Graham looking to London?

Billy Graham promised that he would avoid politics and stick to saving souls during his final New York crusade.

The New York Times offered a sigh of relief, noting that the closest he came to danger in the first sermon was when he said: "There's a lot of discussion about the Ten Commandments being in a courtroom or in our country. We need to look at the Ten Commandments because they convict us of our sin."

The key was that Graham remained silent on the "divisive issues of the day" such as – the newspaper offered this handy list – "stem cell research, or abortion, or gay marriage, or even homosexuality."

Nevertheless, the world's most famous evangelist did emphasize the Christian belief that Jesus is the only path to salvation. He also talked about "sin" and "repentance," judgmental words that often attract ironic quotation marks.

"What causes lying, cheating, racial prejudice?" asked Graham, as he began the crusade last weekend in Flushing Meadows-Corona Park. "The Bible says, 'For out of the heart proceed evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false witness, blasphemies.'

"These are the things that defile a man and they defile a country. They defile our world today. ... The Bible says that our problem is sin."

To which legions of "values voters" would say, "Amen."

That's the problem these days. It's hard to talk about "sins" that "defile" a country without people connecting the dots to Hollywood, courts, laws, schools and a host of other hot-button subjects.

It's true that Graham did little during this historic crusade to embrace the Bush White House or its allies on the Religious Right, noted Rice University sociologist William Martin, author of "A Prophet With Honor: The Billy Graham Story." Graham deflected questions about abortion, talked about poverty and noted that he remains a registered Democrat.

Graham didn't need to dwell on social issues, said Martin, who attended the rallies in Queens. For example, the evangelist stressed that sex is a blessed gift, as long as people remember to follow "the Word of God." That was all he needed to say.

"I am sure that he was not as explicit as he has been, especially on all the moral issues that he used to preach about so much," said Martin. "But you don't have to repeat yourself all the time. By now, I think most people know what Billy Graham believes."

One of America's most outspoken religion-news critics agreed. The 86-year-old Graham has become such a revered figure, noted writer Jeff Sharlet, that most Americans – journalists included – no longer recognize how his beliefs about culture have soaked into the images and themes in his preaching.

"There's this idea that Billy Graham is no longer conservative or has somehow transcended politics," said Sharlet, editor of TheRevealer.org, in a WNYC interview. "That's a really shallow understanding of what conservative theology is about and what Billy Graham's conservatism has always been about. He no longer needs to talk about politics because the alignment of evangelicalism and the kind of politics he's always supported has become so neat at this moment that he no longer needs to exhort people in the direction he feels is the right way."

The public and the press are paying especially close attention as Graham struggles through the final events of his 58-year career, which has included 417 crusades in 185 countries. The white-haired patriarch's voice sounded stronger at the end of the New York crusade than at the beginning and he is considering an invitation to return to London in the fall.

This would complete what Martin called a 14-month "victory lap" of the locations of his most famous crusades – Los Angeles, New York City and London. The question is whether Graham has the strength to cross the Atlantic, due to his fight with Parkinson's, fluid buildup on the brain and prostate cancer. The health of his wife, Ruth Bell Graham, is just as fragile.

But Graham sounded like he wants to go back to London.

"That sermon the other night just didn't sound like the end," said Martin. "It was classic Billy, with that emphasis on the Second Coming that we have heard him use for so long. There's just something about hearing Billy Graham say, 'Jesus is coming again. Are you ready?' "

Orthodox prayer in public square

When Father John Parker was asked to say the benediction at the graduation rite for the Medical School of South Carolina he did what any Eastern Orthodox priest would do.

He went straight to "The Great Book of Needs," a four-volume set of prayers collected over two millennia for use during every imaginable kind of ritual.

It was easy to find prayers about Jesus and healing, including: "Do now, O Lord, give your grace to all those here gathered who have labored and studied hour upon hour, to go into all the world, and also to heal by the talent You have given to each of them. Strengthen them, by your strength, to fear no evil or disease, enlighten them to do no evil by the works of their hands and preserve them and those they serve in peace, for You are our God, and we know no other."

Then he received a letter from the president's office offering guidelines for prayers at this public school in Charleston, S.C. It required inclusive language such as "Holy God, Holy One, Creator, Sustainer" rather than prayers mentioning Jesus, Allah, the Trinity or other specific divine references.

"Steer clear of parochial, exclusively defining religious names, concepts, practices, and metaphors," it said. "A good rule of thumb to remember is that you come representing the entire faith community, not just your own group. The prayer should therefore not be offensive to anyone, whether Catholic, Baptist, Jewish, Muslim, etc."

Parker had a problem, because he knew that centuries of Orthodox tradition forbad this approach. He decided that the policy was so inclusive that ancient Christian prayers would be excluded.

"As an Orthodox priest, I was invited to pray on behalf of all and for all," he said. "The question was, once I was there, would I be allowed to pray as an Orthodox Christian? According to that memo, they wanted me to pray in somebody else's words and, if you stop and think about it, to pray to somebody else's God. ...

"I knew that my archbishop would not allow me to do that. We cannot pray the way they wanted me to pray."

Nevertheless, Parker sent school officials the text of the Orthodox benediction. His invitation to pray was immediately revoked and the May graduation slot filled by a Southern Baptist pastor, one linked with the progressive Cooperative Baptist Fellowship. Another member of the same church serves as the medical school's chaplain.

The goal was not to "silence any local pastor or the voice of any religious tradition in the public square," wrote Chaplain Terry Wilson, responding to Parker's concerns. Neutral prayers had, in the past, been offered by an array of clergy – Presbyterian, United Methodist, Episcopal, Jewish and Catholic.

"Our graduates represent the major faith traditions of the world," noted Wilson. "Watching the commencement service, I hummed to myself the words of the old spiritual, 'He's got the whole world in his hands.' " On 9/11, he added, the beautiful St. Luke's Chapel at the school "overflowed with students, faculty and medical staff. We prayed, wept and sang together as Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Bahais and Sikhs in the midst of the terror. ... This is who we are and such is the make up of our graduates. God bless us all."

Parker understood this dynamic. But it is one thing, he said, for Christians to gather in "ecumenical" settings in which their prayers can be based on images and beliefs that they share in common. It is something else to participate in truly "interfaith" events that blur the lines between world religions or, even worse, combine pieces of these faiths in a syncretistic puzzle.

At some point, he stressed, leaders of public institutions must ask why they want to continue including moments of prayer in these pluralistic public settings.

"No Christian may judge the soul of any person. God alone is judge," said Parker, in a final response to school officials. "We must learn to dwell in peaceful co-existence with those who do not believe as we do. But, dwelling in peace co-existence does not mean the same thing as saying that we actually believe the same thing. To the contrary, it would be disrespectful to pretend that we have no differences."

Howard Dean: There he goes again

It was a mean question, but Howard Dean had to know it was coming.

The Democratic National Committee chairman was visiting Capitol Hill for a chat with Sen. Harry Reid, followed by a photo-op scrum with the minority leader and 50-plus journalists. That's when Fox News correspondent Brian Wilson did the math and asked the inevitable question.

The logic was simple. Since Dean had said (a) that he hates Republicans and (b) that the GOP is full of white Christians, did these statements imply (c) that he hates white Christians?

For once, Dean held his tongue.

That's the way things have been going ever since the San Francisco forum in which Dean said that the problem with Republicans is that they have "a pretty monolithic party. They all behave the same. They all look the same. It's pretty much a white Christian party."

There was more. "The Republicans are not very friendly to different kinds of people," he said. "We're more welcoming to different folks, because that's the type of people we are."

When offered a chance to soften his "white Christian party" remark, Dean told NBC that "unfortunately, by and large, it is. And they have the agenda of the conservative Christians."

And all the people said: There he goes again.

It was hard to hear red-state Democrats grinding their teeth because of all the Republicans screaming "Hallelujah!" This was the best news for the GOP values-voter strategists since candidate Dean, during the 2004 White House race, proclaimed that Bible Belt people should stop being so obsessed with "guns, God and gays."

Dean's latest barrage did annoy religious conservatives. Some wondered how mainstream journalists and politicians would have responded to similar statements targeting social or religious groups on the left.

Wall Street Journal columnist Peggy Noonan, a Catholic conservative, asked what would happen if President Bush ever stood at a podium and said these words:

"The struggle between the Republican Party and the Democratic Party is a struggle between good and evil and we're the good. I hate Democrats. Let's face it, they have never made an honest living in their lives. ... They have no shame. But why would they? They have never been acquainted with the truth. You ever been to a Democratic fundraiser? They all look the same. They all behave the same. They have a dictatorship, and suffer from zeal so extreme they think they have a direct line to heaven."

This was not a real speech, of course. What the former Reagan White House scribe had done was weave together threads from recent speeches by Dean and by Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton. It is unusual, she said, for top party leaders to use this kind of rhetoric in the public square.

The biggest problem is that Washington, D.C., is more "politically segregated," than the rest of America, she said. "Democrats by and large hang out with Democrats, Republicans with Republicans. This is true in consulting, in think tanks, in journals, in Congress. If you work for a Democratic senator, the office is full of Democrats. The people with whom you share inside jokes and the occasional bitter aside are Democrats. ... The same is true for Republicans."

She could have listed one more reality. The generals and dedicated soldiers in the two parties certainly do not worship in the same kinds of sanctuaries. Dean keeps shining a spotlight on this religious schism.

This is strange since Dean is white and he has openly said he is a Christian. He also keeps insisting that the Democratic Party must lose its fear of moral language as it strives to regain its old foothold among traditional religious believers.

But if this is his goal, asked Howard Fineman and Tamara Lipper of Newsweek, why does the Democratic Party leader keep making these kinds of hostile remarks?

"Dean's real problem may not be his mouth but his mind-set," they wrote. "He and his aides seemed genuinely mystified at the idea that his characterization of the GOP was a political mistake. But by labeling the other party a bastion of Christianity, he implied that his own was something else – something determinedly secular – at a time when Dean's stated aim is to win the hearts of middle-class white Southerners, many of whom are evangelicals."

Can't ask. Can't tell.

If a Catholic child steals a candy bar, church doctrine calls this a small sin.

But if a priest embezzles a large amount of money, this act is much more serious – a sin that severely corrupts and threatens the soul.

Both of these acts involve theft, but Catholicism does not believe they have equal weight. They do not have the same "parvity of matter," noted Father Donald Cozzens of John Carroll University, who once led a seminary in Ohio.

"It doesn't help to look that up in a dictionary," said Cozzens, whose recent books on the modern priesthood have generated both heat and light. "That's a theological term that describes the relative gravity of immoral thoughts, acts or behaviors. There are different levels of honesty and dishonesty. There are levels of language and cursing."

But when it comes to sex, there are no misdemeanors. Every "deliberate, willful sexual sin is, from the church's perspective, a felony – a mortal sin," he said.

This may sound trivial, but it isn't for Catholics who worry about their church in an age of turmoil, tragedy and scandal. Cozzens is convinced that this basic question about the relative nature and consequences of sins must be discussed soon, before Vatican officials begin a long-awaited "apostolic visitation" of American seminaries.

Cozzens is known for asking questions that fray nerves on left and right. In the past five years he has described what he calls a thriving "gay subculture" in some seminaries. He noted that most cases of clergy sex abuse have involved "ephebophilia" with under-aged boys, not "pedophilia" with prepubescent children. He has detailed the impact of plunging Catholic birth rates – below two children per family – on parental attitudes about their children taking holy vows.

Now he is convinced that teachings about the "parvity of matter" are making it harder to tell the healthy seminarians from the dangerous ones. It is almost impossible to have candid conversations about sexuality, he said.

"This state of affairs is further complicated by the fact that, according to church teaching, no individual is to be compelled or asked to reveal the 'state of his or her soul,' " he wrote, in a recent Commonweal essay. "As a consequence, the candid dialogue needed to form mature celibates is hampered and the specter of sin hangs heavy in the air. In such a climate, behavioral signs that might indicate future difficulties are often masked or simply missed."

The logic is simple. If seminarians are struggling with sexual temptations, they know that these thoughts and emotions are just as sinful as the sexual acts, he said, in a follow-up interview. It doesn't matter if the temptations involve children, teens or adults. If seminarians raise these issues in confession, they know that their superiors cannot mention these struggles in a setting that would threaten their ordination.

The result is a cloak of secrecy that covers discussions of sex. Professors cannot ask and the seminarians do not have to tell – in public.

Cozzens said he knows of cases in which "seminary faculty simple did not feel they could ask a seminarian, 'Have you even thought about sex with a child?' If they did that they would, in effect, be asking that man to betray his conscience in a setting that would kill any chance he had of being ordained."

It is crucial to emphasize, he said, that raising questions about this "parvity of matter" issue is not the same thing as suggesting changes in the church's core teachings about sex and marriage.

It is also possible to draw a line between this issue of sexual secrecy and related debates about mandatory celibacy and the ordination of homosexuals. Based on his work as a clergy vicar, Cozzens remains convinced that gay priests are no more likely to violate their celibacy vows than those who are straight.

But it is time for candid questions, he said.

"There are men who, quite frankly, are grateful for the current sexual climate in our seminaries," said Cozzens. "It makes their efforts to hide a piece of cake. ... If our teachings changed on sex and the 'parvity of matter,' there would be all kinds of questions asked that some seminarians do not want to answer – at least not in front of others."

Citizen Anschutz on a mission

The loaded words appear early and often in articles about entrepreneur Philip Anschutz of Denver.

The list includes "elusive," "reclusive," "mysterious" and many others. Most writers then note that Anschutz has not granted interviews since 1974 and the image is complete – he is a ghost worth billions of dollars.

Nevertheless, Anschutz does have ideas and, on rare occasions, he shares them in public. Consider this statement about movies and the bottom line.

"Speaking purely as a businessman, it is of utmost importance ... to try and figure out a way to make goods and products that people actually want to buy," he said, in a speech last year. "I don't think Hollywood understands this very well, because they keep making the same old movies. ...

"I don't think they understand the market and the mood of a large segment of the movie-going audience today. I think that this is one of the main reasons, by the way, that people don't go to movies like they used to."

This speech received little, if any, attention when it was delivered at a Hillsdale College forum. Once again, Anschutz avoided the mainstream-media radar.

But this is changing, in part because he is backing a big-bucks entertainment project that cannot escape attention. The man Fortune once called "the billionaire next door" is changing his public non-image.

Atlantic Monthly described the old Anschutz this way: "He is worth more than $5 billion – down from $18 billion at the height of the 1990s boom, when Qwest Communications, which he founded, was one of the highest of the high-flying tech stocks. He is a devout Presbyterian and a staunch Republican who has donated hundreds of thousands of dollars to right-leaning candidates. ... He owns oil fields, railroad lines, the country's finest collection of western art, a network of farms and cattle ranches, five Major League Soccer franchises, Regal Entertainment (the country's largest chain of movie theaters), and two daily newspapers – the revived San Francisco Examiner and the newly launched D.C. tabloid of the same name."

Now the Anschutz story has a new lead. His Walden Media studio is working with Walt Disney Pictures to create a franchise that could catch "The Lord of the Rings" or "Star Wars." The goal is to film all seven books of the 20th Century's most beloved work of Christian fiction – "The Chronicles of Narnia" by C.S. Lewis. The $150 million production of "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" arrives on Dec. 9.

The scandal of an evangelical mogul has mainstream Hollywood whispering a nasty word that begins with the letter "p."

It isn't "profits." It's "proselytizing."

After all, the studio's mission statement – yes, a movie studio with a "mission statement" – declares: "Walden Media believes that quality entertainment is inherently educational. We believe that ... we can recapture young imaginations, rekindle curiosity and demonstrate the rewards of knowledge and virtue."

Eyebrows are up in power pews as well as corporate boardrooms, especially after two years of passionate debate about faith and film.

As evangelical activist Charles Colson said: "If you happened to stumble across a devout Christian in Hollywood, you'd likely assume he was one of two things: He must be Mel Gibson, or he must be lost." On the other side, Jack Shafer of Slate.com said bluntly: "Nobody dumps millions of dollars into the movie and exhibition business – or newspapers – to uplift the masses. There's got to be an angle."

Anschutz has heard the curses and hosannas. But he told the Hillsdale forum that the edgy Hollywood elites will, ultimately, respect someone who brings his own money to the table and succeeds.

"My reasons for getting into the entertainment business weren't entirely selfless. Hollywood as an industry can at times be insular and doesn't at times understand the market very well," he said. "I saw an opportunity in that fact. Also, because of digital production and digital distribution, I believe the film industry is going to be partially restructured in the coming years – another opportunity. ...

"My friends think I'm a candidate for a lobotomy and my competitors think I'm naive or stupid or both. But you know what? I don't care. If we can make some movies that have a positive effect on people's lives and on our culture, that's enough for me."