Where will American religious groups fit into the newly electrified abortion debate?

The U.S. Supreme Court's agreement to review Mississippi's strict abortion law means that the public argument on this unending dispute will be the most intense in many years -- with a ruling due right in the midst of the 2022 election campaign.

Despite the Court's increased conservative majority, there's no certainty it will clamp new restrictions on abortion. Yet it's also possible that the Court might overthrow its own 1973 Roe v. Wade decision, which legalized most abortions nationwide in 1973.

If so, the impact will be momentous but not quite as apocalyptic as "pro-choice" advocates suggest. Abortion would remain widely available because decision-making would simply be returned to democratically elected state legislatures and many would maintain liberal policies. Charities might aid women in the "pro-life" states needing travel for out-of-state abortions.

For those covering the religion beat, the coming year is a major defining moment as America's variegated denominations state what they now believe about the morality of abortion and why.

After the Roe ruling, the 1976 conventions of the two major political parties began setting opposite stances. The Democrats' platform acknowledged that many Americans had "religious and ethical" concerns but opposed a Constitutional amendment to bar abortions. Similarly, the Republicans' platform stated that some in the party favored the Supreme Court's edict, but advocated such an amendment "to restore protection of the right to life for unborn children."

Religion writers well know how that basic split hardened and reshaped religious voters' political alignments. There's been less attention to the way the advent of open abortion turned around the Social Gospel thinking of Protestant liberals.

National Public Radio has been running a lot of content about racial injustice in the past seven weeks since the killing of George Floyd by a Minneapolis police officer. Some of their pieces have been about religion and race and what’s slowing up response from many evangelicals.

To focus on Southern evangelicals is an interesting choice, in that other groups: Jews, mainline Protestants, Muslims (who have their own race issues) aren’t covered in this NPR project. The three presentations I listened to all focused on evangelicals in the South, as if that’s the only region where you will find real racists.

There are plenty of evangelicals elsewhere: New York, Denver, Los Angeles, who would have a different read on this, so why NPR front-loaded their stories by only visiting southern locales is a mystery. A June 6 presentation by Tom Gjelten illustrates the disconnect.

For evangelical Christian leaders, however, crafting a response to Floyd's killing is complicated by their view of sin in individual, not societal, terms and their belief in the need for personal salvation above all. Evangelical theologians have long rejected the idea of a "social gospel," which holds that the kingdom of God should be pursued by making life better here on earth.

Most evangelicals are old enough to remember what happened last time American denominations focused on social change. Mainline Protestants embraced the civil rights movement, abortion rights, demonstrations against the Vietnam War and when the dust cleared, they were losing members by the millions. Followers wanted to hear about God’s power from the pulpit, not politics.

When I was a teenager at an Episcopal parish in the Baltimore-Washington suburbs in the late 1960s, I saw this first-hand. After one of the priests preached on the evils of American involvement in Vietnam, people left the church.

A June 12 broadcast by Rachel Martin shows the stunning cluelessness of evangelicals on this issue, specifically Todd Wagner of Watermark Church in Dallas.

Considering how controversial this church is, Wagner is an odd choice, if the goal is understanding what mainstream evangelicals are doing or saying.