Religion: Jerry Falwell Spreads the Word

• Share

(5 of 6)

Sitting in the parlor of his highceilinged home, Falwell spoke with apparent ^ repentance about his urge to attack. "Those remarks of mine don't fit this ministry," he said slowly. A customary glass of Diet Coke in hand, he explained that he simply was not prepared for the stinging criticism that came after he started Moral Majority. His wife had placed a bowl of fresh strawberries on the table and he picked at them. Outside, wide green lawns shaded by towering white oaks stretched around the white-columned house. Over the years, Falwell has received his share of hate mail, envelopes that contained used condoms and human feces. His house is surrounded by 8-ft.-high concrete walls, and security men track him constantly. Despite these precautions, his mailbox has been blown up several times.

Falwell's mood picked up. Abortion is no longer a Roman Catholic issue, he said with satisfaction, but a Moral Majority one. His 261 clinics to assist pregnant women in having their babies and placing them for adoption, Falwell explained, will eventually swell to 10,000. If the Supreme Court sees such an alternative system, he predicted, the Justices will surely reverse the 1973 decision legalizing abortion, especially after Reagan appoints some new members. Falwell sees a new attitude among young people. "More and more of them have decided the social experiments of the '60s and '70s have failed," he said.

He spoke of successes in the campaign against pornography: five national chains that run 6,000 drug and grocery stores recently agreed to wipe their shelves clean of offending magazines and books. His own computers, Falwell said enthusiastically, now hold the names of 110,000 pastors around the country, all of them sources of support. He regards politically conservative American Jews as allies. Falwell's firm backing of Israel has gained him a dozen invitations to that country. "Whoever stands against Israel," he said, tapping the Bible at his side, "stands against God."

Falwell then headed outside for the brown-and-white van that he likes to drive. He wanted to show off Liberty University. He considers the school his most enduring monument, and last year put $30 million into its administration and $10 million into new construction. "There it is," he said delightedly as the college came into view. He drove along the winding mountain roads, proudly pointing out the low, tan brick school buildings. He stopped by the auditorium. "Almost every Cabinet officer has spoken here," he said. "And Reagan, Bush, Ted Kennedy, Jack Kemp." His great pride was obvious and understandable.

When he spoke of the rules at Liberty, he seemed almost unaware of their anachronistic rigidity: the restriction on freshman and sophomore dating, the ban on alcohol and tobacco, the outlawing of unauthorized demonstrations, the taboo against rock music, even country and western. "The students know I love country and western, and listen to it at home," Falwell smiled. "But it's the discipline that counts. Families send their children here for discipline and values."