Invasion of the Promise Keepers.

How often do 700,000 men come to your town, drop to their knees, and beg for forgiveness? I felt compelled to go watch the Promise Keepers do their thing in Washington, D.C. I found the whole spectacle fascinating, and, I confess, strangely appealing.

Seven other leftwing journalists went with me on this field trip. "One wonders what Gore Vidal would say," remarked The Nation's Christopher Hitchens, alluding to Vidal's homoerotic tribute to the police at the 1968 Democratic Convention. Hitchens provided acid commentary throughout. There was plenty of material.

The Promise Keepers say they are focused entirely on private, spiritual matters: helping men to stop committing adultery, stop abusing and neglecting women and children, and start renewing their commitments to their families. But the founder, former Colorado football coach Bill McCartney, calls gay people "an abomination," supports a ban on abortion, and preaches that men must take back their rightful role as head of the household. His group enjoys the support of Pat Robertson of the Christian Coalition and James Dobson of Focus on the Family. And the Promise Keepers have a penchant for holding massive rallies in centers of government--on the mall in Washington, D.C., and, they hope, at every statehouse in the nation on January 1, 2000. It's enough to make anyone who is not Christian, straight, or male a little edgy.

But despite the cocktail of testosterone and evangelism, there was nothing aggressive or hostile about the D.C. rally. Unlike last year's Christian Coalition rally in San Diego, the Promise Keepers event didn't feature anyone calling down the wrath of God on feminists, gays, and all the rest of my friends. When we arrived, Promise Keeper leader Randy Phillips was proclaiming from the stage that "no woman should feel threatened by this gathering." And instead of the No Girls allowed signs I expected, I met a lot of smiling bouncers, who ushered our wary little band into the sea of singing, praying men.

It was a very happy crowd. And fairly diverse: a group of sixtyish men and women in matching leather motorcycle jackets with Christian logos; scrawny teenaged boys in Jesus T-shirts; bus loads of men from black churches; and a lot of paunchy, middle-aged white guys wearing shirts that said: I Am a Life that Was Changed.

I couldn't help being moved by all the good feeling, by the sudden stillness when everyone fell into prayer, and by the acres of upraised arms signaling surrender to God.

Not so Hitchens, who found this gesture of submission ridiculous, and made it look ridiculous when he imitated it. Others in the group enjoyed Hitchens's bracing skepticism but, like me, had mixed feelings. "I don't want to just make fun of them," cartoonist Tom Tomorrow said.

I don't doubt that the Christian right sees a political gold mine in the Promise Keepers organization. But the men I saw were focused inward, having a deeply personal experience. The most dramatic part came when they all prostrated themselves to ask forgiveness for hurting the women and children in their lives. Individual members are taking to heart what feminists have been saying for years: Men need to help stop sexual abuse and domestic violence, pay attention to their wives, do their share of the housework, and take seriously the important work of raising children.

I thought it was the wrong tactic for some protesters to yell, "Racist, sexist homophobe, go home." Why treat this huge group of men as the enemy? Why not take them at their word that they want to do better and talk to them?

The Promise Keepers could use some guidance from women. Take the following instructional passage from the Promise Keepers' special, Washington, D.C., commemorative edition of the New Testament:

"Pastor John confided his weakness to his close friend. `I'm totally committed to my wife. We've been married for years, and I really love her. But, I'm just not attracted to her anymore.' His friend Pete began to set him straight. `But you don't understand,' John objected. `There's forty more pounds of her than what I married. It's really a struggle. And then there's . . . Cynthia, my church secretary. She's so sweet.'

"The time came for clear thinking. `Pastor, you're not playing on an even field. When you see your wife in the morning, she's not yet brushed her hair or teeth; she has no make-up on. But when you see Cynthia, she's all done up. . . . First, realize that you are at the end of your rope, you're broken, and you can't solve this on your own. Confess to God your weakness. Ask him for help in seeing the beautiful wife he gave you. Concentrate on her good points. And as far as Cynthia . . . get yourself another secretary. Don't even put that stumbling block in front of you.'"

Seems to me the Promise Keepers should ask women if we're ready to trade stable employment for marital fidelity.

That nagging church and state problem won't go away, either. I talked to a nice Promise Keeper from Minnesota, Nicholas Gill, who works for Honeywell. "Our church was fortunate to go to the Pentagon yesterday," Gill told me. "All these guys, including generals, were there speaking up for Christ at a luncheon. And for the first time, they are now going to allow worship in the inner court of the Pentagon. We were part of 150 people who went there and sang different Christian songs to God--we could see all of the people peeking through the windows at us. That was so great. We could leave tonight and forget the conference and it would be enough for me."

The Pentagon may be ready to turn itself over to the Promise Keepers, but in the largely gay DuPont Circle neighborhood where I live, the group was not making masses of converts. Pairs of men in Promise Keepers baseball caps were something of a curiosity on my street. While one group of Promise Keepers, out on the town on Saturday night, ogled a six-foot-two-inch transvestite, a group of gay passersby ogled the Promise Keepers right back. On another corner, a friendly gay couple gave directions to a pie-eyed man in a Promise Keepers shirt.

Second Story Books, downstairs from my office, put up an enormous poster of Jim and Tammy Bakker looking wild-eyed and proclaiming, "God Loves you! He really does!"

The Promise Keepers' bland sincerity meets DuPont Circle's cheerful irony. All things considered, it seemed like a happy ending to the weekend.

Ruth Conniff is Washington Editor of The Progressive Magazine.