REPUBLICANS call it the "Christ moment". It came when George W. Bush (R-Methodist), asked to name the political philosopher who had most influenced him, replied: "Christ. Because he changed my heart."

The answer unleashed a flood of public religiosity and a fierce debate about the significance of it. Orrin Hatch (R-Mormon) and Gary Bauer (R-Baptist) both echoed Mr Bush’s choice. In a South Carolina advertisement for John McCain (R-Episcopalian), a former prisoner-of-war remembered the senator’s Christmas sermon in a Vietnamese prison: "a shot to everyone’s morale to hear those Christian words". Not to be outdone, Al Gore (D-Baptist) reaffirmed that he too was born again (he attended divinity school at Vanderbilt University) and added that he often asked himself the catch-phrase engraved on a popular sort of Christian bracelet: WWJD, or "What would Jesus do?" That left Bill Bradley (D-Presbyterian) alone among the contenders, saying, "I draw the line here. [Religion] is a matter of personal privacy and I’m not going to talk about it with the public."

The change looks startling. Religion has long played a bigger role in politics in the United States than in most rich democracies, but when John Kennedy became the country’s first Catholic president he went out of his way to reassure voters that "I believe in an America where the separation of church and state is absolute." Now, says the Episcopalian bishop of Iowa, there is more emphasis on religion in politics than for decades.

As might be expected, the God talk has set off a debate about church and state. Non-Christian and secular groups are troubled. Abraham Foxman, the head of the Anti- Defamation League of B’nai B’rith, a Jewish group, said that "I think a lot of Americans felt left out. It was a disconcerting inclusion of religion into politics." The head of Americans United for the Separation of Church and State talked about "the politicising of religion". And in the Washington Post Charles Krauthammer, a conservative columnist, detected "a whiff of the Taliban". Remember that, only four months ago, the Kansas Board of Education said that creationism should be taught alongside evolution in schools—and the leading candidates did not say No.

Yet the curious thing is that this shouting about God is taking place at a time of division and decline among the main instruments of religion’s political influence. The most notable of these is Pat Robertson’s Christian Coalition. It is in disarray. During the past year it has split in two, after losing a long struggle with the authorities over its tax-exempt status. It is heavily in debt, and has also lost most of its top officials.

This is worrying the Republican Party. Groups such as the Christian Coalition are vital parts of the party’s grass-roots organisation. They get out the vote, run campaigns on issues (such as abortion and pornography) and distribute "voter guides" in churches on the Sunday before an election. Republicans in Congress are so worried about the Christian Coalition’s waning role that they are diverting money to other bodies, such as the National Right to Life Committee and the US Family Network, to fill the gap.

As if that were not enough, the generals of the Christian right are divided among themselves. Mr Robertson is still engaged in politics. So is his colleague Ralph Reed, who built the organisation into a formidable political machine until he left in 1997. Both back Mr Bush. But others say conservatives should not depend on politics to achieve cultural goals. Paul Weyrich, one of the founding fathers of the Christian right, now argues that "the notion that all we have to do is elect more Republicans and get our kind of people into the leadership is not accurate." He and two other Moral Majority leaders, Ed Dobson and Cal Thomas, want Christians to stick to evangelism and "quarantine" themselves from politicians.

So it is wrong to suggest that the greater religiosity during this campaign reflects an upsurge of Christian political influence. That view is confirmed by the penalty-free refusal of Mr Bush to endorse policies most important to the religious right, such as promising to appoint only anti-abortion judges to the Supreme Court. Why then are candidates advertising their faith so vigorously?

The short answer is they stand to benefit electorally. Religious conservatives make up a large portion of the Republican parties of Iowa and South Carolina, which hold primary elections early. It does no harm to wear your religion on your sleeve at this stage. In addition, talking about religious values is a way of criticising the Clinton-Gore administration for its moral failings. When the economy is growing by 5% a year and the crime and welfare rolls have both been halved, you have to criticise them for something.

But there may also be a more subtle influence behind the louder talk about God. As the power of the religious right wanes, the United States may again be changing the barriers between church and state. The stridency of the "culture wars" between the Christian right and its secularist foes tended to entrench opposition to any change in church-state relations. But now, argues Nathan Hatch, the provost of Notre Dame, a Catholic university, there is "a certain backlash against the shrill partisan message".

He contends that there is growing support in the centre for a more cautious sort of religion-influenced politics, which Mr Bush calls "compassionate conservatism" and Mr Gore calls helping faith-based organisations to solve social ills. "A lot of evangelicals," he says, "are suburban people...They are people of values. They are also tolerant." The result is that religion is coming back into politics not through the battering ram of the right but more softly—through housing and job-training schemes run by church affiliates or through vouchers for religious schools (assuming the Supreme Court does not strike them down, as a court in Ohio has just done). In talking about Christ, the candidates indeed reflect an increase in the influence of religion in American politics. But it is not the old fervour of the Christian right.