c. 1998 Religion News Service

(Tom Ehrich is a pastor, writer and software developer living in Winston-Salem, N.C.)

SALISBURY, N.C. _ On the last Sunday of a tumultuous year when religion and politics strangely converged, I take a long walk through the historic downtown of this county seat town in North Carolina’s Piedmont.

Salisbury has managed to do what many towns cannot, namely, preserve a lively downtown.

Its mix of downtown merchants isn’t exactly a continuation of history _ too many consignment shops, for one thing _ but the storefronts are nearly all occupied, the paint is fresh, the on-street angle parking looks well used, and the overall feel is one of vitality.

I’m not a big fan of urban relics.”Historic preservation”areas often seem to preserve structures and appearances, but communicate little regard for people. Some are clearly the anti-modern anger of a few well-heeled folks who are determined to defend their treasures against cultural Visigoths.

By contrast, Salisbury’s century-old downtown seems like heirloom silver that a family continues to use night after night. Its shine is life, not polish and careful storage.

More than ever this year, we saw that the Christian movement is in danger of falling into the hands of historic preservationists. For decades, every change has been a battle, and not just a passing disagreement among different tastes, but a cosmic battle between good and evil, as if everything _ faith, civilization, decorum, righteousness _ would be lost if the front wall were painted a different color, or a new song were sung, or Scripture were read in a new way.

Positions got even more hardened this past year, as fundamentalism’s hyper-moralizing went from fringe expression to political juggernaut. Suddenly, preachers were good copy, terms like”confession”and”repentant”had currency beyond Lenten homilies, and members of Congress who, just days ago, were happy adulterers suddenly tasted the joys of conversion and emerged from the confessional as grim-faced Puritans.

Political spotlights are fleeting, of course. Once Washington has had its way with Bill Clinton and other cultural Visigoths, the term”Christian”will have to be rescued from these opportunists who baptize their cultural preferences and then wage holy war to”preserve tradition.” Faith, once again, will have to speak to real issues, real needs. But who will bring the ambiguities and agonies of real life to settings where tight-lipped certainty and a loathing of modernity are so tangible?

If the preacher is railing against”liberals,”if worship is an esthetic battleground, if doctrine matters more than listening and cultural uniformity outflanks compassion, the needy and confused will go elsewhere.

Yes, glossy suburban congregations can always fill their pews with those for whom life is working. But the Christian movement itself has never fared well when controlled by the powerful. Even the fortunate have sour times that a prosperity gospel can’t explain.

When Jesus was born, he came into a world dominated by historic preservationists. Daily life was circumscribed by religious legalists who enforced ancient codes while bedding down with Caesar. One major thrust of Jesus’ ministry was to unmask these righteous traditionalists as hypocrites. They spoke the lofty tongue of piety but, in fact, were concerned only with protecting their privilege and cared little for people.

Jesus himself was on the run from the powerful throughout his life. Within days of his birth, Joseph was leading wife and child in a flight to Egypt. Long before they could become icons, they became exiles. When Jesus dared proclaim good news to the poor and sight to the blind, it was the powerful and righteous who killed him, not the despised.

And yet the powerful can’t resist using Christianity’s plowshares as swords, and Christian leaders can’t resist the spotlight. It will take years to undo the damage wrought by this past year’s strange alliance of the amoral and the hyper-moral.

Interestingly, as I stroll through downtown Salisbury and admire the bold whimsy of 1890s architecture, I see hardly any plaques. I do see my first”Liddy for President”signs boosting local heroine Elizabeth Dole.

Even more, I see that, by welcoming real life _ even if that means consignment shops _ rather than angrily protecting beloved memories against everything but plywood, the leaders of Salisbury preserve a home for the living, not padlocks for relics.

DEA END EHRICH