Adele M. Stan is a contributing editor to Ms. magazine and a contributing writer to Mother Jones.

When tragedy erupted this spring at a Rocky Mountain school, the nation stood stunned, gasping at the news that two teenage boys had massacred a dozen classmates and a teacher, then turned their guns on themselves. But what the nation deemed a tragedy, Washington saw as opportunity. Lawmakers and candidates for office offered a host of would-be cures for the disease of teen violence, all crafted to advance one or another political agenda.

This week, as the students of Columbine High School returned to their locker-lined killing field, Congress stood in disarray over the issue of gun control, one of the purported cures. Previous weeks had seen Jack Valenti, Hollywood's man in Washington, square off with Gary Bauer, the religious right's contender for the presidency, over violence in film.

Others called for a halt to the proliferation of gruesome video games that serve as a virtual circus maximus for our times. Then there was the clarion call for a "religious revival" from the likes of House Majority Whip Tom DeLay (R-TX) and GOP presidential candidate Dan Quayle. That is when I felt the chill of alarm run down my spine.

Whose religion to revive?

I have nothing against religion per se. Like most Americans, I have survived some hard times on the strength of my faith. But I have been at this faith-exploration business long enough to know that a house of worship is only as good as the person who leads it.

Is there a growing distance between parents & their children?

A child who enters a faith community unguided by a loving parent can find himself facing dangers every bit as treacherous as those found in the wilds of the Internet. And, let's face it, does not the problem that led to Columbine have something to do with a growing chasm between the worlds of many parents and their children?

I have no doubt that a benevolent church or synagogue can do wonders for a kid who feels alienated from his parents. But I would not count on Quayle or DeLay to lead him there.

Quayle long has embraced the message of the Christian Coalition, an organization whose leaders have vilified lesbians and gay men, and opposed the notion of the equality of men and women. Imagine a kid isolated and distraught over confusion about his or her sexual orientation seeking solace in a church where gay people are labeled perverts who wish to destroy the fundamental institutions of society. Would that child be saved?

In the summer of 1995, I visited an Iowa church that was at the center of right-wing political activity. Coincidentally, the Sunday I attended Des Moines's First Federated Church was billed as "Youth Day." One group of young people discussed their recent mission to Europe, where they had sought converts. Other kids offered their testimony on how their souls had been saved by virtue of their membership in the church. One young man, perhaps 12 or 13 years of age, testified how, with the encouragement of his youth minister, he had smashed 33 of his CDs and listened to popular music no more.

After the service, I asked him which artists' recordings he had destroyed. Nirvana? Metallica? No. Try country stars Clint Black and Reba McIntyre.

Lefty religion

What, I ask you, happens to the mind of a kid who is made to feel that to like the music of Clint Black is a grave enough sin to warrant a destructive act? Which other sins warrant similar destruction?

On the eve of the Iowa caucuses, First Federated hosted an anti-gay rally keynoted by Charlton Heston, who has since become president of the National Rifle Association. The roster of speakers read like a who's who of the right: Pat Buchanan, Lou Sheldon of the Traditional Values Coalition, Donald Wildmon of the American Family Association, to name a few. Role models for troubled youth, you think?

Lest you think my only concerns about religion lay with the right, let me convey an experience from my own misspent youth. I grew up in the heyday of hippiedom, the 1970s. Back then, the distance between the worlds of parents and children was described as the generation gap, and my household was no exception to the trend.

Among the many youth movements at the time was one known colloquially as the "Jesus freaks." Disenchanted with my native Catholicism, I enjoyed a brief flirtation with the "freaks," thanks to a friend who had gotten involved with an outfit known as the Children of God. After school, we would sit on the banks of the local reservoir and read scripture, an experience I still regard with fondness.

But it was the part of her doctrine that involved renouncing one's parents and all material possessions that I had trouble with. (See Matthew 10:37-39.) I would come to accept it with time, she said, especially if I would come to New York with her to spend time with the Children of God.

Luckily, whatever distance there was between my parents and me, they thankfully were involved enough in my life to prevent unannounced forays to New York. My friend did not fare so well. During her time with the Children of God, she had a nervous breakdown and disappeared from school for several months.

My friend's experience shows that even the religious-minded can be led astray. Within scripture, the unwitting child could find countless justifications for murder and betrayal. Without guidance, a child could even find justification for actions like those at Columbine.

Pray for a miracle

While most of the issues raised by politicians after the Columbine tragedy offer little by way of cure, they are nonetheless important issues. Guns designed for the efficient destruction of humans are far too accessible to anyone who desires them; kids are inundated, via media and video games, with violence so virtual that the horror of human suffering wrought by real violence becomes easy to miss.

But take away the guns, videos and movies, and we still will have the same dynamic that has led countless tragedies -- the gulf that exists between kids and adults. And that is a problem for which there is no easy answer.

To address it politically would require an examination of the changes foisted upon the family by the new economy and the exponential growth of technology. Nothing short of a miracle, it seems, will compel our lawmakers to open that discussion. How much easier it is simply to proclaim the need for a religious revival.