Pentecostal-Charismatics

Concerning Hispanic evangelicals, secret Trump voters and white evangelical women in Georgia

Life is strange. When I chose the “Groundhog Day” graphic for our 2020 election posts, I did so because I was trying to capture the numbing, “here we go again” nature of the day.

I had no idea that the 2020 results — whether President Donald Trump wins or not — would end up resembling the 2016 race to this degree.

Take Florida. As you may know, everyone in cable-news land last night was talking about Florida as the point of a spear — symbolizing the surprising numbers of Hispanics voting for Trump. It turned into one of the stories of the night. This was part of a rise (small, but significant) in Trump voters in a number of different categories linked to race.

Yes, note the Latino numbers. There may be several layers to that story.

For example, if you read GetReligion, then you know that we were convinced that the rise of Latino evangelicals (and Pentecostal believers) was one of the most important stories of the 2016 race, giving Trump crucial votes that put him in the White House.

Cue the “Groundhog Day” clock. Again.

But let’s note that political-beat journalists would have noticed this trend quicker if they had paid attention, not only to GetReligion (#DUH) but to some important religion-beat reporting elsewhere. Remember that New York Times story that we praised recently? See the post with this headline, “New York Times listens to Latino evangelicals: 'Politically homeless' voters pushed toward Trump.” That post includes a flashback to my 2016 thoughts on Latino evangelicals in Florida.

If you want more input on that issue, and others, please see this new piece by Clemente Lisi: “Election 2020: 3 Things We Learned About Faith And Voting” (at Religion Unplugged). He noted a crucial fact on the Trump campaign calendar:

It’s true that Latinos in general did help Trump (for example, Cuban-Americans in Miami-Dade County), the Hispanic evangelical vote mattered, as GetReligion recently pointed out. NBC News exit polling revealed that 55% of the state’s Cuban-American vote went to Trump, while 30% of Puerto Ricans and 48% of “other Latinos” backed the president.


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Attention Sean Feucht and evangelical leaders: Hatred of the press is hurting your cause

Theologian Karl Barth had the most wonderful advice for preachers back in the day: Teach with a Bible in one hand and a newspaper in the other.

If only more conservative religious leaders would try that. I’ve been in journalism since I was 16 and I’ve never seen the hatred against the media that I see among today’s evangelical Protestants, and I suspect conservatives in other traditions aren’t far behind.

I ran into this as I was reporting on singer/politician Sean Feucht and his “worship protest” concerts for Politico for a piece that ran Oct. 25. Getting rebuffed whenever I tried to interview him got rather tiring when I noticed how he was tweeting his vexation with media coverage while planning a huge Christian concert on the Mall that day.

Note to public figures: When you continually refuse to give reporters access, don’t be surprised when their coverage isn’t what you’d like.

I first invited Feucht to be on a panel for the annual conference of the Religion News Association in late September. Even though he wasn’t on the road that week, his spokeswoman, Whitney Whitt, would not make him available. Here he had an amazing opportunity to tell his side of the story to 123 reporters and editors from around the country and he couldn’t be bothered.

Then I got an assignment from Politico to describe this man and why he was running around the country having these mask-less and non-socially distant concerts that were infuriating officials in a number of the cities in which he appeared. Whitt finally said I could have 10 minutes of his time. But when I called, he wasn’t there.

The spokesperson then said she’d messed up the time zones (he was on Central and I was on Pacific), so I reminded her that the ethical thing to do — when it’s their fault the interview didn’t happen — was to re-schedule as soon as possible. She ignored me from then on.

This guy had run for political office earlier this year. He’d showed up at the White House late last year and snagged a photo of himself with Vice President Mike Pence (shown with this blog post) and made it into a campaign poster. He then started getting major backing from Missouri Sen. Josh Hawley for his unorthodox open-air worship rallies.

Note to Feucht and evangelical/charismatics like him: If you’re going to run with the big boys, you need to ramp up your professionalism. I repeat: Any time you get involved in politics, you should expect to intelligently engage with liberal as well as conservative media. Refusing to answer their calls is an insane media strategy, one that is guaranteed to lead to one-sided coverage.


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Podcast: Latino evangelicals feel 'politically homeless'? They are not alone

The big idea for this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (click here to tune that in) was pretty simple: A reporter from an elite newsroom talked to some Latino evangelicals and discovered that they think their lives are defined just as much, or more, by the fact that they are evangelicals as by being Latinos.

The hook for this discussion was my recent post with this headline: “New York Times listens to Latino evangelicals: 'Politically homeless' voters pushed toward Trump.” This Times piece was quite remarkable, in that it took the religious content seriously. Hold that thought, because we will come back to it.

Political-desk reporters have long realized that Latino Americans are a crucial bloc of swing voters and have tended to see them as a growing piece of the “Catholic vote” puzzle. Of course, Latino Catholics who frequently go to Mass have consistently different political priorities than those who have, for all practical purposes, left the sacramental life of the church.

A few political reporters have noticed that evangelical Latinos exist and that lots of them live in strategic swing states — like Arizona and Florida. If you frame that completely in political terms, it looks something like this — one of those quick-read 2020 race summaries produced by the pros at Axios.

The big picture: Trump's push for a U.S.-Mexico border wall and hardline immigration policies make him unpopular with many Hispanic voters. But he has successfully courted other Hispanic-Americans, including evangelicals, those who are a generation removed from immigration, and those of Cuban and Venezuelan descent who respond to his anti-socialism message.

— Trump is benefiting from "stronger support among evangelical protestant Hispanics who see a clearcut difference between Trump and Biden on faith-based issues," said Rice University Professor Mark Jones.

What, precisely, does this reference to “faith-based issues” mean? What are the specific doctrinal issues hiding behind that vague term?

Meanwhile, Florida is crucial (#DUH).

— National polling still shows Biden leading Trump with Hispanics by around 20 percentage points, but in some key states that lead evaporates.


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New York Times listens to Latino evangelicals: 'Politically homeless' voters pushed toward Trump

It was one of those statistics that, on the night of the 2016 election, jumped out of the haze of shock and fear on the major networks.

No one who has lived in South Florida was all that surprised that National Election Pool numbers showed Donald Trump winning slightly more than half of Florida’s Cuban voters. However, I was stunned that — after all of his rhetoric on immigration issues — he was backed by 35% of the Latino voters in that life-or-death swing state. Yes, that’s lower, as the Pew Research Center team noted, than Mitt Romney’s 39% of the 2012 vote. But it was still stunning.

Then I watched as some commentators noted that Trump was running stronger than expected in the Interstate highway corridors in and around Orlando. If you follow religion in Florida, that’s prime megachurch territory — including churches packed with Latino evangelicals and Pentecostal believers.

I thought to myself: Did Latino evangelicals and Pentecostal Christians put Trump in the White House? In a race that close, that had to be a factor in Trump getting 35% of Florida’s Latino votes. And Trump had to have Florida.

Every since then, I have been watching to see if mainstream newsrooms would connect the dots between the growth of Latino evangelical churches and this trend’s potential impact in state and national elections. Now we have a few headlines to consider.

If you want a political-desk story that is mostly tone deaf on matters of religion, then check out the recent Washington Post piece with this paint-by-numbers headline: “Despite Trump’s actions against immigrants, these Latino voters want four more years.”

Instead of lingering there, I would point GetReligion readers to the New York Times piece that ran under this expansive double-decker headline:

Latino, Evangelical and Politically Homeless

Hispanic evangelicals identify as religious first and foremost. That’s why, despite his harsh rhetoric on immigration, many back President Trump.

This is one of those stories in which people of one congregation are allowed to speak for various groups inside a larger flock. The most important thing is that readers get to hear from believers who do not fit into the cookie-cutter world of America’s major political parties. It’s a must-read piece.


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Press struggles to cover a complex woman: The sainting of Amy Coney Barrett, wife and mom

Well, they’re over. The Senate hearings for Supreme Court nominee Amy Coney Barrett were subdued, non-confrontative and — amazingly — ended with a hug between Sen. Dianne Feinstein, the leading Democrat on the judiciary committee and Sen. Lindsay O. Graham, her Republication counterpart.

Can’t get much better than that. We will see if Democrats have another post-hearings ambush planned, as was the case with Brett Kavanaugh.

As for coverage of the nominee herself, it was somewhere between treating her as an exotic zoo creature and understanding her as the complex person that she is. Dan Henninger of the Wall Street Journal ran an opinion piece last week that expresses my thoughts about some of this news coverage.

This week, the New York Times published an article by three cultural anthropologists (identified as reporters) who were sent to the Midwest and South to discover the origins of Judge Barrett’s religious belief.

Days earlier, another excavation team from the Washington Post produced a similar piece, called “Amy Coney Barrett served as a ‘handmaid’ in Christian group People of Praise.” By the Post’s model of journalistic insinuation, People of Praise is about two removes from the Branch Davidian cult.

It’s an on-the-mark essay if you can get to it beyond the paywall. One more piece of it:

… the Times writers make clear, repeatedly, that Judge Barrett’s religiosity is . . . well, how can one put this? Let us just say that her religiosity is conveyed as not what one would expect to find in polite company today. At least not theirs.

But that same religiosity is found among millions of Americans, who don’t find Barrett’s decision to have a large family and practice a traditional form of faith to be strange at all.

One thing journalists did reflect accurately was how many Republicans kept going on and on and on about her being a married woman with seven kids. And how she played along with it, introducing her sizeable family whenever she could.

Of course the media noticed that. To quote the New York Times:


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Churches and COVID-19, again: Do Capitol Hill Baptist folks have same rights as protesters?

In the beginning, there were two essential mainstream-press narratives about the coronavirus and religious worship.

The first was that most sane, science-affirming religious groups had moved their worship online and were cooperating with government authorities. The second was that there were lots of conservative white evangelicals who claimed (a) that God would shield them from the virus, (b) that COVID-19 was a myth, (c) they had some kind of First Amendment “religious liberty” right to gather for worship or (d) all of the above.

That approach was simplistic, from Day 1, for several reasons. Here at GetReligion we argued that the number of dissenters was actually surprisingly small — even in conservative religious traditions — and that the bigger story was the overwhelming majority of congregations that were doing everything they could to safely hold some kind of worship services, while honoring local laws and restrictions. Entire religious bodies — Catholic, Orthodox, Southern Baptists — developed plans for how to do that.

Early on, congregations trying to gather for worship outdoors — drive-in service of various kinds, especially — emerged as a crucial story angle. See this podcast and post, for example: “Who-da thunk it? Drive-in churches are First Amendment battlegrounds.

Now we have a must-read Washington Post update on the legal efforts by Capitol Hill Baptist Church to force officials in the District of Columbia to, well, allow worshippers the same local right of outdoor assembly as protesters and marchers. Here’s the headline: “Federal court allows D.C. church to hold services outdoors despite coronavirus restrictions.” And here is a crucial block of material right up top:

Capitol Hill Baptist Church, which has 850 members and no online worship services, has been meeting in a Virginia field. The U.S. District Court’s granting of a preliminary injunction allows the church to meet outdoors en masse in the city, where most of its members live, while its lawsuit moves forward.

The church was not seeking a class action, and the decision, which can be appealed, applies only to Capitol Hill Baptist.

Capitol Hill Baptist, which had twice sought a waiver before suing, centered its argument on comparing D.C. Mayor Muriel E. Bowser’s ban on religious gatherings over 100 with her toleration and encouragement of massive anti-racism protests over the summer.


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The passing of a charismatic Episcopal bishop with a big voice and a big extended family

The passing of a charismatic Episcopal bishop with a big voice and a big extended family

Episcopal bishops in the 1980s were already used to urgent calls from journalists seeking comments on issues ranging from gay priests to gun control, from female bishops to immigration laws, from gender-free liturgies to abortion rights.

But the pace quickened for Bishop William C. Frey in 1985 when he was one of four candidates to become presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church. A former radio professional, Frey was known for his bass voice and quick one-liners. His Lutheran counterpart in Colorado once told him: "You look like a movie star, sound like God and wear cowboy boots."

Other Denver religious leaders sometimes asked, with some envy, why Episcopalians got so much ink.

"I can't understand why some people want the kind of media attention we get," he told me, during one media storm. "That's like coveting another man's root canal."

A Texas native, Frey died in San Antonio last Sunday (Oct. 11), after years out of the spotlight. In addition to his Colorado tenure, his ministry included missionary work in Central America during the "death squads" era and leading an alternative Episcopal seminary in a struggling Pennsylvania steel town.

While critics called him the "token evangelical" in the presiding bishop race, Frey was a complex figure during his Colorado tenure, where I covered him for the now-closed Rocky Mountain News. He called himself a "radical moderate," while also attacking "theology by opinion poll."

“We need a church that knows its own identity and proclaims it fearlessly," he said, in his 1990 farewell sermon. "No more stealth religion! … We need a church that knows how to answer the question, 'What think ye of Christ?', without forming a committee to weigh all possible options. We need a church that doesn't cross its fingers when it says the creed."

Nevertheless, a conservative priest called him a "Marxist-inspired heretic" for backing the 1979 Book of Common Prayer and the ordination of women. The bishop opposed capital punishment -- and abortion -- and welcomed stricter gun-control laws. He backed expanded work with the homeless and immigrants. Then gay-rights activists called him a "charismatic fundamentalist" because he opposed the ordination of sexually active gays and lesbians and preached that sex outside of marriage was sin.

Also, before the presiding bishop election, Frey fielded questions -- and heard old whispers -- about the informal charismatic Christian community he led with his wife, Barbara (who died in 2014). At its peak, 21 people lived in the rambling Victorian home in urban Denver. In all, 65 different people lived there over the years, ranging from Emmy winner Ann B. Davis of "The Brady Bunch" to an undocumented family from Mexico. The record breakfast crowd was 76.


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Yin-yang of Washington Post on Amy Coney Barrett: Wait. Pope Francis embraces charismatics?

It would appear that the goal on the cultural and religious left is to find a way to link Judge Amy Coney Barrett to all of that strange charismatic Christian stuff like healing and speaking on tongues while avoiding anti-dogma language that would raise warning flags for Sunday-morning-Mass Catholics. She may as well be a fundamentalist Protestant!

Here is the Big Idea that is right up top, in a story that uses the term “handmaid” 11 times — early and often.

Oh, this will also require tip-toeing around the awkward fact that millions of charismatic Christians are found in Latino and Black pews — Catholic and Protestant.

Will this play a role in the hearings that are getting underway as I type this? We will see.

In the branch of the Democratic Party known as Acela Zone journalism, the key to the news coverage has continued to be a steady drumbeat of references to the word “handmaid,” which in cable-television land calls to mind all kinds of horrible fundamentalist terrors, starting with sexual slaves in red capes and white bonnets.

It’s hard to know what to write about the People of Praise-phobia angle of this story right now, since your GetReligionistas have been on it for some time now. See my podcast and post here: “Why is the 'handmaid' image so important in Amy Coney Barrett coverage?” Also, Julia Duin’s deep dive here into 40 years of history linked to the People of Praise and charismatic Christian communities of this kind. There there is Clemente Lisi on three big questions that reporters need to face linked to Barrett’s faith.

There are too many elite news stories on the handmaid angle to parse them all, so let’s focus on that recent Washington Post feature from a team led by the scribe who brought you the hagiography of Christine Blasey Ford during the confirmation hearings of Supreme Court Justice Brett M. Kavanaugh.

For starters, this would be a good time to remind readers that reporters rarely play any role in the writing of the headlines atop their work. The headline on a piece such as this one primarily tells you the angle that editors thought would launch it into social-media circles among the newsroom’s true believers. Thus we have: “Amy Coney Barrett served as a ‘handmaid’ in Christian group People of Praise.”


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Plug-in: What spiritual ramifications of the fly that landed on Mike Pence's head?

My journalist son Keaton and I were watching the vice presidential debate Wednesday night when he burst out laughing.

“Is that a fly on Mike Pence’s head?” my 23-year-old son wondered out loud.

I glanced up from the Words With Friends game on my iPad and squinted at the TV.

“It sure looks like it,” I said.

We both rushed to check Twitter. Confirmation of our suspicion came quickly. And suddenly, a nation weighted down by too much heavy news had a reason to giggle again.

The New York Times dutifully reported:

Vice President Mike Pence, his hair perfectly coiffed, never reacted to the fly’s appearance on the right side of his head. It stood out against his bright white hair, standing still for the most part but moving around slightly before, well, flying away.

A local TV news reporter from California clocked the fly’s screen time on Mr. Pence’s head at 2 minutes, 3 seconds.

Despite the buzz that it created, the fly did not respond to an interview request. However, America’s most famous insect did start a viral social media account.

Please don’t whack me with a fly swatter, but that “spiritual ramifications” title at the top of this week’s column was clickbait.

If that bugs you, though, Sojourners’ Jenna Barnett has you covered with “5 Bible verses about flies.” See, there’s always a religion angle. Even with Flygate.

Concerning the actual debate, Pence and California Sen. Kamala Harris clashed briefly over religious belief. Religion Unplugged’s Timothy Nerozzi delves into the specifics.


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