Death & dying

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Atlantic feature on Francis Collins covers lots of COVID-19 territory, but gets the faith angle, too

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One of the most important religion stories in America right now are the tensions inside many religious organizations — usually between high-ranking clergy and laypeople in the pews — over the extreme forms of “social distancing” that are shutting down worship services or, at best, sending them online.

Ironically, these tensions would fade, to some degree, if American Christians were willing to listen to some of the coronavirus lessons learned by believers in other parts of the world, especially Asia. Click here for a recent GetReligion post on that topic.

Like it or not, these arguments are also being shaped by politics, more than theology, as political scientist and mainline Baptist pastor Ryan Burge has been demonstrating in some of his recent work dissecting some older poll information. See the recent post entitled, “Faith in quarantine: Why are some people praying at home while others flock to pews?”

At the same time, the pew-level arguments about COVID-19 and congregational life may contain themes that are common in many arguments about faith and science. One way to address that divide — as Clemente Lisi said the other day — is to focus on people of faith whose work in labs and hospitals is helping shape the global response to this crisis. See his GetReligion post: “The quest for religion and science coverage of COVID-19 — in the same news report.”

If GetReligion readers want a strong summary of some of this material — viewed through the lens of science — they can turn to a strong Peter Wehner feature at (#NoSurprise) The Atlantic. Here’s the double-decker headline:

NIH Director: ‘We’re on an Exponential Curve’

Francis Collins speaks about the coronavirus, his faith, and an unusual friendship.

This long, long interview is worth reading — top to bottom. It’s packed with newsy material and how Collins views what is going on. Note, in particular, the reference to remdesivir and the tests that are underway to see if this drug is as effective as it appears to be in fighting, even curing, COVID-19. Can you think of a bigger potential news story right now than that?


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This big-think story theme befits both the Lenten mood and the COVID-19 crisis 

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The Religion Guy had planned an off-the-news story proposal appropriate for the reflective moods of the Lenten season, Good Friday, Passover and Islam’s holy month of Ramadan that soon follows.

At issue: why do people lack or lose faith?

As it happens, this now fits into the media’s necessary All-COVID-19-All-The-Time mode.

Perspective. The worst-case coronavirus scenarios floated this week are trivial compared with the Black Death in the 14th Century, when sanitation and biological knowledge were primitive. These were mostly cases of bubonic plague with its wretched suffering. The World Health Organization says unstoppable disease killed off some 50 million victims in Europe alone (starting in Italy!) and within just a matter of years. By some accounts, a third of the world population perished, and it took two centuries for numbers to recover.

Unimaginable. The spiritual angst must have been beyond belief, so to speak. Fears that this was somehow divine punishment led to extreme acts of penitence and fear-fed persecution under the Inquisitions.

While people talk about turning to “foxhole faith” in times of trial, the opposite can also occur. Did the plague years underlie in some way the massive attack upon the old church in the 16thCentury Reformation, and then the religious skepticism of Europe’s “Enlightenment”? Does that history tell us religious faith could confront serious challenges following the current, vastly less devastating, outbreak?

A prime thinker to ask is Britain’s Alec Ryrie, a Durham University historian who specializes in that era. His book “Protestants: The Radicals Who Made the Modern World” (Viking, Penguin paperback) was an ornament of the 500th anniversary observance of the Reformation.

Ryrie’s recent “Unbelievers: An Emotional History of Doubt” (Harvard) has direct bearing on our present moment.


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Faith in quarantine: Why are some people praying at home while others flock to pews?

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To state the matter bluntly, the question of the day is: Who went to church-temple-mosque this past weekend and who did not?

The related question: “Why?” Why did believers make the decisions that they made?

This is one of those cases in which it is impossible to write a story that captures the whole picture, since we are talking about one of the ultimate local, regional, state, national and international stories of our news lifetimes.

Journalists can try to produce a news-you-can-use list that hints at the whole. Check out this Religion News Service feature: “Coronavirus shutdowns disrupt America’s soul, closing houses of worship.” That list of bullets is so limited, because producing a representative national list would be impossible.

Thus, others will focus on the larger story by looking at the symbolic details. With the resources of The New York Times, that looks like this: “A Sunday Without Church: In Crisis, a Nation Asks, ‘What is Community?’ “ This is a fine story, although, yes, its anecdotes and examples seem mainline and limited. But, again, the true picture is too big to capture.

Journalists do what they can do. Here is the thesis statement, in magisterial Times voice, free of attributions:

This week, as the coronavirus has spread, one American ritual after another has vanished. March Madness is gone. No more morning gym workouts or lunches with co-workers. No more visits to grandparents in nursing homes. The Boston Marathon, held through war and weather since 1897, was postponed.

And now it was a Sunday without church. Governors from Kentucky to Maryland to North Carolina moved to shut down services, hoping to slow the disease’s spread. Catholic dioceses stopped public Mass, and some parishes limited attendance at funerals and weddings to immediate family. On Sunday morning the Vatican closed the coming Holy Week services to the public.

The number of Americans who regularly attend a church service has been steadily declining in recent years. Many have left the traditions of their childhood, finding solace and identity in new ways. But for the one in three adults who attend religious services weekly, the cancellations have meant a life rhythm disrupted. And for the broader country, canceled services were another symbol of a lost chance to be still, to breathe and to gather together in one of the oldest ways humans know, just when such things were needed most.

For a similar take from a smaller newsroom, consult this multi-source National Catholic Reporter piece: “Worshippers go online, those at services keep a distance.”

My friend Rod “Benedict Option” Dreher stayed home (as I did) and watched a live stream of the Divine Liturgy from his Orthodox Church in America parish in urban Baton Rouge, La. In other words, one computer screen stands for legions of screens elsewhere. See: “View From Your Pandemic Online Church.”

But I was haunted by one passage in one story — another example of how The Age of Donald Trump has infected everything, when it comes to news. The fact that the story was valid only made it worse.


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Thinking about faith during a plague: Input from Singapore on dealing with coronavirus crisis

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This is not a normal Sunday morning — anywhere.

I’m typing this after spending the morning doing something I have never done before — watching an Internet live stream of the the Divine Liturgy of my home parish, St. Anne Orthodox Church in Oak Ridge, Tenn. I am, to be blunt, an at-risk individual since I am (a) 60something, (b) someone with asthma and chronic sinus issues and (c) someone who had a sore throat and low fever six days ago (both gone).

But I was not the only person who was not present in the service. Under the extraordinary (and I believe very wise) instructions of our Archbishop Alexander of Dallas and the Diocese of the South the rite was being celebrated by our clergy and a few chanters — while everyone else stayed home as a form of “social distancing.” Priests will take the Sacraments to the sick and hospitalized as needed, of course.

Our archbishop’s instructions (.pdf document here) represented a crisp, clear statement of one of the major COVID-19 news stories taking place in our world, this morning. In part, he wrote:

Everyone in the parish or mission, other than the priest (and deacon), a reader, a server, and no more than two (2) chanters or singers (all of whom are physically strong and at low risk for COVID-19), should remain at home, even at the time of the Divine Liturgy. The holy body and precious blood of our Lord can never be a source of disease, it is after all for the healing of soul and body, but the COVID-19 virus can still be passed through the congregation. Out of love for our neighbor, we must do everything we can to protect the vulnerable by slowing the rate of infection not only in our parishes, but in the greater community, and thereby allowing the hospitals and medical community to more adequately care for those most at risk. All who are “at risk” — the elderly, those with pre-existing conditions, any who are actively sick or exhibiting signs of illness — should absolutely absent themselves from the services. ...

If possible, the service should be webcast on the internet so that the faithful may participate in the prayers, which are themselves a source of grace and consolation.

The liturgy was followed by special prayers in our ancient tradition, the Molieben in Times of Pestilence. When it comes to plagues and disasters, ancient faiths offer ancient rites — because the faithful have been through all of this many times before.

This leads me to this weekend’s think piece, an essay by Edric Sng that ran on March 11 (that seems like an eternity ago) at Christianity Today.


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Ryan Burge on unique coronavirus fears in pews of America's aging 'mainline' churches

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Anyone who has worked in a newsroom knows that journalists often have to study the equation 1+1+X=3 and then find the missing X factor that produces “what comes next.”

What am I talking about? Journalists look at one set of facts in the news. Then they study another set of facts that we tend to take for granted or that we have pushed onto the news back burner. When you pay attention to where the two sets of facts overlap — #BOOM — you can see potential headlines.

Right now, the coronavirus crisis is creating all kinds of overlapping sets of facts and many are life-and-death matters. This is shaping the headlines and this trend will only increase.

However, after all of the COVID-19 stories I’ve read in the past week (while 66-year-old me has faced my usual spring sinus woes), none has hit me harder than a Religion News Service essay — “Why mainline Protestants might fear COVID-19 the most” — by political scientist Ryan Burge (also a contributor here at GetReligion). It’s crucial that he is also the Rev. Ryan Burge. He teaches at Eastern Illinois University, but he also a minister in the American Baptist Churches USA. Here is the overture:

I walked through the doors of First Baptist Church of Mount Vernon, Illinois, a congregation that I’ve pastored for the last 13 years, and shook hands with the 91-year-old greeter. Afterward, she said to me, “I didn’t know if we should shake hands today.”

I hadn’t even thought about it, but I know that she had.

COVID-19 has now infected more than 100,000 people, killing 4,000 of them across the globe. But, one of the real curiosities is that the mortality rate is dramatically different based on age. The disease takes the life of nearly 15% of the people that it infects over the age of 80.

I find that to be incredibly cruel, especially for my mainline church that has been dwindling in size and increasing in age at a stunning rate. Of our 20 or so active members, four of them are over the age of 90. Another 10 are in their 80s. If COVID-19 becomes a true global pandemic, my church would likely not fare well.


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During times of panic and plague, priests take risks to do the work they are called to do

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During times of panic and plague, priests take risks to do the work they are called to do

The second wave of influenza in the fall of 1918 was the worst yet and, by the time Father Nicola Yanney reached Wichita, Kansas, a citywide quarantine was in effect.

A 16-year-old girl had already died, creating a sense of panic. The missionary priest -- his territory reached from Missouri to Colorado and from Oklahoma to North Dakota -- couldn't even hold her funeral in the city's new Orthodox sanctuary. As he traveled back to his home church in Kearney, Neb., he kept anointing the sick, hearing confessions and taking Holy Communion to those stricken by the infamous "Spanish flu."

After days of door-to-door ministry in the snow, Yanney collapsed and called his sons to his bedside. Struggling to breathe, he whispered: "Keep your hands and your heart clean." He was one of an estimated 50 million victims worldwide.

A century later, many Orthodox Christians in America -- especially those of Syrian and Lebanese descent -- believe Yanney should be recognized as a saint. And now, as churches face fears unleashed by the coronavirus, many details of his final days of his ministry are highly symbolic.

"Father Nicola got the flu because he insisted on ministering to people who had the flu," said Father Andrew Stephen Damick, creator of "The Equal of Martyrdom," an audio documentary about the man known as "The Apostle to the Plains."

"For priests, there are risks. But you cannot turn away when people are suffering and they need the sacraments of the church. You go to your people and minister to them. This is what priests do."

Few acts in ministry are as intimate as a priest huddled with a seriously ill believer, hearing what could be his or her final confession of sins.


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Plug-In: Mickey Mouse + Harry Potter + Joe Biden = fantastic ledes in world of religion news

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Plug-In: Mickey Mouse + Harry Potter + Joe Biden = fantastic ledes in world of religion news

The best news stories start with a fantastic lede.

For those unfamiliar with journalistic lingo, the lede is “the opening sentence or paragraph of a news article, summarizing the most important aspects of the story.”

Every year, Poynter Institute writing guru Roy Peter Clark recognizes the Pulitzer Prize winner with the best lead (as he spells it). Yes, there’s a whole debate over which spelling is best.

Clark argues that even some of the stories that earn journalism’s most prestigious honor provide “evidence that we have lost the art of the great news lead.”

But this week, I came across two ledes in the world of religion that I really enjoyed. I can’t resist sharing them.

The first comes via the Orlando Sentinel’s Chabeli Carrazana:

For the better part of two decades, Orlando’s holiest theme park has hung on from its perch on Interstate-4, a struggling David among Orlando’s Goliaths: Mickey Mouse and Harry Potter.

Now it seems it’s time to concede defeat. The news came earlier this year: The Crucifixion is canceled. So is the resurrection and all the other stage shows portraying stories of the Bible, which play out five days a week at Orlando’s Holy Land Experience, a part biblical museum, part ministry that has withstood 19 years of financial trouble.

The second was penned by Politico’s Ryan Lizza:


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Podcast: Stop and think. How will coronavirus affect nurseries, worship and last rites?

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At this point, it’s clear that the coronavirus story has moved past concerns about whether members of ancient Christian churches can catch the disease from wine in golden Communion chalices.

People will debate that issue for one simple reason — people have researched that issue for centuries and argued about the results. That story is the tip of the iceberg, when it comes to reporting on how religious congregations — past and present — have reacted during times of plague.

So read up on the “common cup” issue and then move on. Oh, and resist the temptation to spotlight the inevitable proclamation from the Rev. Pat Robertson. And there will be more to this story than Episcopal bishops turning a scheduled meeting into a “virtual” gathering.

That’s the message at the heart of this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (click here to tune that in). And while many journalists tend to focus on Catholic churches — lots of people in sanctuaries that photograph well — I think that editors and producers need to consider how this crisis could impact highly independent Protestant megachurches and institutions linked to them. Mosques and synagogues will be affected.

Everyone will be effected. Reporters will need to focus on specific facts and broad trends.

While we were recording the podcast, I told host Todd Wilken that journalists may want to note that spring break is not that far away. In addition to sending legions of young people to jammed beaches and crazy watering holes, this is also a time when churches and colleges organize short-term mission trips to locations around the world. Sure enough, I saw this notice on Twitter a few hours later, from a campus in Arkansas:


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UPDATE: CNN sort of repents on 'fetus' language in story about Senate born-alive bill

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Year after year, debates about abortion continue to raise questions about ethics, politics, morality and science — as well as arguments about language and style in journalism.

The latest, of course, focuses on the legal status of a baby that is born accidentally — perhaps during a botched abortion — as opposed to being delivered intentionally. If you think that is a relatively black-and-white issue, then talk to Virginia Gov. Ralph Northam. Meanwhile, what role should the beliefs of doctors and parents, secular or religious, play in this discussion?

Some readers may flinch because I used the term “baby” in that previous paragraph. However, in this case we are discussing the status of a human being who has already been born. Meanwhile, the Merriam-Webster online dictionary continues to define “fetus” as:

[Click to the next page for update on this post.]


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