The Associated Press report is very, very, very short and raises many more questions than it answers. Here is a typical version (or click here for a longer version in the Los Angeles Times):

WASHINGTON — Authorities have arrested and charged a Duke University official who they say offered his adopted 5-year-old son for sex.

The FBI’s Washington field office said the school’s associate director of the Center for Health Policy, Frank Lombard, was caught in an Internet sting. Authorities said that Lombard tried to persuade a person — whom he did not know was a police officer — to travel to North Carolina to have sex with Lombard’s child.

Court documents charge that Lombard identified himself online as “perv dad for fun.”

The papers also say an unnamed informant, facing charges in his own child sex case, tipped off authorities to Lombard’s activities.

Sadly, in this Culture Wars age, whenever the mainstream coverage is shallow — try to find coverage of any substance (here’s one short report) in North Carolina newspapers — a story as dark and disgusting as this one is going to leap right over the world of journalism and into advocacy media. In some cases, these op-ed style pieces have raised some valid questions. In many more cases they have added fire and heat, rather than light.

Yes, Lombard is openly gay, living with his partner and their two adopted sons. Yes, his job at Duke focuses on medical issues linked to HIV/AIDS in the rural South. Yes, the details in the affadavit in support of the arrest warrant are absolutely hellish. Yes, there are people in mainstream newsrooms who are asking questions about this case and, sooner or later, the answers to those questions may actually make it into balanced, responsible news coverage.

But let me be clear on one thing, concerning the screams about this story out on the online right. The sins and alleged crimes of one gay parent say as much about the motivations and beliefs of those who advocate legal adoptions by gays and lesbians as, well, the sins and crimes of one anti-abortion activist who shoots an abortionist say something valid about the motivations and beliefs of people in the mainstream pro-life movement. In other words — next to nothing. We are not going to be discussing that issue here. Trust me.

So why, pray tell, do I mention this story at GetReligion?

As it turns out, Lombard was — until just a few days ago — a veteran member of the vestry at the Episcopal Church of the Advocate in Chapel Hill, N.C., a progressive, activist congregation on gay issues that has been actively scrubbing most signs of his existence from its website. For those not familiar with Episcopal polity, the vestry is the church’s controlling board. Being on the vestry is similar to being on the parish council, in a Catholic or Orthodox context, or on the board of deacons, in a Baptist context.

Now, here’s the question: Do you think that journalists would be interested if you had a similar criminal case and the accused was a deacon or board member in an evangelical or Catholic congregation that takes strong stands on these kinds of hot-button social issues?

If this kind of sexy story broke in the mainstream press, would this deacon be called a “devout” Southern Baptist or a “devout,” “practicing” Roman Catholic? I would imagine so.

If so, should Lombard be called a “devout” Episcopalian?

If the religion would be relevant in the case of a Christian conservative, should the religion be relevant in the case of the Christian liberal?

Just asking.

One of the things my pastor told my husband and me in premarital counseling is that we should think of love as a verb, not a noun. The Christian couple, he said, should know that love is what you do, not what you feel. On a somewhat related note, my father told me that he had counseled couples for marriage who wanted their vows to read “as long as we both shall love” instead of “as long as we both shall live.” Dad pointed out that they’d need something to keep them going after their first week of marriage.

It seems to me that society views love as an emotion, even a sacred emotion. It’s not, as Jenny Sanford wrote in her statement last week, “a commitment and an act of will.”

There’s a huge chasm between people who think that the goodness of a thing is determined by strength of feeling and the people who think the goodness of a thing is determined through some objective measure. And I’m not sure I’ve ever seen the former viewpoint so well represented as it is in this horrifying (to me, at least) article by Neely Tucker in the Washington Post. He writes that Sanford’s affair with an Argentinian woman is completely different from all those seedier political sex scandals because he actually loved this woman. There is clearly a difference between New York Governor Elliot Spitzer paying tens of thousands of dollars to prostitutes and what we know of Sanford’s relationship with the woman who is not his wife. But both cases deal with lust and a decision to forsake marriage vows — and I’m not so sure the distinction is as important as Tucker seems to think it is.

After describing their love letters as adult epistles from the heart, we get a lot of quotes about how all everything good about romance comes from passion and suffering, not the drudgery of fidelity:

It’s pretty much Shakespearean now. The governor’s wife has taken the children and left him, but says she’ll have him back if he repents. Lawmakers are calling for his head. Paparazzi are circling outside the Buenos Aires apartment of The Other Woman.

“There is something admirable and authentic in his and Maria’s passion for each other, empathy for each other, honesty with each other,” writes Cristina Nehring, author of “A Vindication of Love,” a new book about passion and romance, in an e-mail after reading the pair’s letters. “That said, the relationship of course represents a moral dilemma, to which the answers are not obvious.”

Many other people are quoted talking about the moral dilemma. And how do I put this? I don’t want to speak for all religious people, but there are quite a few Christians for whom the answers are exceedingly obvious. Last week my mother and I were talking about how apparent it was that Sanford had serious feelings for this woman not his wife. She told me that during the course of her (quite passionate, incidentally) marriage, she had met men with whom she would have been much more compatible than my father. She said that the Christian woman must make the immediate decision against pursuing such relationships with people who aren’t her spouse. That God had given her my father and she was the man to whom her love must be directed. In other words: it is an obvious answer. It might be difficult to live the way God wants you to, but it’s obvious none the less.

And yet nowhere in the Post’s secular paean to romance is this idea even broached. Is it because newsrooms don’t even understand the specifics of marital commitment? Do they assume that people who are faithful simply never had an opportunity — or a real desire — to break their vows? I kind of suspect that’s the case. But this piece actually feels like something of an assault on traditional values.

The thing that got me was that the entire piece seemed like a tribute to the most juvenile forms of love. Now that I am married, my understanding of romance, fidelity and love are so much more developed than when I was crazy and single. Take this sample, for instance:

“Happy love has no history,” Denis de Rougemont wrote in “Love in the Western World,” more than two decades ago. “Romance only comes into existence where love is fatal, frowned upon and doomed by life itself. What stirs lyrical poets to their finest flights is neither the delight of the senses nor the fruitful contentment of the settled couple; not the satisfaction of love but its passion. And passion means suffering.”

And: “How widespread and disturbing is our fascination with the love that breaks the law. Is this not the sign that we wish to escape from a horrible reality?”

The horrible reality: That perhaps we have found, against all odds and comforts, a love that transcends the meaningless of life, of our reality of dry-cleaning receipts and stubble in the bathroom sink; and that this balm is denied to us.

Sigh. A few centuries ago, Luther responded to this idea that family life is drudgery quite well.

It’s a shame that no opposing perspective was permitted to share space in Tucker’s article. Sure, we’re all obsessed with love that breaks the law. But some people actually mature beyond the Romeo & Juliet idea of romance and are much better off for it.

Trust me — being cognizant of how your behavior affects others doesn’t make your love life less interesting. Far from it. It deepens the passion and the intimacy. That the Washington Post would articulate a love-sick teenagers view of how romance should be is disappointing, to say the least. Believe it or not, religion has something wise to say about all these affairs of the heart. If the Post can mock religion in the Style pages, certainly it can discuss it in other ways as well.

The Rev. Brad Braxton’s trials at Manhattan’s famed Riverside Church have been much reported since a few members of the congregation unsuccessfully sued their new pastor in April for receiving a pay and compensation package that exceeded $600,000 annually.

Monday night, only nine months into the job, Braxton decided he had had enough and email to congregants announcing his resignation.

“The consistent discord has made it virtually impossible to establish a fruitful covenant between the congregation and me,” he said.

The New York Times responded yesterday with a story that did a nice job explaining the theological tension within which Braxton was drawn and quartered. Though the Times reporter only obliquely referenced the sweeping gains in membership evangelical churches have experienced at the expense of dwindling mainline, and particularly urban, Protestant churches, the reporter showed how Braxton’s Baptist approach was out of line with enough of Riverside’s big-tent congregants to create a vocal faction.

According to dissidents, Dr. Braxton went about that by bringing elements of evangelical tradition into church services. They said he called on worshipers to come forward and bear witness to their faith, favored the gospel choir over the church’s traditional choir, and preached at times what they considered a Riverside heresy: that Jesus and only Jesus was the way to salvation.

Some members of the congregation may believe that, said Constance Guice-Mills, a member of the church. “But his focus on personal salvation, on the individual, was diametrically opposed to the tradition of Riverside. Here, we believe you achieve salvation by doing social justice. Out in the world. And we have people from all backgrounds. Buddhists.”

According to supporters like Ms. Schmidt, the council chairwoman, Dr. Braxton’s theological views were consistent with the Riverside culture. But he also recognized the great challenge facing liberal Protestants — the extraordinary growth of evangelical churches for 30 years.

Oddly, the Times does not mention money until the third-to-last paragraph. Now, I know you’re supposed to avoid talking about money around friends and that finances are one of the top stresses on any relationship, but this placement seems like a major oversight.

By comparison, Religion News Service mentions Braxton’s salary in the second paragraph of its resignation story — though RNS fails to evaluate church officials’ claims that “the package was consistent with that of similar high-profile pulpits.” The Daily News also accepted that assertion without seeking confirmation.

I’m not sure how one would seek out comps — Riverside Church is in its own league — but that really wasn’t what was needed. What each of these stories was lacking was any — any — sort of a theological perspective on money.

Christians are taught from an early age that the love of money is the root of all evil. Can someone who earns more than half a million a year not love money? We know well Jesus’ parable of the challenges a rich man will face if he wants to enter heaven. But what is rich? And how does a pastor’s salary play in a church with historically liberal values?

While these stories don’t let us in on answers to those first two questions, the last question seems pretty self explanatory — at least in the Rev. Braxton’s case.

Whatever Vanity Fair pays its national editor, Todd S. Purdum, he earns every dollar with expertly crafted hit pieces. His lengthy takedown of Bill Clinton last year was satisfying for readers long troubled by Clinton’s various indiscretions, political and otherwise.

Now Purdhum has turned his withering gaze on Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin, whom Purdum depicts as coming entirely too close to the vice presidency, simply by becoming Sen. John McCain’s running mate. Her ambition and ruthlessness would give Lady Macbeth good competition, if Purdum’s account is to be believed.

Mark Hemingway, spouse of my colleague Mollie, has begun investigating who leaked so many campaign insider’s details to Purdum, and possibly why. Some of Purdum’s shots simply are cheap, regardless of their ultimate sources.

He dismisses Palin’s future publisher, Zondervan, as “the Bible-publishing house,” which apparently tells us all we need to know about the company that also publishes Philip Yancey, Rick Warren, Shane Claiborne, and dozens of academic texts.

He mentions that Palin’s hometown newspaper “recently published an article that asked, ‘Will the Antichrist be a Homosexual?’” but doesn’t make clear that it was an opinion column by an independent Baptist pastor rather than front-page news.

He drags up the case of Wasilla’s librarian who was fired, without mentioning such trifling details as these from FactCheck.org: “She was also re-hired the next day and never claimed that Palin threatened to oust her for refusing to ban books.”

He notes that Palin confessed, at a pro-life dinner, to brief thoughts about abortion when she learned that her youngest son, Trig, had Down syndrome. Then he adds this bombast: “It is almost impossible not to be touched by the rawness of her confession, even if it is precisely this choice that Palin believes no other woman should ever have, not even in the case of rape or incest.”

Most voters recognize the difference between a politician’s pro-life ideals and what actually is possible in a culture well to the left of Western Europe on abortion laws. Ah, but Palin believes laws should forbid abortion unless a woman’s life is at stake, which makes her a bad person.

This, however, is the most grotesque paragraph:

More than once in my travels in Alaska, people brought up, without prompting, the question of Palin’s extravagant self-regard. Several told me, independently of one another, that they had consulted the definition of “narcissistic personality disorder” in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders — “a pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behavior), need for admiration, and lack of empathy” — and thought it fit her perfectly. When Trig was born, Palin wrote an e-mail letter to friends and relatives, describing the belated news of her pregnancy and detailing Trig’s condition; she wrote the e-mail not in her own name but in God’s, and signed it “Trig’s Creator, Your Heavenly Father.”

I never knew the DSM IV was such popular reading among the pop psychologists of Alaska — especially in an Alaska that Purdum repeatedly portrays as a cultural backwater. As for that letter to friends and relatives, if Purdum cannot distinguish between sentiment and self-aggrandizement, he needs to broaden his reading habits — if only to include the occasional Christmas family letter or Snopes.com’s Glurge gallery.

Does a saint’s intercession heal? Or are the faithful in the Roman Catholic Church praying with the saints to Jesus Christ?

That’s the big doctrinal question that is a wee bit mysterious in a well-researched, lengthy, and generally helpful article about the procedure for examining whether 19th-century Maryland priest Francis X. Seelos, should be declared a saint.

There are a few other, more minor problems with this generally thorough story. The most evident one is in the photo caption of the article in the Baltimore Sun. One GetReligion reader wrote us that the term “charm” (more reminscent of Shakespeare and witchcraft) to refer to the religious relic Mary Ellen Heibel wears around her neck was so “ignorant” that he couldn’t read the article.

The canonization process (Seelos was beatified by the Vatican in 2000) is a long one, and requires that those arguing for sainthood document a second event that fulfills the criteria for a miracle. The context for Arthur Hirsch’s article is the healing of Mary Ellen Heibel, a parishioner at St. Mary’s Roman Catholic Church in Annapolis, Maryland — which might or might not be the miracle that those campaigning for sainthood need to make their case.

Starting with a few paragraphs about the Maryland parishioner, Hirsch cuts back and forth between her story and the process that the Archdiocese of Baltimore is undergoing in evaluating whether it should ask the Vatican to canonize Seelos. This isn’t simple stuff, by any means. And generally, Hirsch does a pretty nice job explaining it. Heibel doesn’t pray “to” Seelos. She prays “with” him.

But these two paragraphs in particular seemed confusing.

For only the fifth time in its 200-year history, the archdiocese has launched a test of faith and science to help the Vatican determine whether one of its own was not only exemplary in virtue during life but now has the power in death to intercede with God. In the end, it will be up to the pope to rule on whether Seelos is to join the men and women held up by the church through the centuries as models of holiness.

“Did what happened come about by the intercession of Blessed Seelos? That’s what we have to discover,” said the Rev. Gilbert J. Seitz, the judicial vicar who heads the committee, emphasizing that its job is not to judge the case but to gather information in a process akin to taking a deposition.

As I understand the Roman Catholic doctrine of intercession, the saints can pray with and for believers, but it is not up to them as to whether the prayer is answered. It would be up to God.

I wish the author had asked Seitz how any earthly court would be able to figure out whether Seelos was responsible for the healing — and what that means..

Closer to the middle of the story, when discussing the “painstaking” canonization process, Hirsch quotes Seitz again. “Hundreds stall at the midpoint of beatification, either for lack of a verifiable miracle or the support neccesary to bring such information to the Vatican’s attention.”

Now that’s a fascinating sentence. Readers might want to know what makes a healing or other occurrence a “verifiable” miracle — and what kind of bureaucratic, financial ( for research and writing), or popular suppport is neccesary to get the attention of the Vatican.

I’m not thrilled with the use of the word “magical” a few paragraphs later to describe events in the lives of the saints. On the whole, however, Hirsch displays what seems to be a willingness to both understand and chronicle carefully the beliefs and language of the people he’s telling us about. Local readers probably appreciated that — and would eagerly wait for more chapters in the ongoing story of a homegrown pastor made very, very good.

I know you’ll know this, but that’s not the “real” Seelos in the YouTube video — it took me a minute to figure it out

I was stunned the other day by the total lack of interest in the religion elements of the big story here in Washington, D.C., as in the tragedy on our Metro subway system. The coverage has been major league, as you would expect, and the story on which I focused was one out of many worthy of discussion.

(Sound of crickets on a still night)

OK, I don’t care.

I’m going to write about this subject again, because the Washington Post had a follow-up story the other day that was simply baptized in religious themes and images, for a totally valid, journalistic reason. You see, one of the survivors from that first Metro car, the one that was crushed to one third its size, was — wait for it — was a military chaplain with two tours worth of experience in Iraq. He was in the wrong place at the right time.

In the end, the Post turned Car 1079 into a kind of urban version of “The Bridge of San Luis Rey.” Who was in that car at the crucial moment, when it was “Three Minutes to Fort Totten”?

I do have a few questions, however.

With this kind of anecdotal story, any feature writer has to ask two questions right up front: (1) What’s the symbolic story that gives me a lede? And (2) What’s the over-arching principle that provides the structure (and how does the lede fit into that)?

Now, it’s clear to me that Dave Bottoms, the chaplain who has just arrived at Walter Reed Army Medical Center, provides most of the information and insights that provide the structure of the story. Yet, the lede starts somewhere else, with Tom Baker, a doctor, and the last man to step onto the train before the doors closed and it began its short, final trip. I understand that choice. Yet I also wonder if leading with the chaplain was, oh, too religious? Did the editorial team conclude that this would be too focused on the faith element of the story?

I could pick many different passages from this story demonstrating that writer Eli Saslow “gets it,” in terms of the faith element that was already in this story. But let’s start with the introduction of Bottoms:

In the far rear of the car, Dave Bottoms listened to an iPod. A chaplain who had just finished his first day on the pastoral staff at Walter Reed Army Medical Center, Bottoms, 39, felt scattered from the stress of a new job. Wasn’t today his dog’s seventh birthday? Did his new BlackBerry work? Were there any leftovers in the fridge for a quick dinner? Bottoms reached into his backpack and grabbed a photocopy of a homily by St. Irenaeus. Maybe, Bottoms thought, a little reading would quiet his mind.

Baker stopped walking when he reached the chaplain and stood near him, leaning against a wall by the rear exit of the first car. Baker had moved from Texas to Washington four years ago, bought a downtown condo and sold his car. So liberating. He loved the predictability of Metro. It was 4:57 p.m., and Train 112 lurched into motion, with Car 1079 at the lead. Baker grabbed a pole to steady himself and turned to face the door he planned to use to exit the train. He would make it to the gym by 5:45, probably home by 7:30. A good night ahead. Three minutes to Fort Totten.

After the crash, Bottoms does what you would expect a chaplain with battlefield experience to do — he comforts the injured and the dying.

A writer doesn’t have to add drama to this kind of story. It also helps, of course, to be interviewing someone (most clergy are amazing, trust me) who is used to hearing people describe their lives, their emotions, their feelings — even at the moment of death.

When he was training, we are told, a mentor gave Bottoms this motto: “You don’t let anyone suffer alone.”

This is the real thing. The quote is long, yes, but where would you cut it?

The chaplain leaned over, his face inches from the top of the debris, and spoke into the darkness. He said the first thing that came to his mind.

“We can pray,” he said.

“Okay,” she said.

Bottoms spoke the Lord’s Prayer. He had recited it thousands of times, but its six simple sentences still resonated within him. “Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name,” he said. “Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

There was familiarity and comfort in those opening lines. Only an hour earlier, Bottoms had visited and prayed with about a dozen injured patients at Walter Reed, a part of his daily routine. He believed that prayer fortified the injured and pacified the dying. During a year in Iraq, he had watched over a three-bed medical clinic that sometimes overflowed with 30 patients, and those experiences returned to him in the train car: dying soldiers to whom he had administered last rites; a badly burned Iraqi man who died on the street in Bottoms’s lap.

Bottoms was an Army brat from birth, trained for trauma. In Car 1079, his voice remained steady and calm.

The young woman’s voice pitched and trembled. She had graduated from Largo High School in 2003, tried a few years of college in Ohio and then returned home to attend beauty school. Her mother did hair, so she decided to do hair. Fashionable and girlish, she had compiled so many outfits that she kept one closet filled with unworn garments that still bore their tags.

“Please,” she said now. “I’m dying.”

“You’re not alone,” Bottoms said. “What’s your name?”

“LaVonda,” she said.

“LaVonda,” he said. He wanted to write it down. Another passenger handed him paper and a pen.

“Can you spell it?” he asked.

“L-a-v-o-n-d-a,” she said.

“Okay. Great. And what’s your last name?”

She moaned, so Bottoms repeated his question. On the second try, LaVonda King tried to spell out her last name, but her reply was sporadic, and her voice was quieter. Bottoms wrote down K-L-I-N-G on his piece of paper, adding an extra letter. “Okay,” he said. “Good.”

From his perch against the wall and on top of a pile of rubble, Bottoms looked out the window and spotted a police officer standing across the train tracks. Bottoms banged hard against the glass, quick jabs with the side of his fist, but the police officer walked in the opposite direction. Bottoms banged one final time in frustration. Why couldn’t the officer hear him? LaVonda King was only moaning now.

“Hold on, LaVonda,” Bottoms said.

He had been told once in Iraq that hearing was the last of the senses to fail before death, and he remembered that now. Maybe, somewhere beneath the chairs, carpeting and glass, LaVonda was still listening. Maybe she could hear him, even now.

“LaVonda, are you bleeding?”

No reply.

“Keep talking to me, LaVonda.”

No reply.

“LaVonda.”

Nothing.

Bottoms looked behind him at what remained of Car 1079. Baker was comforting the 15-year-old boy with a trapped leg while the young architect looked on. Everyone else had exited. Bottoms looked back down into the pile.

“LaVonda,” he said. “I’m still right here.”

That scene is the heart of this story, as you will see when you read the whole feature (and I hope that you do).

After I finished, another question hit me. If this man is a chaplain, should his name be the Rev. Dave Bottoms? Or would his U.S. Army rank trump the religious title? That led to another question: He’s reading a sermon by a great saint, one of the most famous defenders of Christian orthodoxy who has ever lived. What kind of chaplain reads St. Irenaeus on the Metro?

So I did what any reporter would do — I looked him up in Google. As it turns out, Bottoms is an Anglican. Thus, it’s possible that the reporter should have called him Father Dave Bottoms. Was he wearing clerical clothing on the Metro? There is a chance that the “Anglican” reference, as opposed to “Episcopal,” means that he is an evangelical or Anglo-Catholic who is now in an alternative Anglican church. As a simple matter of Associate Press style, I think he needed to be identified in some way. Right?

But to return to my main point: This is another fine example of letting the faith element of a story shine through. The faith details are not forced. There is no need for that. The faith details are right where they should be — at the heart of a stunning, tragic, deeply spiritual moment in the lives of ordinary people. Amen.

Photo: By Sharon Renee Taylor at www.Army.mil

As interesting as South Carolina Gov. Mark Sanford’s bizarre and tormented press conference was — the one where he announced he had something going on with an Argentinian woman, it was his wife’s statement about the matter that I found the most intriguing. In her statement, she overtly references her Christian faith, even quoting scripture.

However, the subtext of the letter is also Christian. Or, as Salon’s editor-in-chief subtly says, she “sounded creepy Christian right themes.” You know, creepy stuff such as the sanctity, dignity and importance of marriage. About the importance of reconciliation and forgiveness. Here’s a sample:

I believe enduring love is primarily a commitment and an act of will, and for a marriage to be successful, that commitment must be reciprocal. I believe Mark has earned a chance to resurrect our marriage.

Psalm 127 states that sons are a gift from the Lord and children a reward from Him. I will continue to pour my energy into raising our sons to be honorable young men. I remain willing to forgive Mark completely for his indiscretions and to welcome him back, in time, if he continues to work toward reconciliation with a true spirit of humility and repentance.

I don’t know Jenny Sanford from Eve, but it made me curious about her religious views. Her husband referenced some evangelical groups during his press conference, and Wikipedia lists his religious affiliation as Episcopal. Both of the spouses have some strong religious views as evidenced in their statements. I’d like to know more about them.

Unfortunately, the Washington Post piece that should answer those questions really fails. It’s all about how South Carolina’s First Lady has handled her addlepated husband’s infidelity:

Friends said the written statement she issued was classic Jenny Sanford. She told the world that she loves her husband and would strive to repair their marriage, but that she asked him to leave because it was “important to look my sons in the eyes and maintain my dignity, self-respect and my basic sense of right and wrong.”

“Did you read her statement?” asked Marjory Wentworth, a family friend and South Carolina’s poet laureate. “Brilliant, gracious, effervescent.”

Jennifer Sullivan Sanford was born into a wealthy Irish Catholic family in suburban Chicago and graduated magna cum laude from Georgetown University with a degree in finance. She took a job handling mergers and acquisitions on Wall Street, rising to become a vice president at Lazard Freres & Co.

So she’s Catholic? If so, that’s interesting, considering her husband isn’t. If she’s not, what is she? Where does she go to church? What do we know about her religious views? It’s such an obvious elephant in the room but no one is digging into them. The only description of her religious affiliation that we get is that she was born into a Catholic family. So bizarre.

Speaking of bizarre, here’s the other religious reference in the piece:

Sanford, who still speaks with a hint of a Chicago accent, combines the grace and hospitality of a Southern belle with the street-smart toughness of a Northern businesswoman. Campaign staffers joked that she is “an Old Testament woman with a 170 IQ.”

I’ve been a Christian my whole life and I honestly don’t know what this “joke” means. Is it that Old Testament women are dumb? What’s the joke? I’ve read the Old Testament and I recall there being, to put it mildly, more than one type of woman. Are Eve, Deborah, Jael and Sarah tough but Mary, Elizabeth and Mary Magdalene wusses? Or is it a reference to the notion that the God of the Old Testament is tough as opposed to the “nice” God of the New? Seriously, is there some Southern cultural reference I’m not getting? I’m all for colorful quotes, but it seems to me that you have to set it up a bit better than this.

The bottom line is that religion is oozing out all over this story but the reporters seem ill equipped to handle it. Of course, when you are so Biblically illiterate that you think Psalm 127 is about how male children are superior to female children, perhaps we’re lucky that the reporters are missing the obvious.

The saga of South Carolina Gov. Mark Sanford keeps getting stranger. Today we learned that when Sanford ostensibly came clean at his tearful press conference last week that he was, in fact, still lying.

In another tearful talk with the media, Sanford said Maria Belen Chapur wasn’t the only woman he’d “crossed lines” with, though, he claims, she is the only one he had sex with. Sanford also admitted he saw Chapur, whom he called his soul mate, more than he previously claimed.

“This was a whole lot more than a simple affair, this was a love story,” Sanford said. “A forbidden one, a tragic one, but a love story at the end of the day.”

But that’s not what makes today’s Sanford installment so strange. It’s the conclusion to the Associated Press’ story:

In early 2009, after Jenny Sanford discovered the affair, the couple went into counseling. She has told The Associated Press that he asked her several times to visit the mistress and she refused.

But the governor claims he wanted to end the affair in person and, with his wife’s permission, went to New York with a “trusted spiritual adviser” serving as chaperone. The three went to church and dinner together and parted ways the same night.

But he visited Chapur again in Argentina on June 18, the trip that brought the whole affair to light.

Now, I’ve never had an affair, so I don’t know how these things are supposed to work. (To my wife: I never will.) But I’m pretty sure the way these things end is a bit different than dating. Just because Sanford and Chapur had had five romantic rendezvouses instead of four doesn’t mean he is obligated to call it quits in person. Frankly, I think St. Paul would direct Sanford to man up, make a clean break and not be such a fool as to spend one more dinner with temptation.

These latest revelations will no doubt make for good fodder for the late night talk shows. That’s Sanford’s problem.

But what really irked me about the AP story is how casually the reporter mentions that Sanford traveled to New York with a “trusted spiritual adviser” and how the three — counselor and adulterers — went to church together. And that’s all the reader gets.

We’re not told why they went to church together or where or, most importantly, whether this is a common thing for Christians to do when they are repenting of past sin and, in this case, ending an adulterous affair.

Let me answer that last question: It’s not.

Here’s a question that we have asked here at GetReligion — more than once, in fact — and, now, it’s being asked at the Wall Street Journal.

That question is: What is the meaning and the purpose of the word “devout” when inserted in front of the name of a religious group or movement? You know, as in, “Neighbors were stunned to learn that this quiet man, a devout evangelical fundamentalist, was secretly selling nuclear-weapons secrets to Texas.”

At the Journal, this was discussed in the online “Style & Substance” newsletter, Here’s the item in question:

Relevance of religion

In an account of a $3 billion fraud allegedly perpetrated by Tom Petters in Minnesota, we said, “Mr. Petters grew up the fifth of seven children in a devout Catholic family in St. Cloud, Minn.”

Especially in a story about wrongdoing, it is important to consider carefully whether a person’s religious persuasion is relevant enough to mention. If the fraud had centered on Catholic institutions (the way Bernard Madoff’s fraud often involved Jewish organizations and philanthropies, for example), a case could be made for the relevance of the religious reference. But the relevance in this instance wasn’t evident.

Moreover, hasn’t devout Catholic become a cliche, rather like oil-rich Kuwait? It would seem that only Catholics and Muslims qualify as devout, since devout Catholic has appeared in our pages four times in the past year and devout Muslim twice. Zero for devout Jews and Protestants.

Well, regular readers of many mainline news publications would certainly know that devout Jews are often called “ultraorthodox.” I’m sure that’s in a style manual somewhere. And we all know that devout Protestants are called “f _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _  _ _ _ _ _ s,” no matter what the Associated Press requests.

But the Journal raises a good question, one worthy of meditation there and among the members of the committee that controls the AP Stylebook, the bible of American journalists. Just saying …

Last week, an Iowa high school football coach was shot dead in the school’s weight room. Police charged a 24-year-old former player. The headline made Drudge but I quickly forgot the story and didn’t see much follow-up. Many people talk about the sports page as if it’s got the best writing in the whole newspaper. And they’re probably thinking of reporters like Josh Peter, an enterprise reporter with, of all outlets, Yahoo! Sports. He looked at the shooting and came up with a story about theodicy, forgiveness and the strength of tight-knit communities. Here’s how he began:

PARKERSBURG, Iowa - Not far from the cornfields, in the cool of the morning, Gary Hinders stood waist-deep in a grave. He held a shovel, just like the other four men who took turns digging, first through a foot-and-a-half layer of black dirt, then a mix of sand and clay and finally the stubborn hardpan.

Hinders paused.

“Never thought I’d be digging this one,” he said.

“Not in a million years,” one of the other men said.

“At least not for this reason,” added a third.

Not a bad way to set a scene. The story has plenty of civil religion — of the sports variety. For instance, the football field where Aplington-Parkersburg High School football players competed is called The Sacred Acre. That might have something to do with the storm from last year. In May 2008, a tornado destroyed 288 homes — including Coach Thomas’, killed 9 people and ripped through the school, including the football field. After the storm, people congregated on the field.

But it also has actual religion. Let me highlight a few of those parts. Peter explains that the coach’s murder will test the community even more than it was tested by the tornado that ripped through town:

Hinders, a God-fearing man in a God-fearing town, is among residents who believe it’s no accident the tornado spared all eight churches in Parkersburg. Nor does he believe it’s a coincidence that Thomas - a man known as much for his deep faith in Christianity as for his two state championships and record of 292-84 over 37 seasons - was gunned down.

“You couldn’t pick anybody bigger in this town to shoot,” said Hinders, 60, who has been the town clerk here for 27 years. “That’s evil… .

“It’s spiritual warfare. Satan and God are fighting, and in the end I believe God will win.”

The man who is charged with shooting Thomas, Mark Becker, is a crystal meth addict. His family and the coach’s family attend the same church. They’re all friends, in fact. The coach had been trying to help the young man with his troubles in recent months.

Peter visits First Congregational Church where Thomas served as an elder:

Sunday morning, police chief Chris Luhring stood watch outside of First Congressional [sic] Church - where the Thomas and Becker families attended. Usually, there were two services. But now there was one - at 9 a.m.

Five rows from the back, there they were, the Beckers.

The back pew was open until moments before the service started. That is when the Thomas family arrived.

Brad Zinnecker, the head pastor, called on God’s mercy for a congregation that had its “guts ripped out.” He spoke of Thomas, recalling a man who could be so fiery on the sideline and yet so measured in church. And some of the worshipers quietly wept.

He prayed for the Thomas family. He prayed for the Becker family. He prayed for forgiveness during the hour-long service, and it already had come. The Thomases and Beckers had spoken earlier in the week, people close to the families said. And the coach’s younger son and wife urged people to pray for the Beckers, who would gain no closure when Ed Thomas’ casket was lowered into the ground.

Elsewhere in the story people are quoted talking about how Thomas emphasized forgiveness.

The piece is long. It covers a lot of ground. But Peter naturally (and seemingly effortlessly) weaves the faith of this town’s inhabitants throughout the story. He not only gets the meaty religious quotes but he puts them in context so that readers unfamiliar with the religious views can still understand. Excellent work.

Image of First Congregational Church, Parkersburg.

One of concepts that causes my journalism students the most grief is finding the line between making statements of personal opinion and making statements that draw logical conclusions from facts that have been stated on the record or verified in a document. It’s the line between editorial writing and news, when you get right down to it.

As I tell my students, there are times when journalists are allowed to take the publicly stated equation 2+2 and make it add up to 6 — as long as the reporter can show, in the story, where the additional information is coming from. Here is a perfect example of how this works, in a Pittsburgh Post-Gazette lede written by the Godbeat veteran Ann Rodgers — who has enough experience to get away with this kind of thing. Brace yourselves for blunt language:

BEDFORD, Texas — The spiritual leader of the Orthodox Church in America offered to begin talks aimed at full communion with the new Anglican Church in North America, then named a series of obstacles whose removal could tear apart the hard-won unity among the 100,000 theological conservatives who broke from the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Church of Canada.

“What will it take for a true ecumenical reconciliation? Because that is what I am seeking by being here today,” Metropolitan Jonah said to a standing ovation from 900 people assembled in a tent on the grounds of St. Vincent Cathedral in Bedford, Texas.

Now there’s history behind those words and we’ll get back to them in a minute.

The key to that lede — with its claim that Metropolitan Jonah both praised the new conservative Anglican body in North America and, at the same time, attacked its foundations — is based on simply, clear statements of doctrine. There is no way to write a news story about this long and very complex speech without knowing a thing or two or three (or more) about church history and doctrine. Without that, the Orthodox leader was speaking in an unknown tongue.

Rodgers noted that, with a smile, Metropolitan Jonah openly admitted that he was coming to deliver bad news, as well as good news. This was an offensive speech, but not a hateful one.

The good news was that the Orthodox Church in America was no longer interested in ecumenical talks with the liberal hierarchy of the U.S. Episcopal Church. The bad news — sure to offend many in the room, but not others — was that Orthodoxy believes that it’s impossible to mix Protestantism and ancient forms of Orthodoxy and Catholicism. Them’s fighting words to people who accept the great “Anglican Compromise.”

Thus, we read:

Metropolitan Jonah named several issues that he said the two churches needed to “face head on” and resolve before they can achieve full communion. Among the most volatile on his list were the Calvinist theology taught by many evangelical Anglicans and the ordination of women as priests, which the new church allows each of its dioceses to accept or reject.

“Calvinism is a condemned heresy,” he said, to a smattering of applause from some Anglo-Catholics in the new church.

“For … intercommunion of the Anglican Church and the Orthodox Church, the issue of ordination of women needs to be resolved,” he said, again to applause from many of the same people.

“I believe women have a critical role to play in the church, but I do not believe it is in the [priesthood or as bishops],” he said. “Forgive me if this offends you.” He called for an effort to “creatively come together to find the right context for women’s ministry in the church.”

Now, I understand that it’s hard to get a handle on who is and who is not applauding during a speech. However, playing “spot the Anglo-Catholics” is not the key element of this story.

The key is that Rodgers was able to back up that bold lede.

If you reject Calvinism, then you reject almost everyone in the low-church, Morning Prayer, red-and-black vestments wing of the global Anglican Communion. You are saying that the Protestant Reformation was, in large part, a tragic mistake, at least from the perspective of the Christian East. That’s a landmine if there ever was one, in a Communion built on the claim that John Calvin and the likes of St. John Chrysostom can thrive in the same pew (actually, the issue of pews would be problematic for the Orthodox anyway).

But what about the “good news” in this speech? You see, there is history at work there, as well, history in which the roots of Orthodox in North American were — briefly — intertwined with those of Anglo-Catholics. There was a moment in time when Orthodoxy came very close to recognizing the validity of Anglican orders, in a manner similar to state that currently exists between Rome and the East. These ancient churches recognize each other’s orders, even while living in a tragic state of broken Communion. That’s a complicated matter and Metropolitan Jonah’s speech provided a short sketch of the history.

Journalism being what it is, Rodgers has to hit at all of this terrain in even fewer words. The St. Tikhon she mentions was Bishop Tikhon, who came to America to start a multi-ethnic Orthodox body on this continent. However, he was called home to Moscow to become Russia’s patriarch — leading to clashes with the rising tide of Marxism and, eventually, his martyrdom. But that’s another story.

(Metropolitan Jonah) spoke of St. Tikhon, a 19th-century Russian Orthodox missionary to the United States who initiated a close relationship with the Episcopal Church that later cooled.

“We need to pick up where they left off,” he said. “I occupy the throne St. Tikhon held as the leader of the Orthodox Church in America. Our arms are wide open.”

The Anglican Church in North America hopes to be recognized as a new province of the 80 million-member global Anglican Communion, of which the 2.1 million-member Episcopal Church is the U.S. province. The new church believes the Episcopal Church failed to uphold biblical authority and classic doctrines about matters ranging from the divinity of Jesus to biblical morality, a criticism that the Orthodox share.

The Orthodox Church in America is a self-governing daughter of the Russian Orthodox Church. Metropolitan Jonah, who was elected last year in Pittsburgh, is a convert who was raised as an Episcopalian. He spoke with humor about both traditions, warning, “I’m afraid my talk will have something to offend just about everybody.”

Like I said, it’s hard to write about complex historical issues in public newspapers. This is an example of how you go about doing that. Amen.

Like many of our readers, I read this Associated Press lede and said: “Say what?!?”

ROME — The first-ever scientific test on what are believed to be the remains of the Apostle Paul “seems to confirm” that they do indeed belong to the Roman Catholic saint, Pope Benedict XVI said Sunday.

Archaeologists recently unearthed and opened the white marble sarcophagus located under the Basilica of St. Paul’s Outside the Walls in Rome, which for some 2,000 years has been believed by the faithful to be the tomb of St. Paul.

The problem, of course, is not with the narrow, factual nature of the statement that the Apostle Paul of Tarsus is a “Roman Catholic” saint. Of course he is. And the problem isn’t that these remains are buried in the Vatican, which makes the Catholic reference rather relevant.

But, well, St. Paul is also an Orthodox saint, along with the rest of the saints of the one, holy, catholic church before the Great Schism that tore apart the Christian East and West. And, you know, the Protestants think rather highly of the Apostle Paul, too. He’s right up there at the top of the New Testament hero list for everyone in Christianity — period.

So the question is why choose a narrow wording to identify Paul, as opposed to a broader wording that is just as accurate?

So, gentle readers, what wording would you have chosen in this context?

In my own writings, I simply refer to him as St. Paul, when writing about the ancient churches, and the Apostle Paul, when writing about events in a Protestant context.

I was also intrigued by the reference to the carbon dating proving that these relics are, in fact, those of St. Paul. Here is the full reference:

Benedict said scientists had conducted carbon dating tests on bone fragments found inside the sarcophagus and confirmed that they date from the first or second century.

“This seems to confirm the unanimous and uncontested tradition that they are the mortal remains of the Apostle Paul,” Benedict said, announcing the findings at a service in the basilica to mark the end of the Vatican’s Paoline year, in honor of the apostle.

Paul and Peter are the two main figures known for spreading the Christian faith after the death of Christ. According to tradition, St. Paul, also known as the apostle of the Gentiles, was beheaded in Rome in the 1st century during the persecution of early Christians by Roman emperors. Popular belief holds that bone fragments from his head are in another Rome basilica, St. John Lateran, with his other remains inside the sarcophagus.

The pope said that when archaeologists opened the sarcophagus, they discovered alongside the bone fragments some grains of incense, a “precious” piece of purple linen with gold sequins and a blue fabric with linen filaments.

Now, it seems to me that science has found evidence that the relics are from the proper time period, which adds weight to the ancient church traditions about their identity. But — pending some other DNA match — how would this prove the remains are those of a specific man, namely St. Paul?

Now hear me: What I have observed, in graduate school readings and in journalism, is that the claims of the early church are accurate on these matters a very high percentage of the time. The church of the martyrs tended to take these matters rather seriously. People died defending some of these holy sites.

I’m not arguing with the pope and the “seems to confirm” language in the lede is cautious. I simply wondered, again, if the wording could have been a bit more accurate.

Oh, a blessed feast day of Sts. Peter and Paul, to GetReligion readers who worship in churches that take seriously that kind of thing. You know — celebrating the lives and deaths of the saints, like St. Paul.

PHOTO: The saints of the day. Can you say who is who?

Since Barack Obama became President, the country has experienced a documented rise in sales of firearms and ammunition, not to mention concealed-carry permits. Recently Congress passed a bill allowing those of us who have permits and where the state allows concealed weapons to carry guns in national parks. And a columnist for Hernando Today says that he’s found an attempt by the National Rifle Association to link health care reform to an assault on gun rights.

While practically silent on the issue of gun-control as President, Obama was known to favor it as a state legislator.

In the past six months, gun-control advocates have suffered defeat after defeat. Apparently even the possibility of such action is a powerful thing. Twin this activism in the gun-owning community with American’s (check the rhetoric in articles here) semi-sacred attachment over the centuries to the right to bear arms — it was probably inevitable that there would be events at which worshippers and others of like mind were invited to bring guns into the sanctuary. And it was also inevitable that the media would cover them.

But why are they covering them like spectators in the Colisseum rather than as social phenomenon with profound cultural and religious origins? In this journalists are doing a deep disservice to their readers. Here are a few recent examples, ranging from the distressing to the not-so-bad but annoying.

Our first example is a story from the Los Angeles Times on what some churches are doing to prepare for potential gun violence. After mentioning several recent examples of church killings, the writer asserts that they are not unique instances:

Violence in churches is on the rise, experts say.

As more shootings at houses of worship make headlines, churches around the country are stepping up security, training their staff on how to detect and confront violent assailants, and asking congregants with licenses to carry guns during services.

That’s what brought 15 Southern California church leaders to Garden Grove last week to attend an “Interfaith Intruder Response” course.

Questions for Ms. Linthincum: did anyone mention why church violence is on the rise? Did anybody draw a distinction between security guards with weapons and congregants with pistols? How come you didn’t apparently interview anyone who thinks this kind of training for worshippers might not be a good idea?

Take a look at the kicker quote and tell me this article isn’t more about sensation than substance.

Meanwhile, over at the NYTimes.com website, Katherine Seelye has written a few articles on Ken Pagano, the pastor who recently hosted a “bring your guns to church event.” This story has gotten a fair amount of space in the New York Times. One of the good things about her articles on Pagano is that she does surface the connection often made by some owners between patriotism, God and their guns. That comes out clearly in the lede:

Ken Pagano, the pastor of the New Bethel Church here, is passionate about gun rights. He shoots regularly at the local firing range, and his sermon two weeks ago was on “God, Guns, Gospel and Geometry.” And on Saturday night, he is inviting his congregation of 150 and others to wear or carry their firearms into the sanctuary to “celebrate our rights as Americans!” as a promotional flier for the “open carry celebration” puts it.

Ken Pagano of New Bethel Church in Louisville, Ky. “God and guns were part of the foundation of this country,” he said. “God and guns were part of the foundation of this country,” Mr. Pagano, 49, said Wednesday in the small brick Assembly of God church, where a large wooden cross hung over the altar and two American flags jutted from side walls. “I don’t see any contradiction in this. Not every Christian denomination is pacifist.”

Not every gun owner uses religious rhetoric to discuss his or her gun collection. As one GetReligion reader noted, Christians who aren’t pacifists might object to bringing guns to church — but the Pagano quotes aren’t questioned or explained.

What is the Assembly of God position on bringing weapons in church (if they have one)?

In her second article on Pagano, Seelye describes the actual event — and she does include quotes from secular gun-owners. I also really like the careful way she documents the surge in gun sales — and why that might be happening. Did you know that of the 40 states with “right to carry” laws, 20 allow guns in churches?

And yet — Christians hold diverse positions on gun ownership. They debate whether Christians ought to bring guns to church. And many, like the Rev. John Phillips in Seelye’s article, have theological reasons for their opposition (although that’s a rather weak quote). But we don’t hear much beyond the flashy Gods and guns statements that make compellling quotes — but explain almost nothing.

So I’m wondering — is Pagano an enterprising huckster? How much of his Saturday night gig was done for fascinated reporters? Does he represent mainstream America?

I’d love it if even journalists with challenging deadlines would move beyond the spectacle and write about the prevalance of the American “gun culture.” Is gun rights an arena in which, like that of abortion, the American public displays volatility? And why do some feel this deep connection between faith and their right to bear arms? But given our bent towards covering events over the philosophy and faith that ignites them, I’m not looking for such articles anytime real soon.

When Amy Sullivan of Time wrote one of the finest articles about President Obama’s church options, she quoted a creative idea from Flo McAfee, former religious liaison for the Clinton White House. McAfee recommended worshiping in the chapel at the Army’s Fort Meyer, where security already is covered.

Now Sullivan, drawing on reporting by her colleague Elizabeth Dias, breaks the news that Obama will, like his predecessor George W. Bush, worship in Evergreen Chapel at Camp David, where Navy chaplains preside. The story offers some great details, not least that Obama can experience more decorum at an informal chapel than he did during an Easter visit to St. John’s Church, Lafayette Square: “Even at St. John’s, which is so accustomed to presidential visitors that it is known as the ‘Church of the Presidents,’ worshippers couldn’t help themselves from snapping photos of Obama on their camera phones as they walked down the aisle past him to take communion.”

My fellow Episcopalians are snapping cell-phone photos? On their way to Communion, no less? This needs to be a story in itself, under the tag “Signs of the Apocalypse.”

The Obamas will not worship alone at Camp David. “Each week, regardless of whether the President is on-site, Evergreen Chapel holds nondenominational Christian services open to the nearly 400 military personnel and staff at Camp David, as well as their families,” Time reports.

Another great detail: Obama’s new pastor is Lieut. Carey Cash, a Southern Baptist who has served as a chaplain in the Iraq War:

The 38-year-old Memphis native is a graduate of the Citadel and the great-nephew of Johnny Cash. He served a tour as chaplain with a Marine battalion in Iraq and baptized nearly 60 Marines during that time. Cash earned his theology degree from Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary in Fort Worth — and, yes, that means Obama’s new pastor is a Southern Baptist.

Cash and his wife also have five children, some of whom may find themselves acting opposite Sasha and Malia in the Christmas pageant. But if the experience of past Camp David chaplains is any guide, Cash won’t necessarily have the opportunity to form a pastoral relationship with Obama. “We used to tell people our job was to run like a five-star resort,” said Patrick McLaughlin, who was chaplain at Camp David from 2002 to 2005, in an interview with Religion News Service. “One of the things you value when you go on vacation is peace and quiet.” His contact with Bush outside worship services, McLaughlin said, was “very little.”

Sullivan does a solid job of explaining the security challenges and intrusions on a church’s weekly atmosphere involved in any presidential visit, especially since the 9/11 terrorist strikes. Obama’s choice is bound to be as disappointing for pundits as it is for any camera-weilding worshipers at St. John’s. I’m not sure there are many better options, unless Obama’s weekly worship choice becomes as chaotic and disruptive as his dropping in on Five Guys Burgers and Fries with Brian Williams.

Update: David Brody of CBN News quotes Jen Psaki, deputy White House press secretary, as disputing Time’s report.

Photo: The choir at Washington National Cathedral, which — despite the lobbying efforts of Sally Quinn, may not claim Obama as a new member.

If you run a Google News search for “Michael Jackson” and “idol,” you’ll get tens of thousands of hits. If you watched any news coverage of the death of MJ, “icon” was the go-to word for describing the King of Pop. Here’s Agence France-Presse, for instance:

Michael Jackson is dead after suffering a cardiac arrest, sending shockwaves sweeping across the world and tributes pouring in yesterday for the tortured music icon revered as the “King of Pop.”

Clearly the media use this term to mean someone who is the object of a lot of attention and devotion. But I can’t help but think, if that’s what they mean to say about Jackson, that “idol” would be a better term.

Both terms are religious or have religious overtones. Here’s how one Russian Orthodox web site describes icons:

In the Orthodox Church, icons are sacred images painted on wood, carved in stone, molded in metal, sewn on cloth, or made in any suitable material, which conform to a canonical non-naturalistic style, and which are venerated by the faithful with bows, kisses, incense and lights, with the understanding that the icon itself is not worshipped, but the honor given it is transferred to Christ, the Mother of God, or to