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Plug-in: Dirty words enliven the week's religion news, and not for the first time

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Fasten your seatbelt, dear reader.

There’s cussing up ahead.

That’s right: R-rated language made it into the religion news. Again.

Before we cite the specifics, let’s consider this guidance from the Associated Press Stylebook — aka “the journalist’s bible” — on obscenities, profanities and vulgarities:

Do not use them in stories unless they are part of direct quotations and there is a compelling reason for them.

In this week’s examples, the words in question showed up in coverage of “Disloyal: A Memoir,” a new book by Michael Cohen, “President Trump’s longtime fixer,” as the Wall Street Journal described him.

The Journal reported:

Mr. Cohen describes the president as lacking either faith or piety and recounts him disparaging various groups, including his own supporters. In 2012, after meeting with religious leaders at Trump Tower, where they asked to “lay hands” on Mr. Trump, Mr. Cohen recalls his asking: “Can you believe that bull****?…Can you believe people believe that bull****?”

Note: The asterisks were not used in the actual Journal news story.

The White House dismissed the book’s claims as “lies” by “a disgraced felon and disbarred lawyer.”

But whether the quote is fact or fiction, the notion of Trump uttering a profanity is not difficult to believe.

After all, the future president was caught on videotape delivering the famous “Grab-em-by-the-p****” line. And Politico wrote last year about Trump irritating evangelicals by “using the Lord’s name in vain.”

Perhaps more surprising — then again, maybe not given recent allegations — was the quote Reuters attributed to Becki Falwell. She is the wife of Jerry Falwell Jr., the prominent evangelical leader who recently resigned as president of Liberty University.

The book ties Falwell Jr.’s 2016 endorsement of Trump to Cohen “helping to keep racy ‘personal’ photographs of the Falwells from becoming public.”


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Farewell to 'Diogenes,' a witty, conservative Jesuit with a very sharp pen

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Farewell to 'Diogenes,' a witty, conservative Jesuit with a very sharp pen

For millions of Americans, "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" is as familiar as the national anthem and much easier to sing.

Few would need help with: "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord. He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored. He has loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword. His truth is marching on! Glory, glory, Hallelujah! … His truth is marching on!"

During 1990s fights over updated Catholic liturgies, a Semitic languages professor at Rome's Pontifical Biblical Institute wrote a Battle Hymn for modernists.

This "sanitized" text -- "chanted to no tune in particular" -- declared: "I see God's approach; it is good. God makes wine with God's feet. … Brightness flashes from the decision-making apparatus. God's worldview is currently earning widespread respect. Give honor repeatedly to the god of our tradition. We have owned our values."

Father Paul V. Mankowski put his own name on that First Things piece, since it didn't lance specific institutions or leaders. For decades, Catholics seeking his satirical work learned to look for "Diogenes" at CatholicCulture.org or "Father X" elsewhere.

Mankowski died on September 3 at age 66, felled by a ruptured brain aneurysm. Raised in a middle-class Rust Belt family, he worked in steel mills to pay tuition at the University of Chicago. His advanced degrees included a master's from Oxford and a Harvard University doctorate.

Many researchers, politicos and journalists (like me) knew him through telephone calls and emails, usually seeking documents and statements from nearby Catholic leaders. He was a rarity in the modern age -- a Jesuit conservative -- and his superiors eventually ordered him not to address church controversies. Much of his work was published anonymously or using pen names.

Princeton University's Robert P. George blitzed through years of emails, after hearing about Mankowski's sudden death.

"There are some doozies -- especially the spoofs, send ups and parodies," said George, on Facebook. "His wit was a massive quiver full of poison-dipped arrows, and he was a master archer.


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Rust Belt religion: Do political reporters get that Catholics are the key voters in 2020?

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“White evangelical Protestants,” “white evangelical Protestants,” “white evangelical Protestants.”

“Catholic voters,” “Catholic voters,” “Catholic voters.”

World without end, amen.

The closer we get to Election Day 2020, the more we are going to see these terms in the news.

The assumption is that the “Catholic vote” is especially crucial to Democrat Joe Biden, since he is a life-long Catholic who is seeking to become America’s second Catholic in the White House. Meanwhile, journalists continue to be obsessed with President Donald Trump’s popularity among white evangelical Protestants, who played such a crucial role in his rise during the GOP primaries in 2015.

However, if you look at the swing states that put Trump in office, it was clear that Rust Belt Catholics — blue-collar Catholics in particular — were crucial voters four years ago.

During the past couple of years, our own Richard Ostling has been stressing that political-beat reporters really need to get over the whole “white evangelicals” thing and accept that, as is so often the case, Catholic voters will be the key swing voters this time around.

If readers and scribes need more input on that point, please consider this recent Pittsburgh Post-Gazette think piece by Mark J. Rozell, dean of the Schar School of Policy and Government at George Mason University. The blunt headline: “Catholics, not evangelicals, will make or break Trump.” Here is a crucial chunk of that essay:

In 2016, Mr. Trump won Pennsylvania, Michigan and Wisconsin — states with heavy concentrations of Catholic voters — by merely 107,000 votes combined. Although since the 1980s the U.S. national vote and the Catholic vote component have tracked very closely to each other in each election cycle, 2016 was an exception: Hillary Clinton handily won the national popular vote and Mr. Trump won the majority of Catholic voters. Exit polls had Mr. Trump holding a 52%-to-45% edge among Catholics.

Two critical things happened that helped Mr. Trump: his populist economic appeals to white working class voters in those key states, and the widely predicted “Latino surge” never materialized.


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Podcast: USA Today Network study of chaplain in COVID crisis avoids big, eternal questions

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For the last decade of his ministry, my father — the Rev. Bert Mattingly — was the Southern Baptist chaplain at the Texas Children’s Hospital. He assisted at several other facilities in the Texas Medical Center in downtown Houston, working with chaplains representing a number of other churches and traditions.

I went to work with him several times. During one visit, we passed a small sitting room and my father said this was his private “crash” spot where he would go when he was overwhelmed and needed to pull himself together. Each of the chaplains had a safe place like this and only the chaplains receptionist knew these locations. (This was before cellphones were omnipresent.)

I also remember lots of prayers and the big questions. A hospital chaplain prays all the time, especially in a facility full of families with children facing cancer or leukemia.

There’s no way around the fact that most of a chaplain’s prayers are linked to big, eternal questions that never go away. Questions like this: Why is this happening to my child? Where is God in all of this pain? Does God understand that I’m scared? What do I do with my guilt and my anger? Is heaven real?

I thought about my father (and a beloved uncle who was a hospital chaplain for half a century) as we recorded this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (click here to tune that in). That’s easy to understand, since we were talking about a massive USA Today Network feature — from The Louisville Courier-Journal — that ran with this title: “ 'Hurry, he's dying': A chaplain’s journal chronicles a pandemic's private wounds.”

This is a remarkable feature story, in terms of human drama and suffering. It was built on the kind of source reporters dream about, in terms of a body of written material packed with dates, times, places and human interactions — a chaplain’s personal journal of the coronavirus crisis.

Yes, this is a stunning story. The writing is first rate. However, it’s strangely silent when it comes to the content of this chaplain’s ministry — in terms of the big questions and the prayers that follow This Norton Healthcare chaplain has no specific faith tradition, church or approach to theology. Readers never even learn if Adam Ruiz is ordained and, if so, by whom. My research online found a clue that he might be part of the mainline Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.). Here is a crucial chunk of the intro material in this feature:

Like colleagues across the country, Ruiz’s already tough job providing spiritual care amid loss had grown exponentially more difficult. Illness and death multiplied. Fear and uncertainty gripped front-line doctors and nurses. Visitor restrictions meant suffocating isolation for patients and families. Grief was interrupted, funerals denied. A mountain of need sprang up overnight.


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Thinking with Ryan Burge: What REALLY happens after people get 'born again'?

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I didn’t know it at the time, but it was one of those moments when America changed.

Well, that isn’t true. America didn’t change on this particular night early in Jimmy Carter’s campaign for the Democratic Party nomination to seek the presidency. It was a moment when American journalism changed, when lots of reporters in East and West Coast media centers were forced to wrestle with the term “born-again Christian” for the first time.

The number of born-again Christians in American didn’t change, just because a major political figure applied the term to his own status as a believer. But this term — rooted in church history and doctrine — moved into a political context, which meant that it became a real thing for many journalists.

I’ve told this story before, but it’s relevant once again — because of a fascinating new think piece by political scientist Ryan Burge, a GetReligion contributor, about what happens (and what rarely happens) after a person claims to have been born again.

Hold that thought, while we head back to 1975.

… I'll never forget the night when an anchor at ABC News — faced with Democrat Jimmy Carter talking about his born-again Christian faith — solemnly looked into the camera and told viewers that ABC News was investigating this phenomenon (born-again Christians) and would have a report in a future newscast.

What percentage of the American population uses the term "born again" to describe their faith? Somewhere between 40 and 60 percent back then? I mean, Carter wasn't telling America that he was part of an obscure sect, even though many journalists were freaked out by this words — due to simple ignorance (or perhaps bias).

Actually, the percentage was almost certainly 40% in that era and I was wrong to assume that it had ever been higher.

Nevertheless, 40% is not a small chunk of the population and many of those believers are found among the 20% of Americans who consistently practice their religious faith in daily life. We know that because, for decades, the Gallup organization has been asking “born-again” and “evangelical” questions in its polling research.


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Global COVID-19 parables: What responsibility do faith groups have to the larger society?

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I’m a great fan of a magical sense of awe, that heightened state of awareness during which the transcendent feels most palpable. However, I am decidedly not a fan of magical thinking that denies the seriousness of the coronavirus pandemic.

I consider the latter delusional at best. The pandemic will not end because some — particularly those in positions of authority — wish it away. It can only be tamed, I believe, by limiting its spread until medical researchers develop a dependable vaccine or cure.

Until then, our responsibility as members of a highly interdependent society is to protect ourselves and each other via responsible social distancing and by always wearing a mask when adequate distancing is impossible. Anything less, in my book — speaking as someone who due to age and preexisting medical conditions is at great risk — is selfish and irresponsible.

Nor do I care whether the deniers are bikers in South Dakota, frat boys on any number of university campuses who can’t resist a keg or political libertarians who insist that their individual choices are at least as, if not more, important than the communal good in a national health emergency.

Ditto for the most sincerely devout of fatalistic religious believers who think their faith will protect them and their co-religionists. Or who insist that government — any secular government — lacks the authority to limit their religious expression in any way.

My news feeds have been replete with such examples. Here are three that have particularly aroused my pique. I consider each a clear example of self-aggrandizing, potentially deadly religious entitlement.

One story is from Israel and concerns a group of ultra-Orthodox Hasidic Jews who have insisted on making their annual Rosh Hashanah pilgrimage to a Ukrainian city where their deceased spiritual leader is buried. This, despite the probability that they’re likely to bring the pandemic with them.

A second from, South Korea, tells the tale of a megachurch that found itself at the center of a coronavirus cluster, which it blames on misleading figures released by government opponents.

The third involves the Rev. John MacArthur of Los Angeles’ Grace Community Church, who recently claimed that the number of American COVID-19 deaths is way below the generally accepted figures reported by mainstream news outlets. MacArthur claimed that there is no pandemic.


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Tell us more? Tragic life of an addict and street walker who attended a famous DC church

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It’s hard to imagine a short newspaper feature containing more pain than The Washington Post story that ran the other day with this headline: “How a D.C. sex worker became the face of a city report on drug treatment failures.”

The lede could not have been more blunt: “Alice Carter worked D.C.’s streets — and got worked over by them.”

So why discuss this tragedy at GetReligion? Read the following summary material carefully and you will see a brief reference to the religion-angle in this story:

She was a poet, addict, sex worker, parent, friend, assailant, schemer and source of inspiration to her faith community and those who loved her — when she wasn’t frustrating their exhaustive, exhausting efforts to make sure she was safe.

Those efforts ultimately proved unsuccessful. On Dec. 17, Carter died of alcohol intoxication at Howard University Hospital after being found unresponsive at a Dupont Circle McDonald’s. Last month, the well-known fixture on D.C. streets became the face of a city auditor’s report that warned the District is doing too little to help those struggling with chronic addiction.

Note that nod to Carter’s “faith community.”

That’s a very vague reference to the fact that this trans female street walker was active in one of the most famous liberal Christian congregations in Washington, D.C. Theoretically, on any given Sunday morning during the past decade or more, Alice Carter could have shared a pew with Hillary Clinton, among other United Methodist Beltway politicos and insiders.

Would the story have been stronger if, right up top, the Post team had mentioned that she “attended services” at the Foundry United Methodist Church? Was she a member? Had she made a profession of Christian faith there?

It would also have been crucial to have known more about the ways that Christians — liberal or otherwise — played a major role in Carter’s attempts to escape addiction and poverty.


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Tips of the trade: How to cover religion news, even if this is not your regular beat

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The National Press Club, like others, is well aware that reporting staffs are shrinking. Thus, full-time religion-beat specialists are considered even more a luxury than usual.

Savvy newspapers will make sure someone cultivates the field at least part-time, as far as feasible. However, managers in too many news shops even neglect that necessity. Magazines are iffy. Radio and TV are even worse off. The Internet is a zoo.

What should writers do when they’re thrown into coverage about religion, which they may know little about -- and perhaps care little about even though sizable chunks of their audiences do care? Some guidance for such drop-ins and greenhorns might also provide good reminders for religion-beat specialists who will share shop talk September 24-25 at the Religion News Association conference (virtually this year). The RNA also posts a wealth of tips and resources on trending topics here at its ReligionLink website.

Religion can be pitfall hell, so The Guy’s No. 1 point is rather obvious, which is to make absolutely certain everything you write is accurate.

Don’t just assume what we think everybody knows. Articles often say the Catholic Church forbids priests to marry. Truth is, Catholicism forbids “most priests” to marry and in “most situations.” But what about the Eastern Rite clergy? Or men who swim the Tiber from Anglicanism?

Or take the respected columnist who stated confidently that whatever the Bible may teach on male homosexuality it says nothing about lesbianism. With a quick phone call or email check, almost any cleric would have cited Romans 1:26 and avoided an embarrassing correction.

The press club’s Journalism Institute helps out with advice from an interview with Elizabeth Dias, a full-time religion correspondent with The New York Times. (The video at the top of this post is a speech on related issues, drawn from her days at Time magazine — where The Guy worked for many years.)

Dias stresses the importance of simply “listening and asking open questions” with sources because the topic at hand “may be the most important part of their lives.” She explains that “religion at its heart is about people, not just ideas” so she spends more time talking with folk than “reading social media commentary.” On the latter point, The Guy would underscore the value of meaty books and articles about the issue at hand. Too much reportage is thinly informed.


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A 'ritual for one's Zoom practice'? The New York Times tells us all about it -- sort of

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American business is an opportunistic enterprise. When it became profitable to do so, social justice got absorbed into corporate culture. Then, at lightning speed in the past few months, anti-racism has become the new flavor of the year.

Can this happen with religion?

The New York Times just came out with how this can be in a piece headlined: “God is dead. So is the Office. These People Want to Save Both.” The lead is quite clever:

In the beginning there was Covid-19, and the tribe of the white collars rent their garments, for their workdays were a formless void, and all their rituals were gone. New routines came to replace the old, but the routines were scattered, and there was chaos around how best to exit a Zoom, onboard an intern, end a workweek.

The adrift may yet find purpose, for a new corporate clergy has arisen to formalize the remote work life. They go by different names: ritual consultants, sacred designers, soul-centered advertisers. They have degrees from divinity schools. Their business is borrowing from religious tradition to bring spiritual richness to corporate America.

In simpler times, divinity schools sent their graduates out to lead congregations or conduct academic research. Now there is a more office-bound calling: the spiritual consultant. …

From whence cometh such ideas? What is the religious content of these practices?

Although three of the folks — from the Sacred Design Lab — profiled in this piece attended Harvard Divinity School, a fourth, Kursat Ozenc, from the Ritual Design Lab, has no theological background other than as an ‘experience designer’ for The Muslim Giving Project. I could find no evidence of theological education for another, Margaret Hagan.

Before the pandemic, these agencies got their footing helping companies with design — refining their products, physical spaces and branding. They also consulted on strategy, workflow and staff management. With digital workers stuck at home since March, a new opportunity has emerged. Employers are finding their workers atomized and agitated, and are looking for guidance to bring them back together. Now the sacred consultants are helping to usher in new rituals for shapeless workdays, and trying to give employees routines that are imbued with meaning.


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