Define 'marriage.' Please.

It was time, once again, for a political leader to step to the microphone and debate the politics of morality with America's most outspoken Roman Catholic prelate.

This time, Cardinal John O'Connor had used his pulpit in St. Patrick's Cathedral to deliver a diplomatic, but forceful, sermon attacking a New York City Council plan to create "domestic partnerships" equal to marriages. After quoting centuries of secular and sacred texts, he stressed that the church believes unconditionally that "no human authority can make any other state of life equivalent to marriage."

To which Mayor Rudolph Giuliani could only respond: There he goes again.

"You know, we have a division of church and state in the United States and it's a healthy one," the Republican mayor, who is a Catholic, told reporters in a press conference later in the day. "We're all here because people left other places because someone wanted to enforce their religious viewpoint as the view of the state."

And one more thing, noted Giuliani: "Domestic partnerships not only affect gays and lesbians, but they also affect heterosexuals."

Ironically, O'Connor and Giuliani were in totally agreement on this latter point. The cardinal's seven-page homily – the printed text was provided for reporters – included no direct references to homosexuality. The closest he came to mentioning this hot-button subject was to say that traditional moralists who have examined the domestic partnership proposal have "understandably raised questions about the morality of extramarital genital relationships, whatever the sex of the parties involved."

When religious traditionalists wade into public debates about sexuality, yet strive to avoid references to homosexuality, gay community leaders often accuse them of trying to hide their homophobia by using an ecclesiastical code. This tension reveals a truth that is rarely discussed during heated sex debates in American pews and public institutions. While it's true that the Bible contains relatively few verses that clearly forbid homosexual activity, it contains page after page of references to marriage and extra-marital sex.

This makes the stakes in public debates over "marriage" even higher than they are in clashes over the legal and moral status of homosexuality. It's impossible for anyone, on either side of the aisle, to discuss one issue without raising the other. All roads lead to a political land mine – the definition of marriage or any new state of life that takes its place. This then affects the meaning of the word "family."

Looking down from their pulpits, and far into the future, the cardinal and other religious conservatives should be able to do the math – for every same-sex domestic partnership there will almost certainly be dozens of state-sanctioned semi-marriages for heterosexual couples.

It would be impossible to raise an issue that touches more men, women and children, said O'Connor. As Pope John Paul II has written: "The family is the 'first and vital cell of society.' It is from the family that citizens come to birth and it is within the family that they find the first school of the social virtues that are the animating principle of the existence and development of society itself."

The changes that are sweeping through cities such as San Francisco and New York will inevitably lead to similar disputes elsewhere. Right now, noted the cardinal, marriages performed in New York City are recognized as valid in the rest of the state and in other states. It is natural to ask what status new "domestic partnerships" will have elsewhere. This question then leads to others, such as: What happens when these vague unions end?

"A spouse has a right to support from the other spouse," said O'Connor. "Will a domestic partner have to provide support? A spouse has certain rights with regard to property. What would be the case in domestic partnerships? What would be the legal effect on children? What of the question of filing joint tax returns, pension rights, etc.?"

Out in the pews, others must have been thinking of another question that looms just ahead: What are the rights of domestic grand partners?

Reggie White sacks a purple dinosaur

WASHINGTON – Whenever a preacher starts getting personal, picky and downright pushy, Bible Belt folks like to say he has quit preaching and "gone to meddling."

A lot of folks have been saying that, and much more, about the Rev. Reggie White lately. The Green Bay Packer legend recently offended legions of people with a sermon to Wisconsin lawmakers that attacked abortion, called homosexual acts sin and offered up a colorful series of ethnic anecdotes, while arguing that all racial groups must see each other as part of God's image.

As if that didn't make enough people mad, this week White stood up in the nation's capital and said God wants to start messing with the ordinary day-to-day sins of people who think of themselves as conservatives. The man that many call the greatest defensive lineman ever even had the audacity to sack a purple dinosaur.

"How many of you wives have a hard time getting your husband's attention when he's watching TV?", he asked, drawing nervous laughter at a luncheon in which he and his wife Sara were honored by the conservative Family Research Council. "How many of you husbands have a hard time getting your wife's attention when she's on the telephone?... How many of us can get our children's attention when they're watching cartoons?

"Why are Barney and Mickey so much more popular than Jesus? Because the world is trying to feed us ... and trying to get us to idol worship."

White didn't back down on the issues that caused the Wisconsin firestorm and he drew cheers by saying that journalists keep mangling his religious convictions and images. He also came out swinging at CBS, accusing the network's executives of yanking an on-air job – which he said was worth $6 million – when faced with pressure from gay-rights groups. CBS denies this, while the superstar's supporters have begun talking about a lawsuit.

But the ordained Baptist minister focused most of this sermon on subjects closer to pews and family-room couches. He talked about heterosexual sins, how many parents are failing in the moral education of their children and how racial and denominational divisions among believers stunt their public witness. He even blamed the church, in part, for the negative role he believes the news and entertainment media play in American life.

White recently completed a two-week juice fast and, during this time of intense prayer, he said God gave him yet another vision. "I've been ripped because of this," he said, and then spoke to the media personnel in the room. "You've got your cameras on? God spoke to me. He said this. He said that what the enemy does is he communicates his evil message, he distributes his evil message and then he gives the resources to those whom he has influenced to promote his evil message."

In other words, said White, Satan is a media mogul, the "prince of the power of the air," who has mastered the art of communicating through television, radio, music, movies and newspapers. But this doesn't mean mass media are automatically evil or that the church hasn't made it's own media mistakes. Simply stated, religious believers are now suffering the consequences of decades of decisions to flee from the world of mass media.

"We said it was of the devil, when it was of God," he said.

It's time to stop running away and to get involved, said White, noting that Korea's most powerful evangelical church has begun publishing a major daily newspaper. Religious believers need to begin putting more movies, television comedies, radio programs and music into the marketplace and be more aggressive as consumers, he said..

Many of his critics celebrated when his job with CBS fell through. But what this media acid bath taught him, he said, is that it's impossible to ignore the cultural role played by mass media. Now he wants to try to do something positive about that, although he declined to discuss the details of this vision just yet.

But he did issue this challenge: "I'm tired of the devil pushing us around. ... God is trying to give people some guts to speak out on truth.''

Martin Marty remains on call

As the old saying goes, for most American newspapers a front-page religion story has three essential elements – a local anecdote, new poll data and a quote from scholar Martin Marty.

Need a quote on God and politics? Call Marty. Liberal or fundamentalist demographics? The clout of suburban believers? Hollywood spirituality? Salvation for extra-terrestrials? Conflict in (name any church) pews? Call the University of Chicago Divinity School and anyone who answers will know what to do.

The church historian is, as Time said, America's "most influential living interpreter of religion." He has written 50- plus books, popular and scholarly, 40-plus years of weekly Christian Century columns and his Context newsletter will soon turn 30. Marty has become the one religion expert in many media rolodexes, the undisputed champion of pithy quotes shedding light on a dizzyingly complex subject many would relegate to the shadows of civic life.

"Even religion that aspires to be at home in the public can be in the dark, unless we have trained eyes to see it in the gallery, in the mall, in the university, in the market and all of the other places," he said, in a recent Minnesota Public Radio address.

It is Marty's style to light candles instead of cursing this darkness. Researchers in his current Public Religion Project have one rule – no whining. The goal is to cheerfully educate religion-impaired media pros, educators and civic leaders instead of griping at them.

Many people are simply afraid, since religion does have a dark side that keeps making bloody headlines around the world, Marty said. As a colleague once told him: "Religion is a lot like sex. If you get it a little bit wrong, it's really dangerous."

Those who don't understand religion's power tend to be more scared than they need to be. They are, said Marty, like Medieval cartographers who filled empty spaces in their maps with beastly images and the warning: "Here be monsters." This fear causes many public leaders to try to tackle some of today's most urgent problems without using all of the positive resources – such as faith-based volunteer groups – found in American life.

Meanwhile, many people believe it's OK for others to have private beliefs, so long as they stay out of the public square. This is an old tension. However, today there is a new wrinkle. An increasing number of Americans, said Marty, embrace "spirituality," and welcome its presence in public life, while opposing such a role for "organized religions" they find threatening.

"So many people," he said, "now speak in terms of, 'I'm not religious, but I'm spiritual.' ... Those of us who study religion say that this is just one more of the religions that are out there."

Religious faith is, in fact, a force that is almost impossible to pigeonhole, said Marty. It doesn't just spring to life on Sunday morning or Friday at sundown. The secular blends with the sacred. City skylines contain steeples as well as skyscrapers and chaplains carry Bibles and holy oil in hospital hallways. No one should find it strange that people act on convictions born in 3 a.m. meditations on death and eternity. It's perfectly normal for prayers and mysticism to affect people's actions in daily life – even in politics.

In recent years there has been increased public debate about the proper and improper uses of religion, said the historian. The roots of these tense exchanges go back 200 years or more, to a time when enlightened cultural leaders decided that religion's days were numbered.

"We got into our systems the notion that every time we looked out the window there would be less religion than there was the last time we looked and ...that whatever form of religion survived, it would be quiet, passive, reconciled, dialogical, ecumenical and interfaithy," he said. "Instead, every time you look out the window there's more, not less, and the prospering forms are extremely intense."

This makes many people nervous and they ask: Is it good or bad for religion to play a prominent role in public life?

The answer, said Marty, is "yes."

Get used to it.

Rich Mullins – Enigmatic, restless, Catholic

Father Matt McGinness had never heard the song playing on his car radio, even though "Sing Your Praise to the Lord" was one of superstar Amy Grant's biggest hits.

"Gosh, I really like that song," the priest told a musician friend that night back in 1995. "Well, thanks," responded Rich Mullins. This mystified the priest, who asked what he meant. "I wrote that," said Mullins.

McGinness hadn't realized that Mullins was that famous. The priest simply knew him as another seeker who kept asking questions about doctrine, history and art and was developing a unique spiritual bond with St. Francis of Assisi. At the time of his death in a Sept. 19 car crash Mullins was taking the final steps to enter Catholicism.

"Rich had made up his mind and he wasn't hiding anymore," said McGinness, chaplain of the Newman Center at Wichita State University. "But I really don't think it's fair to make him the poster child for Catholic converts. ...The key to Rich is that he was searching for a deep, lasting unity with God. He was such a reflective man and that quality brought him both peace and a great deal of anxiety."

Even friends described Mullins as "enigmatic" and "eccentric" and there was much more to him than hit songs, led by the youth-rally anthem "Awesome God." Grant summed up his legacy during last month's Dove Awards in Nashville, in which Mullins received his first "artist of the year" award.

"Rich Mullins was the uneasy conscience of Christian music," she said. "He didn't live like a star. He'd taken a vow of poverty so that what he earned could be used to help others."

McGinness said Mullins often said he felt called to a life of chastity and service, while staying active in music. It was hard to predict his future. His final recordings are slated for release on June 30 as "The Jesus Record."

"Rich didn't know for sure if he was called to ministry, which in the Catholic context would be the priesthood," said McGinness. "He also feared that converting to Catholicism could mean losing his audience. ... He knew there might be rough days ahead."

It's crucial to remember that Mullins grew up surrounded by fiercely independent brands of Protestantism such as the Quakers and the Churches of Christ, said his brother David Mullins, minister at the Oak Grove Christian Church in Beckley, W. Va. This taught him to fear formality and hierarchies, while also yearning for a faith that united people in all times and places - - with no labels.

"Rich had a very low view of church structures, but he had very high ideals about what the church could be," said his brother. "He was sincerely drawn to Catholicism, but he also wondered where he would fit in the Roman Catholic Church."

Nevertheless, Mullins' recent music was steeped in Catholicism, from his autobiographical album "A Liturgy, A Legacy & A Ragamuffin Band" to his "Canticle of the Plains" musical about a Kansas cowboy he called St. Frank. His greatest-hits set was filled with photos of Celtic churches, crucifixes, nuns and statues of Mary. He quoted G.K. Chesterton and Flannery O'Connor, defended the pope and told one interviewer: "I think that a lot of Protestants think that Pentecost happened and then the church disappeared until the Reformation. So there is this long span of time when there was no church. That can't be if Jesus was telling the truth."

After playing telephone tag for a week, McGinness and Mullins talked one last time the night before the fatal accident. Mullins was going to Mass weekly, if not more often. He was ready to say his first confession and be confirmed. They set a meeting in two days. Others said Mullins was aiming for Oct. 4, the feast of St. Francis.

"There was a sense of urgency," said the priest. "He told me, 'This may sound strange, but I HAVE to receive the body and blood of Christ.' I told him, 'That doesn't sound strange at all. That sounds wonderful.' ... Of course, I'll always remember that conversation. Rich finally sounded like he was at peace with his decision."