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Tell us more? Tragic life of an addict and street walker who attended a famous DC church

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It’s hard to imagine a short newspaper feature containing more pain than The Washington Post story that ran the other day with this headline: “How a D.C. sex worker became the face of a city report on drug treatment failures.”

The lede could not have been more blunt: “Alice Carter worked D.C.’s streets — and got worked over by them.”

So why discuss this tragedy at GetReligion? Read the following summary material carefully and you will see a brief reference to the religion-angle in this story:

She was a poet, addict, sex worker, parent, friend, assailant, schemer and source of inspiration to her faith community and those who loved her — when she wasn’t frustrating their exhaustive, exhausting efforts to make sure she was safe.

Those efforts ultimately proved unsuccessful. On Dec. 17, Carter died of alcohol intoxication at Howard University Hospital after being found unresponsive at a Dupont Circle McDonald’s. Last month, the well-known fixture on D.C. streets became the face of a city auditor’s report that warned the District is doing too little to help those struggling with chronic addiction.

Note that nod to Carter’s “faith community.”

That’s a very vague reference to the fact that this trans female street walker was active in one of the most famous liberal Christian congregations in Washington, D.C. Theoretically, on any given Sunday morning during the past decade or more, Alice Carter could have shared a pew with Hillary Clinton, among other United Methodist Beltway politicos and insiders.

Would the story have been stronger if, right up top, the Post team had mentioned that she “attended services” at the Foundry United Methodist Church? Was she a member? Had she made a profession of Christian faith there?

It would also have been crucial to have known more about the ways that Christians — liberal or otherwise — played a major role in Carter’s attempts to escape addiction and poverty.


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Tips of the trade: How to cover religion news, even if this is not your regular beat

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The National Press Club, like others, is well aware that reporting staffs are shrinking. Thus, full-time religion-beat specialists are considered even more a luxury than usual.

Savvy newspapers will make sure someone cultivates the field at least part-time, as far as feasible. However, managers in too many news shops even neglect that necessity. Magazines are iffy. Radio and TV are even worse off. The Internet is a zoo.

What should writers do when they’re thrown into coverage about religion, which they may know little about -- and perhaps care little about even though sizable chunks of their audiences do care? Some guidance for such drop-ins and greenhorns might also provide good reminders for religion-beat specialists who will share shop talk September 24-25 at the Religion News Association conference (virtually this year). The RNA also posts a wealth of tips and resources on trending topics here at its ReligionLink website.

Religion can be pitfall hell, so The Guy’s No. 1 point is rather obvious, which is to make absolutely certain everything you write is accurate.

Don’t just assume what we think everybody knows. Articles often say the Catholic Church forbids priests to marry. Truth is, Catholicism forbids “most priests” to marry and in “most situations.” But what about the Eastern Rite clergy? Or men who swim the Tiber from Anglicanism?

Or take the respected columnist who stated confidently that whatever the Bible may teach on male homosexuality it says nothing about lesbianism. With a quick phone call or email check, almost any cleric would have cited Romans 1:26 and avoided an embarrassing correction.

The press club’s Journalism Institute helps out with advice from an interview with Elizabeth Dias, a full-time religion correspondent with The New York Times. (The video at the top of this post is a speech on related issues, drawn from her days at Time magazine — where The Guy worked for many years.)

Dias stresses the importance of simply “listening and asking open questions” with sources because the topic at hand “may be the most important part of their lives.” She explains that “religion at its heart is about people, not just ideas” so she spends more time talking with folk than “reading social media commentary.” On the latter point, The Guy would underscore the value of meaty books and articles about the issue at hand. Too much reportage is thinly informed.


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It's more 'Dog Bites Man' as religion-haunted 2020 campaign lurches into the fall

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It's more 'Dog Bites Man' as religion-haunted 2020 campaign lurches into the fall

GetReligion regulars will know that “Man Bites Dog” is news and “Dog Bites Man” is not.

This hoary journalism incantation came to mind at the close of the Democratic National Convention when 353 clergy and lay believers announced that they “choose hope over fear” and will mobilize religious voters so the Biden-Harris ticket can “lead us in restoring our nation’s values.”

Reporters will assess this for themselves, but to The Guy the Trump-biting endorsers of “Faith2020” (contact 657–333– 5391) look pretty much as predictable as the religious lineup boosting Trump-Pence. Faith2020 draws hallelujahs from former presidential nominee Al Gore, House Majority Whip Jim Clyburn and Georgia gubernatorial candidate Stacey Abrams. Signers include workers for past Democratic candidates, abortion choice, LGBTQ concerns and various liberal causes.

In other words, it’s a familiar Religious Left all-star team.

Signer Jack Moline co-chaired Rabbis for Obama and is president of the Interfaith Alliance, founded in 1994 to counter the “Religious Right.” Despite continual hopes, building a politically potent Religious Left has proven elusive in an era when the big news (calling scholar John C. Green) is the emergence of non-religious Americans as a massive chunk of the Democrats’ constituency.

One sort-of surprise endorser is John Phelan, former president of the Evangelical Covenant Church’s North Park Theological Seminary. He joins alongside Faith2020 Executive Director Adam Phillips, whose former Portland, Oregon, church was forced out of that denomination in 2015 over LGBTQ inclusion in church leadership.

Other Faith2020 names of note: Frederick Davie (Faith2020 chair and executive vice president of New York’s Union Theological Seminary), David Beckman (former president of Bread for the World), Amos Brown (Kamala Harris’s San Francisco Baptist pastor), Amy Butler (removed last year as pastor of New York’s prominent Riverside Church), Joshua DuBois (who ran President Barack Obama’s “Faith-Based” partnerships office), Wesley Granberg-Michaelson (retired general secretary of the Reformed Church in America), Gene Robinson (whose elevation as a partnered gay bishop further split the global Anglican Communion), Brian McLaren (godfather of the “emerging church” movement), Talib Shareef (D.C. imam who leads what’s called “The Nation’s Mosque”), Ron Sider (Evangelicals for Social Action chair and Hillary Clinton endorser) and Simran Jeet Singh (Sikh chaplain at New York University).


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Thinking with Ryan Burge about Twitter Democrats, nones and people who sit in pews

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As researchers have been noting for several decades now, the active practice of a religious faith — especially traditional forms of faith — is one of the easiest ways to draw a line between political and cultural conservatives and people who consider themselves liberals or progressives.

This has obvious implications for clashes between Democrats and Republicans, no matter what the insiders and activists say and do while on camera at national political conventions.

If you want to review some “pew gap” basics, click here for a file of GetReligion material on the topic or head over here for a recent post — “Concerning Republicans, Democrats and gaps in pews“ — by political scientist Ryan Burge of the Religion in Public blog (and a contributor here at GetReligion).

Religious “nones” and other skeptics skew liberal and, thus, favor the Democratic party. Meanwhile, religious believers — especially white Christians who attend worship once a week or more — have increasingly flocked to the other side of the political aisle.

So what else could researchers do to chart this fault line in American political life?

Well, if you spend much time in the Twitter-verse, you know that lots of people in blue and red zip codes have radically different takes on the whole religion thing. This leads us to a fascinating think piece Burge wrote the other day for Religion News Service entitled, “By their tweets you will know them: The Democrats' continuing God gap.” Here is some material drawn from the overture:

Despite being a party that includes Black Protestants, who are some of the most religious Americans, and Hispanic Catholics, one of the few religious groups in the U.S. to be growing, Democrats still have troubles when it comes to talking about faith.

They have struggled to mobilize the religious left into a voting block and have troubles connecting with white Christian voters, the majority of whom supported President Trump in the last election.

And while Democrats do have the support of the so-called “Nones" — the growing group of Americans who have no religious affiliation — that group does not include particularly enthusiastic voters. …


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

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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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Thinking with David Briggs and Ryan Burge: Whoa, is religious left really on rise (again)?

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If you know your religion-beat history, then you know this name — David Briggs, who is best known for his years with the Associated Press.

If you know your GetReligion history, then you know that — for 17 years — we have been saying that the “religious left” deserves more attention. This is specially true in terms of the doctrinal beliefs of people in these blue pews and how those beliefs help shape their politics.

It seems that, every four years or so — a telling interval — we see a few stories about a surge of activity on the religious left and how that will impact politicians opposed by the Religious Right. It’s like politics is the only reality, or something.

Thus, several readers noted this recent Briggs byline for the Association of Religion Data Archives: “The decline of the religious left in the age of Trump.”

Say what? Here’s the overture:

President Trump has had a powerful mobilizing effect on the liberal and secular left in U.S. politics.

But will religious liberals also play a significant role in getting out the vote for Democrat Joe Biden in November?

Almost immediately after the 2016 election, some commentators began heralding the likelihood that a revived religious left would emerge from what many liberals considered the ashes of Trump’s victory.

But such hopes may be based more on a wing and a prayer than solid evidence of any such new awakening. Rather, there are several signs indicating “a notable decline” in political activity among religious liberals.


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RNS finds trans clergy struggle for support, after leaving liberal seminaries (#WhyIsThat)

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Back in my Colorado days, I spent lots of time covering the Iliff School of Theology, a United Methodist seminary that was and is known as a hub for liberal Christian theology. A student — in the late 1980s — estimated that the student body was close to 50% gay and lesbian.

The problem, of course, was that there weren’t enough “urban” churches in Denver to handle all the students who needed to work part-time, serve in parish residency programs or be placed in their first pastoral positions (if they wanted to say in that regional conference). I once heard a feminist lesbian student, near tears, describing her attempts to preach to a small-town congregation out on the high plains of eastern Colorado. Some people even believed in hell.

What I realized was that this was not a story with two sides — liberal clergy vs. old-school locals. It was a story with, at least, three sides — liberal clergy, conservative laity and seminary/denominational officials caught in the middle. The liberal powers that be, you see, wanted to help the graduates, but they couldn’t afford to run off legions of ordinary church members. They had to be careful, for reasons linked to institutional survival.

I thought of those stand-offs while reading the recent Religion News Service feature — I am not sure that it is a “news” story — that ran with this headline: “As seminaries welcome openly transgender students, church lags behind.” Here is the overture:

When Austen Hartke arrived at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota, he knew it was the only Lutheran seminary that didn't participate in his denomination's LGBTQ+ welcoming program. But as his awareness grew that he was transgender, so did his conviction that Luther was the right place for him.

Hartke, who had come out as bisexual years before applying to seminary, had specifically picked the school, he said in a recent interview, so he would learn to navigate his identity and ministry while being exposed to “the Midwestern attitudes I lived with every day.”

Still, said Hartke, who today runs the Transmission Ministry Collective, a community that supports transgender and other nonbinary Christians, “I didn’t come out as trans until I was holding my diploma, because I didn’t know what would happen.”


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New York Times still searching for the redeemed heart of the tragic Dr. Lorna Breen story

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Let me offer some tips to reporters who find themselves veering into religion-beat territory.

If you are writing a profile of someone at the heart of a major story and you learn that she was active in a Bible study, and members of this group decide to cooperate with you, you may want to pause and ask: (a) What have members of this group been studying recently? Why? (b) What scriptures were they studying during the events at the heart of the story you are reporting? (c) Do they now see connections between their discussions and the life of the person being profiled?

Let me stress: You are not asking them to violate confidences, in terms of what this person said or questions that she raised. You are asking them, as believers, for their own reflections.

The goal is not to sneak scripture into, well, the secular pages of The New York Times. You are simply acknowledging the proven fact that, for religious believers, scripture and prayer are crucial parts of how they make sense out whatever is happening in their lives.

In this case, we are talking about the coronavirus crisis and the chaotic early weeks of the pandemic in the emergency room at NewYork-Presbyterian Allen Hospital. At the heart of that crisis was Dr. Lorna M. Breen, who committed suicide after suffering from COVID-19 and then displaying evidence that this still mysterious virus affected her mental health.

At a crucial point in the latest New York Times feature about Breen, there is this passage describing the first stage of the crisis, as the staff wrestled with a shortage of personal protective equipment and other needs.

Doctors and administrators were uneasy about the lack of space in the emergency department and pushed for converting other areas, such as a parking lot, where a tent could be erected.

“People I work with are so confused by all of the mixed messages and constantly changing instructions,” she wrote that day in a message to her Bible study group. “Would appreciate any prayers for safety, wisdom and trust.”

People who know little about modern New York City may be surprised to find out that it contains many thriving churches, with support networks deep into major institutions. In this case, Times readers eventually learn that Dr. Breen was part of a famous evangelical flock — Redeemer Presbyterian Church.

Let’s flash back to a GetReligion post in which I examined an earlier Times piece about Breen. I had a hunch, as I kept reading other sources about her life and work, that she was a Redeemer person. That Times piece called her “deeply religious,” but pretty much left things there:


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Thinking about 'fundamentalism' with David French: Does this f-word apply to liberalism?

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Once upon a time, the word “evangelical” was not the primary curse that public intellectuals (and some journalists) hurled at people they considered dangerous.

Instead, they used “fundamentalist.” That’s a term that, originally, was much easier to define because it was linked to a specific set of documents — the “Fundamentals of the Faith” — produced by a specific set of Protestant thinkers. This crowd, believe it our not, included quite a few conservative Anglicans, Presbyterians and other “mainliners,” including some from the Northeast.

Over time, use of the term got sloppy, even among scholars (as opposed to journalists). As I wrote in an “on Religion” column on this topic:

Anyone who expects scholars to stand strong and defend a basic, historic definition will be disappointed. As philosopher Alvin Plantinga of the University of Notre Dame once quipped, among academics "fundamentalist" has become a "term of abuse or disapprobation" that most often resembles the casual semi-curse, "sumbitch."

"Still, there is a bit more to the meaning. ... In addition to its emotive force, it does have some cognitive content, and ordinarily denotes relatively conservative theological views," noted Plantinga, in an Oxford Press publication. "That makes it more like 'stupid sumbitch.' ... Its cognitive content is given by the phrase 'considerably to the right, theologically speaking, of me and my enlightened friends.' "

However, as your GetReligionistas have noted many times over the past 17 years, the Associated Press Stylebook maintained a nuanced and historically accurate reference to this term. (If this has changed, please let me know. The stylebook on my desk is several years old.)

fundamentalist: The word gained usage in an early 20th century fundamentalist-modernist controversy within Protestantism. In recent years, however, fundamentalist has to a large extent taken on pejorative connotations except when applied to groups that stress strict, literal interpretations of Scripture and separation from other Christians. In general, do not use fundamentalist unless a group applies the word to itself.

Alas, the use of “fundamentalist” in other contexts kept spreading, producing “fundamentalist” Muslims, “fundamentalist” Catholics and other non-Protestant variations. The idea was that, instead of specific doctrines, “fundamentalism” could be seen as an approach to culture, faith, public life, leadership, etc.

With that in mind, readers should check out this recent David French piece from The Dispatch, which ran with this headline: “America Is in the Grips of a Fundamentalist Revival — But it’s not Christian.”


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