There's a man leading a campaign to remove crosses from churches in America's inner cities, and no, he doesn't work for the American Civil Liberties Union.

In fact, he's a heavy hitter in Republican politics. He's a billionaire with an impeccable record of donations to right-wing causes and institutions like Jerry Falwell's Liberty University. The publications he owns always have a "fair and balanced" agenda. His antipathy to homosexuals and communists is legendary, which may account for why his eccentricities are glossed over by Washington's conservative political and media elites.

Close, but no cigar if you guessed Rupert Murdoch. It's not our old friend Richard Mellon Scaife, either. The publisher of the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review is a raving New Deal Democrat compared to this guy.

The Rev. Sun Myung Moon, founder of the Interreligious and International Federation for World Peace, the Unification Church and The Washington Times, probably isn't as rich as Scaife or Murdoch, but he may be just as influential in conservative circles. These days, it takes more than the impolitic ranting of a man who periodically declares himself the messiah to cool the enthusiasm of politicos on the prowl for new donations.

On March 23 at the Dirksen Senate Office Building in Washington, Moon declared himself the messiah. Of the dozens of politicians who were on the guest list and reportedly in attendance, including Pennsylvania's Republican U.S. Sen. Arlen Specter and Rep. Curt Weldon, R-Pa., of the 7th Congressional District, no one rushed to denounce Moon's act of spiritual chutzpah.

Modest to a fault, Moon told the audience, which believed it had gathered to honor "community peacemakers" from districts around the country, that the founders of the world's greatest religions had already agreed to acknowledge his pre-eminence as the "King of Peace."

Jesus, Buddha and Mohammed are on board. Even Hitler and Stalin gave Moon two thumbs up once he delivered their recently "redeemed" souls from hell. It's this kind of influence peddling that never fails to impress Washington insiders.

In keeping with his status as our newly christened "God on Earth," Moon considers the crosses on urban churches obstacles to the nation's realization that there's a new Big Kahuna in town and that he's an 84-year-old Korean man who gives a lot of money to the "right causes."

Such stalwarts of fundamentalism like Falwell and Pat Robertson have been conspicuously quiet since Moon announced he was the fulfilment of the Second Coming three months ago.

The story went uncovered by the major media and would've died on the vine if not for bloggers and a story on Salon.com this week. According to Rep. Weldon's media representative, he did not participate in the coronation ceremony and doesn't agree with Moon's philosophy of spiritual or secular governance. Even so, Rep. Weldon's office did not offer any public criticism of Moon until the Philly-area congressman was asked to comment on the story.

"He had no involvement other than a five-minute speech about a congressional delegation he led to Libya in January," Weldon spokeswoman Angela Sowa said. "While [Weldon] was there, he did not see Rev. Moon and did not speak to him. Had he known Rev. Moon was going to [declare] himself the messiah, he would not have attended the event."

Weldon is the only politician who has voiced distaste for the Rev. Moon, muted though the criticism is. Ironically, one politician who refuses to run from his association with the Rev. Moon is a liberal Democrat and member of the Congressional Black Caucus. Rep. Danny K. Davis of the 7th Congressional District of Illinois admits that he made a speech at the gala extolling Moon as a "peacemaker," but insists he doesn't know anything about his claim of being the messiah.

"I'm a practicing Baptist," Rep. Davis said. "My God isn't Rev. Moon. I agree with his political objectives [only] if they foster peace."

Maybe so, but Moon is hunting bigger game than something as trite as political influence.