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Redeemer Presbyterian's Tim Keller: An outsider who came to New York City -- to stay

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Redeemer Presbyterian's Tim Keller: An outsider who came to New York City -- to stay

On the Sunday after 9/11, thousands of New Yorkers went to church, with many joining a line stretching outside the Redeemer Presbyterian services in a Hunter College auditorium.

The Rev. Tim Keller asked his staff if they could manage a second service -- doubling the day's attendance to 5,300. Keller's sermon, "Truth, Tears, Anger and Grace," began with Jesus weeping before raising Lazarus from the dead.

Many Americans were "coming to New York to fix things," he noted. "We are glad for them. They will try to fix the buildings. We need that. And eventually they will leave. But when Jesus weeps, we see that he doesn't believe that the ministry of truth -- telling people how they should believe and turn to God -- or the ministry of fixing things is enough, does he? He also is a proponent of the ministry of tears. The ministry of truth and power without tears isn't Jesus."

This sermon contained major themes from the life and work of Keller, who died on May 19 death at age 72, after a three-year battle with Pancreatic cancer. Instead of seeking quick fixes, especially through politics, he kept urging conservative Protestants to stress compassion and face-to-face ministry, while continuing to defend centuries of Christian doctrine.

In Keller's case, that meant building a church for New Yorkers that addressed their blunt, exhausting, even cynical, concerns about life.

In that first sermon after 9/11, Keller noted that everyone had an opinion about New York City and America as a whole. Some were claiming that "God is punishing us" because of rampant immorality. Others said America had been judged because of social injustice and greed. Instead of blaming the victims, Keller said it was time to ask who would stand their ground and love their neighbors.


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This Christmas, lots of church leaders need to pause and think about widowers

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This Christmas, lots of church leaders need to pause and think about widowers

There was no way that Christmas was going to be easy for Daniel Brooker and his two young children after his wife Lyndsie lost her 10-year battle with cancer.

At their church, friends cautiously asked if Brooker and one of his kids wanted to play a role in the Christmas service -- making their story part of a season of new life.

"My church saw ME, as a person" that first Christmas, said Brooker, a 37-year-old marketing specialist for a team of financial advisors near Atlanta. It was crucial that this offer "gave us something to do, something that didn't ask us to hide what was happening. … They offered us this opportunity and let me think about it. They didn't force anything."

That positive experience became part of the process that led Brooker and an all-volunteer team of widowers, mentors, pastors and friends to create Refuge Widowers, a ministry for men who have lost their wives, especially young men with children.

This work grew out of the conviction, he said, that religious congregations have long demonstrated the ability to rally around widows -- in part because women often play crucial roles in hospitality and care-giving ministries.

"Women are gifted at this. They know what to do," said Brooker, who has since married a widow, Brittany, with three children of her own. "As much as I love the church, I've learned things are often different for widowers. … Church people aren't trained to step in and fight through grief with a man."

Yes, the faithful brought food and gift cards after his wife's death. Some people volunteered with child-care as he tried to create new patterns for work and home life. Before long, however, many assumed that the best way to help was to funnel Brooker into the singles group. "Folks really didn't know what to do with me," he said.

Eventually, he met another young widower, and began building a support network.


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Norm Macdonald's 'Nothing Special' -- final thoughts on mortality while the clock was ticking

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Norm Macdonald's 'Nothing Special' -- final thoughts on mortality while the clock was ticking

Comedians frequently take shots at taboo targets, but that wasn't what Norm Macdonald was doing when he addressed Down's Syndrome while solo recording what became the new "Nothing Special" on Netflix.

"I love people with Down Syndrome," said Macdonald, in a no-audience performance packed with his familiar pauses and bemused expressions. "I wish I had Down Syndrome, and I'll tell you why. They're happy. You know what I mean? …

"What's wrong with that? … People get mad at them … and they pity them. Now, who's the bad person in that scenario?"

The former Saturday Night Life star -- who died September 14 after a secret nine-year fight with cancer -- recorded nearly an hour of material during the coronavirus pandemic, before yet another operation in the summer of 2020. He said he "didn't want to leave anything on the table in case things went south."

This Netflix finale offers fresh musings on mortality and morality that, with Macdonald's blunt language and haunting images, evolve into meditations on how modern people deceive themselves. The X-factors in his art were religious faith and his love of literature ranging from Mark Twain to Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

"Macdonald showed respect for basically everyone, with the exception of himself and people like O.J. Simpson and Bill Clinton," said Rich Cromwell, a television professional and essayist for The Federalist. "He was not a Christian comedian -- that's clear. But that was part of who he was, and he treated faith with respect. …

"This Down's Syndrome material is a perfect example. He didn't turn that into an overt argument about abortion, but it's clear that he is saying all life is worthy of respect, even if some people don't judge that life to be worthy. He's saying people with Down's Syndrome are God's children, no matter what."

"Nothing Special" ends with an A-list reaction panel -- David Letterman, Adam Sandler, Conan O'Brien, Dave Chappelle, David Spade and Molly Shannon -- who knew Macdonald as a friend and colleague. This special was full of "third-rail stuff," noted O'Brien.

Macdonald riffed on his own "degenerate" gambling sins, his fear of airplane crashes ("Ashes to ashes, stuff to stuff, as the scriptures say"), cannibalism, slut-shaming, racism, transgenderism and his fear of dying and discovering that he picked the wrong religion. He also discusses living wills and giving doctors explicit instructions not to yank "that plug in the wall" in the event of a coma.


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Norm Macdonald: Theological mysteries, a red-brick wall, a spotlight and a microphone

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Norm Macdonald: Theological mysteries, a red-brick wall, a spotlight and a microphone

While debating heretics, early Christians used the Greek term "hypostasis" -- meaning "substance" and "subsistence" -- to help define their belief in the Incarnation of Jesus as one person, yet with divine and human natures.

This "hypostatic union" is not the kind of subject a comedian typically raises on a TV talk show while chatting about mortality with a Hollywood legend. Then again, Norm Macdonald -- who died on September 14 after a secret nine-year fight with cancer -- wasn't a typical funny man. He openly identified as a Christian, while making it clear that he didn't consider himself a very good one.

During an episode of "Norm Macdonald has a Show," the former Saturday Night Live star asked Jane Fonda -- who at one point briefly embraced evangelical Christianity -- this question: "Are you a religious person?"

"I have faith," said Fonda. The host quickly asked, "In Jesus Christ?" Hesitating, Fonda called herself "a work in process," saying she accepted "the historical Jesus."

Macdonald responded: "But do you believe in the hypostatic Jesus?"

When Fonda said "no," he added, "So, you're not a Christian. But you believe, you believe in something."

Raised vaguely Protestant in Canada, Macdonald didn't discuss the brand-name specifics of his faith, even as he wrestled with his own demons -- such as habitual gambling. Yet he could be stunningly specific when addressing criticisms of Christian beliefs. As a judge on NBC's "Last Comic Standing," he quietly shot down a contestant who trashed the Bible, before praising the Harry Potter series.

"I think if you're going to take on an entire religion, you should maybe know what you're talking about," said Macdonald. "J.K. Rowling is a Christian, and J.K. Rowling famously said that if you're familiar with the scriptures, you could easily guess the ending of her book."

The result was a public persona laced with paradoxes, an edgy, courageous comic who often seemed unconcerned if his work pleased the public or his employers.


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New podcast: Did a religious search help shape Norm Macdonald's haunting humor?

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New podcast: Did a religious search help shape Norm Macdonald's haunting humor?

While it may sound strange, I would argue that there are theological “ghosts” hiding inside the great comic Norm Macdonald’s most famous joke. This was the “moth” story, of course.

Right. This joke wasn’t a Saturday Night Live shot at O.J. Simpson or Bill Clinton. It was a long, twisting, bizarre story about a nihilistic moth who was afraid of eternity. It was the kind of joke that fit with the summary of Macdonald’s life and work that opened this Ricochet tribute by Jon Gabriel: “Norm Macdonald — Dostoyevsky in Front of a Red Brick Wall.”

The smartest comedians portray themselves as the dumbest; Norm Macdonald was the best at this sleight of hand. He graduated high school at 14, read Russian literature in his downtime, and had long philosophical discussions with clergy. … Macdonald was a student of human nature first, comedy second.

Macdonald was also a self-identified Christian, yet he made it clear that he didn’t consider himself a very good one.

The question raised during this week’s “Crossroads” episode (click here to tune that in) was whether news consumers had any right to expect journalists to mention that reality in their obits of this brilliant, courageous, edgy, mysterious comedian.

The more I read about him — following some really simple online searches — the more I hoped that someone would spot the religion “ghost” in his death-and-virtue haunted work. It also, at least to me, became obvious that many of his spiritual and religious questions were linked to his secret 10-year battle with the cancer that took his life. Cue up these two YouTube clips (here and here).

So this brings us to a crucial text: The actual “moth story” as it unfolded on on Conan.

Read carefully and keep thinking — Russian literature and maybe even a glimpse of a sacred icon.

Yes, I know that this is long. That’s the point:


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Ira Rifkin offers Jewish (and Buddhist) thoughts as he lives with the ashes of his son

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Ira Rifkin offers Jewish (and Buddhist) thoughts as he lives with the ashes of his son

I shared the following story a year ago, but I thought of it again when reading a stunning piece in the Forward by my GetReligion colleague Ira Rifkin. The headline there is simple, but unforgettable: “The day my son’s ashes arrived in the mail.”

Journalists who cover the religion beat know that it includes everything from national politics to local-church politics, from sports to the arts, from fights over ancient doctrines to the latest trends in digital worship. But it’s important to remember the degree to which religious rites, traditions, doubts and questions help define many of the gateway moments in human life.

Before I share a few passages from Ira’s must-read essay, let me return to something that happened in the early 1980s when I was working for the now-deceased Charlotte News. I was writing a story about the last local church that was resisting the use of a hymnal prepared for the merger that created the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.

It was a battle between the “red book” and the modernized “green book.” Here is a flashback:

At this Charlotte church, I met with an older man who led the fight to retain the “red book.” He had a long list of reasons — historical and theological — for why the old hymnal and prayer book was superior to the new. …

When the interview was over, we walked the center aisle toward the foyer and main exit. At the last pew, he stopped and picked up a battered red hymnal. Tears began running down his cheeks.

“I married my wife with this book,” he said. “Our children were baptized with this book. I buried my wife with this book. … They are not going to take it away from me.”

This man was wrestling with issues that transcended logic. He was dealing with the basic building blocks of his own life and faith, his past and his present. This was an issue that involved both head and heart.

This brings us to overture of Ira’s piece for the Forward:

The ashes came to my home in Maryland from Southern California, shipped via special delivery by the aptly named funeral home Ashes to Ashes. They arrived encased in a rectangular, polished, dark wood box about the size of a loaf of artisan bread. I immediately opened it to make sure it was not empty. It was not.


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Inspiring Easter feature idea sent aloft by (what are the odds?) producers at MSNBC

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Inspiring Easter feature idea sent aloft by (what are the odds?) producers at MSNBC

Most media consumers will think of MSNBC as a heavy-breathing, politically and socially liberal cable television news operation — 24/7/365. Nor, so far as The Guy knows, has it shown much interest in religion coverage.

So it was quite the eyebrow-raiser when the March 11 edition of "Morning Joe" aired a relatively long and serious discussion of a theme that journalists may want to grab if they're looking for a promising Easter feature idea.

Adding to the surprises, MSNBC located and featured two intelligent evangelical Protestant leaders of the sort who all too rarely get air time on cable news networks, whether liberal or conservative.

One of this era's most successful pastors, the Rev. Timothy Keller of New York City, appeared to chat about his newly released book "Hope in Times of Fear: The Resurrection and the Meaning of Easter" (Viking). Joining him was journalist-attorney David French of TheDispatch.com, booked this time not as a #NeverTrump scribe but to undergird Keller's case for why modern people can believe in Jesus Christ's literal resurrection and what this means for them.

Adding to the drama, Keller mulled his simultaneous publication of one of those must-read articles, a very personal account for The Atlantic about writing an objective book on life and death during a year when he was coping with his own fatal diagnosis of pancreatic cancer.

As Keller confesses, it's one thing for a pastor to try to help parishioners face terminal illness and quite another for the pastor himself to face the same. In Keller's case, it took months for questions to give way to an even sweeter appreciation of life and of faith.


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Saints, heroes and one superhero: Man behind the Black Panther wasn't just another movie star

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Saints, heroes and one superhero: Man behind the Black Panther wasn't just another movie star

Early in the coronavirus crisis, and this summer's wave of chaos in American streets, Rachel Bulman began paying close attention to the faces in news reports.

She also found herself thinking about a hero -- the Black Panther.

Born in the Philippines before being adopted, the Catholic writer has -- as a daughter, wife and mother -- lived her life in White America. As a child, she didn't look like her family. Now, her children are growing up "knowing that they just don't look like everyone else. … Our family has its own story," she said.

Bulman responded by hanging images of saints from Africa, Asia, Latin America and elsewhere in their home. There was St. Josephine Bakhita from the Sudan and an icon of St. Augustine with darker skin, since his mother was from North Africa's Berber tribe. There was St. Juan Diego of Mexico, who encountered Our Lady of Guadalupe, and Sister Thea Bowman of Mississippi, the granddaughter of slaves, whose cause for sainthood has been endorsed by America's bishops.

"I wanted my children to see all kinds of saints and heroes, including some with faces kind of like their own," she said.

Bulman had also become interested in the Marvel Comics universe and the symbolic role of King T'Challa -- the Black Panther -- for millions of Black Americans, especially children. She was stunned when actor Chadwick Boseman died at age 43 after a long, private fight with colon cancer. He endured years of chemotherapy and multiple surgeries while filming "The Black Panther" and related Avenger movies.

Searching through press reports, Bulman noted colleagues referring to Boseman as a "man of faith," a "beautiful soul" and someone with a "spiritual aura" about his work with others -- including children with cancer.

At a memorial rite for Boseman, his former pastor at Welfare Baptist Church in Anderson, S.C., said the actor remained the same person he knew as a young believer.

“He's still Chad," said the Rev. Samuel Neely. "He did a lot of positive things. … With him singing in the choir, with him working the youth group, he always was doing something, always helping out, always serving. That was his personality."

Digging deeper, Bulman said she "cried all the way through" a video of Boseman's 2018 commencement address at Howard University, his alma mater.


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Plug-In: 90-plus finalists were named for 2020 religion news awards. Why one stands out

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The Religion News Association named nearly 100 finalists in 22 categories last week for its 2020 Awards for Religion Reporting Excellence.

Among the familiar names on the list: Religion Unplugged’s own Meagan Clark, Paul Glader and Elizabeth Vandenboom. And yes, I was honored to be included for my work with The Christian Chronicle.

But one finalist’s name stood out: Heidi Hall.

Hall, a former religion and education editor for The Tennessean newspaper in Nashville, was nominated posthumously. She died Sept. 25 last year from metastatic colorectal cancer. She was 49.

Her deeply personal final story was published the day after her passing.

“It's the story of her life — of losing everything when she left the (Jehovah’s) Witnesses — and finding a new family of her own,” RNS editor-in-chief Bob Smietana noted at the time.

“Final edits were done by her hospice bed,” Smietana said after the RNA finalists were named. “I hope she is smiling somewhere.”

The winners will be announced this fall.


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