chapel would help to determine whethernthe common culture would be “inspirednby Chrishan or pagan conceptions of thenmeaning and purpose of human life.” Asnthe “heart of the university,” it would proclaimn”eternal verities” and insist thatn”Thou shalt have no other gods.”nLynn Hough, then-dean of Drew TheologicalnSeminary in New Jersey, deliverednthe main dedicatory sermon:nThe cathedral on the campus is thenperpetual witness to the imperialnplace of religion in human life. . . .nThe cathedral on the campus embodiesnin stone, the very genius ofnthe Christian religion. .. . Thencathedral on the campus is a summonsnto men to find the synthesisnof all experiences in Jesus Christ.n”By and by not only here, but aboutnthe United States and out over the worldnthe influences of this chapel will be felt,”nHough concluded confidently. “It willngive gracious inspiration to spiritual pilgrims,nand it will speak its deepest word tonthose who have been captured by the incrediblenlove of Jesus Christ.”nThese were (justifiably) might}’ andnsoaring words to describe a toweringnstone edifice in which the figures of biblicalnheroes and heroines are engraved, asnwell as the heroic visages of Methodist luminariesnJohn Wesley, Francis Asbury,nThomas Coke, and George Whitefield.nWhen the first same-sex ceremony isncelebrated in the nave of Duke Chapelnby the bold Unitarian or United Churchnof Christ clergyperson who claims thatndubious honor, the frowning faces ofnthose evangelists, along with the downcastneyes of Duke family members memorializednin marble, will ponder thenscene beneath them, as their spiritualnlegacies and philanthropy are betrayed.nThey will also understand that DukenChapel has —as the dedicatory sermonsnprophesied —become a spiritual beachhead.nBut now that beachhead does notnface outward from the church into thenworld, but inward from the world into thenchurch.n”And if there ever comes a day whennChristianity has waned in power, mennwill come into buildings like this and say:n’What majesty of thought lived in thenmind of man before it was flung out innthis magnificent nave,'” sermonizednLynn Hough at the chapel’s dedication.nAnd they will go back and listenn46/CHRONiCLESnagain to the words of Jesus, andnthey will go back to the long centuriesnof Christian history, and thenold faith will once more commandntheir minds and dominate theirnconscience and bend their will tonits purpose.nThe words of Jesus have not been silencednin Duke Chapel. Orthodox sermonsncan still be heard on Sunday mornings.nBut the power of Christianity hasnclearly waned during the rest of the weeknand around the campus. Perhaps, somenday, Duke Chapel’s divinely inspired architecturenwill remind the university administratorsnmore forcefully of the Onento Wliom the chapel still belongs.nMark Tooley is a research associate at thenInstitute on Rehgion and Democracy’ innWashington, D.C.nHate for Hate’s Sakenby Aaron D. WolfnRadical feminist art has found a newnhome in Rockford, Illinois —or atnleast, you might think so, if you went tonRockford’s Riverfront Museum Park onnApril 6. There, in Rockford’s ever-evolvingn”cultural corridor,” you could viewnthe works of “cultural critic” Mary EllennCroteau, which included a Mason jarnfull of pickled —er, it was titled “Men InHave Known.”nCroteau, a fiftysomething feministnwith a Cheshire-cat grin and hornrimmednglasses, gave a slide-show presentationnof her work entitled “ImaginingnWomen: Misogyny through the Ages.”nTwo of her pieces —“Madonna andnChild” and “The Annunciation”—werenfeatured in the local Gannett paper. Thenformer is a knock-off of Sebastiano del Pionibo’sn16th-century masterpiece of thensame name; Croteau has given the bambinona sex-change operation, and bothn”Mary” and “Jesus” are now Asian. Evennmore stunning is her “Annunciation” —nGabriel has the face of Randall Terry,nwho holds a dead fetus; this time, Marynstands pointing away from him (as inn”There’s the door”), cocksure and withnher other hand on her hip.nnnCroteau hails from the Windy Cityneast of Rockford, where she receivedntraining at the Art Institute after her husbandnleft her and their children high andndry in 1973. Having become pregnant byna heretofore unnamed man, she wasn”forced” to have an abortion. In the absencenof Jerry Springer, who had not yetnarrived on the scene in Chicago, shenturned to high art to express her rage. Anvictim (so she says) of date rape as anyoung coed, she had been nursing a hatrednfor all things patriarchal and Christiannfor several oppressed years.nRockford must be nurturing some hatrednas well, since its taxpayer-supportednRiverfront Museum Park played host tonthis antichrist of pop art. The campusjustntwo blocks away from Chronicles’nheadcjuarters-is owned by the RockfordnPark District, a governmental body separatenfrom the City of Rockford. Bewilderednby an eternal desegregation lawsuit,nwhite flight, and the highest property taxesnin the United States, Rockfordians arenquick to point to the Park District as onenof the city’s main attractions, and they allownthemselves to be taxed even more tonmaintain the parks, golf courses, and “culturalncorridor.” One C[uestion remains:nAre the taxpayers of Rockford really thatneager to spend their time (and money)nwallowing in anti-Christian bigotry?nAaron D. Wolf is the assistant editor ofnChronicles.nLIBERAL ARTSnWHAT WOULD JESUS DO?n”Boston artist Rob Syrette bringsnJesus to life through dramatic paintingnillustrated to beautiful music.nWatcii in amazement as Rob, whonis covered with a wide spectra ofnsplattered paint, rhythmically hoversnabout while painting incrediblynrealistic mural-sized portraits of Jesusnin the time it takes for only twonsongs to play. Rob’s performance isndone as an expression of love for Jesus,nand each of his Prayer-Paintingsncapture Christ’s tender Spirit inntheir own way. Interleaved with motivationalnwords and inspirationalntestimony, this one-hour performancenstarts off with great suspensenand builds to a dramatic climax.”n—from a press release for “Prayers tonPainting,” an art exhibitionnat a Catholic high school innStamford, Connecticut.n