The Los Angeles Times doesn’t much do stories like this one anymore. A shade under 2,000 words, with a good hook and decent depth, this weekend feature about an Okie convert to Islam.

The lede gets the reader off to a good start:

At the pulpit of an inner-city Chicago mosque, the tall blond imam begins preaching in his customary fashion, touching on the Los Angeles Lakers victory the night before, his own gang involvement as a teenager, a TV soap opera and then the Day of Judgment.

“Yesterday we watched the best of seven…. Unfortunately we forget the big final; it’s like that show ‘One Life to Live,’ ” Imam Suhaib Webb says as sleepy boys and young men come to attention in the back rows. “There’s no overtime, bro.”

The sermon is typical of Webb, a charismatic Oklahoma-born convert to Islam with a growing following among American Muslims, especially the young. He sprinkles his public addresses with as many pop culture references as Koranic verses and sayings from the prophet. He says it helps him connect with his mainly U.S.-born flock.

Since reporter Raja Abdulrahim references a Lakers win, we know that the was working on this story for at least a few weeks. And the quote he chose is, well, a bit bizarre; bizarre because it perfectly captures what the reporter is going for. She catches his subject making a pop culture reference and using a bit of slang, even if it does seem a little dated.

The story continues in fairly good fashion.

Though I had to wonder if some of the statements were too general. We learn that Webb gives sermons at his “virtual mosque,” via his “popular” website — Define: popular — and that Webb is a resident scholar with the Muslim American Society, which is vaguely described as “a national religious and education group.” But of greatest significance was this:

Webb is at the forefront of a movement to create an American-style Islam, one that is true to the Koran and Islamic law but that reflects this country’s customs and culture. Known for his laid-back style, he has helped promote the idea that Islam is open to a modern American interpretation. At times, his approach seems almost sacrilegious.

That’s interesting. By now, I would have expected to have heard Webb’s name if he truly is a leading figure in this movement. When I Googled his name, I found a Wikipedia page, his personal website and some YouTube videos, but only one other mention in the mainstream press.

And sacrilegious? That’s a pretty big claim. But the story backs that up with some fascinating anecdotes — like Webb suggesting at a Muslim conference that mosques adopt a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy in regards to gays.

It turns out that Webb grew up in the Church of Christ — something Bobby and I know a little about — and I can’t dispute his account of the birthday gift that CoCers get: “a Bible with your name on it.” Although his teenage years weren’t like those of anyone I knew at a Church of Christ:

His teenage time in the gang and as a DJ at house parties figure prominently in his speeches and public persona, as a way to gain traction with young Muslims. That appears to work, at least with some. After his sermon in Chicago, a boy of about 12 turned to his mother, asking, “Did you hear his speech? He said he’s from the ‘hood.”

Webb was introduced to Islam at 19. He was selling music tapes at a swap meet when he met a Muslim man selling incense and handing out Korans. Webb took one home and read it in secret for several months.

He converted during his freshman year at the University of Central Oklahoma and broke the news to his parents at Thanksgiving dinner that year — when his mother had cooked a turkey and a ham, the latter forbidden by Islam.

The story goes on to discuss the work Webb is now doing and to show ways he is fusing American culture with Islam. But oddly the story doesn’t explain why Webb converted, other than that he had already been doubting the Trinity.

Indeed, despite it’s length this story leaves some questions unanswered. However, I still found it a welcome piece for a weekend edition of the Los Angeles Times. That may be based more on general frustration with the lack of quality religion reporting in the LAT than a reflection of the quality of this feature. But it still made for a good read.

The Kabbalah Centre has spent more time on tabloid covers than in the daily newspaper. The reasoning is obvious, what with all those fancy celebrities who like to make a big deal about frequenting (or at least occasionally appearing at) the the centre’s worship facility on Robertson Boulevard.

But just because the Kabbalah Centre is in the news, that does not mean that it’s specifically newsworthy because of some Hollywood connection. Yet, this is the deckhead for a Los Angeles Times story about the Kabbalah Centre closing the U.S. arm of its children’s charity:

Success for Kids, in which Madonna was a board member and donor, will close at school year’s end due to cost of translating lessons into nondenominational curriculum. Foreign branches will continue.

OK … if that’s the most compelling aspect of this story, I have to imagine most readers were, like me, tempted to stop before even they even started.

However, because I was trapped at the airport for five hours, I read on. Big mistake, at least considering that I approached the story with a religion reporter’s interest.

Here’s how LAT reporter Harriet Ryan, who joined the paper from CourtTV.com to cover the “manufacture and exploitation of fame and celebrity,” opened the story:

The Kabbalah Centre, a Westside spiritual organization that is the focus of a tax evasion investigation, is shutting down the U.S. operations of a global children’s charity that has raised millions from celebrity followers and more recently drawn the scrutiny of IRS investigators.

SFK or Success for Kids, a 10-year-old nonprofit based at the center, will close its programs in American public schools at the end of the academic year, the charity’s president, Michal Berg, announced in a letter Wednesday to supporters. Berg wrote that the decision was prompted by larger than expected overhead costs associated with translating the religious organization’s lessons into a nondenominational curriculum.

Oddly missing from that opening is a mention of just what kind of spiritual organization Kabbalah is.

In fact, Kabbalah is based on the esoteric teachings of Jewish mysticism, though the institutionalized center has frequently been criticized and sued for allegedly being the Scientology of Judaism. You can learn a lot about that from my old Jewish Journal boss; my former Hollywood Jew colleague there also has some good info here that mixes the celebrity with the spiritual center news.

It’s not until the final paragraph of the relatively short LAT story that Judaism is mentioned. Of course, so are Madonna and Ashton Kutcher:

Kabbalah, the study of mystical Jewish texts said to hold the secrets of the universe, was little known outside of Orthodox Jewish circles until about 15 years ago, when Madonna began studying at the center. Other high-profile entertainers, including Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore, followed and the center experienced enormous growth.

I know. Celebrities are a lot sexier than Jewish mysticism. But the story of this charity closing is not about the celebrities. And the part of the story dealing with the Malawi arm, which is Madonna’s Kabbalah charity, was already mentioned much higher up.

Readers would be much better served if the story moved the details about Kabbalah’s connection to Judaism way up and also if it included some specific details about the Success for Kids school program that “had been criticized by some officials and parents, who said they were quasi-religious.”

Even on a remote tropical island, it’s been hard for me to escape news of the disintegration of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s marriage. My former governor and the First Lady announced their split last week, and the story has only gotten more sordid since.

As everyone now knows, it turns out that Schwarzenegger sired a secret love child with a family employee before he took office in a special recall election. Unlike his other affairs, wife Maria Shriver reportedly did not know about this one until after Schwarzenegger, who seemed like he was looking for a job when he spoke at the L.A. Press Club awards last June, left office this January.

Coverage continues as the fallout keeps spreading, most recently putting on hold Schwarzenegger’s “Action Hero” comeback and reportedly leading Shriver to hire a divorce lawyer.

One news article that caught my attention was this one from the Los Angeles Times, published before the latest revelations. It unravels the story behind the Schwarzenegger-Shriver split, sans love child. Of relevance to this blog is this quote:

“There was such a void,” said the friend, “and when she looked around, she realized her husband could never even think of filling it.”

When asked why Shriver stayed in the marriage for so long if she was so unhappy, the friend responded: “Part of it is family legacy, part of it is Catholicism. But the most important thing was their four kids.”

That’s the only mention in this story of Catholicism. Obviously, divorce is not accepted by Roman Catholic doctrine. (Neither is adultery, governor.) And, almost as obviously, the Kennedy clan, of which Shriver is a member, is Catholic.

But what I wondered was whether that freed the reporter from further exploring the religious angle to this story.

Is it enough to tell readers that Schwarzenegger and Shriver are both Catholic? Or do we also need some explanation as to how Catholicism shaped their marriage? My guess is that Catholic doctrine meant a lot less to their marriage than, say, that of Tolkien.

Remember Schwarzenegger’s line about lifting weights and sex from “Pumping Iron?” Or when Shriver unconvincingly defended her husband in 2003 after sexual allegations damaged his gubernatorial campaign? This was a California First Family that had a lot of problems caused entirely by decisions unrelated to Catholicism.

As PGA.com producer John Kim quipped: “If Maria Shriver and Arnold Schwarzenegger can’t make it…who can? Oh wait….anyone else.”

So maybe reporters should explain just how Catholic the Schwarzenegger-Shriver marriage is (or soon-to-be was).

Shriver was a self-styled “Cafeteria Catholic,” and yet this blog post today from Bill Zwecker of the Chicago Sun-Times uses the dreaded D-word when referring to Shriver’s religious beliefs:

Friends of Shriver tell me her decision to hire mega-divorce lawyer Laura Wasser proves to them the devout Roman Catholic has reluctantly decided her marriage is so irreparably broken that divorce is her only course of action.

Devout how? Because Shriver told Sally Quinn she is a “Catholic in good standing?” Because she chooses which Catholic tenets she wants to follow?

“I find that I don’t spend a lot of time trying to square my own daily life with the institutional ‘Church.’ I pick and choose,” Shriver sums up regarding her approach to her Catholic faith. “I remember doing a long time ago a show about cafeteria Catholics, American cafeteria Catholics. And I think I’m probably a cafeteria Catholic.”

The statements Shriver has made about her Catholic faith call into question exactly why she would care about the Church’s position on divorce. It sounds more like a cultural hurdle than a religious conviction.

But, as far as my Google searching ability informs me, no reporters have explored this issue in any depth. Instead all we have are a few meaningless references to Shriver sticking with her philandering husband because she is Catholic and good Catholics don’t get divorced.

ESPN has been pretty good at getting religion in the past few years. On average, they seem to do much better than non-Godbeat reporters at most daily newspapers and even better than some of the religion reporters at major metros.

A few examples come to mind: the magazine’s profile of Jon Kitna; the website’s tribute to John Wooden and a profile of Tony Dungy as football’s “messenger of God”; this story asking how to mourn a sinner after Steve McNair was killed by his mistress. A few have also wiffed, but as I mentioned in a post about a great feature on the Detroit Tigers’ voice of God, there is a lot that other media outlets could learn from ESPN about teasing out the religion subtleties in non-obviously religious stories.

ESPN.com’s massive feature story about Will Sheridan is good, but is certainly haunted by some religion ghosts. The focus of the story is on Sheridan, a former basketball player at Villanova — the Big East powerhouse of Roman Catholic affiliation — and the challenges he faced when he came out as a gay athlete.

In part, the story using Sheridan to talk about how taboo homosexuality remains for male athletes. (And for sports some executives. See Peter Vidmar resigning as chairman of the U.S. Olympic Committee after reports revealed he supported initiatives opposing same-sex marriage; and the Phoenix Suns president revealing he is gay). Overall, the Sheridan story is compelling and long. Though I wouldn’t say it is thoroughly reported.

It spends a lot of time talking about how the biggest opposition Sheridan experienced came from his family. And that’s where, assuming that Catholic universities just don’t hold their athletes to the same standards of, say, BYU, the real religion ghosts pop up.

ESPN’s Dana O’Neil describes Sheridan’s father, Will Sr., as a “religious man” who struggled deeply with his son’s sexuality but was “turned around” by the “power of prayer.” She then writes:

Will Sr. admits he is worried what people will think, what his fellow churchgoers will say, when they read this article. He himself still struggles, straddling the line between enlightenment and ignorance.

Yes, you read that last line correctly. Those who accept homosexuality are enlightened and those who think it is against God’s will are ignorant. Funny thing is ESPN’s O’Neil doesn’t mention what kind of church Will Sr. goes to, which would be influenced by the great variance among Christians regarding treatment of homosexuality.

This section of the profile, which ends with O’Neil suggesting that Will Sr. still lapses into ignorance, deeply cuts against whatever balance existed in an otherwise compelling story about what it was like for Sheridan to come out as gay to his teammates and his efforts to promote understanding in sports.

The point of this GetReligion post is not to discuss whether Sheridan is doing a good thing or whether ESPN had a good newshook for this story; it is to consider how a story that was clearly so extensively reported could be done with such limited diligence.

If Sheridan’s family was a big part of this profile and, as reported, Sheridan’s father struggled with his son’s sexuality in large part because of his Christian beliefs, how is it that Will Sr.’s beliefs are reduced to “religious” and his Christian community is glancingly referred to as ignorant churchgoers?

Forgiving the poor attempt at humor in the lede, the Los Angeles Times had a good, informative story about the existential crisis facing the Conservative movement of American Judaism.

The news hook was a meeting in Las Vegas of the Rabbinical Assembly, at which Conservative Judaism’s spiritual leaders discussed rebranding the movement.

In case you’re not familiar, Conservative Judaism is not exactly what it sounds like. It started in Germany in the mid-1800s as a response to Reform Judaism, and is actually older that image. Conservative Judaism is seen as a hedge between Orthodox and Reform Judaism, but that isn’t really accurate either. Generally speaking, the Conservative movement places value both on the modernity and meaningfulness emphasized by the Reform and on the Jewish tradition and law emphasized by the Orthodox.

My Jewish law professor at UCLA is a Conservative rabbi, and there is a lot more detail I could go into here. But the important thing to know is that Conservative in the Jewish theological sense is not the same as being conservative politically. It’s about following Jewish tradition while adjusting to changes in society.

Which brings me back to Mitchell Landsberg’s story for the LAT.

Landsberg does a good job capturing the concern among leading Conservative rabbis. And he has some good details form the frontlines; he also puts Conservative Judaism’s decline in the context of slipping numbers for other Jewish denominations and mainline Christian denominations.

But then I got to this section toward the end, and when Rabbi David Wolpe mentioned “ideology,” I realized that I was more than halfway through the story about rebranding Conservative Judaism but had only my own knowledge of Conservative doctrine to rely on:

The Conservative rabbis won’t become car salesmen, but they batted around some fairly radical ideas and predictably stirred up some opposition.

There was talk of eliminating membership dues for synagogues or switching to a la carte “fee-for-service” plans — so that a parent who wants only to send his or her child to religious school won’t also be paying to support the congregation’s other programs. But some said dues give congregants a vital sense of ownership.

Wolpe, the Sinai Temple rabbi, said the movement needs a slogan, one that’s short enough to fit on a bumper sticker. He suggested “A Judaism of Relationships.”

“We don’t have a coherent ideology,” he told his fellow rabbis. “If you ask everybody in this room ‘What does Conservative Judaism stand for?’ my guess is that you’d get 100 different answers… . That may be religiously a beautiful thing, but if you want a movement, that’s not such a hot result.”

Fortunately, Landsberg sprinkles some of Conservative Judaism’s theological foundation in the final paragraphs. And I guess it’s better late than never.

But one question not answered was how this effort at rebranding will be any different or more successful than anything that’s been done in the past. As Landsberg noted, Conservative Judaism has been sliding for a good while now. This is neither a new phenomenon nor a first attempt at turning things around.

Landsberg also mentions the Conservative movement in Israel, known as Masorti, but doesn’t ask or answer the question of whether there is anything the Conservative Jews in the United States can learn from their younger brother in Israel.

Getting into those details may not be as compelling as quotes warning that the end may be nigh. But it would make a good story a better one.

Oh Manny, you came and you gave but you were taking …

Sorry, it still hurts.

It really was a beautiful two-month run for Manny Ramirez after he joined the Los Angeles Dodgers late in the 2008 pennant race. But the following season Ramirez was slapped with a 50-game suspension, and one of the greatest right-handed hitters to every playing the game has never really been the same.

Once a first-ballot Hall of Famer, Ramirez retired Friday after the league notified him that he had again failed MLB’s drug policy. Baseball commentators have spent the weekend talking about Ramirez’s fall from Cooperstown grace, and I took a moment yesterday to drop him from my fantasy team (he was 1-17 and already on my bench, so it wasn’t a big loss).

And, of course, Manny had something to say:

“I’m at ease,” Ramirez told ESPNdeportes.com by phone from his home in Miami. “God knows what’s best (for me). I’m now an officially retired baseball player. I’ll be going away on a trip to Spain with my old man.”

I’m not sure how steroids figure into God’s plan.

Now, when the White Sox claimed Ramirez off of waivers last year, after the Dodgers tired of waiting for Manny, Ramirez actually forgot how to speak English. (Or was it just Manny being Manny?) This comment requires a bit less translation, but the AP sports writer who wrote this story still acted like Ramirez was speaking a foreign language.

The rest of a fairly long story, especially by sportswriting standards, gives a nice recap of Ramirez’s career, highlights and lowlights. But it doesn’t make another mention of God or Jesus or anything else religious. Even though it should have.

After all, this is not the first time that Manny, like Alex Rodriguez, has blamed God’s divine plan and human fallibility for his steroid use.

Two years ago Manny was reminding us that, much as Dodgers fans hoped otherwise, he was not Jesus:

“A lot but, um, we humans. We learn from mistakes. There was only one man that was perfect — and they killed him. That’s how I look at life.”

So what does God have in store for Manny? And how will he know? And why is God and a vacation to Spain the only thing on his mind as he quite unceremoniously ends what was once a great career?

These are questions that I wish the AP had asked. They weren’t too hard to spot; meatballs waiting to be blasted like one of those hanging breaking balls that Manny used to feast on.

But, to be sure, AP sportswriter Dave Skretta wasn’t the only one striking out.

Most papers seem to have picked up the AP story — from the SF Chronicle to the Wall Street Journal — but other original reports also failed to mention what Manny meant by mentioning God.

ESPN, which at times has been really good at spotting religion angles (and other times not so much), leaves readers with a big ghost after following basically the exact same line as the AP.

Look, I know it’s not a story when Albert Pujols touches home plate and points to heaven (though that hasn’t happened much yet this season). But it requires a bit of reporter explanation when one of the greatest players of a generation retires and blames his bad decisions on God.

The Christian Post, which bills itself as “the largest Christian newspaper in the world featuring world,” is not known for original reporting. It’s certainly no Christianity Today in terms of journalistic quality. They are largely scrapers, rewriting the news as reported by other media outlets and appropriately given credit. It is, however, a decent clearinghouse for Christian news.

What is fascinating is that this isn’t always a bad thing. At least not when compared to an originally reported story as confusing and dull as this one from the Orange County Register.

The subject of the story was a commercial that Compass Bible Church made to attract people to its Easter service. The ad was rejected by a local movie theater because it was “too controversial” — a phrase that, even if it’s what the theater said, basically means nothing without specific details.

And the reader is not given a single detail until the sixth paragraph of a story that is only 12 paragraphs longs. Even that section is pretty muddled.

Turns out the video, which the church published on YouTube and you can watch above, flashes doubts about Jesus’ death and resurrection — “the disciples stole the body,” “perhaps the disciples hallucinated” — and asks “Did it Really Happen?”

This certainly doesn’t seem “controversial.” I mean, this is Orange County, the Land of Saddleback Church. Though I would find this ad to be a little odd before the showing of, say, “Hall Pass.” Still, it didn’t violate the guidelines Compass was given — basically no drug use and no sex, which might actually make this church ad controversial.

Anyway, the OC Register delivered these details and this story in the most circuitous manner possible. On the other hand, the Christian Post, while apparrantly borrowing all facts from ABC, delivers the news like an old pro in a story that is twice as long:

A pre-movie advertisement promoting an Easter church service was banned from local theaters because of its mention of Jesus.

Compass Bible Church in Aliso Viejo, Calif., created the 30-second ad to air for three weeks on 45 movie screens across Orange County starting April 1, paying more than $5,000, according to ABC.

The commercial posed questions about what some conspiracy theorists believed may have happened to Jesus Christ 2,000 years ago. Claims like “the disciples stole the body” and “Jesus didn’t actually die on the cross” were mentioned.

It asked moviegoers “Did it really happen?” And ended with “Why we actually believe in the resurrection.”

But the money was returned and the ad was pulled for its “controversial” material, mainly its mention of Jesus, and its failure to comply with specific guidelines set by National CineMedia.

By comparison, the OC Register story didn’t even mention the content of the ad until the paragraph that would have come after the last paragraph above. The Christian Post also didn’t make the mistake of referring to the ad as “too controversial” at first and offering no further details. The opening line of this story actually stated why theater execs thought the ad was controversial: its mention of Jesus.

What is the religion-reporting lesson here? I’m not sure. But I do know that if newspapers want to slow the loss of readers to Internet start-ups (the Christian Post was founded in 2000), they need to stop doing a worse job delivering the news.

What makes a story newsworthy? Impact, relevance and timeliness are at the top of the list. But editors also love novelty.

Often this desire for man bites dog devolves an approval of the apparently curious. Why this is a problem — other than the fact that shrinking newshole is being devoted to what can be meaningless content — is that often these novel stories aren’t as odd as they seem. It’s just that the surface-level oddity tricks the reporter from digging a little deeper.

Without a question, I’ve made this mistake. And I think the Associated Press did it in this story about the large proportion of Jews comprising the population at a Lutheran liberal arts school. Here’s the lede:

One of the hottest college campuses in the U.S. for Jewish students is also one of the unlikeliest: a small Lutheran school erected around a soaring stone chapel with a cross on top.

In what is being called a testament to word of mouth in the Jewish community, approximately 34 percent of Muhlenberg College’s 2,200 students are Jewish. And the biggest gains have come in the past five years or so.

Perhaps equally noteworthy is how Muhlenberg has responded: offering a kosher menu at the student union, creating a partnership with the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York, and expanding its Hillel House, a social hub for Jews.

“What makes us stand out is that we actually enjoy our diversity,” said Randy Helm, the college’s president, an Episcopalian. “Our close-knit community has embraced differences rather than pulling into its shell or fracturing along religious, ethnic or other lines.”

So I guess we should also be surprised that Jewish students go to Princeton and that non-Jews go to Brandeis. Similarly, Chapman University, which is affiliated with the Disciples of Christ, offers a minor in gay and lesbian studies and I’ve been told by friends who attended that LGBT students have a large population.

Why would this surprise readers, or the reporter for that matter? Particularly with the mention that the college president is an Episcopalian and that the school as a broad ecumenical feel anyway. The story notes that this school is only tangentially connected to a church in Lutheran spectrum, without noting that is the more liberal Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. The story also notes:

The campus chapel is used to this day for both worship and annual student convocations. But there are no required religion classes, and there is no mandatory church attendance.

Here’s another question: Would traditional LUTHERANS feel comfortable at this college?

At least in part, students with common interests and worldviews tend to end up at the same colleges for the same reasons that new U.S. immigrants settle in clustered communities: They may already know people there and they are likely to build a new social and communal network of like-minded people with common experiences.

That doesn’t mean the AP’s story isn’t interesting or newsworthy. In fact, I really enjoyed learning about Muhlenberg and how this community of Jewish students has swelled in recent years. But it’s not that unlikely.

The way this story from the Los Angeles Times opens, it gives the impression that the Shiva Sisters are like the Jewish mourning version of Batman & Robin.

They deal with death — specifically, Jewish mourning — with an only-in-L.A. panache. They arrange catering, equipment rentals and general assistance for after-funeral gatherings, including valet parking, video production, personal shopping and — there is no better way to say it — Jewish mothering.

“They kind of just swoop in and mother you,” said Michael Berman, Lee Weinstein’s partner of 30 years, who hired the Shiva Sisters on the advice of Rabbi Howard. “They’re not just planning a party and an event, but they’re compassionate and understanding at a time when people are grieving.”

It’s an interesting story from religion reporter Mitchell Landsberg, who does a nice job explaining what shiva means in Jewish tradition and in the Hebrew language.

The story also explains how the Shiva Sisters, Danna Black and Allison Moldo, whom I assume are Jewish but the story leaving ambiguous, help with Jewish rituals after the funeral. That is when they take over, primarily in organizing and overseeing a post-funeral catered affair. They don’t plan funerals; they don’t sit shiva. They deal with the “meal of consolation.”

Their name aside, the Shiva Sisters don’t usually have much to do with shiva, at least not in any traditional sense. Their clients tend to be people who are Jewish by birth, maybe by upbringing, but not usually by practice.

In L.A., Landsberg reports, that means Pizzaria Mozza more often than kugel.

The story does a good job generally, but it never really explains why “People who haven’t set foot in a synagogue in years want a Jewish funeral, with a rabbi presiding, and some kind of Jewish gathering afterward” when a loved one dies.

I don’t think there is a lot of mystery there. Being Jewish means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. (Obviously.) But it is an interesting issue, something that could have been further explored or at least explained to the reader in brief sentence or even appositional phrase.

I also was curious about how the gatherings organized by the Shiva Sisters would compare to similar gatherings organized for religious Jews. Landsberg notes that the rabbi touched on Jewish themes but did not say a prayer, not even the Kaddish prayer. That gives some perspective, but I would have liked a little more cross-denominational comparison.

IMAGE: The Shiva Sisters are not a part of Shiva Connect, an online service for mourning and sending condolences

I’ve been fascinated by the Rob Bell no-one-goes-to-hell controversy, and I was particularly captured by this lede from the Associated Press:

When Chad Holtz lost his old belief in hell, he also lost his job.

The pastor of a rural United Methodist church in North Carolina wrote a note on his Facebook page supporting a new book by Rob Bell, a prominent young evangelical pastor and critic of the traditional view of hell as a place of eternal torment for billions of damned souls.

Two days later, Holtz was told complaints from church members prompted his dismissal from Marrow’s Chapel in Henderson.

The lede just doesn’t explain why Holtz would lose his job, at a United Methodist Church no less, for simply voicing support on Facebook for Bell’s book. It doesn’t say he was preaching that there is no hell, or beating people over head with it, or that he doesn’t believe hell is real. It merely quotes Holtz saying he doesn’t believe God would subject any of his people to “an eternity of torment.”

So I’m left to wonder why he was fired.

The pastor declined to discuss the situation with AP reporter Tom Breen, and I could sense from the start that Breen was writing around some ambiguity in the details. But this paragraph further down in the story casts real doubt on whether Holtz was fired simply because he “lost his old belief in hell.”

Church members had also been unhappy with Internet posts about subjects like gay marriage and the mix of religion and patriotism, Holtz said, and the hell post was probably the last straw. Holtz and his family plan to move back to Tennessee, where he’ll start a job and maybe plant a church.

Ahhhhhhh. So this was, as I suspected, likely about more than just supporting Rob Bell’s view of hell.

It had to be, as the inestimable Ann Rodgers noted in an insightful comment on Sarah Pulliam Bailey’s Facebook page:

Polity problem here. Unless there has been a change I don’t know about, a United Methodist pastor can’t be fired. He or she can only be removed by the bishop, and then is guaranteed another appointment somewhere. I would suspect that if the bishop moved so quickly after these complaints, that there might have been some previous controversy in the congregation.

The Sanctus blog, written by a former United Methodist minister, echoes Rodgers and goes all GetReligion on Breen’s story.

Under the normal procedure, Holtz would simply be sent to another church or, if worst came to worst, be given a desk job at the conference office. The fact that he is moving out of state and starting a new church is all the more evidence that this story is about a lot more than a Facebook post.

In short, Holtz couldn’t have been fired for supporting Bell’s concept of heaven and hell. He likey wouldn’t even have fired for his other views. There was a lot more to this story than what simply meets the eye.

That’s not necessarily the easiest thing for a reporter to see. After all, Breen is presumably not Methodist and even if he was he likely is unfamiliar with church polity; more importantly, the pastor has refused to speak with him and the subject of the story, Holtz, is the one who gets to frame his leaving the church as a firing.

One thing Breen could have done — it’s something I used to do when I had the time and when I was reporting on a religious issue that I wasn’t well-versed in — was consult with a third-party to see if what Holtz was saying made sense. This could be a Methodist scholar or simply an unassociated Methodist church leader or informed lay person.

That might seem like an unnecessary luxury when on deadline. But it’s no less so than double-checking names and titles, even if a little more time-consuming.

IMAGE: A little satire from Collideoscope