PRAYER AT THE FAIR.

Byline: Andrea Damewood The Register-Guard

VENETA - Mornings are a sacred time at the Oregon Country Fair.

Before the fair opens and thousands of peaceniks, activists, anarchists and hippies fill the tree-lined paths, hundreds of campers gather and join hands in the famous "om" circle. The loud drone carries on for several minutes, a call for peace and love.

Away from the spiritual chant Saturday, Jesse and Elaine Pattison, and just a few dozen others, sit outside a tent, practicing their peace by reading from a popular text not often seen at the fair - The Bible.

Call them the counter counter-culture.

Believers say that while they sometimes face flack for their beliefs, the three-day event is generally a positive experience of finding other liberal-minded faithful who are delighted to see a cross, and sharing a faith they say parallels flower power.

"I think if Jesus was alive, maybe he would come to the Country Fair," said David Helton, coordinator of booth registration at the fair. "Jesus was liberal when you really look at it."

The Pattisons, whose organic orange juice operation has occupied a booth near the main stage for 37 of the fair's 38 years, have been quietly Christian.

"We've been treated well here, and we appreciate that," said Jesse, 60, who, along with his wife has hosted a Bible study at the fair since 1982. "What's in our heart is to be a presence to speak the truth and love."

The counter-culture and the Christian culture have a lot more in common than either side is willing to admit, said Tim Sitterley, senior pastor of Living Grace Christian Church in Eugene.

"If you walk around the Country Fair, you see flags that say love, that say peace, that say hope, that say unity," said Sitterley, who has attended the fair for the last 18 years. "Those are the very banners that the Christian church flies. We're seeking and promoting the very same things; we just don't communicate enough."

Christians at the fair can recount a moment when someone has rejoiced, and even cried, at the sight of another believer.

Sitterley recalled a moment several years ago when he was wearing a shirt with the Christian fish on it, and a dreadlocked Jamaican stopped him.

"He goes, 'Ah, you're a Christian mon, I'm a Christian too,' " he said. "He lifts up his shirt, and he's got the same symbol I had, but it's scarred, branded on his chest. I said, 'Whoa, you're a lot more hard core than I am; mine's silk-screened.' "

But in other fairgoers, such symbols can produce volatile reactions.

At the Pattisons's booth, very little is visible of their strong convictions - a small laminated sign bearing a cross and a verse from Mark hangs above where volunteers will hand-squeeze about 4,000 pounds of organic oranges over the course of the fair. Jesse and Elaine wear small crosses around their necks.

The pair, who live in Deadwood, silently donate their proceeds every year to a charity: Last year their money helped install 67 fishing ponds in lesser-developed nations, Jesse said.

But they are also known to bring out a homemade sign and stand in the crowds, which reached 17,500 Saturday, offering to pray with anyone who wishes to do so. Other times, they hand out religious literature.

But they never approach anyone, Jesse said.

"We believe in the dignity of mankind," he said. "People are going to make their choices here, and we're in no way wanting to pound on people or force people."

One year, a woman spotted them and "came totally unglued," Jesse said. She went to the fair's conflict booth and demanded that they be thrown out - a request that was ultimately denied by fair staff.

"I suppose that a lot of people at the Country Fair would categorize themselves as spiritual but not religious," booth coordinator Helton said. "I think there's a lot of backlash of people thinking Christianity and conservatism go hand and hand."

But the Pattisons - who value organic farming, land stewardship, helping the poor and healthy living - say they have very little in common with the stereotype.

"I'm not a Christian because of politics," Elaine, 49, said. "I'm a Christian because of the change of Jesus Christ in my life."

Across the fair, Sherry Lou Shaw, who owns Sherry Lou's Navajo Velvet, hangs soft velvet flags painted with many different names for Jesus along the top of her booth.

The Takilma, Ore., resident, whose son-in-law is a pastor, said she often hears anti-Christian talk from the neighboring stage. Sitting at her antique sewing machine, she also notices people who will stand outside of her booth, cross their arms and scowl, saying things like, "She'll get over it."

"It's something that isn't that easy for us," said Shaw, who wore a gold velvet skirt and many beaded necklaces. "They think to be a Christian you have to have a tie and suit. It's not about that, it's about loving Jesus."

Pastor Sitterley said each year he finds himself defending and discussing his religion.

During one conversation, a follower of the Dalai Lama listed atrocities he said the Christian church was responsible for. Sitterley said he shocked the man by adding to it.

"I said, whatever you do, don't confuse 2,000 years of 'church-ianity' with the teachings of Jesus Christ - it doesn't change the fact that the teaching of Jesus Christ, of loving your fellow man, is true."

However, Sitterley said that among other pastors and some parishioners, there is an equal amount of disdain for the people who flock to the fair. Some feathers have been ruffled when the church uses tie dye tablecloths and peace signs, he said.

"I say, this is a big part of our community," Sitterley said. "And if we blow them off like some in the Christian community have, it's a big mistake."