Faith and terror in Indonesia

One wave of warriors came out of the mountains while another came in boats from the sea, crushing the harbor villages on the island of Haruku.

"I heard a grenade and the house went up in an explosion at about 5:30 a.m.," said an Indonesian pastor, in testimony read in the British House of Lords. "Nine people died at the football pitch. ... Some were injured, but still alive, when the military came with bayonets and stabbed them in the neck."

Similar attacks have destroyed hundreds of churches and mosques during the past two years in the Maluku Islands, which were once known as the romantic "Spice Islands."

"Those who died were beheaded," he said. "We have not been able to find their heads, because the soldiers take them."

Hacking off the heads makes it harder to identify victims in the jungles far from modern Indonesia's cities. Witnesses say the raiders wear white jihad robes, often over military uniforms.

There was much, much more, but Baroness Caroline Cox didn't read all the gory details to the lords and ladies last summer. Next week, the controversial nurse that many call the "battling baroness" will take this issue back into Parliament as Indonesia limps into a tense season of Ramadan and Christmas.

"The world is looking the other way, because the world does not know what is happening," said Cox, during a recent tour of Southeast Asia. "There is no longer a universal acceptance of fundamental principles of human rights. ... There are groups in certain parts of the world that no longer see these as binding. They will even say that the U.N. universal declaration was a product of a particular culture and of its Judeo-Christian background."

But the Indonesia crisis is not a simple clash between Islam and Christianity. Cox said she has seen evidence of Muslims dying to defend the homes and churches of neighbors.

The Republic of Indonesia is stunningly complex, a 3,500-mile crescent of 17,670 islands straddling the equinox between the Indian and Pacific oceans. The world's largest archipelago is nearly three times the size of Texas and the population of 225 million includes 300 ethnic groups. The population of 225 million is 88 percent Muslim and 8 percent Christian, with smaller communities of Hindus, Buddhists and others.

It's crucial that President Abdurrahman Wahid, who was elected in 1999, is associated with a school of Islamic renewal that stresses education and culture, over political power. As a Muslim moderate, Wahid openly called for religious toleration during a meeting of the Christian Conference of Asia.

Indonesia is the world's most populous Islamic land and it has historically been the most tolerant of minority faiths. What happens there will impact – for better or worse – other nations and cultures. This fragile religious environment was attacked during the three-decade regime of former President Suharto, who encouraged more Muslims to settle in predominately Christian areas. Years of bloodshed in heavily Catholic East Timor horrified the world.

Meanwhile, rapid growth in Jakarta and other cities pulled millions away from island villages and into a global economic marketplace. They gained cell telephones, but lost their roots. This may actually have increased the power of ancient faiths in many lives.

"Whereas in the past ... their identity and culture lay in their village, now it is to be found round the mosque and church," said Oxford Bishop Richard Harries, in the House of Lords.

Now, Indonesian media debate the creation of an explicitly Islamic state that would overturn laws protecting religious toleration. A group called Laskar Jihad has issued a call for violent change and recruited outside help. Observers report that at least 2,000 jihad warriors have been involved in recent campaigns in the Malukus.

"What are those 2,000 armed people doing there?", asked Harries. "How are they allowed to be armed and trained? Why is no one stopping them? ... If it were left up to the local people, I do not believe that there would be these clashes."

At the moment, the villagers feel abandoned. Cox urged the House of Lords to remember the simple words of that village pastor: "If we don't get any help, we will die."

Candlestick holders in Russia

Russians use a special term to describe the state officials who pay brief visits to the glorious liturgies that mark the holy days of Orthodox Christianity.

This politician is called a "podsvechnik," or "candlestick holder."

"He walks in, lights a candle at an icon, stands around awhile, makes the sign of the cross, and he usually messes that part up, and then leaves as soon as the photographers have taken his picture," said journalist Lawrence Uzzell, who leads the Keston Institute at Oxford University, which monitors religious-liberty issues in Russia and the old Communist bloc.

"He's paying his respects to the church, but he's just going through the motions."

These "photo-ops" are especially poignant when they occur during news events that offer glimpses into the Russian soul. Witness the recent funeral of Lt. Capt. Dmitri Kolesnikov, who wrote a note describing the last moments of 23 doomed sailors trapped near the rear of the sunken nuclear submarine Kursk.

The funeral was a cathartic moment for millions as they wrestled with their grief and fears about the state of their country and its military. The candlestick holders had to be there.

It's easy to be cynical. But the truth is that the ancient symbols of Orthodoxy continue to hold great power, even if Russia and its leaders are not completely sure what they mean or why they matter so much. It's true that 1 percent of Russia's 146 million citizens regularly attends church, said Uzzell. But it also is true that 50 percent now claim some link to Orthodoxy.

"Russia today is much more like Sweden than America," said Uzzell, who frequently works out of Keston's Moscow office. "Russia still is profoundly secular. ... At the same time, it's clear that modern Russia is a nation of spiritual truth-seekers. People are asking the big questions and searching for answers. There is a sincere spiritual hunger there."

And Russian Orthodoxy? "Serious Orthodox Christianity is a counter-cultural movement inside modern Russia," said Uzzell.

Outsiders must remember that this is taking place only a few generations after the Communists closed 98 percent of Russia's churches and, in one brief period, killed 200,000 bishops, priests and nuns and then sent another 500,000 believers to die in labor camps. Millions later died in Stalinist purges. KGB records indicate that most clergy were simply shot or hanged. But others were crucified on church doors, slaughtered on their altars or stripped naked, doused with water and left outdoors in winter.

The KGB records also contain the stories of clerics who yielded. Russian Orthodoxy was a complex mosaic of sin and sacrifice, during the era of the martyrs. The Keston Institute has been at the center of efforts, for example, to document the complex interactions between the KGB and the Russian church's current leader, Patriarch Alexy II.

Many ask, in effect, if some of the church's bishops are mere candlestick holders – or worse. Two weeks after the 1991 upheaval that ended the Soviet era, I visited Moscow and talked privately with several veteran priests.

It's impossible to understand the modern Russian church, one said, without grasping that it has four different kinds of leaders. A few Soviet-era bishops are not even Christian believers. Some are flawed believers who were lured into compromise by the KGB, but have never publicly confessed this. Some are believers who cooperated with the KGB, but have repented to groups of priests or believers. Finally, some never had to compromise.

"We have all four kinds," this priest said. "That is our reality. We must live with it until God heals our church."

This analysis is sobering, but the facts back it up, said Uzzell, who is an active Orthodox Christian.

"There are signs of hope, mostly at the local level," he said. "There are wonderful priests and wonderful parishes, if you know where to look. But you will find ice-cold parishes and others that are vital and alive, in the same city or town. ... I think the Russian Orthodox Church has a glorious future, just as it has had a glorious past. But I must admit that I'm not terribly optimistic about the near-term prospects."

God and man, and The Simpsons

The King James Version of the Bible is a masterpiece of the English language and one of the cornerstones of Western Civilization, as we know it.

So sociologist John Heeren perked up when he was watching The Simpsons and heard a reference to a "St. James Version." Was this a nod to an obscure translation? An inside-baseball joke about fundamentalists who confuse the King James of 1611 with the ancient St. James?

Eventually he decided it was merely a mistake, a clue that the writers of that particular script didn't excel in Sunday school. But with The Simpsons, you never know.

"You only have to watch a few episodes to learn that there's far more religious content in The Simpsons than other shows, especially other comedies," said Heeren, who teaches at California State University, San Bernardino. And the masterminds behind Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa and Maggie are not doing "a slash-and-burn job, while working in as much blasphemy as possible. ... They show a surprising respect for the role that religion plays in American life."

Eventually, Heeren became so intrigued that he analyzed 71 episodes of the animated series, taping re-runs at random. Now in its 12th season, The Simpsons just aired its 250th episode. This milestone came shortly after Heeren presented his findings before the Society for the Scientific Study of Religion. He found that 69 percent of the episodes contained at least one religious reference and, in 11 percent, the plot centered on a religious issue.

But the hot question is whether the show's take on religion is "good" or "bad." Of course, the whole point of The Simpsons is to satirize American life – from TV to public education, from politics to fast food, from rock 'n' roll to religion. Faith is just part of the mix.

But this is where things get complicated, said Heeren. The show specializes in mocking the generic pseudo-religion found in American popular culture.

"It's really about the religion that we see through the filter of the movies and television," he said. "So we are dealing with a copy of a copy. ... This only raises a bigger question. When you have a satire of a satire, does that mean that you are actually being positive?"

Several religious themes appear over and over, said Heeren. One is that God has a plan – even for Homer and Bart. This concept appears so often that it cannot simply be dismissed as a joke. It also is clear that God is omnipresent and, to one degree or another, omnipotent.

In the "Homer the Heretic" episode, do-gooder daughter Lisa proclaims that a fire in the family's house is evidence that God wants Homer to return to church, instead of practicing a do-it-yourself faith called "Homerism." Heeren notes: "Homer wonders why a fire that began at his house spread to the house of his devout neighbor, Ned Flanders, or 'Charley Church.' ... Homer asks why God didn't save Flanders' house. At that moment a cloud appears above the Flanders house, puts out the fire, and is punctuated by a rainbow."

The show's writers also consistently contrast two symbolic characters, said the sociologist. On one side is Pastor Timothy Lovejoy, an often cynical, world-weary mainline shepherd who uses the public library's Bible and says that the world's religions are "all pretty much the same." On the other side is Flanders, a born-again nerd who, nevertheless, is one of the only inspiring characters in the series.

Lovejoy, Homer and many other characters appear to be making up their religious beliefs as they go along, said Heeren. But Flanders is a true believer. What is fascinating is that the other characters often "see the light" and eventually try to act a little more like Flanders. As a result, the Simpsons almost always ends up affirming some element of a generic Judeo-Christian American creed – honesty, family, community, selflessness and love.

"I'm not sure what that says, but it says something," said Heeren. "What remains is that strange kind of respect that is so hard to pin down. ... God is real. God hears prayers and prayers are answered. People go to church. Faith matters. Let's face it: this is not what you normally see in prime-time television."

Mount Sinai remains on the political map

One thing is certain amid the chaos and nail biting of the White House race – the religious left now knows that Mount Sinai has not been erased from the political map.

"The tablets that Moses brought down from the top of Mount Sinai were not the Ten Suggestions. ... (They) were the Ten Commandments. But more and more people feel free to pick and choose from them," said Sen. Joe Lieberman at Notre Dame University, in a key speech during the home stretch.

"Without the connection to a higher law, we have made it more and more difficult for people to answer the question why it is wrong to lie, cheat or steal; to settle conflicts with violence, to be unfaithful to one's spouse, or to exploit children; to despoil the environment, to defraud a customer or to demean any employee."

But wait. This week's soap opera also demonstrated that America remains divided right down the middle on issues rooted in morality and religion. There is a chasm that separates the heartland and the elite coasts, small towns and big cities, the Boy Scouts and the Girl Scouts, those who commune in sanctuary pews and those who flock to cappuccino joints.

The divide in this election went "deeper than politics. It reached into the nation's psyche," noted David Broder of the Washington Post, one of the patriarchs of political journalism. George W. Bush and Dick Cheney defeated Al Gore and Lieberman by 30 percentage points among voters who were worried about the nation's moral health.

But let's face it. Some of the Ten Commandments fare better in focus-group surveys than others, decades after Woodstock and the sexual revolution. Americans yearn for a sense of right and wrong, but flinch when it comes time to post moral codes in the public square.

At Notre Dame, Lieberman did everything he could to chart a centrist moral path for those on the political left, as he looked into the future. Tolerance is one thing, he said. "Moral ambivalence" is another.

Lieberman's speech ranged from 18th Century's Great Awakening to the Civil Rights movement, from the prophet Hosea to America's Founding Fathers, from the wisdom of the Koran to the follies of Hollywood. He quoted Catholic conservative Michael Novak, as well as liberal evangelical Jim Wallis. He tried to cover the whole map.

So what does America need to do to exercise the "moral muscles" that Lieberman said are so important? How can we fill the "values vacuum" that has so many citizens nervous about any and all truth claims?

America, he said, must once again commit itself to a "civic religion" that is "deistic, principled, purposeful, moral, public and not least of all inclusive." At the heart of this vague creed is a core of shared values, such as "faith, family and freedom; equal opportunity, respect for the basic dignity of human life; and tolerance for individual differences."

But government cannot "nourish our souls" or "control all of our behavior," stressed Lieberman. Religious institutions and families must do that. But what the government can affirm that the "inviolability of our rights and the mission of our republic" have been "inextricably linked to our belief in God and a higher law."

The problem is that the higher laws handed down by Judaism, Christianity and Islam include doctrines about what behaviors are right and what behaviors are wrong. Meanwhile, it's inevitable that the government will come down on one side or the other when dealing with moral issues that affect education, tax laws, social policies and free speech. Tax dollars will be used to endorse some moral laws and undercut others.

It will be impossible to avoid these debates, on the left and the right.

"Despite our material abundance, there is a persistent sense of unease about our moral future," said Lieberman. "As people peer into the national looking glass, they do not like the reflection of our values they see – the continued breakdown of families, the coarsening of our public life, the pollution of our culture. ...

"To most of us, this America, particularly the fearful America of Columbine and Jonesboro and Paducah, is not the America we knew, nor is it the America we want to be."

Sex, drugs & Catholic education

It's hard to talk about college life without covering sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll.

But face it, America's Catholic bishops had other problems in the 1990s. They had to find a way to embrace the pope's "Ex corde Ecclesia (From the Heart of the Church)," a manifesto on Catholic education, while trying not to fan fires of dissent in faculty lounges.

The last thing they wanted to discuss was Friday-night dorm life. So bishops didn't ask and campus leaders didn't tell.

"We know that where most students are losing their faith is not so much in the classroom as in the social atmosphere that dominates their campuses," said Patrick Reilly of the Cardinal Newman Society, a pro-Vatican think tank on education. Curriculum and faculty issues matter, but the "parts of Catholic education that have changed the most have all been related to campus life. ... The culture of students sleeping around and getting drunk is just as big a problem at many Catholic universities as it is at state schools."

There have been some public fights, with headlines about administrators removing crucifixes from classrooms or asking lawyers to finesse questions about campus funds supporting groups that promote anti-Catholic stands on abortion and gay rights.

Other issues loom in the background. Like their secular counterparts, most of America's 235 Catholic colleges and universities now bombard students with information and questions about safe sex, drug abuse, date rape, eating disorders and sexual harassment. These subjects are no longer controversial.

But Catholicism itself is controversial. What would happen if colleges merely taught the church's moral doctrines and asked – using an honor code – Catholic students to obey them? What about promoting confession and fasting? Could colleges even try?

That's what the Cardinal Newman Society (www.newmansociety.org) will ask Nov. 10-12, during a conference at Georgetown University in Washington, D.C. One session will focus on a "working draft" of principles to guide Catholic campus life. One passage soberly notes: "It is not enough that colleges and universities bearing the name Catholic should cease to serve the culture of death, although merely attaining that goal may prove to be the lifework of Catholic educators of this generation."

An earlier draft even included an "attire" clause opposing "dress that is sexually suggestive or otherwise disrespectful of other students' efforts to live chastely." Another passage said constant "electronically-offered sensory stimulation is a distraction to the mind and, hence, must be subject to regulation."

That kind of language had to go, because it's important to remain realistic, said Reilly. After all, many campus leaders will fight to keep traditionalists from taking any of these "minimalist rules" to Rome.

The document's bottom line: "Catholics abide by rules and standards defined by the Church." Other principles in the 6,000-word draft include:

* "The virtue of temperance disposes us to avoid every kind of excess: the abuse of food, alcohol, tobacco or medicine."

* "The university ... should help students identify alternatives to 'partying' " and find "alternatives to contemporary styles of dating and courtship." Co-ed dorms don't help.

* While allowing lively political discussions, schools "should be careful not to diminish known truth by encouraging debate on settled issues (such as the morality of abortion)."

* "In no case should the university health service, or any campus personnel, encourage or facilitate abortion or the use of artificial contraceptives, nor should students be referred to non-campus" facilities that do.

* "For unmarried students, the state of life should be virginity, primary or secondary." While it's hard to enforce such laws, universities should "forbid extramarital sexual activity by students on and off-campus."

Reilly knows that many Catholic educators will "accuse us wanting to go back to a 'nanny culture.' " Many were "furious that the Vatican thought it had the right to define what a Catholic college is, or is not, in the first place. Now they're going to say we want the bishops to police what goes on in dorm rooms as well as classrooms," he said.

"All we are saying is that our colleges and universities should help students live Catholic lives, or at least stop attacking students that try to do so."