Other than endless mentions connected with Mitt Romney's candidacy, Mormons have stayed out of the news in the past year. It's rare I do articles on them. Of the six articles I've done this month, five have been on Episcopalians/Anglicans and one on Roman Catholics, so you can see where my news priorties lie.

But Sunday's death of Gordon Hinckley, long-time leader of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, is big news for Mormons, one of the fastest-growing religions on the American landscape.

LDS President Gordon Hinckley being interviewed by Larry King in 1998. (Courtesy of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints)

I was off Monday, but I thought I'd get a head start on what how the locals were reacting. I realized, with some chagrin, that I had no local contacts on my Rollodex. Unlike the aforementioned Catholics and Episcopalians, the Mormons hadn't made many local headlines on ordaining gay clergy, same-sex unions or uncovering priestly sexual abuse.

I had spent several days in Salt Lake City in September 2006 researching the religion but hadn't done a whole lot in finding out who leads the local stakes and wards, the Mormon equivalent of churches and dioceses. I glanced at the phone book but only one stake was listed and that one was in Woodbridge. I knew there were many more than that.

I called up the www.lds.org site, then clicked on "stakes and ward web sites." Hmmmm. I had to be a church member to log into that. Then I did a Google search for the local Mormon temple — you know — the fairytale castle-like place you can see from the Beltway in Kensington, Md. I could not find a web site for that place. So, back to the LDS site, a click on "temple search" and finally an address and phone number. But there was nothing on local temple web site about the passing of this revered leader.

The temple itself was closed on Mondays but a man at the visitor center told me there were no memorials there as such for the 97-year-old church patriarch. The visitor center will be one of LDS 6,000 sites around the world that will get a satellite feed of Saturday's funeral at 1 pm. EST.

"There's no wreath, even?" I incredulously asked the man at the visitor center. He wouldn't answer.

"Well, it's nice of you to call," is all he said.

That's the second strange encounter I've had with that temple visitor center. The first one was several Christmases ago when, during one week in December, I visited the temple's fabulous annual light display. Then I discovered the only way out was through the visitor center, where clumps of Mormon missionaries lay in wait. I no sooner finished debating with one group then another would approach me. I got more and more annoyed at being challenged as to why I would not accept their teachings when all I wanted to do is drop by after work to see some pretty lights. It was truly difficult to get out of that building and I swore I'd never again attend one of those displays.

Well, that was then. I will add that my 2006 visit to Temple Square was quite pleasurable, no one tried to convert me and the gardens were gorgeous. But now I'm looking for some local Mormons who can tell me what the change in leadership means to them. Leave me your contact info in the comment section and we'll be in touch.

— Julia Duin, assistant national editor/religion, The Washington Times

One of the more interesting gatherings going on tonight in Washington is a reception for Dr. Ben Carson, director of pediastric neurosurgery at Johns Hopkins, on the occasion of his just-released book "Take the Risk."

Photo courtesy of Zondervan

The renowned doctor is best known for his mostly successful efforts at separating Siamese twins who are joined at the head; an exceedingly difficult type of surgery.

However, the book begins with his account of a high-risk and unprecedented operation: the attempted separation of the 29-year-old Bijani twins from Iran. The 2003 operation garnered headlines when it was attempted, but sadly, both women died during the 53-hour operation.

The rest of the book goes on to explain how important it is to take risks, even though there is that risk of failure, because to not risk is not to live. Even the twins, he explained, preferred the risking death if it was possible to live a separate life.

He goes on to explain practical ways one can assess whether or not to risk in various situations. He explains how his relationship with God gives him the confidence to risk. If, after prayer, the Almighty gives him the go-ahead, then the universe is on his side.

The problem with us, he explains, is that we think too small rather than too big. Too many of us have security as their god, not, well, God. Isn't that the truth? How many of us, before taking a big step in life, have been warned by others not to risk? And, for the most part, aren't we glad we took those chances?

— Julia Duin, assistant national editor/religion, The Washington Times

I was having lunch with a Jesuit friend yesterday (a former reporter at my newspaper, in fact), who's in town for all the right-to-life activities surrounding the 35th anniversary of Roe v. Wade.

I didn't realize how many thousands of kids — mostly Catholic ones — pour into town for this gruesome anniversary each year. There's the Cardinal O'Connor Conference on Life at Georgetown University and the Students for Life conference across town at Catholic University. Those are just some of the many activities and gatherings going on around town.

Then there's the 8,000 students who show up at the Shrine of the Immaculate Conception tonight for a procession of litanies, rosaries, vigil Masses and confessions going on all night long. A lot of these students will actually be sleeping on the floor and in the pews.

Then on Tuesday morning, the Verizon center downtown will be packed with 20,000 young Catholics — along with cardinals, bishops and a few hundred priests — for an annual Mass for Life. The Jesuits will have their own separate Mass at St. Alyosius Church.

Why is it these folks get minimal coverage whereas much smaller groups that show up here for their demonstrations and parades do?

Planned Parenthood clinic demonstration (courtesy of Christendom College)

In terms of the pro-life movement, it seems that these Catholic kids are doing much of the heavy lifting when it comes to showing up at demonstrations and generally making life uncomfortable for abortion clinic operators. In November, I got a press release from Christendom College in Front Royal describing how 25-50 students — and sometimes as many as 125 — give up their Saturday mornings to drive 90 minutes into Washington to pray outside of the Planned Parenthood clinic on 16th and L streets in downtown Washington. Paul Wilson, a sophomore quoted in the release, said their presence "helps us to see the 'real' faces of abortion; the pro-choice escorts, the women entering the building and even the people from the street who yell things from their cars as they drive by."

Sometimes people do more than yell. Yours truly was once part of a "life chain" in Houston standing by the sides of busy highways. At one point a car pulled up alongside and someone threw food at us.

If I were one of these students, I'd be tempted to stay in my dorm and work on homework instead.

— Julia Duin, assistant national editor/religion, The Washington Times

At first it seemed like just another press conference on sexual abuse by Catholic priests. The invitation was about a new book: "Sacrilege: Sexual Abuse in the Catholic Church" by Leon Podles, a scholar whom I'd last interviewed almost 10 years ago about his prior book "Church Impotent: The Feminization of Christianity."

So I showed up at the National Press Club Tuesday morning. What I discovered is probably the first R-rated account of what was really done to all those thousands of mostly teenage boys by abuser priests overseen by compliant bishops. It takes a strong stomach to work through the first few chapters that give the gory details about this ecclesiastical horror show.

Previous books on abuse, Podles told us, had been sanitized by not going into detail what sorts of rape, torture and sadism were perpetrated on innocent children. Not his. He had to form his own publishing company to get the book out after the publisher that commissioned the book backed out and no other publisher would take it because of the sexual content.

credit: Snogren Design

"Only a tiny fraction of the truth has come out," he told about 10 of us at his press conference. "Now people will understand why abuse victims cannot 'get over' it, why they have problems keeping a job and staying married."

When they tell church authorities, "They're regarded as whiners and moneygrubbers," he said. When sympathetic state legislators have tried extending the statute of limitations for abuse victims, "the Catholic Church has fought this tooth and nail.

"Bishops fear that if the truth were known, many, like Cardinal [Bernard] Law, would lose their jobs."

Podles had a personal encounter with this evil attending a private Catholic boys school years ago while considering the priesthood. He detected a strong current of homosexuality about the place; then his roommate committed a sexual act on him while he slept. When Podles reported the incident to the rector at dawn, the priest did not believe him. The roommate went on to become a Dominican who was then booted out of the order for his gay activities. He eventually died of AIDS. Podles, who left the school the following day, remains a Roman Catholic but mourns the evil afflicting his church. Every pope since Paul VI, he says, has known how bad the situation is.

"John Paul II did nothing about abuse except mourn it," he told us. "Benedict has still not disciplined bishops who permitted abuse."

Tom Doyle, a Catholic priest and expert in canon law, was also at the press conference. Many priests, he said, "are seriously disturbed and sexually dysfunctional. In seminary, their sexual development is frozen at adolescence. Emotionally, they are 12 or 13."

No wonder, he added, that the typical victim is also 12 or 13 years old.

I'd expected a boring book launch, but I was intrigued enough to hang around for lunch afterwards. (The crab cakes and wine were a hook, I must admit). Today, Doyle was telling us, abuse stats are lower because there are fewer priests and kids have wised up as to what sex abuse looks like.

As for the unfortunates who were preyed upon up until this century, "The only place these people can get decent treatment is in the civil courts," he said. "They still get beaten to the ground by the bishops and their lawyers."

— Julia Duin, assistant national editor/religion, The Washington Times

Before too much time passes, let me draw attention to the curious use of a 12th-century English saint as a patron for gay causes. I am referring to Saint Aelred of Hexham (in Northumbria, West Yorkshire), whose feast day was last Saturday (Jan. 12), and has become a yearly observance by the Episcopal gay caucus Integrity. Aelred is their official patron saint.

No one knows for sure where Aelred, born in 1110 AD, stood on such things.

According to his bio on Integrity's Web site, he found celibacy quite a challenge although he apparently kept it until he died of liver failure at the age of 57. As abbot for a Cistercian abbey in Rievaulx, England, he would occasionally jump into icy baths to calm his physical passions. What's gotten Aelred his reputation is his romantic attachments to other men, which he wrote about.

Aelred's cause was taken up by the Integrity folks back in 1985, when a committee got his feast day listed in the liturgical book "Feasts and Lesser Fasts," a must-buy for Episcopal seminarians.

My attention was drawn to Aelred a few weeks ago when I noticed his profile in Washington Window, the Episcopal Diocese of Washington's newspaper. Last I checked in 2004, the diocese listed 14 same-sex clergy couples, so it's not unusual that Aelred might be a hit with these folks.

I was intrigued, however, by the headline atop Aelred's profile, which called him as "a saint for January." There are lots of saint's days in January, including that of Saint Paul on the 25th of this month.

But I get the funny feeling that Paul, who wrote scathing reviews of homosexual activity in Romans 1, may not be as popular with that crowd.

A drawing of St. Aelred.

— Julia Duin, assistant national editor/religion, The Washington Times

Released today:

Nine evangelical leaders: some but not all from the evangelical Left, are unhappy that the networks seem to think Democrats are godless. Following the Iowa caucuses and New Hampshire primary, only Republicans were asked if they were born again or evangelical whereas Democrats were not. Many of the signers were folks who have fought to have faith concerns taken seriously by Dem leaders.

A copy of a letter to ABC, CBS, NBC, CNN, FOX and the Associated Press is here.

Two observations: I know that folks on the evangelical Left like to pride themselves as being egalitarian, but why are all nine of the signers men? C'mon guys, mix it up.

Also, it's almost amusing to see how evangelicals and politicos are fighting to get on each others' dance cards. I remember the days back, say, 25 years ago, when no one in American politics wanted anything to do with evangelicals, much less count them as a significant voting bloc. Now they're the category de facto for the Republicans and du jour for the Democrats.

UPDATE: A week ago we talked about the ever-traveling Cardinal McCarrick. Where is he today? The Gaza Strip.

— Julia Duin, assistant national editor/religion, The Washington Times

When things get too bizarre in the world of religion, I turn to the Christian satire magazine The Wittenburg Door. I've been reading it off and on since it was founded in the 1970s, as they're the jesters of American evangelicalism. Here's some wacko bumper-sticker suggestions from a recent issue:

This month's issue of The Lutheran, a magazine published by the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America, the largest of America's three major Lutheran bodies, had an uncritical take on an interfaith family.

The article was about the Lutheran bishop of the Lower Susquehanna Synod and his soon-to-be-rabbi daughter. Basically, the bishop's daughter, Heidi Hoover, had promised herself that when she married her Jewish husband, she would never convert to his faith. But, beginning in 1997, she felt drawn to Judaism and eventually converted.

The bishop, B. Penrose Hoover, was unhappy about the switch, but didn't object because his daughter made her decision prayerfully. Years passed and she began studies to become a rabbi. The dad now says he overreacted 10 years ago, but now, "We've had some really interesting discussions and we try to learn from each other," he told the magazine. "So much of what Christianity is had its roots in what Judaism is — and was." Wait: Don't Lutherans have pretty strong ideas on how one gets into heaven? If this daughter has truly dumped her Christian faith, hasn't she given up her salvation? Shouldn't her dad still be pretty upset about this? I found some material here on the site of the Lutheran Church/Missouri Synod — a much more conservative group — that says Jews — and other non-Christians — can and will go to hell.

Do the ECLA'ers simply not believe there is such a place?

This is why I avoid writing about interfaith marriages and families. I've found the people involved in them ignore the very real eternal issues at stake. If they believe in the doctrines of their own religion, that is. Then again, maybe they don't.

— Julia Duin, assistant national editor/religion, The Washington Times

UPDATE: Jan. 25 — The Lutheran magazine requested that The Washington Times remove a photo of Bishop Hoover and his daughter, Heidi Hoover.

Saturday (Jan. 5) was a date in the religious pantheon that most North Americans weren't aware of. It was the birthday of the 10th Sikh guru: Gobind Singh. It was not a date that registered on my calendar either until I visited Paonta Sahib.

That was 16 months ago on a hot September day about 200 miles north of New Delhi. I and photographer Mary Calvert were researching the horrors of female feticide and several Sikh doctors were helping us research this. India's highest rates of aborted females is in the Sikh heartland of Punjab and Haryana, states immediately to the north of Delhi. We wanted to photograph an Indian wedding and our "fixer;" a brilliant man named Sabu George, had found one for us. But it was a dusty four-hour drive to the north. The town was called Yamunanagar, as it was situated on the Yamuna River in Haryana's farm belt. We stopped by a strip mall to pick up a Sikh radiologist, Dr. Tajinder Sikh, an earnest, bearded man with 3 daughters whose passion was to stop women from killing their unborn children solely because they were girls.

His 11-year-old daughter, Vermeet, wanted to come with us, so we packed into a car and drove 60 kilometers further north up a small mountain and through a monkey preserve to arrive at Paonta Sahib, a pleasant spot on the river with Himalayan foothills in the background. The couple we were photographing were in a reception hall at first but then they wanted to visit the local gurdwara (temple) for a blessing. This turned out to be a series of courtyards around a main prayer hall with a museum to one side. We had to take off our shoes at the entrance to the shrine and women had to cover their heads. I was dressed in a salwar kameez (long tunic and pants outfit) that came with a scarf; however, the scarf sent my body temperature soaring.

The Sikh temple at Paonta Sahib, India. (Photo by Julia Duin)

The wedding ceremony took some time, so I wandered over to the much cooler museum, which had paintings of the history of the Sikhs, a religion founded more than 500 years ago. Its founder, Guru Nanak, was born to the west near Lahore in 1469, about 15 years before Martin Luther. It didn't take long for me to realize that this was a religion that knew persecution and torture intimately. The Moghuls (Muslim rulers in the area) saw the Sikhs as infidels and spared no atrocity in finding horrific ways to kill their leaders. I wandered from painting to painting, open-mouthed at the sheer carnage that spanned hundreds of years. I understood a lot better why the Sikhs pride themselves on being top fighters as they've withstood endless gruesome attacks from Muslim and Hindu alike. Their tenacity and refusal to capitulate are closest in western tradition to the Spartans of Greece.

The Sikh religion began as a reform movement against the caste system of Hinduism and elements of Islam and was built on the efforts of 10 gurus, the last of which, Gobind Singh, died in 1706. In 1685, (about the same time William Penn was traveling about Europe, trying to persuade the English, Germans and Dutch to settle in what would become Pennsylvania) the guru temporarily set up shop on land at a bend in the Yamuna River. He called the place Paonta, after a word meaning "foot" in Sanskrit as the site is where his favorite horse first placed its foot. He was only there about four years; long enough for his eldest son to be born there, before moving back west to a more secure place. Paonta Sahib is on the eastern frontier of Sikh territory and it was extremely pleasant spending part of the afternoon gazing down at the river from a temple plaza with the mountains as a backdrop. Mussoorie, one of the hill stations, was only 93 kilometers away.

When I returned to the U.S., I began delving into Sikh history. Fortunately, "The Sikhs" by Patwant Singh was on my bookshelf at work and it explained to me the background to my quick afternoon visit to this city. Gobind Singh, as it turns out, had a tragic end. His two youngest sons were captured and tortured to death by the Moghuls. They were only 6 and 8 years old. His eldest two sons died in battle. Paonta Sahib was a tranquil moment in time for him at the beginning of his marriage where all things seemed hopeful. He was one of the most brilliant of the 10 gurus at systematizing the religion and for motivating the Sikhs to live exemplary lives. Many of the distinctives of the religion: all mens' last names being Singh (lion), the wearing of turbans over mens' uncut hair, the short sword kept on one's person at all times and an insistence of male-female equality that was very rare during that era, began during this guru's reign. Women were told they didn't have to take their husband's last name; hence all Sikh women's surnames are Kaur, meaning lioness.

Arriving back that night in Yamunanagar, we visited Tajinder Sikh's home and dined and chatted with his wife, Kanualjeer, and other two daughters: Gurpreet and Manjvot. They asked us to accompany them to Amritsar, the beautiful Sikh capital about 300 miles to the west, the next day, but our schedules were packed and we could not spare the extra two days. The next time I get to that area of the world, maybe I'll go.

-- Julia Duin, assistant national editor/religion, The Washington Times

We've been a bit silent here about the largest religious organization in town, namely the Archdiocese of Washington, which oversees 580,000 Roman Catholics. Eighteen months after the installation of Archbishop Donald Wuerl, it's been a different ballgame in terms of news coming from the chancery.

In the good old days of Cardinal Theodore McCarrick, there seemed to be a press release every other day about his travels to hotspots such as Sri Lanka for tsunami relief or to Moscow as part of a Vatican delegation that delivered the revered Our Lady of Kazan icon to Russian Patriarch Alexy II. His chairmanship of the U.S. Bishops' Task Force on Catholic Bishops and Catholic Politicians made great news as did his secret confabs with pro-choice Democrats on the Hill and his tete-a-tete dinner with the newly elected President Bush and his wife, Laura.

Archbishop Wuerl, in contrast, has drawn the shades. Not a whole lot of press releases emanate from his office compared to the busy cardinal. Which is not to say the man isn't doing anything; it's just that we don't often hear about it. Yours truly had to go the extra mile — including chasing Sen. John Kerry around the U.S. Capitol — when researching a piece last June on the archbishop's first year in office. That story is here.

The big news during his term thus far has been the closing of several inner-city Catholic schools, the upcoming papal visit and the fact he wasn't made a cardinal last November. His 2007 Lenten pastoral letter on repentance got such a good reception, he'll be writing again on the topic this coming Lent. Must be a lot of sinning going on in the District.

Back to the cardinal, what's he been doing now that he's footloose and fancy free? Well, his passport's gotten quite the workout. Ports of call include the Balkans, New Zealand, Kazakhstan, Argentina, Canada, France, India, Israel, Italy, Jordan, Moscow (again), Lebanon, Syria, South Africa and all over these United States.

The 77-year-old prelate got lots of PR from his September trip along the coast of southwest Greenland as a Vatican rep to a global warming conference called by the environmentally minded Orthodox patriarch of Constantinople. The big photo op there was a gathering of a small army of scientists and religious leaders to offer prayers near the Ilulissat glacier. But not everyone thought the cardinal should be praying near so much melting snow. "Cardinal McCarrick Goes Green," one blog proclaimed. "Soul on Ice."

-- Julia Duin, assistant national editor/religion, The Washington Times