In June of 1996 some 37,500 men converged on the Carrier Dome in Syracuse, N.Y. They had come from all over the East Coast and Canada to learn how to be better Christian men.
    But the crowd -- mostly white and in their 30s and 40s, with a smattering of younger men and some boys -- acted more like sports fans than church-goers. At times the gathering seemed like a giant pep rally for Jesus. Thousands at a time chanted such lines as "We love Jesus! Yes we do! We love Jesus! How about you?" Even the emcee laughed.
    It was an easygoing summer afternoon, not a three-piece suit or a clerical collar in sight. An enormous sound system brought a 12-piece band and 20-man a cappella gospel choir to all parts of the stadium. Between sets of bouncy anthems and updated traditional hymns, big-name evangelists wearing blue-and-purple striped polo shirts held forth on how to be better husbands and fathers, how to abandon racism, and how to honor one's pastors. Throughout the rally, which lasted two days, the men batted beach balls around the stadium and craned their necks to see where they'd land next. At times, arms would rise heavenward, palms up in the Pentecostal style. Men would lay hands on each other in prayer. There was lots of hugging.
   It was a typical mid-sized gathering of the Promise Keepers, a $100-million-a-year nonprofit business and the vanguard of the Christian men's movement. Previous rallies in L.A. and Detroit had filled stadiums almost twice the size. The Syracuse rally was the Colorado-based movement's easternmost gathering to that point.
    Last month, Promise Keepers advanced into New England for the first time with a rally at the Worcester Centrum. The men who attended the July 26 half-day event experienced something a bit different than those at Syracuse. The auditorium was filled to less than half of capacity. There was some hugging, and some real men cried real tears; scattered arms reached upward, accompanied by the murmurs of men speaking tongues. Attendees promised to be better Christians. But there was no doing The Wave for Jesus, as there had been at other rallies, and there were no spontaneous chants. Organizers were clearly disappointed by the turnout.
    It has taken the Promise Keepers six years to become what it is today, but it has taken less than one year for it to rush to the brink between financial collapse and possible world prominence. Worcester epitomizes the story of the 1997 rally season, which has been marked by low turnouts, massive revenue shortfalls and rumored staff layoffs. Those with an itch to name the trend may be tempted to dismiss the Worcester rally as a sign that Promise Keepers is past its peak and headed for a free-fall. But Worcester also portends a shift in PK's market strategy, to target smaller cities and charge lower prices in the year ahead.
    Worcester also signaled a new effort to target the Northeast, an area largely avoided before now. But most significantly, the rally was designed to rouse and raise up what speakers called an "army" of men for a long-planned march on Washington, D.C. In what it has dubbed "Stand in the Gap: A Sacred Assembly of Men," the organization is calling for a million men to assemble on the Mall in October. PK's history of mounting dynamic stage shows suggests that Stand in the Gap may be among the best-produced, most dramatic marches on Washington in American history.
    Promise Keepers is one of the most colorful and dramatic movements in modern politics and religion, but its story is rarely -- or barely -- told in the mainstream media, which have tended to focus on the touchy-feely pictures of beefy guys hugging each other. But behind the superficial, media-friendly facade lies a far less sunny -- and for many, deeply troubling -- agenda of fierce anti-abortion and anti-gay activism, a misogynist version of Christianity, and an ominous ideology of Christian nationalism.
    The speakers in Worcester were franker than most about PK's mission: They plan to take America in the name of God.
    The story of the Worcester rally really begins in 1990, when former University of Colorado football coach Bill McCartney convened the gathering of 72 men who would become the first Promise Keepers.
    The Denver-based organization grew quickly. With financial and organizational support from two major Christian Right organizations -- the Colorado Springs-based Focus on the Family and the Orlando-based Campus Crusade for Christ -- Promise Keepers was able to draw as many as 72,000 men to major stadiums in the U.S by 1994. Last year they filled sports arenas of various sizes in 22 cities and claimed a total attendance of 1 million. Their expenses for the year topped $100 million.
    Promise Keepers carries forward a long tradition of revivalism, epitomized in recent history by the tent revivals of Oral Roberts and the stadium "crusades" of Billy Graham. The group's founding text, Seven Promises of a Promise Keeper, is a compilation of essays on each of the seven "promises" -- akin to a Boy Scout oath for evangelicals. The Promise Keeper commits to:
    1.) "honoring Jesus" and obey[ing] God's Word; 2.) "pursuing vital relationships with a few other men ... to help him keep his promises"; 3.) "practicing spiritual, moral, ethical and sexual purity"; 4.) "building strong marriages and families"; 5.) "supporting the mission of his church ... and praying for his pastor"; 6.) "reaching beyond any racial and denominational barriers to demonstrate the power of biblical unity"; 7.) obey ing"the Great Commandment and the Great Commission." (This refers to the evangelization of the world before the final harvest of souls -- the physical battle with the forces of Satan at the end of time and the Second Coming of Jesus.)
    Promise Keepers rallies -- smartly packaged and mediagenic -- have been the slickest religious consumer product since televangelism. A hybrid of elements of arena sports, tent revivals and rock concerts, they are well-paced, interspersing chants and speeches with upbeat music, evangelical songs and traditional hymns. They're usually homey, fun and designed to create a comfortable place for men to bond and reflect upon what it means to be a "Christian man."
    But Promise Keepers is also a slick nonprofit business. Tickets to stadium rallies run about $60. The PK Apparel & Gifts summer catalogue offers a kind of a Lands End look, with seven styles of PK headgear. The PK product line also includes mugs, pens, books, videos, CDs and cassettes of the greatest hits of PK rallies past. The PK edition of the New Testament, Promise Keeper: Man of His Word, makes the Good Book look like a cross between a product catalog and Sports Illustrated.
    Interspersed between the books of the Bible are personality profiles of Christian athletes. In the back are ads and tear-out cards for PK products.
    The organization's public-relations people insist that it's all about personal commitment to family and Jesus. Men pledge to lead their families: to be faithful to their wives, to support their children, not to abuse alcohol or drugs, to spread the message of evangelical Christianity, to be "men of integrity." But the image of masses of men forswearing their wicked ways is misleading.
    Reporters are drawn to the emotional elements of the rallies like moths to a flame --particularly when the hugging is interracial -- giving the impression that Promise Keepers represents something new and hopeful. But most attendees already are evangelicals, for whom the emotional style of worship present at PK rallies is customary. The vast majority (88 percent, according to one survey) are married. Only 21 percent have been divorced, well below the national average.
    While strengthening marriage and family is one of the Promise Keepers' most publicized goals, and many say it has made a positive contribution to their lives, this happens strictly in the context of a theological patriarchy: God the Father, Jesus the son; male pastors; women "in submission."
    Promise Keepers spokesmen deny that the organization encourages men to dominate women, but again and again, the words of Promise Keepers own leaders and supporters make clear their views on male-female relations. Reflecting on a PK rally at his Liberty University, the Rev. Jerry Falwell said: "It appears that America's anti-Biblical feminist movement is at last dying, thank God, and it is possibly being replaced by a Christ-centered men's movement."
    Here's how to begin "Reclaiming Your Manhood," according to the Rev. Tony Evans in the group's founding text, The Seven Promises of a Promise Keeper: "The first thing you do is sit down with your wife and say something like this: 'Honey, I've made a terrible mistake. I've given you my role. I gave up leading this family, and I forced you to take my place. Now I must reclaim that role.' Don't misunderstand what I'm saying here. I'm not suggesting that you ask for your role back, I'm urging you to take it back." (Emphases in the original.)
   Not surprisingly, women are scarce at Promise Keepers rallies, which are intended for "men only." Most of the women who could be found at the Worcester gathering were volunteer staffers who were required to stay outside the arena during the event. The few other women present were reporters and two brave souls who overcame the "men only" policy by insisting that the Centrum is a public facility, open to all.
   Strident anti-gay rhetoric is also common at Promise Keepers events. Gays, if there were any, did not draw attention to themselves in Worcester.
    The mood at the Centrum was uncharacteristically subdued throughout most of the July 29 rally. During the music and speeches there was a lot of standing in line for expensive hot dogs and super-size Cokes.
   But Promise Keepers' startling political and religious agenda, submerged behind the pep-rally atmosphere at previous rallies, emerged full-blown in Worcester. The organizers revealed what had previously remained implicit: that they are planning one of the greatest mobilizations of evangelicals in history, nothing less than a 20th century-scale Great Awakening, the advent of the Christian nation -- and possibly the fulfillment of the biblically prophesied end of the world.
   At this point, the men of Worcester began to take notice.
   Attendees were shown a promotional video for Stand in the Gap, the precedent for which, they were told, lay in the Great Awakenings of the 18th century -- the explosions of popular religious fervor that swept the country as famous evangelists held forth.
   The first Great Awakening, led by Jonathan Edwards, was centered in Northampton from the 1730s through the 1750s. It spread beyond New England as other evangelists inspired local pastors to step up their personal efforts. The Second Great Awakening spilled out of New England in the 1790s and early 1800s, generating outbreaks of religious enthusiasm in Kentucky at the great camp meetings of 1800 and 1801.
   The most groundbreaking message of the Worcester rally came when the Rev. Larry Jackson stepped up to the podium and into the spotlight. Within 45 minutes he had the men on their feet and cheering a message that destroyed any popular understanding of "male responsibility."
   Jackson linked the more mundane, if controversial, message of "man as head of the household" to the unleashing of supernatural powers. He referred participants to the Old Testament book of Ezekiel, chapter 37, the basis for an old gospel song, which goes in part, "dem bones dem bones, dem dry bones ... Now hear the word of the Lord!" Not only have men failed to lead their families, Jackson declared, but they have "abdicated responsibility to preach the word of God." Like the prophet whom God commanded to speak the Word of God to the "dry bones in the valley" and thus breathe life into them and raise them from the dead, so, Jackson thundered, a man must "prophesy" to his wife and children. The "dry bones," he said, are the condition of the family, the church and society. God's breath, in the form of the Holy Spirit, must be breathed into them, he said. Paraphrasing Ezekiel, Jackson said the Holy Spirit will come as the four winds to Stand in The Gap.
   The rally name, in fact, derives from another story in Ezekiel, in which God, angry at a society that had fallen away from His laws, looked for a man who would "stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not destroy it, but I found none."
   Jackson told attendees that every Christian man is to be a prophet in this sense, that God is speaking to him and through him. "You cannot be led by your own mind," Jackson insisted. "He wants to see men of POWER!"
   In the rally's finale, Promise Keepers national staffer "Doc" Reed rebuked the various demonic spirits he believes control New England. He condemned "the spirit of individualism" which he seemed to feel hinders the PK cause, and he railed against "racism," "sectarianism" and "intellectual pride."
   Promise Keepers' public-relations people deny the organization promotes a right-wing political agenda. But the leaders' own words contradict the PR.
   Personal religious "revival" is not enough, Campus Crusade for Christ leader Bill Bright writes in his book The Coming Revival: America's Call To Fast, Pray, and Seek God's Face, which is sold at Promise Keepers events. Christians must "[b]ecome actively involved in restoring every facet of society, including government, to the biblical values of our Founding Fathers," Bright writes. "Unless our nation returns to God -- from the top down, where our laws are made -- permanent change will be extremely difficult."
   Bright believes the U.S. was founded as a "Christian Nation" but has lost its way and must be restored.
   It is true that the original 13 colonies were largely Christian theocracies for 150 years.
   But the framers of the Constitution rejected the bitter history of religious warfare in Europe and religious persecution in the Colonies. Unanimously and with little debate, they adopted Article VI of the Constitution, which bars "religious tests" for public office. The U.S. was thus the first nation in the history of the world founded without an official God and premised on religious equality.
   But Christian nationalism remains one of the driving myths of the Christian right, including Promise Keepers leaders. And there is an even more disturbing vision beyond, or perhaps a logical extension of, Christian nationalism. The Rev. James Ryle -- who is Bill McCartney's personal pastor and a Promise Keepers board member -- believes Promise Keepers is the fulfillment of a Biblically prophesied army which will destroy sinners and unbelievers in the end-times. "Never have 300,000 men come together throughout human history," he told journalist Russ Bellant, "except for the purposes of war." Promise Keepers leaders at all levels use military metaphors to describe their activities. All this is particularly disturbing because a number of the organization's senior staff are former military officers.
   The apocalyptic war imagery is disturbing also because there is a certain desperation in Promise Keepers land. They believe that the men of the church have failed to be in charge in the home, the church and society, and that their failure explains abortion, homosexuality, crime, drugs and natural disasters -- which they take to be warning signs of God's displeasure. In D.C., they plan to repent their failures and raise up what rally speakers describe as an "army" to stay God's hand, lest God destroy our nation like Sodom and Gomorra. The Washington rally, Promise Keepers staffer Reed told the men at Worcester, was not "our idea." Attendance, he said, is "a matter of obedience."
   Pat Robertson, who has said he expects to broadcast the Second Coming of Jesus live from the Mount of Olives in Israel, has started to pull out the stops for Stand in the Gap. He plans to broadcast a series of six promotional segments on his 700 Club program featuring Promise Keepers staff. Robertson and Bright were prime movers behind two similar rallies on the Mall in Washington, D.C., in 1980 and 1988, called Washington for Jesus. Ostensibly about repentance and revival, the rallies drew several hundred thousand participants each and served as catalysts for Robertson's political ambitions.
   During a 40-day fast for revival in December 1994, Bright hosted a three-day gathering of some 600 evangelical leaders. He said that "the Holy spirit assured me again and again that God will send a great revival to America and the world ... I am confident that this awakening will result in the greatest spiritual harvest in history and that the Great Commission will be fulfilled in our generation."
   Bright, who provided 85 staffers from his organization as an in-kind contribution to Promise Keepers, evidently views Promise Keepers as a vehicle for the final revival.
   It appears that the novelty and excitement -- not to mention the time and expense -- of the big rally phenomenon have worn thin. Attendance has dropped dramatically this year. Last year's Promise Keepers rally in Los Angeles sold out 75,000 seats six months in advance. This year, Promise Keepers filled less than half of that stadium and many others. With ticket sales and point-of-sale merchandising as its major sources of revenue in a budget of more than $100 million, a cash crunch seems likely. The New York Times last week reported that PK now has a staff of 300. If this is correct, it represents a staff reduction of at least 100, since PK has claimed to have more than 400 employees.
   In explaining the low turnout, Promise Keepers officials claim that the D.C. march is competing for attendance with their regional rallies. But they present no evidence to support this explanation. More likely, Promise Keepers has saturated its base and hasn't grown much beyond the Pentecostal and Charismatic Christian communities.
   On the surface, Worcester was simply a scaled-down version of Promise Keepers stadium rallies. But the fact remains: the Centrum was only half-full. One staffer said attendance was "in the fours" -- that is, less than the 5,000 that Promise Keepers claimed had preregistered. Thus, when they arrived, participants had to be herded into their seats, row by row, leaving the higher balconies empty, to create the feel, if not the fact, of unity.
   While the Promise Keepers' ability to fill stadiums may have peaked, the Worcester rally may signal the future of Promise Keepers -- smaller rallies in smaller cities that require men to travel shorter distances and pay lower prices ($25 for the Worcester rally). But Promise Keepers' ongoing significance lies in an infrastructure of established PK cells in churches nationwide. PK will probably not wither but adapt to the new market conditions. Much will depend on the success of Stand in the Gap.
   Their organizational difficulties notwithstanding, Promise Keepers promises to be an ongoing cultural influence for the foreseeable future, and its members will continue to serve as advance men for the political agenda of the Christian Right.