Pulpit Politics

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The Rev. Louis Sheldon, wearing the badges and buttons of an alternate delegate from California, took time out from convention proceedings to recall his brief fling with the Democrats. He met Jimmy Carter in 1976 while serving as the pastor of a Charismatic church in Anaheim. "He was the first professing evangelical Christian ((candidate)) in my time," Sheldon said. "His religious bent seemed to rise above the campaign." So Sheldon switched parties and became a Democrat, introduced Carter to other ministers and attended a White House reception when Carter took office. A disillusioned Sheldon soon rejoined the G.O.P. however, because "I could not support an Administration that had the facade of evangelical rhetoric but not the reality of evangelical principles. I'm home to stay."

George Bush's chances in November depend heavily on whether Sheldon proves to be a weather vane for one of the country's most important voting blocs. Millions of white evangelicals returned to their roots to elect Carter 16 years ago. They changed allegiance again in 1980, helping to give Ronald Reagan and Bush large majorities. This year there is some wavering among the faithful. One reason is mild disappointment with Bush. Another is Bill Clinton's and Al Gore's status as churchgoing Southern Baptists. If Clinton and Gore convert their religious ties into enough votes, the Democrats can be politically born again in the South and a few pivotal states elsewhere.

No way, said Sheldon, who has become a religious-right activist as head of the Traditional Values Coalition. He has plenty of company among clergymen -- even those who shun direct political involvement. Floyd Smith, pastor of West Virginia's Hedgesville Baptist Church, also rues his one Carter ballot: . "To vote for a person just because he's born again is a mistake I won't make a second time." Smith wants a President "who will fight for our rights" against pro-choice feminists, atheists, gay-rights activists and others who threaten his brand of morality. "We're getting it shoved up our noses," Smith complained. He cares little if help comes from an Episcopalian like Bush or a Presbyterian like Dan Quayle.

To protect their evangelical support, the Republicans must stoke the anger of people like Smith. To woo evangelicals, the Democrats must convince them that Clinton and Gore are not only moderate but better able than their rivals to deal with the real problems of the middle class. The stakes in this religious tug-of-war are high: the Southern Baptist Convention alone boasts 15 million members. Four years ago, the white evangelical vote was nearly 20% of the electorate.

The G.O.P. got a boost in Houston from prominent televangelists like Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell. Even before he took the podium for a prime-time speech that accused Clinton of hatching "a radical plan to destroy the traditional family," Robertson revved up ultraconservatives outside the convention hall. At a Houston rally, young zealots distributed handbills denouncing "queers" and "feminazis" as Robertson berated the Democrats for failing to mention God in their platform.