of the Iraq debate – must strive to actually help people whose lives are being touched by the war. It's hard to work for peace, while attacking others.

"How can we judge others without judging ourselves?", he asked. "What do we gain from angry words, now that war has started? What do we gain by pointing fingers at our president, our Congress and our soldiers? ... Now is the time for desperate prayers, not more protests. I am afraid that more protests will do more harm than good."

These are idealistic words, but Arnold leads a highly idealistic community of believers. The Bruderhof movement – the name means "place of the brothers" – began in the rubble of World War I Germany. Before long, the tiny Protestant group's commitment to nonviolence led to persecution. Arnold's parents were refugees who fled Nazism.

Today, the Bruderhof remain committed to simple living and the sanctity of life. While sharing some characteristics of the Amish and Mennonites, their communes are highly active in technology and publishing – especially through the Internet.

On the World Wide Web, Arnold has begun pleading for a change among his colleagues in the anti-war movement. The bottom line, he said, is that being anti-war is not enough. The war is real. Thus, it's time to focus on the needs of real people. The pain in military families might be a good place to start, he said.

"As stories of injury, capture, imprisonment and death seep home from the front lines, it will become unbearably, overwhelmingly real," he wrote, in an epistle at www.Bruderhof.org. "And unlike those of us who can turn off the TV set when it all becomes too much, these people will have no choice in the matter. They will have to grapple with the suffering of their loved ones until they find a purpose or meaning in it. And we must too."

What would this look like, in real life?

If peace activists hold vigils, he said, they might seek to create prayer services that truly welcome veterans and members of military families, rather than offend and antagonize them. More churches should organize gatherings to write letters of support to the troops stationed in the Persian Gulf and at home. Someone will need to organize efforts to counsel and console those who lose loved ones and the soldiers who return home, their lives changed forever by combat.

It would help if churches – on the left and right – offered day care, babysitting and after-school activities for young children whose mothers or fathers have been called into active military service. Who will help the mothers who will soon give birth while their husbands are on the front lines?

"This is how we can work for peace," said Arnold. "If we can help one child of a soldier, if we can comfort one grieving family, it we can share the pain of one soldier who has been wounded in soul and body, then we will have done something positive. Then we will have done what Christ calls us to do."