Howlelujah?

Right from the homepage, the Virtual Church of the Blind Chihuahua is ambivalent toward religion.

On the one hand, it claims to be "dedicated to enlarging religion as a source of inspiration and diminishing religion as a source of conflict in the world." But the homepage also has the slogan: "More to religion than pleasing your imaginary friend."

The creator, a 53-year-old weapons scientist(!) self-named Scooper, says he's a Lutheran and former atheist. He says the site is merely trying to make us all admit that, as the Bible says, "now we see through a glass darkly" (1 Cor 13:12). Or, in his own style, we bark at everything like a little, sight-impaired dog.

So, what can we bark at? Well, the "church" lets people post essays. There's a story on a man who joined radical Islam in Britain, then left. There's an excruciating testimony from a woman who says she was seduced by a priest.

A gallery has some beautiful pictures of people, animals, flowers and scenery, many of them by Scooper himself. There's also a list of religious jokes, some genial, some lame, some snarky. Heavier theological stuff is available in the so-called Scriptorium section.

The site has discussions on several faiths, and those can be lucid and insightful. The one for Buddhism, for instance, says the faith's literature "is both immense and non-essential" -- non-essential, because the core of the faith is personal, unmediated enlightenment. Curiously, the article mentions Zen, but doesn't acknowledge that Zen is a blend of Buddhism and Taoism.

Something about Mary

For millions of people, Mary is more than a mere supporting player in Christmas pageants. Devotees, in fact, claim to have seen supernatural apparitions of Mary in Spain and Portugal, Japan and Korea, Egypt and Venezuela.

For the Festival of Our Lady of Guadalupe, Dec. 12, let's take a look at Web sites that promote these appearances.

Catholic Online gives a typically crisp rendition of the Guadalupeapparition in 1531, to a Mexican Indian named Juan Diego. The story is remarkable for yielding an image of Mary on a cactus-cloth poncho -- a picture still visible five centuries later. (See a picture of the original image at the right, from http://www.sancta.org.) It's also unusual for being among the few apparitions that have gained official church approval.

Yet the many Marian Web sites, like this one and this one, cheerfully lump in the approved with the others. You'll see not only accounts of the approved Our Lady of Lourdes and Fatima, but the unapproved Garabandal and Medjugorje.

You can even see videos of some apparitions, courtesy of Google Video. One link leads to GodWay, a Coptic Orthodox site.

GodWay has some of the lesser-known apparitions, including Naju, South Korea, and Zeitoun, Egypt. The Zeitoun section has a collection of fuzzy-looking photos purporting to show a woman robed in light, walking the rooftops of Egyptian churches.

Taken together, the reported sightings reveal some unexpected things. One is a quiet, gentle rebellion against the Catholic hierarchy. Even if the Church doesn’t approve an apparition, people flock to them anyway.

Another observation: For many Catholics, even Jesus isn't enough. They seem to feel a need to see, not just believe.

Finally, some church thinkers are surprisingly indulgent about the apparitions. I once asked Eugene Kennedy, a Catholic psychologist, why people saw Mary so much. His answer: "Why are you surprised? The mother is one of the most powerful images we know."

I was amazed. He artfully left undropped the other shoe: that people may be inspired by the apparitions, whether they're real or not.

Free is good

Is your church short on cash? (What church isn't?) Consider
Free Pews, an online clearinghouse for church furniture and other equipment.

Each month, churches in several states give away stuff to anyone who can cart it away. And not just pews: It may also be chairs, pulpits, altars, light fixtures, communion tables, even pianos.

The Virginia-based Gabriel Ministries and Church Services lets donors post free ads with contact information. Interested people then call or write the churches to arrange pickup.

Another valuable service: scam warnings, and suggestions on how to recognize a scam. There's also a tipsheet on how to verify that a church is legitimate.

If your church is a little better off, Gabriel runs another site called Used Church Furniture. The company provides the ad space, but you deal directly with the seller. It's another free service, although Gabriel does ask for a donation to cover its costs. The Web site also has ads.

Gabriel's apparent motive for all this, aside from altruism, is to present a good image. Smart move. After all, if you want to buy new, you may think of them first.

Gimme that online religion

No cobwebs, no hymnbooks, no leaky roof: That's the appeal held out by St. Pixels, one of the more colorful attempts at an online church.

Stated aim is to "create a welcoming and witnessing community on the Internet." That puts St. Pixels in the same class with sites like GodWeb and VirtualChurch. And it shares their strengths and weaknesses.

St. Pixels affects a playful look, with cartoonish characters guiding you around. A "Hello Thread" message board lets members greet one another. There's also a live chat, which you can use as a guest. Simply download a one-time Java application and click a small floor plan of a church. The chatters also hold regular worship services.

Some message boards look at books, movies, theology and current events. Heavier topics come under the "Reflections" area -- as small as the use of candles, or as controversial as manipulation in church. "Solidarity threads" deal with problems like grief, smoking, school exams and family situations.

And like other churches, St. Pixels asks for donations: The management says your fair share would be $20-$30 per month.

At bottom, though, this is mainly a religious version of social networking sites. It may be a valid alternative; one member told me she finds fewer perverts on St. Pixels. But does it add up to church?

Sure, you can read greetings, but will you feel a handshake? Will you taste the bread and wine of Communion? When a loved one dies, will someone throw an arm around your shoulder and pray? And will Java-powered chats convey the quiet awe of a sacred space?

St. Pixels and such other sites can provide valuable resources. But they are churches only if you give up some basics of human experience. That seems an awfully high price for freedom from cobwebs.