A little more than halfway through Jesus Camp, I found myself on the verge of laughter, a reaction that some might deem inappropriate, given how provocative the film is supposed to be. Then again, maybe not: my amusement came when Ted Haggard, the former president of the National Association of Evangelicals, makes an appearance, in all his creepy, gay-bashing glory. Haggard, you'll remember, resigned his position when revelations came out that he'd been spending quality time with a male prostitute, where the two would meet in hotel rooms, using methamphetamines and--well, you get the picture. I'm not all surprised by Haggard's behavior; hypocrisy in religious figures is something I take for granted. Sin all you want--as long as you're "saved," as long as you repent, you should still have a one-way, first-class ticket to heaven.

After Haggard's appearance--which made me want to pause the movie and take a shower--my amusement stayed with me. Then I realized it had been there all along, simmering just below the surface. I wasn't shocked by Jesus Camp's revelations; anyone who's paid even the smallest bit of attention to the Bush administration and its policies is well aware of the growing influence the Christian right has had over American politics. Their message, it seems, is that nothing matters anymore; Christ is coming back, bringing hellfire and judgment, to take believers away from an increasingly cynical and immoral world (or at least the part of the world that has the temerity to disagree with their views).

But Jesus Camp is disturbing on a number of levels, most of all because it gives an undiluted glimpse at the warped morality of a movement that's been blurring the sacred line between church and state. The film isn't surprising at all, though it's interesting and amusing to note how seriously these people take their faith. Speaking in tongues, ridiculous prayers to pews and microphones, tear-streaked faces during Pentecostal sermons are all featured (I kept waiting for someone to start handing poisonous snakes to the children), as are interviews with parents. The families seem pretty happy and well-adjusted, but I wonder if that's the result of their sheltered existence in a small, sheltered town. (As one parent so insightfully puts it, "There are two kinds of people in the world: people who love Jesus, and people who don't." It should be noted that this same parent homeschools her two sons and, in one puzzling scene, dismisses climate change and the theory of evolution as unimportant.)

Sure, it's easy for secularists to simply dismiss Evangelicals as ignorant and even stupid, but Jesus Camp, thankfully, is unbiased: without any narration, the filmmakers let the true believers speak for themselves: these are people who believe that the Bible should be interpreted literally, that the Earth has only existed for six thousand years, and that Armageddon, as described in the Book of Revelation, is going to happen in this lifetime. This is a movement that would likely view nuclear war as the greatest thing to happen since the Crucifixion.

More than anything, Jesus Camp serves as a reminder of why I dismissed Christianity in the first place: the preachers (and, in some cases, the parents) instill a profound sense of guilt and self-hatred in their flock for possessing something as fundamental as (God-given?) human nature. We've gotten used to walking on eggshells around anyone of faith, which is understandable. Faith is an uncomfortable topic, one that induces awkward silence more than open discussion, unless people happen to agree with certain aspects of any given religion. Jesus Camp shows an extreme side of Christianity: these people care little for democracy and basic human rights, and have even less respect for any opinions differing from their own. The prudent thing to do would be to walk away, but if Jesus Camp is any indication, that's becoming more and more difficult to do.