Anyone who has spent more than a few hours in Arlington National Cemetery has probably seen, from a distance, a military funeral of some kind. For me, it’s impossible not to get caught up in the specifics of these rites, the symbolic details that offer details of the life, rank and service of the deceased. If Arlington is a cathedral in American civil religion, then these details are part of its high-church liturgical rites.

The moment that always gets to me is when the officer of rank in the ceremony kneels and presents the now-folded flag from the casket to the spouse or mother of the fallen soldier and then offers a salute of honor to a civilian. If there are veterans reading this post and my memory has missed a detail in that sequence, please let me know. I know that I have seen that moment repeated a number of times (but this site suggests that I may be wrong).

I bring this up because of an excellent story from The News Journal in Wilmington, Del., that focuses on the rituals performed by teams of military personnel at Dover Air Force Base as the bodies of soldiers return from the front lines. The double-decker headline does a fine job of setting the tone for this feature, which is rich in fine details: “At Dover Air Force Base, Memorial Day is every day — The flag, the prayer, the salute. Each dead service member receives the same solemn respect”.

The opening of the story, by reporter Wade Malcolm, is focused and calm, which only adds to the power:

DOVER — The chaplain was right, Linda Shea remembers thinking.

“The first thing you’re going to see is the flag,” she had told her.

She recalls scanning the dreary surroundings: The gray C-17 cargo plane. The muted fatigues of the stoic, somber military personnel. The box-shaped van — plain white, like a bread truck without the logo. All of it set against the misty, gray weather of an early morning in mid-May.

Her eyes locked on the red, white and blue cloth wrapped around the metal case that held the body of her son, 21-year-old Cpl. Kurt S. Shea of Frederick, Md. The chaplain’s warning hardly helped. Flanked by her husband on the right and her daughter on the left, she wept on the tarmac at Dover Air Force Base.

“Nothing prepares you to see your child in a box with a flag over it,” she said.

You really need to read the story to absorb all of the details as, stage by stage, Malcolm walks you through the rites of passage. The YouTube video at the top of this post only covers one moment in process.

The key message in the story: This is normal, but it is not normal. For the professionals, this happens again and again and again. At times, it is hard to focus on the details because it is easy to be pulled in too deep. It’s hard to watch, but it’s almost impossible to turn away.

The religious element of the story is always present, because this is a story about ultimate issues. It is a compliment to say that I was left wanting to know more details, just a few more symbolic details.

Consider, for example, the presence of the word “prayer” — singular — in the headline. You know that there are many prayers said. But only one is included in the formal rite when the remains first arrive. Thus, we read:

When the officer in charge of the Advance Team receives word the family is on the way, he calls out, “Wheels rolling!”

With the family in place, the six white-gloved members of the carry team — representing the same service branch as the fallen — march across the flight line, swinging arms in unison. A row of high-ranking officers, usually colonels, called “the official party,” follow behind. When the carry team enters the aircraft, the surrounding service members snap to attention. The chaplain says a prayer — audible to those standing below the aircraft, though the words are not discernable. The prayer can change for each transfer — one of the event’s few variables — but on Wednesday, Chaplain Lt. Col. Marti D. Reynolds said the following:

“Father, extend your arms of loving consolation. … We ask that you care for those who are still in harm’s way, bring healing and hope to this troubled world, and keep us ever mindful that in the midst of unimaginable and perhaps conflicting feelings that you alone are our refuge and strength and a very present help in times of trouble. Our honor here today signifies our heartfelt appreciation for the ultimate sacrifice.”

You want to know more, right? Why do the prayers change? Are the prayers taken from an approved book of military rites? What do some of the other prayers say? What are the differences?

Is the faith commitment, if any, of the deceased taken into account? If so, this is an especially symbolic fact because the words of the prayer are only heard — if you view this in materialistic terms — by the people standing in the aircraft.

Yet, yet, yet … It says so much if the chaplains words honor the faith commitment of the fallen and his or her family. That Jewish prayers are said for Jewish soldiers, Islamic prayers for Muslim soldiers, Catholic prayers for Catholic soldiers, etc. Yet, what does it say if the contents of the prayer do not change? I want to know more.

You need to read the whole story and, yes, you need to read it on Memorial Day.

I’ve been spending my Memorial Day reading articles from my own personal GetReligion “guilt folder,” stories that I knew would be interesting but would take time to digest.

If you have a few minutes, consider reading this front-page story from the Washington Post: “Ancient wisdom of Confucius reverberates in modern China.” The average American might have to dig into distant memories from world history textbooks to remember Confucianism’s influence, but reporter Andrew Higgins uncovers a seemingly significant trend.

Higgins begins his story on Confucianism’s comeback by focusing on a wealthy metals trader’s travels to the birthplace of Confucius, explaining how it involves a larger trend happening in China.

The ceremony, a mix of theme-park gimmickry and earnest ritual that dates back more than two millennia, took place at Qufu’s Confucius Temple, the focal point of what, in imperial times, was China’s guiding creed.

Today it’s the center of a burgeoning personality cult built around a philosopher who died in 479 B.C. It’s a movement endorsed by the government but one that is also providing cover to some who question China’s direction.

A revival of interest in Confucius and other aspects of what Mao Zedong vilified as China’s noxious feudal past has been underway for years, spawning best-selling novels, television dramas and films set in the Imperial Era. The Communist Party, tapping into a deep vein of cultural nationalism, has encouraged the trend, in part as an antidote to Western ways.

Near the top of the story, Higgins calls Confucianism a religion and philosophy, but the story could have been improved by explaining why scholars debate these two distinctions. The following paragraph also seems to gloss over what it means to follow Confucianism.

Confucianism, an elaborate system of moral philosophy and political theory, has always been a two-edged sword, both deeply conservative and potentially subversive.

The terms “two-edged sword,” “conservative,” “subversive” likely mean nothing to the average reader unless the reporter spells them out. Perhaps he could have spent one or two more paragraphs explaining what it means to follow Confucianism. Higgins mostly looks at the political implications, which is important, but he could have explained what it meant on a personal level. Does a follower change his or her lifestyle or participate in regular rituals? In other words, what are some of the practical implications of practicing Confucianism?

Successive Chinese dynasties, deploying Confucianism to cement their rule, distilled its complexity to a simple message: obedience. Confucius prized hierarchy and order, but he also believed that virtue, not wealth or power, should decide who governs: “If a ruler departs from benevolence, how can he be worthy of that name?”

China’s current government is still backing Confucius and has adopted as its own one of his favorite concepts: harmony. But it sometimes has a hard time selling its preferred image of the sage as a bookish patriot, now on display in movie houses across the country thanks to “Confucius,” a multimillion-dollar bio-epic. It has been widely panned as a snooze.

The reporter spends the bulk of his space arguing for Confucianism’s resurgence and giving examples for his thesis.

Far more interested in philosophy than electricity, Duan has set up his own Confucius academy, part of China’s growing network of private schools and study groups dedicated to the revival of Confucianism. Unlike government-funded scholars who “just research Confucius,” Duan said, “we live Confucius.”

Duan’s school has formal approval from the state, and he shares the leadership’s distaste for democracy. But he also shares many of the concerns of government critics: rampant corruption, corrosive greed and what he called the “ideological chaos” of a nominally communist country guided mostly by the pursuit of profit.

I’m still left wondering what Duan means when he says “we live Confucius.” What kinds of things do people who attend the academy do? I was also searching for more historical context in the story. For example, how far did Confucianism spread and where can we see its influence today? Why did the Red Guards sack Confucius’s temple? What was the threat back then and why is Confucianism considered to be safe now? Why does the Chinese government recognize this religion/philosophy while banning something like the Falun Gong?

Reporters have limited space to explain complex ideas and systems of thought, but a little bit of history goes a long way.

Tragic news in Pakistan a few days ago. According to the The New York Times, 70 people were killed in religious violence in an attack by the Taliban:

Gunmen and suicide bombers stormed two mosques belonging to a minority sect during Friday Prayer in Lahore, seizing hostages and killing at least 70 worshipers and wounding 78, the city coordinating officer said.

More than three hours after the attacks began, the police took control of the mosques, where they found bodies strewn across the main floors and verandas, the coordinating officer, Sajjad Dhutta, said.

Yeah, I know — what sect are we talking about? Five paragraphs in we get this explanation:

The attacks, which took place within minutes of each other at the mosques located a few miles apart, were clearly aimed at the Ahmadi community, which considers itself Muslim but is severely discriminated against under Pakistani law. Pakistan does not recognize the Ahmadi sect as part of Islam.

Given that explaining all the tribal relationships and religious affiliations in this part of the world would require a flow chart and the better part of an afternoon to understand, they should probably explain who the Ahmadi are and what they believe. Yet, the story did no such thing.

However, as I sat down to lay into the Times for the shameful lack of context here, I went back to the story. Lo and behold, the story had been freshened up considerably since it was originally filed. The later version of the story helpfully explains the Ahmadi:

The target was the Ahmadis, a group of about two million Muslims in Pakistan who are considered heretical by many mainstream Muslims because the Ahmadis believe that Mirza Ghulam Ahmad, who founded their movement in 1889, was the messiah foretold by Muhammad, the prophet of Islam.

Note that the online version of the story even includes a link to “The Official Website of the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community” where they provide an overview of their beliefs. The later version of the story also provided a lot more context to the legal and religious persecution of the sect. So if the Times dropped the ball in the initial report, they more than made up for it with the updated version of the story. Well done.

However, the Times link to the Ahmadi website does bring up an interesting doctrinal issue that’s relevant to the story at hand. Here’s how the Ahmadi describe one of the tenets of their faith:

Ahmadiyya Muslim Community is the leading Islamic organization to categorically reject terrorism in any form. Over a century ago, Ahmad^(as) emphatically declared that an aggressive “jihad by the sword” has no place in Islam. In its place, he taught his followers to wage a bloodless, intellectual “jihad of the pen” to defend Islam. To this end, Ahmad^(as) penned over 80 books and tens of thousands of letters, delivered hundreds of lectures, and engaged in scores of public debates. His rigorous and rational defenses of Islam unsettled conventional Muslim thinking. As part of its effort to revive Islam, Ahmadiyya Muslim Community continues to spread Ahmad’s^(as) teachings of moderation and restraint in the face of bitter opposition from parts of the Muslim world.

I would like to see a follow-up about this. If the Ahmadis are explicitly non-violent and living in the midst of the Taliban, that’s an interesting story, no?

And while I’m at it, let’s take a look at the The Washington Post’s coverage. They had a briefer story, but on the whole it was not bad. Until I got to this:

An estimated 2 million to 5 million Ahmadis live in Pakistan. They believe their founder was a savior sent by God, an idea considered blasphemous under Pakistani law and anti-Muslim to many fundamentalist Islamists. That makes the Ahmadis a valid target in the eyes of radicals.

Emphasis mine. This is the fourth time this year we’ve noted the Post referring to Muslim “fundamentalists” (see items one, two and three). As has been noted many times before, “fundamentalist” has a specific meaning in religious contexts. The AP Stylebook explicitly condemns this kind of vague usage of the word, saying “In general, do not use fundamentalist unless a group applies the word to itself.” Why the Post insists on doing this, I do not know.

When I think of a classic example of a mainstream news story that is in urgent need of GetReligion treatment, the opening goes something like this:

Nicolaus Copernicus, the 16th-century astronomer whose findings were condemned by the Roman Catholic Church as heretical, was reburied by Polish priests as a hero on Saturday, nearly 500 years after he was laid to rest in an unmarked grave.

His burial in a tomb in the cathedral where he once served as a church canon and doctor indicates how far the church has come in making peace with the scientist whose revolutionary theory that the Earth revolves around the Sun helped usher in the modern scientific age.

The lede above is from an Associated Press story and it is wildly misleading.

What’s the big deal? The reporter makes it sound like the Church excommunicated or otherwise punished Copernicus, depriving him of a Christian burial. That’s a big deal.

Truth be told, he had been buried in the same cathedral — even the same exact location — in which he was reburied. It wasn’t like he was discarded into some unimportant plot. Apparently he was buried in the manner that other church canons of the time were. That’s because he wasn’t exactly famous when he died. He only published the book that really launched the field of astronomy — On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres — just before death. The grave wasn’t marked but there was a plaque at the cathedral that celebrated his burial there.

You can actually find some of this information in the rest of the story, if you make it to the end and consider what the reporter is actually saying. But the spin on this is really inappropriate.

It’s still an important story even if you can’t tie the church’s condemnation of Copernicanism to the body of Copernicus. As one of the readers who submitted the story pointed out, it’s sad when even Wikipedia gets the timeline on these things better than the reporter.

The other day we had a lively comments-page discussion of whether it is acceptable for Catholic schools to ask the parents of students to either affirm or, harder yet, live by the central teachings of the Catholic faith.

It’s hard to enforce that kind of doctrinal idealism in a pluralistic age. It is also hard in an age when Catholic birthrates in North America are roughly the same as those found in oldline Protestant churches, which means that many or most Catholic schools need to enroll plenty of non-Catholic students in order to pay their bills. Many the leaders of many Catholic schools also believe that they need to hire non-Catholic teachers, too.

So here is the question of the day: Is there anything wrong with atheists teaching in Catholic schools? Can Catholic schools fire employees who affirm atheistic beliefs in an online forum or some other public place?

No, I am not making that up. Check out the top of this Desmoines Register report:

A Catholic-school teacher from Fort Dodge has been fired because of a Facebook survey in which she said she did not believe in God.

Abby Nurre, 27, was hired last summer as an eighth- grade math teacher at St. Edmond Catholic School. In August, she responded to a Facebook members’ poll in which she was asked whether she believed in God, miracles or heaven. In response, Nurre answered, “No.” Her answers then became part of her Facebook autobiography page, which was accessible only to her designated “friends.” …

Five weeks later, she was called to the office of Monsignor Kevin McCoy and handed a letter informing her that she was suspended for making “atheist statements in a public forum.” McCoy barred Nurre from school grounds. A few days later, without discussing the matter with Nurre, the school’s board of directors fired her for violating a policy that prohibits employees from advocating “principles contrary to the dogmatic and moral teaching of the church.”

Now, I assume that this policy statement was (a) in public documents that Nurre reviewed as a condition of her employment and (b) that she signed them as a sign of her intent to live by them. This was a covenant, so to speak, that made her part of a voluntary association. No one forced her to take the job.

But what if she never saw a copy of this policy or had it explained to her in a meaningful way? What if she was not asked to sign it? Then that’s really interesting and, yes, a hot story.

Nurre argued that her affirmation of atheism didn’t mean that she was endorsing atheism and said that she was simply using atheistic sites as a form of “personal education.” Or something like that. She had not intended for students to access her Facebook page (an amazing statement, in and of itself).

The teacher argued this was a free-speech issue, in other words. The story then offers a fascinating piece of dialogue from this discussion of her case:

“I believe in knowledge,” she testified. “I believe in communicating with other people of different beliefs. I believe in being an open person. That, to me, is not immoral.” …

On cross-examination, Paul Jahnke of the Iowa Catholic Conference pressed Nurre on her religious beliefs.

“Do you deny that you are an atheist?” he asked.

Nurre testified, “I am not an atheist.”

Jahnke asked Nurre why she responded to the Facebook survey by saying she didn’t believe in God.

Nurre replied, “I feel that opinions on such things constantly change.”

So, you ask, is this really a problem? Is this a news story elsewhere? And what happens if Catholic schools hire unbelievers who manage to keep their true feelings to themselves?

That questions leads us to another fascinating story, this time from The Globe and Mail. This is the story that, I think, should make the wheels start turning inside the heads of mainstream reporters and editors in urban areas that have giant Catholic school systems, especially during these hard economic times.

Here’s how the report opens:

Unemployed, non-religious educators are turning to Catholicism in an attempt to secure a coveted teaching position, even it means lying in confession about whether they’ve had pre-marital sex, some have revealed.

“I don’t particularly like going (to mass) every Sunday, but if this is what I have to do, then I’ll do it,” said a Toronto-area woman, who didn’t want to be identified. “I just really want to be in a career. I just want it so badly.”

The teacher said she has also been going to confession regularly and speaking with a priest on a weekly basis in order to receive the documents she needs to apply to the Toronto Catholic District School Board.

She is not Catholic. In fact, she doesn’t consider herself religious.

As the story notes, there were 12,000-plus new teachers in the province in 2009 and only 5,000 open jobs. That means there are plenty of teachers out there who are highly motivated to take the plunge into religious schools.

Meanwhile, the Toronto Catholic District School Board requires that all teachers, and other employees who work directly with children, be Catholics. Yes, some in modern Canada now argue that this doctrinal policy is discriminatory.

Ah, but is it acceptable for teachers to tell lies in order to land these jobs? Is it acceptable for these adults to read up on the faith a bit, take the right vows to join the church and then take part in the Catholic sacraments, with their fingers — metaphorically speaking — crossed behind their backs?

The anonymous teacher puts it this way:

During her first confession, she crept into a dark confessional box and tried to spout out nearly 30 years of sin, but the priest startled her with one question: Had she engaged in pre-marital sex?

“That was one of the things he mentioned at the end. I said no,” said the teacher, who admitted she felt guilty for lying to a priest. “I haven’t gone for my, um, what do you call it the bread thing yet. … Communion. I’m nervous about it,” she added.

Church leaders said they attempt to vet teachers to see if they are active in the faith. But how would they know what is happening inside the mind and heart of an unbeliever who urgently needs a job?

Here is the main question: How can journalists cover this story, in a fair and responsible manner? For obvious reasons, the voices of anonymous teachers would be crucial. But how much weight can be placed on their testimonies?

Fascinating stories. Fascinating issues for journalists to consider. Catholic bishops might be interested, too.

I’m sorry. I try not to pick on any reporters, especially one who is a former Bruin and is fighting the good fight on one of the more besieged religion beats in the country. But I have to ring this bell again.

Yesterday I mentioned his story about a Los Angeles parish that had a vibrant Catholic congregation. Before that there was the glorified news brief about the Vatican moving on from Cardinal Roger Mahony. Now the story causing this GetReligionista some consternation concerns the arrival of Mahony’s successor, Archbishop Jose Gomez.

What’s the problem with “L.A. officially welcomes its next Roman Catholic Archbishop?”

It’s not an issue of accuracy. Nor is it that the LAT missed an important story; in fact, this occasion was the sort of pro forma event that the search for Mahony’s replacement was not. Nor is the story overwhelmed by bad writing or shallow details, though it does again bang the Gomez-is-a-conservative drum.

But on the whole, the article is an enjoyable read — if, that is, you can get past the first paragraph:

Los Angeles officially welcomed its next Roman Catholic archbishop Wednesday with a celebratory Mass that included a bit of just about everything: tears, drama, majesty, song, hats, incense, a cast of thousands, prayer and even a little slapstick humor.

Now, I haven’t been to Mass since Pope John Paull II died. I’m no expert on Catholic celebrations. But this line made me to erupt in laughter — and it wasn’t due to the slapstick. Incense, HATS (!) … those are pretty common parts of a Catholic service. You’d think that someone on the Godbeat would be aware of that.

On the one hand, this intro immediately tips the reader to the fact that reporter Mitchell Landsberg might not know much about Catholicism. On the other hand, it may be an indication that the reporter is thorough in his fact-gathering and that he understands many of his readers won’t be masters of Catholic ritual.

But even if the details were included in the interest of exhaustiveness, they carry an air of triviality. Like I said: I don’t mean to harp, but the first words of this article, not so arguably the most important words of the article, left me with the impression that Landsberg had never been inside a Catholic church before (though I know he had).

So, did you hear the news about the plot in Italy to kill Pope Benedict XVI?

You didn’t? Really?

Actually, it appears that if you are interested in this kind of hard-news story you need to read “Catholic” news sources here in the United States, because it seems that this is “Catholic” news, rather than mainstream news.

Truth is, this is not a new story. In fact, I have been sitting on this “Got news?” item for quote awhile, thinking that I might eventually find a reference to the plot in some form of mainstream American media — even in passing, in a weblog, or something. No dice.

Here is the top of the one mainstream wire service report, from Reuters. It is also interesting to note that this one short May 14 report came more than two weeks after the event in question.

Two Moroccan students deported from Italy last month were suspected of plotting to assassinate Pope Benedict, an Interior Ministry source said. … Mohamed Hlal, 26, and Ahmed Errahmouni, 22, students at the University for Foreigners in the central Italian city of Perugia, had been under surveillance by anti-terrorist police for months before they were expelled on April 29.

“During their inquiry, investigators found evidence suggesting the two (suspects) were plotting an attack on the pope,” said the source.

An interior ministry statement issued at the time of their deportation said they were being expelled under prevention of terrorism laws. Six other foreign students, suspected of contacts with militant Islamic groups, are still under investigation.

OK, I know what you are thinking. It’s just some kids talking about wild plans. Well, the story does include the following interesting details.

News magazine Panorama … reported … that local anti-terrorist police had tapped Hlal’s phone and had raised the alarm when he said he wanted to acquire explosives. The magazine said police discovered a map of Turin at Errahmouni’s house annotated with numbers and circles, ahead of a visit to the northern Italian city by Pope Benedict on May 2 to venerate the Shroud of Turin, which many Catholics believe was Jesus Christ’s burial cloth.

Panorama described Errahmouni as a computer expert who remained in contact with militant groups over the Internet. It said Perugia had become a centre for travelling imams to preach radical Islam.

The magazine report, pieces of which have appeared in Catholic news sites, did contain another interesting quote, care of the actual source in the Italian government:

“Hlal wanted to kill the Vatican’s head of state (the pope), saying he was ready to assassinate him and gain his place in paradise,” Italy’s interior minister Roberto Maroni wrote in the expulsion order authorising Hlal and Ahmed’s deportations. …

Like I said, if you wanted to know more about this plot — which, for some reason, was followed by expulsions, not criminal charges — you needed to turn to websites such as Catholic Online, CatholicCulture.org and the Catholic News Agency. These are the kinds of journalists who have an incentive, I guess, to cover this kind of unimportant, niche-news topic.

Actually, I can think of several logical reasons that might explain why this niche-news story received such small, or nonexistent, play in the American mainstream press.

* Everyone knows that it would be impossible for assassins or angry people to get close enough to a pope to be a real threat to his life.

* These kinds of threats against the pope may now be quite common in Europe. Thus, this is old news.

* Vatican officials were not anxious to respond to questions from journalists about the plot, in part because of their fear of inspiring copycats.

* This story does not appear to be linked to the ongoing scandal of sexual abuse of children and teen-agers by Catholic clergy.

* Journalists are worried about offending Moroccans or contributing to negative stereotypes of young, male Moroccans.

Just thinking out loud, here.

After the 2004 election, the media freakout included claims that Christian conservatives were trying to turn the country into a theocracy or something. But liberal lions such as Sen. Ted Kennedy wondered whether Democrats could do a better job of reaching out to religious voters. And thus began key years of hard and effective work by Democrats. Data gathered during the 2006 and 2008 election showed that Democrats made tremendous gains in appealing to religious voters.

So what happened? After the enthusiastic public embrace of religion in recent years, you don’t hear quite as much about faith and values from Democrats these days.

GetReligion readers should be sure to read Michelle Boorstein’s piece in the Washington Post that takes the issue head on. Considering how many stories were written about the relative lack of religion in the Tea Party movement, I’m a bit surprised that we didn’t see similar coverage about the party in power. The article is full of facts and quotes and it leaves readers with a good understanding of where things stand:

If 2008 was the year Democrats finally got religion, will 2010 be the year the party loses it again?

This is the worry among some religious progressives, who worked to transform the image of Democrats from wary — or even hostile — toward religion to a party that hired faith consultants, advertised regularly on Christian radio and featured candidates, including Barack Obama, who spoke openly about their relationship with God.

These days, the Democratic National Committee’s faith staff of more than a half-dozen has dwindled to one part-time slot. Its faith issues Web site led this week with greetings for Passover (which was in March) and Rosh Hashanah (which was in September).

While outside-the-beltway folks are willing to complain about the lack of faith outreach, party officials downplay the significance of the drawdowns in staff and expenditures. But Boorstein balances those statements with additional facts that help put everything in perspective.

Some of the facts that she mentions deal with expenditures toward faith-based efforts. One reason why faith outreach efforts on the left did so well in recent years wasn’t just about energy and vision but funding. More conservative groups such as Family Research Council and Focus on the Family are discussed when the Republican Party is mentioned in the piece but how are things going with some of the groups on the other side? What’s the situation at Catholics in Alliance for the Common Good, Catholics United, Catholic Democrats, and Voice of the Faithful? I assume the groups continue to get the big checks, such as the ones some were getting from George Soros’ The Open Society Institute? What about Sojourners? They’re doing good work reaching out religious liberals, right?

Or maybe there’s a money supply issue with the Party or with fielding candidates who can speak to religious voters. How much would religious outreach help someone like Martha Coakley who lost her bid for the Massachusetts Senate seat long held by Kennedy? Or maybe after all the major gains made in reaching out to pro-lifers in recent years, things went south during the debates over the health care bill?

It’s not like simply reaching out to voters is enough, right? You have to have a basis for earning their vote. What is it, exactly, that religious adherents who were swayed to vote Democratic want, issues-wise? I’m not sure I know, but I would have liked to see more about whether their needs and wants have been met by Democrats since the 2008 election. A lot could ride on the answer to that question.

Take this section of the piece which notes that major Democratic wins have been credited to faith outreach spending by national Democratic organizations and recruitment of candidates who frame their policy positions in terms of religious values. A few key victories are noted, such as “a slew” of anti-abortion Democrats in 2006 and President Obama capturing more churchgoers than any other Democratic candidate in a decade:

The Democrats didn’t make believers out of everyone. Some religious leaders and Republicans always viewed the Democratic appeal to churchgoers as little more than window dressing — much the same way that many African American leaders and Democrats dismiss GOP efforts to reach out to minority voters.

And the Republican Party still has a far more extensive infrastructure to connect with religious voters, especially evangelical Christians.

It has databases filled with tens of millions of e-mail addresses as well as long-standing ties to religious broadcasters and conservative religious groups such as the Family Research Council and Focus on the Family.

“You’ve had this effort in the Republican Party to really focus on religious voters that goes back to Ronald Reagan,” said Brian Jones, a strategist who was once communications director for the Republican National Committee. “It’s one thing to say, ‘Hey, let’s have a faith-based program.’ It’s easier said than done. It’s not done in one or two or three political cycles.”

Sure, but it was just a few weeks ago that Family Research Council told members to stop donating to the Republican National Committee, urging them to support only those individual candidates they can count on.

The point is that all of these allegiances, be they on the left or the right, really come down to whether the politicians are delivering. Little slights can add up and it’s great that at least one major paper is interested in the phenomenon, much less the causes. The religious left may receive more favorable coverage than religious adherents on the right, but certainly it’s never terribly substantive. And it’s also much harder to find stories about the varied actors that comprise the religious left.

Here’s hoping for more interesting and comprehensive coverage of a group that has played a key role in recent elections.

Years ago, the features editors at The Oklahoman decided they wanted a fresh take on “The Nutcracker.” So they asked someone who had never gone to the ballet to attend and write a review of the holiday classic. That someone — me — wrote a generally positive review filled with witty observations that I am certain would have merited a scathing review on GetBallet.org (if such a site existed).

The Washington Post did not send an amateur — when it comes to dance — to write a 2,900-word Sunday profile of Ballet Magnificat, billed as the nation’s first Christian ballet company. The writer of the piece, reported in Jackson, Miss., is Sarah Kaufman, winner of the 2010 Pulitzer Prize for distinguished criticism. Kaufman was honored for “her refreshingly imaginative approach to dance criticism, illuminating a range of issues and topics with provocative comments and original insights.”

Before discovering her Pulitzer prowess, my first reaction to Kaufman’s Christian ballet piece was threefold: 1. The writer definitely knows ballet. 2. The writer could use a bit more seasoning on religion. 3. The writer satisfied the unwritten rule that elite writers who go down South must include a paragraph somewhere in the piece like this one or risk alienation at Beltway cocktail parties when they return home:

Football, church and country music may dominate Mississippi’s off-hours, but despite the odds, this curious ballet company has thrived in the shadow of Jackson’s gun shows and powerlifting contests.

Whew! Glad we got that out of the way.

In general, the piece — a mix of straight reporting and the writer’s personal observations (read: opinions) — paints the Christian ballet company in a positive light and provides the kind of depth needed to help the reader understand the dancers’ motivations. In my first quick scan of the story, a few characterizations of evangelical Christians struck me as snarky and condescending. After a closer read, I am mostly impressed with the story. Still, the piece fails to get religion the way it gets ballet.

The top of the story:

JACKSON, Miss. — The performance is over, but the dancers aren’t finished. Now they want to come up the aisles and pray with you.

“This is why we dance,” announces Erin Beaver, one of Ballet Magnificat’s tour directors, speaking into a microphone while she paces the stage at the Jackson Academy’s Performing Arts Center. Beaver, an energetic woman with a powerful smile, has the upbeat, insistent delivery of a televangelist, but she’s not ministering alone. As she urges the audience to come to Jesus, slender young women with perfect posture and turned-out feet file into the audience, still in their knee-length costumes. They wait in the aisles for the kind of standing ovation they cherish: audience members so moved by the dancing that they want to leave their seats and worship with the cast.

“Let me get something straight,” Beaver tells the crowd of nearly 500. “There’s nothing magical about praying with a sweaty dancer.” The audience laughs.

“But this is real,” she continues. “You’re real.

“Let’s go to a real God.”

The upbeat, insistent delivery of a televangelist? Not sure that description works for me. Seems a bit forced — and even cliche. I did like the reference to knee-length costumes. That says so much in a tiny amount of space.

As I read the lede and a few other sections of the story, I found myself wondering: Is this the writer’s first experience with an altar call?

One of my problems with the piece is that it paints the ballet company as “evangelical,” and even “fundamentalist” at one point, but never provides any details on the specific denominational bent of the founders’ faith. For example, early in the story, the writer references the challenges faced when the company started 25 years ago:

Fellow dancers warned the former Jackson Ballet dancer that it’s hard enough to keep a mainstream troupe afloat, let alone one with such a specialized focus. Her church friends told her that dance and Christian ministry don’t mix — ballet is immodest, too flashy, too sensual.

In the company’s early years, the dancers would get letters telling them that what they were doing was wrong, that the Devil uses dancing to provoke licentiousness and immorality.

They would console themselves with Psalms 149 and 150, which urge the faithful to praise the Lord with dancing. This, they felt, was a scriptural commission.

Now, I grew up in a tradition that frowned on “mixed bathing” (read: boys and girls swimming together with lots of skin showing), not to mention the high school prom. So it doesn’t surprise me that there would be a church where folks might frown on ballet. But, and correct me if I’m wrong, I don’t believe the mainstream of evangelical Christianity has a problem with ballet, now or 25 years ago. Given that, more explanation of this group’s specific faith and beliefs is needed.

To me, a vague reference to critical church friends without a meatier exploration of the theology — and denomination — involved qualifies as incomplete, even lazy, reporting.

At one point, the story quotes Luke 1:46, “where the pregnant Mary says, ‘My soul doth magnify the Lord.’” That’s from the King James Bible, which makes me wonder whether the ballet company uses that Bible — which would say something — or if it’s just the one the writer chose. A little clarification would be helpful as most evangelicals would be more likely to choose a more modern translation, such as the New International Version.

Then there’s this paragraph:

There’s no denying the emotional power of this company. As it turns out, the bright eyes and broad smiles one associates with born-again Christians are excellent stage qualities. These dancers have the kind of lit-from-within presence rarely seen outside the premier companies, and even there the radiant projection of feeling can be spotty. Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater’s Renee Robinson and the Mariinsky Theatre ballerina Diana Vishneva come to mind; is it a coincidence that these artists have also claimed their dancing has a spiritual dimension?

Bright eyes and broad smiles one associates with born-again Christians? Um, really? A person who has seen some of the cranky people with bloodshot eyes who show up at church on Sunday morning might not write that. (I am only half-joking.) But in the next sentence, the “lit-from-within presence” reference actually works for me because it seems to illustrate an effort at “getting religion,” while at the same time — intentional or not — using phrasing that will resonate with actual Christians.

Speaking of phrasing that tells you why Kaufman won the Pulitzer, this is one of my favorite paragraphs — even though it’s one that strays far off the path of straight reporting:

Yet the unusual repertoire sets this company apart. It may be an exaggeration to say that Ballet Magnificat is single-handedly keeping the fading narrative tradition of ballet alive, but I don’t know of any other company that exclusively performs original works, most of them full-length story ballets. And Ballet Magnificat’s dancers live their ballets — such works as “The Scarlet Cord,” about underground missionaries saving souls in communist Russia, or “Deliver Us,” a whirlwind mash-up of the Moses and Jesus stories. (Think “The Ten Commandments” meets the Rockettes’ nativity scene.)

But right after that is this paragraph:

Of course, the fact that they are pushing their beliefs through ballet makes them a lot more charming than those evangelical preachers and fundamentalist public figures whose sermonizing can have a more divisive and judgmental sting. Ballet Magnificat’s members combine the born-again’s resolute earnestness with the demure vulnerability and warmth of dancers, and it’s a package with considerable appeal.

Whew! Now, we’ve stereotyped the South and evangelical preachers. Me thinks we are getting real close to mission accomplished.

This paragraph here should take us straight to the finish line:

Fundamentalism poses some personnel challenges. No Catholics, no agnostics, no gays — no wonder the company has a hard time finding male dancers, saved straight men who can dance and put up with the touring and the code of conduct. Which means they can’t frequent bars or casinos. Members of the opposite sex can’t be alone behind closed doors, even for a rehearsal. No swearing, no smoking. Only two men are in the Alpha company, and none are in Omega. Tough circumstances for the choreographer: Laments Voborsky, “One hundred percent of the biblical material has a guy in it somewhere.”

Jackson is the home of Belhaven University, which has what may be the top dance department among member institutions of the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities. How did the Post reporter miss out on that potential feeder program for the ballet company? The Belhaven program certainly has lots of males, although they wear more traditional garb. Does the university have the same philosophy as the Christian ballet company or a different one? That would have been an interesting question to explore.

This also makes me chuckle:

“Ballet was the catalyst for me to kind of come out of the closet as a Christian,” Vandervelde says, over a salad and a glass of wine. (He is perhaps the only one in Ballet Mag who drinks — but then, as he points out, he’s not a Southerner, and Jesus was big on wine.)

Am I the only one amused that the reporter managed to find the one person in the company who drinks? Good thing we’re not into stereotypes here at GetReligion.

Image: Wikimedia Commons

First the Los Angeles Times nonchalantly reported the news that Cardinal Roger Mahony, head of the largest Catholic community in the nation, would not be asked by the pope to stay on, as is common, after reaching the mandatory retirement age of 75. In a glorified news brief, no less.

Stories about Mahony’s replacement, Jose Gomez, offered some redemption.

But now we have a trend story suggesting that, aside from the clergy sex abuse scandal, the LAT really has no idea what has been going on in the Archdiocese of Los Angeles for quite some time now. Here’s the gist:

His parishioners describe Father Paul Griesgraber as “old school,” a term that is almost laughably open to interpretation, given the 2,000-year history of his particular school, the Roman Catholic Church. In his case, it is used with affection and respect to describe a priest who trusts in the majesty of the Catholic Mass and invests it with deep spirituality — in both English and Spanish.

He is also a priest who brings people streaming through the doors of his church, St. Catherine of Siena in Reseda, a place that, in many ways, reflects the larger Archdiocese of Los Angeles. Once largely white, St. Catherine’s is now mostly Latino. Immigrants have pumped new life into the parish, and Spanish-language Masses draw larger crowds than those in English.

“The church was dead,” Olga Calderone, St. Catherine’s health director, said bluntly of the time before Griesgraber arrived last summer. “Now we are bringing the cultures together. … This is the beauty that Father Paul has brought to our church.”

I encourage you to read the rest, which uses St. Catherine’s story to talk about how one group of parishioners feel about Gomez’s arrival. (He was officially welcome to L.A. yesterday.) These quotes don’t really offer any surprises, but they provide some perspective:

It is hard to say to what extent these views reflect those of all Catholics. The people interviewed were regular churchgoers, outwardly the most faithful of the faithful, and may be more forgiving of the church’s human failings than more casual Catholics.

Still, what emerged repeatedly from their conversations was a passionate belief in the Catholic Church as an institution, immense satisfaction with the stewardship of their local parish, and a slightly more skeptical view of the greater church hierarchy, both locally and in Rome — views that are in line with surveys of Catholics nationally.

“Sometimes I pray to God,” said parishioner Delia Garay, “and say, ‘Why are there so many disappointments with humans?’”

The rest is going to feel a bit pedestrian to any regular observer of religion news, except for Griesgraber’s pentecostal tendencies, which are mentioned but not really discussed in the Catholic context. (I really could have used a lot more there, though at least the lead photo was no longer completely confusing.) It reminds me of that story from last fall in which the LAT discovered megachurches.

No offense to reporter Mitchell Landsberg. Though he whiffed on the aforementioned story about the Vatican seeking a replacement for Mahony, he’s new to the world of religion.

If anything, this story is more a reflection of the parallel demises of a once-great newspaper and the Godbeat itself.

The problem with this story isn’t that it’s old hash for this parish. Apparently, St. Catherine’s resurrection is a recent development. It’s just that the Archdiocese of Los Angeles has been undergoing a Latino transformation for a few decades now. It has to do with demographics, not Mahony or his successor Gomez. The headline, then, is accurate: “Parish reflects L.A. — and it’s thriving.” But the deckhead left me scratching my head:

Once largely white, St. Catherine of Siena in Reseda is now mostly Latino. Immigrants and a new priest have revitalized the church; members have high hopes for the archdiocese under new leadership.

When was once? Reseda, in the heart of the San Fernando Valley, is the most ethnically diverse portion of Los Angeles, with something like 110 languages and dialects being spoken there. This demographic shift took place before I was even born. The same could be said for many parishes across LA County.