Evangelicals

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Were some key quotes accurate? Concerning Jerry Falwell's anger at The New York Times

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As long as there is a Donald Trump, then Jerry Falwell, Jr., will be the face of Christian higher education for editors at The New York Times and elite media in the blue-zip-code media in the Northeast.

This is sad, since the coronavirus crisis — along with life after Millennial-era enrollments — is creating a wave of important local, regional and national stories about private education, including Christian higher education. Hold that thought, because tomorrow’s “Crossroads” podcast is dedicated to that topic.

But back to Falwell and the Times.

Faithful readers may remember a recent GetReligion post — “Rank these stories: Falwell rolls dice with virus or potential collapse of some small colleges?” — in which I chided the Great Gray Lady for its familiar Falwell obsessions. Here is how that piece opened:

What we have here are two stories about Christian higher education during the coronavirus crisis.

One is set in a rather remote part of America, but it involves — kind of — Citizen Donald Trump. The other is a national-level story with news hooks that will affect institutions (and thus newsrooms) in several hundred communities spread out from coast to coast.

So which of these two stories is grabbing national headlines, including chunks of time on TV news? That isn’t a very hard question, is it?

The critique included, logically enough, several chunks of the Times report that was so critical of Falwell. The fact that we did that resulted in GetReligion getting a letter from Liberty University threatening legal action.

What an interesting twist: GetReligion paired with the Times by the Falwell team because of material we published in a critique of the Trump-Falwell obsession at the Times. As it turns out, we were not alone, in terms of getting caught in that crossfire.


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Podcast: Who-da thunk it? Drive-in churches are First Amendment battlegrounds

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It didn’t take long to realize that there would be church-state clashes between independent-minded religious groups — from fundamentalist Baptists to Hasidic Jews — and state officials during the coronavirus crisis.

So that was the big story, at first: Lots of crazy white MAGA evangelicals wanted to keep having face-to-face church, even if it was clear that this put lives at risk in the pews and in their surrounding communities. That was the subject of last week’s “On Religion” podcast.

The real story was more complex than that, of course. The vast majority of religious congregations and denominations (you can make a case for 99%) recognized the need for “shelter in place” orders and cooperated. The preachers who rebelled were almost all leading independent Pentecostal and evangelical churches and quite a few of them were African-Americans.

So that was a story with three camps: (1) The 99% of religious leaders who cooperated and took worship online (that wasn’t big news), (2) the small number of preachers who rebelled (big story in national media) and (3) government leaders who just wanted to do the right thing and keep people alive.

However, things got more complex during the Easter weekend (for Western churches) and that’s what “Crossroads” host Todd Wilken and I discussed during this week’s podcast (click here to tune that in).

As it turned out, there were FIVE CAMPS in this First Amendment drama and the two that made news seemed to be off the radar of most journalists.

But not all. As Julia Duin noted in a post early last week (“Enforcement overkill? Louisville newspaper tries to document the ‘war on Easter”), the Courier-Journal team managed, with a few small holes, to cover the mess created by different legal guidelines established by Kentucky’s governor and the mayor of Louisville.

That’s where drive-in worship stories emerged as the important legal wrinkle that made an already complex subject even harder to get straight.

Those five camps?


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Covering 'mainline' faith: Why do the old Protestant churches get so much news ink?

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Soon after I left the newsroom of the Rocky Mountain News to teach at Denver Seminary, in the early 1990s, a general-assignment reporter was asked to do a story about a trend in religion. It was something to do with prayer, if I recall, and editors wanted to run it on Easter.

The reporter went to three or four nearby churches in downtown. As you would expect, these were old flocks linked to Mainline Protestantism and one Catholic parish. All were, to one degree or another, both historic and struggling, in terms of attendance and membership. The city’s biggest churches were in the suburbs, especially in the booming territory between Denver and Colorado Springs — already a nationally known evangelical power base. The state included at least five internationally known centers on spirituality and prayer, one evangelical, one charismatic Episcopal, one Buddhist and two Roman Catholic.

The story ended up with voices from the dominant flocks of Denver’s past, when liberal Protestant voices were the statistical norm.

Many times, through the years, religious leaders have asked me: Why do the oldline Protestant churches receive so much news coverage? During my Denver years, Episcopalians and United Methodists did make lots of national news — as doctrinal wars escalated about sex and marriage.

These were subjects that editors considered news. Evangelical Presbyterian churches growing to 6,000-plus members in their first five years of existence? That might be worth a column. It’s not big news.

I thought of these discussions the other day when I read a Religion News Service — a long feature with lots of valid material — that ran with this headline: “As a pandemic peaks at Christianity’s Easter climax, churches adapt online.” Here’s the opening anecdote:

On Palm Sunday (April 5), the Rev. Ted Gabrielli, a bespectacled Jesuit with a bushy beard, stood in the bed of a roving pickup truck that traveled through Boyle Heights, a mostly Latino neighborhood on Los Angeles’ east side.

Gabrielli, a pastor at Dolores Mission Church, greeted neighbors from the truck and blessed the homes, alleys and streets he passed. He greeted many by name. One neighbor, caught on a Facebook livestream of the procession, stood from her home waving palms, the symbol of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem in the week before he was crucified.


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'Why did God let this happen?' Washington Post report on pastor's death asks fair questions

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My first full-time journalism job was working as a copy editor (and music columnist) for The Champaign-Urbana News-Gazette. Thus, I spent most of my time editing stories, designing pages and, of course, writing headlines.

Sometimes reporters liked my headlines and sometimes they didn’t. Sometimes readers liked my headlines and sometimes they didn’t. When readers hated my headlines, they usually called the reporter who wrote the story and yelled at them. Why? Because, like most news consumers, they didn’t realize that reporters rarely write the headlines that run with their stories.

As someone who went on to spend years as a reporter and columnist, I really wish more readers understood this basic fact about the news business.

This brings us — once again — to a question about a headline. If you read The Washington Post online, or follow Twitter, you saw this blunt headline:

Prominent Virginia pastor who said ‘God is larger than this dreaded virus’ dies of covid-19

However, if you read the dead-tree-pulp edition of the Post, you saw this:

Pastor preached about virus that took his life

As you would expect, some people — including former GetReligionista Mark Hemingway — raised questions about that first headline. I thought that it was accurate, but rather cruel. It could be read as an attempt to mock (a) this preacher, (b) God or (c) both. The second headline offered a mild statement of the facts.

If the goal is to evaluate work in the Post, which matters most — a click-bait headline or the contents of the actual news story?


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Here we go again: Protestant pastor locked out of his church when he arrived for 'mass'

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This is one of those questions readers keep asking in the Internet age: Is an error an error, even if newspaper editors correct it without admitting that they made an error?

What if it’s one of those tiny errors that only matter to strange religious believers who care about picky little words that have to do with their most cherished beliefs? You know, like the fact that Protestants are not Catholics and they use different words to describe what goes on in their sanctuaries?

What we have here is a mistake that happens all the time, especially when religion is in the news and, for logical reasons (think holiday breaks or the current COVID-19 crisis), newsroom managers are short on well-rested personnel.

Nevertheless, a mistake is a mistake and journalists need to pay attention to this kind of thing. In this case we are dealing with yet another story about a preacher who wants to carry on with business as usual, no matter what. The New York Post headline says: “Landlord changes church locks to stop pastor from defying coronavirus lockdown.”

Now, this is a piece of click-bait aggregation, which means that it’s even more likely that an intern or someone low on the journalism food chain cranked it out. Here’s the crucial information:

Pastor Jon Duncan had vowed to continue preaching at Cross Culture Christian Center in Lodi, telling Fox 40 the services were “protected by the First Amendment and should be considered essential.” But he was met by several police officers when he arrived on Palm Sunday — and was unable to enter the completely shuttered church, the Los Angeles Times said.

The building’s owner, the nearby Bethel Open Bible Church, had “changed the locks on the doors in response” to his threats to defy coronavirus restrictions, Lodi police Lt. Michael Manetti told the paper. …

Duncan had no idea that the locks had been changed when he arrived for mass, his attorney, Dean Broyles, told the L.A. Times.

Now, that’s what the story said when a GetReligion reader read it, did a face-palm move and sent me copy from the original story.


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This journalist did her job: Now she hopes that it didn't expose her to COVID-19

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Silvia Foster-Frau did her job.

The 27-year-old San Antonio Express-News reporter hopes her dedication to her profession didn’t expose her to COVID-19.

For more than two years, Foster-Frau has produced sensitive, nuanced coverage of the First Baptist Church of Sutherland Springs, Texas — site of a Nov. 5, 2017, mass shooting in which 26 people died and 20 were wounded.

Her journalistic prowess has earned her honors such as Texas AP Star Reporter of the Year in the biggest newspaper category and the national Cornell Award for religion reporting excellence at mid-sized newspapers.

On Sunday, Foster-Frau returned to the rural area southeast of San Antonio to report on the Baptist church continuing to meet, “despite the potential danger posed by the novel coronavirus” — as she put it in her story.

Her news article was excellent. No surprise there. Equally impressive were the compelling images captured by Express-News photographer Josie Norris.

But given the concerns over the possible spread of COVID-19, I wondered about the decision to send journalists into an assembly with 40 worshipers, none of them wearing masks, according to the newspaper’s story.

Foster-Frau was kind enough to talk with me about her experience. The interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Bobby Ross Jr.: You developed some really good relationships with people involved in the massacre and have excelled at covering that. Can you tell me a little about that?


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This week's podcast: Are all those COVID-19 stories about rebel preachers fueled by bias?

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Veteran GetReligion readers will remember that I grew up as a Southern Baptist preacher’s kid in Texas and then, as an undergraduate, did a double major in journalism and history at Baylor University, along with a master’s in church-state studies.

Why bring up my Baptist credentials, right now? Well, they’re relevant to the topic that “Crossroads” host Todd Wilken and I discussed during this week’s podcast. (Click here to tune that in.)

You see, I have been listening to Bible Belt folks argue about journalism for a long time. My parents backed my career choice, but trust me when I say that I can quote chapter and verse on why many people think that “Christian” and “journalist” are words that don’t go together.

The bottom line: If you ask why so many journalists struggle to do accurate, balanced coverage of religion you’ll hear lots of conservatives in pews (and pulpits) say: “Well, journalists hate religious people.”

That’s a straw-man argument and simplistic, to boot. I have seen, and heard about, some strong examples of prejudice against religious folks in newsrooms, but I have never thought that negative prejudice was the biggest problem that skews religion coverage. For starters, I’ve met some journalists who don’t care enough about religion to, well, hate it. There’s way more journalists who think that there’s good religion and then there’s bad religion and they are pretty sure which is which.

Anyway, I continue to hear from GetReligion readers who are mad about all those news stories on independent preachers who ignore coronavirus crisis “shelter in place” orders requiring them to avoid business-as-usual worship. Here’s a chunk of the GetReligion post that served as the hook for the podcast:

… (The) question looks like this: Why are the few pastors who reject “shelter in place” orders getting so much ink with their face-to-face worship services, while the vast majority of clergy who have moved their rites online — often for the first time — are getting little or no coverage? I have already written about this twice at GetReligion — look here and then here. …

Here is what people are feeling: How come some angry preacher deep in the Bible Belt is getting all this coverage and, well, online efforts by the still massive Southern Baptist Convention are ignored?


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Photos of lilies at sunrise won't be enough: Talking 2020 Easter news with Eric Metaxas

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Yes, I wore the tacky “I (heart) New York” sweatshirt on purpose.

Note that it’s green, as well. Just to crank up the tacky factor, I bought this stereotypical sweatshirt for half price after St. Patrick’s Day — at a shop located deep in the dark, dismal, Dante’s Inferno-like lower floors of New York City’s Penn Station. If you’ve been there, you know what I am talking about.

So I wore it as an ironic nod to the fact that my old friend Eric Metaxas is — like all New York City writer-commentators — doing what he calls “bunker” broadcasts from his apartment somewhere in the 4, 5, 6 subway zone on the city’s East Side. He pops out from time to time for runs in Central Park (especially if there are Samaritan’s Purse field hospitals there).

I have known Metaxas for nearly a quarter century now, dating back to early Internet contacts in the days when he was a freelancer and VeggieTales scribe (see his interview with Phil “Bob the Tomato” Vischer).

Note that means that our friendship dates way, way back before we needed to avoid talking about Citizen Donald Trump. I also do not understand his obsession with late 1970s radio classics, but that’s another issue altogether. I mean, Trump plus “Bennie and the Jets”? Come on.

But I thought GetReligion readers might enjoy this video on this weekend, in particular, since it focuses on news coverage of this very unique Easter season — both in the churches of the East and West. Metaxas grew up in Greek Orthodoxy and has traveled into evangelicalism, while I grew up Southern Baptist and have converted into Eastern Orthodoxy. We are both bilingual, in a way.

This is not — to say the least — a year when newspaper editors will be able to get away with a glowing picture of Easter lilies at sunrise and that’s that.


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Yes, there's still a November election and propaganda about religion will merit examination

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Despite the dormant U.S. campaign and 24/7 news coverage on COVID-19, political verbiage continues unabated, some of it religious in flavor.

Writers are unlikely to scan this scene at the moment, but The Religion Guy thinks it merits examination sometime before Election Day seven months hence.

The overriding trait of U.S. political propaganda in our time — from left and right — is that it ever more narrowly “preaches to the choir,” as the old saying goes, reinforcing prior mindsets and allegiances rather than trying to persuade fence-sitters or people with opposite views. Ditto with religious verbiage.

There are two categories of propaganda. (1) Promotional material disgorged by political groups themselves. (2) Opinion journalism that drifts toward the rabidly partisan newspapering of the Adams-Burr-Hamilton-Jefferson days. Click here for a sample.

A typical example of appeals to hidebound attitudes is a direct-mail plea that Ralph Reed’s Faith & Freedom Coalition says went to 10 million Christians. They were asked to donate $22.5 million to register 5 million new voters in 16 battleground states, re-elect President Donald Trump, and maintain Republicans’ Senate control.

The mailer said 81% of “conservative Christians” voted for Trump, which signaled that the intended audience here was white evangelical Protestants, not minority Protestants or Catholics who resent it when the “Christian” label is co-opted this way.

Reed’s mailer came in mid-March, just before the president shifted to sterner warnings about COVID-19, so that looming crisis went unmentioned while the then-booming economy was touted. The pitch cited federal judge appointments but notably skipped past other evangelical concerns like support for Israel, religious liberty, LGBTQ and gender identity disputes, the drug epidemic and abortion.

Instead, believers were told to combat the “OPEN BORDERS, socialist, anti-God, anti-family agenda of today’s Democrat Party” whose “VOTE FRAUD” threatens democracy, all of this abetted by the “dishonest media.” The enemy would “erase Christianity from America” and have the U.S. “governed by the United Nations” instead of its Constitution. Those “vicious and unhinged” liberals “can destroy America forever” so it becomes “a failed, corrupt, one-party socialist country like Cuba or Venezuela.” Etc.

With propaganda via journalism, let’s start at the elite level with Paul Krugman, Nobel laureate, emeritus economics prof at Princeton and New York Times columnist. His March 28 opus accusing the Trump administration of inadequate COVID-19 response blamed its “denialism” in part upon “the centrality of science-hating religious conservatives.”


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