For Gods and Country

Adherents of Wicca, one of the nation's fastest-growing religions, contend that Larsen is a victim of unconstitutional discrimination. They say that Wicca, though recognized as a religion by federal courts and the Internal Revenue Service, is often falsely equated with devil worship.

"Institutionalized bigotry and discriminatory actions . . . have crossed the line this time," says David L. Oringderff, a retired Army intelligence officer who is an elder in the Sacred Well Congregation, the Texas-based Wiccan group that Larsen joined.

Larsen, 44, blames only himself. He said he was naive to think he could switch from Pentecostalism to Wicca in the same way that chaplains routinely change from one Christian denomination to another.

Chaplain Kevin L. McGhee, Larsen's superior at Camp Anaconda, believes a "grave injustice" was done. McGhee, a Methodist, supervised 26 chaplains on the giant base near Balad, 50 miles north of Baghdad. He says Larsen was the best.

"I could go on and on about how well he preached, the care he gave," McGhee says. "What happened to Chaplain Larsen -- to be honest, I think it's political. A lot of people think Wiccans are un-American, because they are ignorant about what Wiccans do."

What Larsen does is eclectic, to say the least. Some spiritual seekers perpetually try new things, never finding one they like. Larsen has sampled many faiths, and liked them all.

Raised as a Catholic, he became a born-again Christian at a Billy Graham crusade and began preaching at a Baptist church in Garrison, Mont., while still in high school. Later, he pastored two messianic congregations, which blend Jewish traditions with a belief in the divinity of Jesus.

In church, he spoke in tongues. In private, he read heavily in Buddhism.

He learned about Wicca, ironically, from the Army, in an overview of various faiths at the Chaplain's Basic Training Course at Fort Jackson, S.C., in 2005.

Sporting a military high-top haircut and Converse high-top sneakers, Larsen appears closer to 24 than 44, and it is easy to see why he was popular with the troops. Earnest without appearing pious, he tears up when he describes a chaplain's duty to ensure the dignified handling of soldiers' remains.

In a single sentence, he links Native American sweat lodges, Saint Francis of Assisi and the Hindu leader Amma -- the common thread being his reverence for each. When he mentions the late Lubavitcher rebbe Menachem Mendel Schneerson, he quickly adds the traditional honorific "of blessed memory."

He cites Dr. Seuss as readily as the Bible.