Mother Jones "outs" the Boy Scouts

When the New Jersey Supreme Court ruled August 4 that in the Boy Scout Oath, "the words 'morally straight' and 'clean' do not, on their face, express anything about sexuality, much less that homosexuality, in particular, is immoral," culture warriors on both sides opined everywhere. In our own publication, Charles Colson and Nancy Pearcey wrote, "The court assumed a right to decide not only what is legal, but also what qualifies as moral and immoral." In a way, the unabashedly liberal magazine Mother Jones agrees. "With those words [from the New Jersey court], the gay rights movement stepped beyond the battle for civil rights and into the era of cultural integration," writes William Saletan in the November/December issue. Saletan and cultural conservatives agree that the Court's argument "there is no indication that [gay scoutmaster James] Dale intends to actively 'teach' anything whatsoever about homosexuality as a scout leader" is preposterous. The very allowance of a gay scoutmaster teaches scouts something. But Saletan presents a bright side: "Just by the force of his example, Dale will teach scouts that a gay man can be an ethical person and a good leader. He will challenge the organization's homophobia. And he should." Saletan concludes that the ruling will force the Boy Scouts into answering whether they're "antigay" (and thus likely lose much of their support) or not antigay (and thus lose much of their past character).

Mother worries about video games, too

The cover story of that Mother Jones issue looks like it could have come from Christianity Today. (In fact, it's very similar to one of our most popular issues in recent years.) The story, "Culture Quake," asks, "What happens to a generation immersed in the most violent, interactive entertainment ever created?" Beginning with a Plato quote ("Shall we just carelessly allow children to receive into their minds ideas for the most part the very opposite of those which we should wish them to have when they are grown up?") and a description of the Electronic Entertainment Exposition trade show, it quickly recaps both sides of the post-Columbine video game debate. The article tries to be balanced, but writer Paul Keegan's discomfort with the games is palpable. He quotes a bunch of gamers around the age of 20, noting, "when they say that blowing away zillions of digital characters since they were kids hasn't made them the least bit aggressive in real life, you believe them." But just as he begins to see the games as positive ("Their camaraderie is as real as you'll find in any locker room"), they pop in Kingpin: Life of Crime. "I fully expect them to draw the line here for this is a game that goes way over the top with its graphic violence and racial stereotypes. Instead, they laugh and nod their approval at what a great game Kingpin is." Keegan's bottom line? Video games can't bear the full blame for the killers in Paducah and Littleton. But anyone who argues that the industry isn't harmful or even that it's beneficial is either deceived or deceiving.

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Cornerstone, on the other hand, finds the joy in joystick

Ironically, the latest issue of Cornerstone, published by Chicago's Jesus People USA, is much more positive toward video games. Like the Mother Jones article, Cornerstone's begins with a first-person account of walking down corridors. But instead of encountering trade show booths with scary promoters, Cornerstone writer Dave Canfield encounters demons and the alter ego of his brother. He's playing Doom the grandfather of first-person shooters like Kingpin. Like every other writer on the topic, Canfield talks about Columbine, quotes retired Army Lt. Col. Dave Grossman, and recounts the dangers of kids playing at murdering each other. But Canfield finds problems with Grossman's arguments that we're "training our children to kill," and trots out C.S. Lewis to support him. "In a fallen world where we must spiritually fight to stay alive, perhaps a little metaphorical demon blasting is just what the doctor ordered," Canfield writes. He concludes with a brief attack on the ultraviolent games like Kingpin, but adds in a postscript: "My thanks to brother Brent for a great weekend of initial research and demon blasting And praise to God for His mighty spirit of play. Kaplooey!!!" (To say Cornerstone publishes "sporadically" both in print and online would be generous. When this article is eventually posted online, it will be here. Don't hold your breath, though.)

U.S. News: Media got burned on black church arsons

In 1996, newspapers and magazines were filled with reports of church arsons, mostly those of Southern black churches. Since then, slowly and quietly, the dominant perception of those fires that they were almost universally the result of a racist conspiracy has been largely debunked. Race was a factor, yes, but so were anti-Christian sentiments, Satanism, revenge, insurance scams, and accidents. In light of how universal the coverage was in 1996, it's disappointing to see so few publications talking about some of the other reasons behind the church-burning epidemic especially since it's continuing. But an article in last week's U.S. News & World Report (Nov. 22, 1999) should go some way in correcting that, and in reminding people that burned churches still need help in rebuilding (among the National Council of Churches' many financial problems is a drastic drop in its rebuilding fund).

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The other meeting

Speaking of massive media attention, October's meeting between Jerry Falwell and his gay former ghostwriter, Mel White, made headlines everywhere, including ChristianityToday.com. Indeed, it was a historic moment if only in both men's decades-long attempts for prominence. But two other longtime foes also met last month, and nobody covered it. No one, that is, except one of the men. In "My Chat With Pat" in the November 1999 Church & State, Barry W. Lynn, executive director of Americans United for Separation of Church and State, tells about his encounter with his nemesis, Pat Robertson. The two ran into each other in a D.C. restaurant shortly before the Christian Coalition "Road to Victory" conference, where Lynn told Robertson that his mother is a fan of Robertson's 700 Club, but "doesn't understand why Pat Robertson says all those nasty things about me." Lynn says, "Robertson chortled that maybe she could come and visit and they'd straighten things out." Robertson later sent Lynn "an explanation to your mother," accusing him of misrepresenting his speech at the Road to Victory. "Barry, what you need to tell your mother is that, unfortunately, when you were a little boy, she didn't teach you to tell the truth," the letter reportedly said, "and this is the reason Pat Robertson says unkind things about you from time-to-time." It seems that the meeting between Lynn (whose organization has named Robertson "the most dangerous man in America") and Robertson (who reportedly once called Lynn "a little bit lower than a child molester" on The 700 Club) wasn't quite as productive as the Falwell-White reconciliation.


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