For those who were buoyed by the spike in church attendance after September 11, poll numbers in the last few months have delivered depressing news. Americans may have mourned en masse in their churches, synagogues, and mosques in the immediate aftermath of last fall’s terrorist attacks, but nationwide polls conducted since then have shown little evidence of lasting change.

By the end of 2001, Gallup polls showed that attendance numbers at religious services had returned to their pre-attack levels of about 40 percent. In January 2002, the American Religious Identification Survey reported that 29.4 million Americans said in 2001 that they do not attend religious services. That’s about 14 percent of the population, and more than double the number of religiously unaffiliated Americans found in 1990. On March 11, CNN announced the findings of a new CNN-USA Today-Gallup poll that showed a drastic drop in post-attack piety. The poll found that while 74 percent of Americans surveyed last September said they had prayed more in the last two weeks because of the terrorist attacks, only 37 percent said the same six months later.

Surely, some cooling of the attack-induced religious fervor is to be expected as time passes and the shock subsides. But the findings of these polls, and the commentaries of many sociologists and journalists who interpret them, seem to suggest that America is back on its increasingly secular track, with barely a memory of the religious fervor that marked the days and weeks after Sept. 11.

Yet the numbers and the experts may not have all the answers. In many corners of American life—from public discourse to private prayer—the effects of that post-attack religious zeal show signs of enduring. The signs are rarely as obvious or quantifiable as church attendance figures, but they are powerful nevertheless. And for the believer who senses that something is afoot in America, though it may be percolating well under the radar of the mainstream media, even intangible signs of a spiritual awakening inspire hope that God may yet bring lasting goodness out of a great evil.

Consider the change in public rhetoric since last fall. President George W. Bush has famously revived the term "evil" in the public square, and—remarkably, perhaps, considering the rampant relativism that has marked American public discourse in recent years—has gotten little flak for his embrace of moral absolutes. Some political commentators have criticized his use of the term axis of evil to describe certain regimes hostile to American interests, but his bottom-line contention that absolute evil exists has met with surprisingly little opposition.

"I didn’t hear anybody stand up and say the President should never call anything evil," says Jean Bethke Elshtain, an ethicist at the University of Chicago Divinity School. She contrasts that reaction with the one Bush received just two years earlier, when he said Jesus Christ was his favorite philosopher and "people went berserk."

Bush’s evangelical Christian understanding of the world has been evident for years, but the new twist may be the way Americans are reacting to his orthodox vision of morality. For many Americans, the postmodern notion that good and evil are outdated concepts imploded on Sept. 11, when the contrast between the ruthless hatred of terrorists and the heroic impulses of firefighters, police officers, and rescue workers came into stark relief.

"People that don’t like absolutes absolutely witnessed absolute evil contrasted with random acts of sacrifice," says Jeff Perry, pastor of St. Louis Family Church in Chesterfield, Missouri.

Perry says his evangelical megachurch filled up with new visitors in the weeks after the attacks, and though some newcomers disappeared as the months passed, others stuck around. And the regulars in his church—including many young adults—seem to be thinking more about how unstable this world is.

"I’ve definitely observed some changes since Sept. 11," Perry says. "I’ve seen clearly some re-prioritizing in people."

Anita Kolander, a seventy-nine-year-old Lutheran in St. Louis, sees evidence of transformation all around her. While heading into a Maundy Thursday service with her granddaughter during Holy Week in March, Kolander paused to give her impressions.

"I think people are more religious now," says Kolander, who has received more Easter greeting cards this year and has found herself praying and reading Scripture more. "I’m praying that nothing will happen."

Even for seekers who remain outside the reach of traditional churches, post-Sept. 11 effects may persist. Campus Crusade for Christ International produced a sixteen-page mini-magazine, "Fallen but not Forgotten," to commemorate the heroes who died in the terrorist attacks and to offer Gospel answers to the questions raised by the attacks. Dan Allen, St. Louis Metro director for Campus Crusade, has noticed that the pamphlets are not littering the ground on college campuses as evangelistic tracts often do. Instead, he said, people seem to be interested in reading them, and in asking questions about their eternal destiny.

This spring, Allen joined about 3,400 college students in Panama City, Fla., in a Campus Crusade-sponsored effort to spread the Gospel among spring breakers. Allen said he sensed more intensity among seekers he met there. "There were more conversations this year that had a bit more sincerity to them because people have thought recently about eternal issues."

Still, Allen says, the usual bawdiness and debauchery of spring break prevailed at the beach, pool decks, and nightclubs, despite the more somber national mood that had taken hold six months earlier.

"The hooks of materialism and hedonism are embedded pretty deeply into our culture and our college students," Allen says.

American culture may not have taken a U-turn on Sept. 11. But at least one religious expert believes that the spiritual effects of that day will be enduring and significant. Elshtain believes that many Americans who crowded into houses of worship after the attacks will remember what they experienced there for years to come, even if they do not return week after week.

"You may fall back into your old habits, but you don’t just obliterate it from your mind," Elshtain says of worship experiences that she believes may have ignited spiritual awakenings in many Americans.

Those awakenings could lead seekers gradually to reconsider organized religion, reorganize their lives, or raise their children with religious faith—fruits of the post-attack piety that may not become apparent for many years.

"My hunch is that a lot of this is rather hidden from immediate scrutiny," Elshtain said. "Society is a very mysterious animal. There can be all kinds of things going on beneath the surface . . . . It takes a while for these things to manifest themselves."

---

Colleen Carroll is a writer at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and author of The New Faithful: Why Young Adults Are Embracing Christian Orthodoxy, which will be released by Loyola Press in September.