Denver Seminary

Podcast: Norman Lear's America was liberal, but not totally secular (correction)

Podcast: Norman Lear's America was liberal, but not totally secular (correction)

In 2021, the Fellowship For Performing Arts in New York City — which produces “theatre and film from a Christian worldview — released an ambitious movie with a title that made no attempt to hide its religious content.

To no one’s surprise, “The Most Reluctant Convert: The Untold Story of C.S. Lewis” was popular with the vast audience that reads and supports the work of the Oxford don who was one of the 20th Century’s most influential Christian apologists.

However, FTA founder Max McLean — who played the older Lewis in the film — also received support from a source that many would consider surprising. Here’s a key quote:

“God knows we need more intriguing, faith-oriented films like this. Noble is the right word; I would also add courageous and powerful. Thank you for all you do and bravo! You are a true artist.”

The email came from Hollywood legend Norman Lear and his wife, Lyn.

Lear’s death at age 101 has received waves of mainstream news coverage, all of it deserved. The question, explored in this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (CLICK HERE to tune that in), was whether this coverage explored Lear’s complex relationship with the role that religion plays in American life and culture.

Lear considered himself a cultural Jew with no ties to the practice of a traditional religious faith. In response to the rise of the Religious Right, he also founded People for the American Way — a liberal think tank and advocacy group on church-state issues.

However, in the final decades of his long life and career, Lear wrestled with the powerful role that religion played in mainstream American life and was intrigued with the fact that faith issues and stories seemed to be anathema to the powers that be in mass media.

In other words, Lear was an unbeliever who was both appalled and intrigued with people of faith and he wrestled with why liberal forms of faith seemed to have little appeal with ordinary Americans. These tensions could be seen in one of his final, failed attempt at a new sit-com, the six episodes of “Sunday Dinner.” Hold that thought.

This matters, in large part, because the legend of Norman Lear is based on the valid praise he received for dragging real-life issues into American entertainment, especially with his trailblazing TV comedies.


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New York Times offers flashback to sacraments offered by the priest of the Parrotheads

New York Times offers flashback to sacraments offered by the priest of the Parrotheads

Although I have lived in West Palm Beach, and I once saw Jimmy Buffett riding his bike near the ocean on Palm Beach Island, I claim absolutely zero personal insights into the philosophy and lifestyle of Parrotheads.

However, I saw a tweet by Ross Douthat pointing readers to an excellent New York Times profile of Buffett linked to the 2018 success of the jukebox Broadway musical celebrating his life. The headline: “Jimmy Buffett Does Not Live the Jimmy Buffett Lifestyle.” In a way, this feature by Taffy Brodesser-Akner can be read — I think this is what Douthat had in mind — as a kind of meditation on the long, warm Buffett obituaries that are running wherever Baby Boomers get their news.

At first glance, there is next to zero religious content in this feature. Then I took off my journalism-commentary glasses and read this feature through the eyes of the Denver Seminary professor that I was, briefly, in the early 1990s. Hold that thought, because we will come back to it.

Now, read this large chunk of the Times feature and start looking for hints at the role that Buffett played in the lives of his, well, disciples.

One day he realized that even if you were the supply, you could also be the supply chain. “It’s up to you to figure out how to take advantage or to manage whatever you’re going to do,” he said. “Margaritaville” was a hit in 1977. But more important, on that day, Margaritaville® was born.

He established Mailboat Records, his record label, in 1999. He went from making $2.20 per album to making $6 an album, he told me. He built his own tour buses, because it costs five times more to rent equipment than to own it yourself. He then rented out that equipment to other acts. And he took charge of his merchandise. He didn’t do it because he was greedy. He did it because he could do it better than the people who were ripping him off with concert T-shirts that spelled his name as Buffet.

He sold his fans quality, spell-checked T-shirts. He played clubs all over the country, but it was the crowds in landlocked areas that seemed to love him most. In Pittsburgh, he and his Coral Reefer band mates noticed that fans had started wearing Hawaiian shirts, just like they did, to the shows. One night, in Cincinnati, his bass player Timothy B. Schmit (also of the Eagles) likened them to Deadheads, the way Grateful Dead fans would follow that band. And so they were christened Parrotheads, just as a joke, but then fans began to wear feathers and beak masks to shows. “In their minds they wanted to go to the ocean,” he said. He understood he was bringing the ocean to them. He was no longer just a singer. Now he was a guru.


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Bonus podcast: Jimmy Carter plays a big role in 'evangelical' history in America (updated)

Bonus podcast: Jimmy Carter plays a big role in 'evangelical' history in America (updated)

Apparently, it’s time for people to start taking vacations.

The Lutheran Public Radio team that produces the “Crossroads” podcast week after week is taking some time off. Thus, there is no GetReligion podcast in this slot today.

At the same time, I am headed due west with my family for a week or more. However, several weeks ago I was a guest on the Engage 360 podcast created by Denver Seminary, the campus where I taught media studies classes in the early 1990s. The topic — the legacy of former President Jimmy Carter — was directly linked to many discussions on this weblog about evangelicals, journalism and American politics IApple podcast link here).

The question, of course, is this: WHICH legacy of Jimmy Carter?

In this podcast, we really didn’t spend much time on Carter the politician — even though his arrival as a centrist Southern Democrat was important. He has continued to evolve toward more progressive positions on moral and social issues (like his party), but not to the same degree. Hold that thought.

We talked quite a bit about Carter’s impact on American evangelicalism and, in particular, the role he played in forcing American journalists to wrestle with the complex world of evangelicalism. When many evangelicals rejected the reality of Jimmy Carter the president, as opposed to the candidate, he also helped fuel the creation of the Religious Right.

Let’s start with journalism. As I have written before:

I'll never forget the night when an anchor at ABC News – faced with Democrat Jimmy Carter talking about his born-again Christian faith – solemnly looked into the camera and told viewers that ABC News was investigating this phenomenon (born-again Christians) and would have a report in a future newscast.

What percentage of the American population uses the term "born again" to describe their faith? … I mean, Carter wasn't telling America that he was part of an obscure sect, even though many journalists were freaked out by this words — due to simple ignorance (or perhaps bias).

I was a student at Baylor University at that time and, yes I was active as a volunteer in the Carter campaign.


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Podcast: It's time to pay attention to debates about girls, Instagram and mental-health woes

Podcast: It's time to pay attention to debates about girls, Instagram and mental-health woes

If you have followed GetReligion for a decade or so, you know that our religion-beat patriarch Richard Ostling writes a “Memo” post every week in which he focuses on religion trends and future events to which journalists should be paying attention.

This week’s Memo focused on why religious and secular debates about Death with Dignity laws will not be fading away anytime soon. As always, Ostling’s Memo posts are packed with links to relevant interest groups, experts and online resources to aid reporters.

This brings me to this week’s “Crossroads,” which — for a change — does not focus on a religion-news story in the mainstream press (click here to listen to the podcast). Instead, you can think of this feature as a kind of Mattingly Memo, in which host Todd Wilken and I discussed the news (and religious) implications of a new Atlantic Monthly essay by Jonathan Haidt that ran with this dramatic double-decker headline:

The Dangerous Experiment on Teen Girls

The preponderance of the evidence suggests that social media is causing real damage to adolescents

On its face, this essay was not a “religion news” piece at all. From my point of view, that was kind of the point.

One of the themes Haidt stressed was that teen-aged girls are pretty much alone, when it comes to wrestling with the moral, emotional and even medical side effects of addiction to social media — the invasive visual-image wonderland of Instagram, in particular. The article includes a depressing file of research slides on this mental-health issue from the Wall Street Journal (click here for that .pdf). Note, in particular, that teens believe their parents have next to zero understanding of what is going on.

If parents are tuned out, where does that put clergy? Should religious leaders be playing some kind of role in public-square (and personal) discussions of this issue?

These questions made me think of an “On Religion” column that I wrote in 2017 about the efforts of some Colorado teens — reacting to several suicides linked to cyber-bullying — to help their friends examine the impact of social-media programs on their lives.


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New podcast: When preachers copy preachers -- is this an old story or something new?

New podcast: When preachers copy preachers -- is this an old story or something new?

As longtime GetReligion readers may know, my father was a Southern Baptist minister, spending his whole career in Texas pulpits and hospitals.

I heard him, from time to time, gently correct people who called him “preacher.” He would note that he wasn’t a “preacher,” he was a pastor. Brother Bert’s life and ministry were not defined by his pulpit work, although I always admired his ability to teach the Bible to laypeople.

Like it or not, preaching is the crucial skill — almost a Darwinian performance art — in the world of megachurches and evangelical power. Superstar clergy, about 99% of the time, are known for their preaching skills, even in liturgical-church traditions. The styles may differ, from one church brand to another, but growing churches usually have orators who can pull people into the pews.

That was the subject looming over this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (click here to tune that in), which focused on a strong Religion News Service report about the #Sermongate controversy surrounding the new leader of the Southern Baptist Convention. The headline: “New SBC President Ed Litton apologizes for using JD Greear sermon quotes without credit.” Here is some crucial material right up top:

A video posted on YouTube Thursday (June 24) showed clips of a ­­­January 2020 sermon on the New Testament book of Romans from Litton and clips from a January 2019 sermon on the same Bible passage from J.D. Greear, whose term as SBC president ended in June.

At several points, the comments from the two preachers are nearly identical. … The two pastors also say very similar things about homosexuality, which both believe is sinful.

But they each say Christians have erred by treating sexual sin as if it is worse than other sins — and singling out LGBT people as the worst of sinners.

What does “nearly identical” look like?


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New podcast: Conspiracy theory news isn't going away, so how will religious leaders respond?

New podcast: Conspiracy theory news isn't going away, so how will religious leaders respond?

Here we go again. This week’s “Crossroads” podcast (click here to tune that in) offers yet another journey into the world of QAnon and its impact in American pews.

All the evidence is that this subject is not going away, even as it gets more complex. See this week’s post entitled, “The New York Times looks at QAnon leader who is, wait, a Manhattan mystic from Harvard?” Some interesting court trials loom ahead, no doubt, after the January 6th riot at the U.S. Capitol.

Still, if you were looking for a thesis statement that captures how elite American newsrooms view QAnon, and the red-hot topic of conspiracy theories in general, it would be a bite of revealed truth drawn from the must-read “Shadowlands” package published last June by The Atlantic. In “The Prophecies of Q,” author Adrienne LaFrance claimed that QAnon is an emerging sect that is defined by its evangelical hopes and dreams, since the “language of evangelical Christianity has come to define the Q movement.”

In a GetReligion post at the time (“The Atlantic probes QAnon sect and finds (#shocking) another evangelical-ish conspiracy“) I offered my own opinion on that:

There are times, when reading the sprawling “Shadowland” package … when one is tempted to think that the goal was to weave a massive liberal conspiracy theory about the role that conservative conspiracy theories play in Donald Trump’s America.

At the center of this drama — of course — is evangelical Christianity. After all, evangelical Christians are to blame for Trump’s victory, even if they didn’t swing all those crucial states in the Catholic-labor Rust Belt.

It’s almost as if evangelicals are playing, for some strategic minds on the left, the same sick, oversized role in American life that some evangelicals assign to Hillary Clinton, George Soros, Bill Gates and all those liberal Southern Baptist intellectuals who love Johnny Cash and Jane Austen.

That’s still half of what I think on this topic.

It is certainly true that (a) leaders of the “political cult” called QAnon — to use a term from a must-read Joe Carter FAQ on this topic — speak fluent evangelical and that (b) the gospel according to Q and similar conspiracy heresies have influenced many people in pews (including some who traveled to the National Mall for Trump’s March to Save America rally).

That’s an important, ongoing story that must be covered.


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People keep asking: Why does press say 'religious left,' as opposed to 'Religious Left'?

People keep asking: Why does press say 'religious left,' as opposed to 'Religious Left'?

Every now and then, readers — or people I meet in daily life — ask this question: Why do journalists write so much about the Religious Right (capital letters), while devoting way less digital ink to the actions, policies and beliefs of the religious left (no capital letters).

That is a complex question and you can hear me struggling with it all the way through this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (click here to tune that in). The hook for this episode was my post that ran with this headline: “Thinking with David Briggs and Ryan Burge: Whoa, is religious left really on rise (again)?

For starters, people tend to ask this question every four or eight years (hint, hint), when the mainstream press does another round of stories about the religious left surging into action in an attempt to counterbalance the nasty Religious Right.

The Religious Right, you see, exists all the time — because it is one of the largest camps inside the modern Republican Party. The religious left doesn’t play the same role in the Democratic Party, unless we are talking about the importance of politically (as opposed to doctrinally) liberal black-church leaders in strategic primary elections. You can ask Joe Biden about that this time around.

I guess the simple answer to the “RR” vs. “rl” question is that journalists tend to capitalize the names of groups that they see as major political or social movements — like the Civil Rights movement or the Sexual Revolution.

The religious left, you see, isn’t a “movement” that exists all the time — in my experience — for many mainstream journalists. The religious left is just ordinary, good, liberal religious people doing things that are positive and logical in the eyes of gatekeepers in newsrooms. This is “good” religion.

The Religious Right, on the other hand, is a powerful political movement consisting of strange, scary evangelicals who keep coming out of the rural backwoods to threaten normal life in American cities. This is “bad,” even dangerous, religion.

Now, there is another big irony linked to press coverage of progressive forms of faith.


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QAnon in pews: Two online conversations with evangelicals concerned about the surge

Way too many churches have never been all that effective, when it comes to helping the faithful deal with the challenges of daily life in the modern world — especially those linked to technology and mass media.

Back when I was teaching at Denver Seminary, in the early 1990s, we were struggling to help future pastors and church leaders cope with cable television all of those TV screens in the typical family home.

Frankly, many people couldn’t grasp how this was linked to pastoral ministry and preaching. I kept asking: How do your people spend their time? Spend their money? Make their decisions? These questions are at the heart of discipleship and they point to the powerful role that mass media play in modern life.

Now there is the Internet. Those TVs still exist, but they are surrounded by dozens of other screens that serve as doors into cyberspace.

It appears that we may have a topic that has some — repeat “some” — church leaders concerned about all of those screens. They are beginning to hear from pastors who are concerned, scared even, about the rising presence of QAnon dogma in their pews. Many saw the important essay in The Atlantic that ran with this headline: “The Prophecies of Q — American conspiracy theories are entering a dangerous new phase.”

In an “On Religion” column about QAnon, I stressed that church leaders need to wake up and realize the role that mainstream and alternative news sources are playing in dividing their people — period.

The bottom line: Many newsrooms are producing slanted, advocacy journalism that millions of consumers consider a kind of “fake news.” This is pushing readers away from mainstream news and deep into online niches packed with folks pushing QAnon and other conspiracy theories. Thus, I wrote:

The question, as pandemic-weary Americans stagger into the 2020 elections, is how many believers in this voting bloc have allowed their anger about "fake news" to push them toward fringe conspiracy theories about the future of their nation.

Some of these theories involve billionaire Bill Gates and global coronavirus vaccine projects, the Antichrist's plans for 5G towers, Democrats in pedophile rings or all those mysterious "QAnon" messages. "Q" is an anonymous scribe whose disciples think is a retired U.S. intelligence leader or maybe even President Donald Trump.

The bitter online arguments sound like this: Are these conspiracies mere "fake news" or is an increasingly politicized American press — especially on politics and religion — hiding dangerous truths behind its own brand of "fake news"?

"A reflexive disregard of what are legitimate news sources can feed a penchant for conspiracy theories," said Ed Stetzer, executive director of the Billy Graham Center at Wheaton College.

A few lines later, Stetzer added:


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The big idea: Black and white preachers, together, need to sound prophetic note on race

The big idea: Black and white preachers, together, need to sound prophetic note on race

In times of turmoil, brutality, fire and rage, black preachers have always turned to the Old Testament prophets.

Hear Jeremiah addressing the king and his court: "Thus says the Lord: Act with justice and righteousness, and deliver from the hand of the oppressor anyone who has been robbed. And do no wrong or violence to the alien, the orphan and the widow, or shed innocent blood. … (If) you will not heed these words, I swear by myself, says the Lord, that this house shall become a desolation."

There's plenty more where that came from. No one is shocked when black pastors take biblical texts about sin, justice, repentance and mercy and weave them into images and headlines from the news, said the Rev. Terriel Byrd, urban ministry professor at Palm Beach Atlantic University. This is a crucial role they have always played in their communities and as bridgebuilders to others.

"Even when they know that what they're going to say will be rejected, they dare to speak as prophets," he said. "They aren't afraid to preach what they need to preach. If you go to church during times like these, you know a black preacher will not be silent."

After decades of studying the art of preaching -- he is the former president of the African American Caucus of the Academy of Homiletics -- Byrd knows that traditions are different in white sanctuaries. But he is convinced America needs to hear from all kinds of preachers after the killing of George Floyd, his neck under the knee of a white Minneapolis police officer.

On the streets, some white police are kneeling -- this is powerful symbolism on many levels -- with protestors in prayer. Unity across racial lines in churches will be just as important.

Black church leaders will be on the scene during peaceful protests. When it's time to heal and clean up, all kinds of religious believers will take part -- black, white, whatever. But will they be able to speak together?

"It's crucial for white-church leaders to step forward and take a leadership role at this moment," said Byrd, reached by telephone. "If we have some true partnerships form, with a real sense of honesty and equality, we could see a way forward and make real progress fighting this injustice."

This is not, of course, the first time that clergy have faced this challenge.


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