Whither the Catholic Catholic voters?

Former Boston mayor Raymond Flynn doesn't see a lot of Republicans at the 9 o'clock Sunday Mass at St. Vincent's Catholic Church.

This is a South Boston parish, the kind of place where Irish parishioners cherish photos of old-timers – like Flynn's dockworker dad – marching on feast days with Cardinal Richard Cushing and a young John F. Kennedy. These are hardcore, working-class, union-card Catholics.

"These people have never voted Republican in their lives," said Flynn, who also served as U.S. ambassador to the Vatican in the Clinton years. "But now they feel like homeless Democrats in their own party. They're pro-life and pro-family and pro-marriage and pro-justice and pro-poor and they have no idea who to vote for anymore. They're homeless."

Nevertheless, Flynn said it's too easy to tie this scene to the "pew gap" that has made headlines in this election year. It's true that surveys say the safest way to predict how voters will vote is to chart their worship habits. Voters who worship more than once a week go Republican – 2-1 or more. A Time poll said the "not religious" crowd backs Sen. John Kerry over President Bush, 69 percent to 22 percent.

Some strategists see this as "good Catholics" who back Bush versus "bad Catholics" who back Kerry. They want to divide America's 64 million Catholic voters into two political flocks.

"There's no way you can do that," said Flynn. "I know there are politically conservative Catholics out there and they're Republicans because that's what they believe. I also know there are liberal Catholics and they're still comfortable voting Democrat. But what about all of us who are just Catholic Catholics? ...

"In the media, the fact that we're pro-life makes us conservative Republicans. Right?"

Nevertheless, journalists are not the only insiders who think that way. Leaders of the Democrats for Life organization are reeling over platform language adopted quietly at the recent Democratic National Convention.

The 2000 platform said Democrats stand "behind the right of every woman to choose, consistent with Roe v. Wade." However, it also said the "Democratic Party is a party of inclusion. We respect the individual conscience of each American on this difficult issue, and we welcome all our members to participate at every level of our party."

The 2004 platform replaces this conscience clause with a statement that Democrats "stand firmly against Republican efforts to undermine" abortion rights.

Democrats for Life director Kristen Day asked: "So what are they saying, that because we want to protect the rights of the unborn our own party says we're automatically Republicans?

Beyond the Baptist boycott

It was a cheesy ad slogan sure to raise eyebrows during the summer battle for the teen-movie bucks – "Got Passion? Get Saved!"

An acidic take on a Christian high school, "Saved!" was crafted to make evangelicals punch their boycott buttons. It featured clean queen Mandy Moore as a Bible-throwing harpy from Hades. Macaulay "Home Alone" Culkin played a hip cynic in a wheelchair who shared cigarettes and sex with the school's lone Jewess. Its all-tolerant God offered a flexible moral code.

MGM promoted the film directly to believers who were sure to hate it.

"It seemed like they did everything they could to get a boycott," said Walt Mueller, head of the Center for Parent/Youth Understanding in Elizabethtown, Pa. "They wanted a boycott. They needed a boycott. I am sure they were stunned when they didn't get one."

The film cost $5 million to produce and grossed only $8.8 million, after a quiet sojourn in selected theaters. The bottom line: "Saved!" was an intriguing test case for those pondering the impact of media boycotts. Looking ahead, will Southern Baptist executives balk at saying the words "Disney," "boycott" and "The Chronicles of Narnia" in the same sentence?

The crucial word-of-mouth buzz never arrived for "Saved!", perhaps because the conservatives the film set out to bash often turned the other cheek and declined to provide millions of dollars in free publicity.

It helped that the film took so many pot shots that it even offended some secular scribes.

Michael O'Sullivan of the Washington Post said the best adjective for "Saved!" was "condescending" and that it was as "preachy as its finger-wagging victims." Glenn Whipp of the Los Angles Daily News said the movie's creators wanted audiences to "know that it's important to practice tolerance of others – unless, of course, those others are Christians."

Still, The Los Angeles Times did its part to help the studio by seeking condemnation from the usual snarky suspects – Catholic League President William Donahue, op-ed columnist Cal Thomas, Christian Film and Television Commission czar Ted Baehr and the Rev. Jerry Falwell. Apparently Pat Robertson was busy that day.

But no one uttered the b-word – boycott. "Saved!" didn't even create a buzz at the annual meeting of the Southern Baptist Convention.

"I vaguely remember hearing of that movie, but that's about it," said Dwayne Hastings of the Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission media office. "I didn't get a single call about it, or a single email. It simply did not make a blip on the Southern Baptist radar."

This is interesting, since Hollywood remains a hot issue for Southern Baptists and other moral conservatives. Years after the national headlines, the 1997 Southern Baptist vote to boycott the Walt Disney Co. remains in effect. The convention cited a wave of "anti-Christian" media products, Disney policies granting benefits to partners of gay employees and "Gay Day" events at theme parks that angered many families and church groups.

There is no sign that the Southern Baptist leadership is re-thinking this stance. This summer, the Rev. Wiley Drake of First Baptist in Buena Vista, Calif., a strong Disney critic, floated a convention resolution commending the studio for producing the patriotic movie "America's Heart and Soul." His motion was ruled out of order.

"I want a specific action commending them for what they are doing," said Drake.

Hastings said it's hard to image the convention retreating and ending the boycott. It's just as hard to imagine Disney apologizing to Southern Baptists. Nevertheless, an upcoming series of films based on the fantasy fiction of the best known Christian writer of the 20th Century would certainly raise questions. What if Mel Gibson provided the voice of Aslan, the Christ-figure lion?

"It's possible that there could be a resolution praising Disney for doing Narnia. Of course, this assumes that they offer some kind of accurate rendering of the Christian vision and beliefs of C.S. Lewis," said Hastings.

"But the whole point of the boycott is for people to stop and think about their choices. I'm sure that millions of Baptists went to see 'Finding Nemo' and they watch ESPN like everybody else. But they are thinking twice about giving Disney their money and support. People are learning to be more selective."

Tools of the virtual church, Part II

Tony Campolo had a specific flock in mind as he prepared his first sermon for the 3-D, "virtual" sanctuary at the online Church of Fools.

Using the lingo of his discipline, the sociologist referred to the typical wired worshippers as "religion-less Christians." They yearn for "spirituality," but believe they can do the faith thing on their own, without an institutional church.

Campolo also assumed they spend lots of time wielding a mouse.

So be it.

"In evangelism, you have to meet people where they are before you try to take them where they need to go," he said. "The reality today is that lots of people spend a good part of their lives plugged into computer screens. If that's where they are, that's where we have to go meet them."

This is the theory behind outreach work being done in "virtual churches" such as www.ChurchofFools.com, which is partly sponsored by the Methodist Church of Great Britain. Some sites offer basic chat rooms, while others use interactive graphics, audio and video.

But there are questions. How do people show repentance and commitment in a medium in which users can switch spiritual paths with a click of a mouse? Is online worship possible?

These questions, and more, were asked in Oxford as the Church of England created its first online congregation at www.i-church.org. It is open to anyone, regardless of "faith position," politics, sexual orientation, geographical location or membership elsewhere.

"I remember being taken to one side, early on in the research for i-church, and being told that not only would it not work, but that no one would want to join an online church, and that any kind of Christian community that was not a sacramental community was a deficient community," said the Rev. Richard Thomas, in the dedication sermon.

"It depends on how you define sacraments. My own definition suggests that sacraments are those things that make God, or his grace, 'visible.' To that end, we have at the last count around 700 applications for membership. ... These people are willing to commit to Christian discipleship, and to support others on the journey. If that is not sacramental, I don't know what is."

Cyberspace includes millions of seekers and believers. The "Faith Online" project conducted by the Pew Internet & American Life project found that 64 percent of online Americans – representing 82 million people – have used the Internet for faith-related reasons. They read religion news, download religious music, explore strange books, forward inspirational messages, share prayer requests and find alternative sanctuaries.

Most practice a specific faith, but many do not. While 54 percent of the online faithful are "religious and spiritual," 33 percent describe themselves as "spiritual but not religious." Some use the anonymity of cyberspace as a safe place to research new ways of living and worshipping.

Once in this global marketplace, these seekers are almost sure to find like-minded people who are "asking the same questions, searching for the same kind of experiences or even suffering a similar sense of pain or loss," said Stewart Hoover of the University of Colorado, the study's lead author. It's natural for these people to form groups online, based on their needs and interests. The Internet is all about options.

"But for most of these people, I really don't see this replacing what they already have in terms of their faith," he said. "It's more like a value-added situation. The religion they find on the Web needs to add on to what they are already experiencing somewhere else, with a real group of believers in a real community."

And there is one more question that lurks in the background, especially for those who fund these experimental sites. How can they measure the success of a "virtual" church?

"We know that encounters are taking place that are changing lives," said Stephen Goddard, co-creator of the Church of Fools. "Is that success? We know there have been some amazing intellectual conversations about the faith that have been going on down in the church crypt for weeks. Is that a success?

"We know that some people say that they are coming back into Christian fold because of this. They are more open to the faith, because of what we've done. Is that a success?"

Churches of virtual believers, Part I

No Tony Campolo sermon would be complete without his pulpit-shaking gestures of inspiration and exasperation, punctuating litanies of not-so-subtle digs at U.S. foreign policy, Hollywood, Wall Street and the Religious Right.

As he ended one recent oration, the sociologist, urban activist and evangelical gadfly fell to his knees, hands raised to heaven.

"I believe Americans must heed this call and turn away from our wicked ways," said Campolo, who made headlines counseling President Bill Clinton. "We need to turn away from sexual promiscuity, turn away from the consumeristic materialism, turn away from our failure to pay attention to what we have done collectively to poor and weak peoples around the world. ...

"Then, let our prayer be that God will hear from heaven, forgive our sins and heal our land."

Many of the faithful said "amen," lifted their hands or made the sign of the cross.

Then Campolo froze for a moment, as an hourglass icon hovered in the Romanesque arches of the Church of Fools, the world's first 3D, interactive, virtual church.

This kind of thing happens when traffic jams the Internet.

The computer-generated "avatar" looked like Campolo and he was delivering a Campolo sermon entitled "Why Many People in the World Hate America." But Campolo was not controlling his own computer image, since the site's webmasters were not sure he could master the technology needed to preach online – line by line, gesture by gesture.

Actually, Campolo was at a clergy conference in St. Simons Island, Ga. But he stayed on the telephone with his Philadelphia office staff, which communicated with the Church of Fools in Liverpool, England, through an online instant-messaging program, while one of site's creators controlled the "pixilated preacher." The question-and-answer session was especially tricky.

"I wanted Tony to be animated, because that's the way he is – live," said Stephen Goddard. "I have known him for years and I know his gestures and style. I was sure I could get our Tony to preach like the real Tony."

The experimental site – www.ChurchofFools.com – opened its doors on May 11, with help from the Methodist Church of Great Britain and others. The pilot project ends this weekend (Aug. 8) and the future is uncertain. Goddard said he is confident they can keep the doors open – but not as often. The Church of England is also poised to open a digital church of some kind.

So far, volunteers have donated the time and expertise needed to create and run Church of Fools, with most of its $30,000 budget being used to purchase the bandwidth needed for interactive services. Goddard said the goal is to raise $300,000 to cover the next three years and to expand – hopefully including churches in America, China and elsewhere.

It is hard to picture what happens in a "virtual church" without images on a screen. At any one time, 35 worshippers can sign in and create characters that stand, sit or kneel. They can whisper or talk to nearby worshippers, slip into the church crypt for discussions or linger at icons in prayer. Another 1,500 can take part as silent ghosts. Campolo packed the pews.

Participants sang along as the organ played through their speakers, typing phrases from the hymns that seemed meaningful. During the July 28th service, one warden led the global flock in prayer, giving thanks for computers, satellites, bloggers, online friendships and their virtual church.

"Help us to use our networks to do good things," she said, "to act justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly with you, our God, and to be good neighbors online and off."

One thing visitors cannot do is jump the virtual altar rail. Early on, an avatar called "Satan" stormed the pulpit and cursed the Anglican bishop of London. That wasn't cricket. Wardens now have the power to smite the rowdy.

"It only took a day or two to discover that there are lots of people who could not resist the chance to scream 'wanker!' in a church sanctuary," said Goddard. "Actually, all that cursing was a good sign. It told us that we didn't have the usual holy club in the pews. This wasn't going to be just another safe Christian crowd."

NEXT WEEK: Is an online church a "real" church?