Scriptures

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Nowhere to hide: Los Angeles Times hit job focuses on one side of Biola University tensions

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Nowhere to hide: Los Angeles Times hit job focuses on one side of Biola University tensions

If you have followed trends in academic and student life at Biola University over the past 25 years or so — I have spoken there about 10 times in that period — you know that this is a complex campus, with all kinds of divisions on theological, moral, political and cultural issues.

As a rule, campus administrators there are just as uncomfortable with strong conservative voices as they are with candid evangelical progressives. Thus, all kinds of Biola believers have learned to state radically different convictions in language that can be called “evangelical” to one degree or another. The goal is to keep painful fights out of publications read by parents, donors and even trustees.

It’s important to keep this in mind while reading the Los Angeles Times morality-tale sermon that ran the other day with this headline: “CRT, Trumpism and doubt roil Biola University. Is this the future of evangelical Christianity?” The headline failed to include the key issue in this story — clashes over the validity of 2,000 years of Christian doctrine on sexuality and marriage.

For additional insights on political and theological diversity found Christian campuses, it will help to read this classic 1995 essay at The Atlantic — “The Warring Visions of the Religious Right” — by the liberal Baptist scholar Harvey Cox of Harvard Divinity School (author of the ‘60s bestseller, “The Secular City”).

Oh, and speaking of liberal Baptist scholars, one of the defining voices in the new Los Angeles Times feature is David Gushee of Mercer University. It was totally valid to include his voice in this story, but it was interesting that he is quoted as a neutral academic expert on these matters, as opposed to being an articulate spokesman for activists on one side of the doctrinal war being covered in this story.

After all, it was Gushee who opened a classic 2016 essay for Religion News Service with these lines:

Middle ground is disappearing on the question of whether LGBT persons should be treated as full equals, without any discrimination in society — and on the related question of whether religious institutions should be allowed to continue discriminating due to their doctrinal beliefs.

It turns out that you are either for full and unequivocal social and legal equality for LGBT people, or you are against it, and your answer will at some point be revealed. This is true both for individuals and for institutions.

Neutrality is not an option. Neither is polite half-acceptance. Nor is avoiding the subject. Hide as you might, the issue will come and find you.

Thus, the Los Angeles Times has come to confront the leaders of Biola University.


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Thinking, with Aaron Renn, about the 'three worlds' shaping American evangelical debates

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Thinking, with Aaron Renn, about the 'three worlds' shaping American evangelical debates

f you have been paying much attention to evangelical Twitter in the past year or so, you may have noticed quite a few heated arguments involving the word “elite.”

If you doubt this, run a basic Google search for “Tim Keller,” “evangelical” and “elite.” Then try “David French,” “evangelical” and “elite.”

What you’ll find is more evidence of the relevance of this recent GetReligion “Memo” by religion-beat patriarch Richard Ostling: “Is evangelical Protestantism breaking into five factions in the United States of America?”

You may want to click a few of these links if you are planning to read, write or report about the upcoming Southern Baptist Convention, which is June 12-15 in Anaheim, Calif.

There is a very good chance that, at some point, one or more Baptists taking part in speeches or in floor debates will use one or more of these terms — “Positive “World,” “Neutral World” and “Negative World.” Most people will “get” the references being made.

However, I think that it would be good — as a weekend “think piece” — to point to the source of those terms as they were used earlier this year in a First Things essay by social-media scribe Aaron M. Renn. The logical title: “The Three Worlds of Evangelicalism.” Here is the overture:

American evangelicalism is deeply divided.

Some evangelicals have embraced the secular turn toward social justice activism, particularly around race and immigration, accusing others of failing to reckon with the church’s racist past. Others charge evangelical elites with going “woke” and having failed their flocks. Some elites are denounced for abandoning historic Christian teachings on sexuality. Others face claims of hypocrisy for supporting the serial adulterer Donald Trump. Old alliances are dissolving.


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Podcast: So many questions after that symbolic Tampa Bay Rays conflict over 'Pride' logos

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Podcast: So many questions after that symbolic Tampa Bay Rays conflict over 'Pride' logos

Symbolism often plays a major role in tense clashes between people with competing religious beliefs (or secular beliefs, for that matter).

You could see evidence of this fact during and after the recent kerfuffle about a small group of Tampa Bay Rays players who declined to wear special rainbow-logo uniforms during the team’s recent celebration of Pride Month. The media coverage of this clash was the subject of this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (CLICK HERE to tune that in), in part because the stories raised more questions than they answered.

I’ll get to some of those questions, but first let’s look at the Washington Post coverage. Note that this means the Rays conflict was a national story, since the Post doesn’t cover mere regional stories and disputes (see this classic M.Z. Hemingway post about the newspaper’s MIA stance on covering the trial of Philadelphia abortionist Kermit Gosnell).

The headline on this sports-desk story: “Rays players make ‘faith-based decision’ to shun Pride Night logos.” Yes, it’s important to note that there are doubts about the nature of this “faith-based” angle. Let’s look at some important passages in this:

A member of the Tampa Bay Rays said he and several teammates made a “faith-based decision” to not wear rainbow-colored logos on their uniforms during a “Pride Night” home game Saturday that recognized the LGBTQ community.

Most Rays players, per accounts from the game, wore the special uniform designs that had a rainbow pattern over the “TB” on their caps and over a sunburst logo on their right sleeves. The team, which has staged Pride Night for several seasons but had not previously included uniform changes, reportedly gave players the option to display the logos or go with the usual look.

The crucial fact there is that team management decided to allow players some degree of free-will in this case. Hold that thought.

Apparently, team management asked pitcher Jason Adam to make a statement on why he, and four others, elected to wear their usual jerseys for this symbolic event. Thus, he said:

“A lot of it comes down to faith, to like a faith-based decision,” said Adam, a 30-year-old in his fifth major league season.


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Thinking about that 'Define evangelical' thing, with Andrew Walker, Ryan Burge (and Mark Noll)

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Thinking about that 'Define evangelical' thing, with Andrew Walker, Ryan Burge (and Mark Noll)

If you search for “define evangelical” in the 18 years worth of material stored here at GetReligion you will find about four screens worth of information. Here’s what that looks like in a Google search.

Believe it or not, this was a hot topic before the advent of Orange Man Bad and the dreaded “81% of White evangelicals” mantra.

Debates about the meaning of the church-history term “evangelical” are so old that I once asked the Rev. Billy Graham for his take. Here’s some information about his answer, drawn from this “On Religion” column: “Define 'evangelical' – please.”

… You might assume that the world's most famous evangelist has an easy answer for this tricky political question: "What does the word 'evangelical' mean?" If you assumed this, you would be wrong. In fact, Graham once bounced that question right back at me.

"Actually, that's a question I'd like to ask somebody, too," he said, during a 1987 interview in his mountainside home office in Montreat, N.C. This oft-abused term has "become blurred. ... You go all the way from the extreme fundamentalists to the extreme liberals and, somewhere in between, there are the evangelicals."

Wait a minute, I said. If Billy Graham doesn't know what "evangelical" means, then who does? Graham agreed that this is a problem for journalists and historians. One man's "evangelical" is another's "fundamentalist."

That leads us to the topic of this quick, and rather rare, Monday “think piece” (I’m traveling right now and rather unplugged, so I wrote this several days ago).

Thus, at the top of this post you will see a video feature from The Gospel Coalition in which two academics — political scientist Ryan Burge ( a GetReligion contributor) and ethicist-apologist Andrew Walker — debate this topic: “Is ‘Evangelical’ a Political or Theological identity?” (Careful readers may have noticed that, a few lines earlier, I called it a “church-history term” and I’m sticking to that.)

I will let Burge and Walker speak for themselves.


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Journalists might ask: Did fundamentalists actually win their debate with modernists?

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Journalists might ask: Did fundamentalists actually win their debate with modernists?

Countless sermons each weekend may prove inspiring for American churchgoers, but historians “will little note nor long remember” most of them.

One great exception, titled “Shall the Fundamentalists Win?,” was delivered 100 years ago this spring by the Rev. Harry Emerson Fosdick at New York City’s First Presbyterian Church.

Fosdick threw a bright spotlight on the “Fundamentalist-Modernist controversy,” both predicting and demanding that his fellow modernists would win the era’s theological war. The Presbyterian Church had been debating whether to expel biblical liberals since 1892 and in 1910 mandated what later became known as the “five points of Fundamentalism.”

Yes, some of the pioneers of the “fundamentals of the faith” were part of the old Protestant mainline.

Fosdick’s oration attacked three of these beliefs, including the necessity of belief in Jesus Christ’s literal Virgin Birth and Second Coming. But his third target was pivotal, the contention that as the inspired Word of God, the Bible is free of error on history as well as spiritual and moral teachings. Fosdick conveyed the canard that this meant God “dictated” the words to earthly stenographers and then championed “progressive” revelation as promoted by scholarly biblical criticism. (Along the way he remarked that rigid interpretation of the Quran was a similar “millstone about the neck” for Islam.)

A dictionary note is required here. Fosdick defended what he called “evangelical” religion, using the word to broadly signify Protestants of whatever theology. In the 1940s, conservative Protestant foes of the modernists began embracing that same word to distinguish themselves from the unpopular hard-line “fundamentalists.”

Got that? The label has stuck ever since, though some contend it now signifies a Republican political bloc more than a theological movement.


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Podcast: Those hellish SBC sexual-abuse stories? They may be coming to a zip code near you

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Podcast: Those hellish SBC sexual-abuse stories? They may be coming to a zip code near you

There’s an old saying in the real estate business about properties that get hot and then sell quickly: “Location, location, location.”

That’s precisely where we are right now with the sexual-abuse scandal that looms over the core institutions of the giant, complex, sprawling Southern Baptist Convention.

Where is the story heating up right now? Where is the story going in the future? The answer to both of those questions is: “Location, location, location.” This is true with current events (and events yet to come) and it’s also true with the must-read coverage of this big story. We focused on both sides of that equation during this week’s GetReligion podcast (CLICK HERE to tune that in).

First, let’s talk about the journalism behind this story, which has been building for several years now (see this Bobby Ross, Jr., “Plug-In” update for a starter). Everything begins in Texas and Tennessee and reporters there who are doing the heavy lifting — in Nashville and Houston, to be specific. You can see this, ironically, in this Washington Post story: “How two Texas newspapers broke open the Southern Baptist sex scandal.” Here is the overture:

Houston Chronicle city hall reporter Robert Downen was on the night shift one evening in 2018, just a few months into the job, when something caught his attention.

Scrolling through an online federal court docket, he spotted a lawsuit that accused Paul Pressler, a prominent former judge and leader of the Southern Baptist Convention, of sexual assault. While the case had been previously reported, newly filed documents painted an even more damning picture, including the revelation that Pressler had previously agreed to pay his accuser $450,000. Downen, then 25, probed more deeply and discovered other survivors of church abuse, who made it clear to him, he recalled, that “if you think this problem is confined to one leader, we have quite a bit to show you.”

Downen’s ever-growing spreadsheet of cases soon inspired a larger reporting effort to quantify the scope of sex abuse within the massive Protestant denomination. Journalists at the Chronicle and the San Antonio Express-News teamed up to create a database of cases involving nearly 300 church leaders and more than 700 victims for their landmark 2019 “Abuse of Faith” series.

A wave of outrage in response to the series rocked the Southern Baptist Convention, prompting its Executive Committee to hire an outside firm to investigate.

Sexual-abuse accusations against Pressler had been rumbling for decades behind closed doors and in locked-tight legal proceedings. I first heard about them in the early 1980s, through a well-placed contact at CBS News, when I first hit the religion beat at The Charlotte News. There was smoke, but no one could get to the fire. The fact that this SBC giant’s accusers were young males only added to the tension.

If you know SBC life — I grew up as a Texas Baptist preacher’s kid and my whole family has Baylor University ties — then you may know this old saying: Texas is the wallet on which the SBC sits.


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Yes, NPR editors, Holy Communion isn't a semi-Baptist 'symbolic' rite for Catholic believers

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Yes, NPR editors, Holy Communion isn't a semi-Baptist 'symbolic' rite for Catholic believers

If you read an early version of the National Public Radio story with this headline — “An archbishop bars Pelosi from Communion over her support for abortion rights” — you may have done a spit take of whatever beverage you were drinking and, thus, damaged your computer keyboard. How much damage does this do to smartphones and iPads? Beats me.

Clearly, some personnel in the NPR newsroom — perhaps pros at the politics desk — need refresher courses on church-history basics. It appears that someone at NPR thinks that Catholic doctrines about the mysteries of Holy Communion are very similar to Baptist beliefs about the ordinance that is usually called the Lord’s Supper.

Let’s start at the beginning.

The Catholic archbishop of San Francisco says that U.S. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi is no longer allowed to receive Communion because of her vocal support for abortion rights.

Salvatore Cordileone, the conservative archbishop, said he'd previously made his concerns known to Pelosi, D-Calif., in an April 7 letter after she promised to codify into federal law the right to abortion established by the Supreme Court in Roe v. Wade. Cordileone said he never received a response from Pelosi.

Here comes the crucial language that launched quite a few tweets, along with several heated emails to GetReligion:

Cordileone notified members of the archdiocese in a letter on Friday that Pelosi must publicly repudiate her support for abortion rights in order to take Holy Communion — a ritual practiced in Catholic churches to memorialize the death of Christ, in part by consuming a symbolic meal of bread and wine.

The key word there is “symbolic.”

That’s a very low-church Protestant word in this context. Ditto for the word “memorialize.”


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Concerning the new converts to Eastern Orthodoxy: Are they MAGA clones or worse?

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Concerning the new converts to Eastern Orthodoxy: Are they MAGA clones or worse?

Yes, to all of those who have written — I have seen the National Public Radio feature that ran with this headline: “Orthodox Christian churches are drawing in far-right American converts.”

It would be hard to imagine a more vicious, one-sided propaganda piece than this one and, if you want to see a blow-by-blow breakdown, read this post by Orthodox convert Rod Dreher: “The Cathedral Vs. The Orthodox Church.”

Rod is using the term “cathedral” as a reference to a particular set of elite media and cultural institutions on what used to be called the “left.” Needless to say, NPR — like the editorial pages of The New York Times — plays a crucial doctrinal role in this cathedral. Dreher (a close friend for nearly 30 years) notes, right up top, concerning this NPR sermon:

… I concede that it is based on a kernel of truth: some outsiders are finding their way to Orthodoxy, thinking that it will be the far right at prayer. A friend who attends a large parish told me last year that they are seeing some young men showing up with that in mind, only to find out otherwise. Let me be clear at the start of this essay that I concede that this phenomenon is not invented out of whole cloth.

In my own small parish, we have seen a surge of young inquirers, but they are coming not with far-right politics in mind, but because they are looking for something more stable and deeper than the churches they had been attending. And yes, it is true that some come because they correctly sense that Orthodoxy is much less likely to surrender to the wokeness that is infesting many Protestant and Catholic congregations. Note well, though, that to NPR, all of this is “far-right.”

Veteran GetReligion readers will know that I am a convert to Eastern Orthodoxy, as well — coming from a Texas Baptist family with several members in the center of Southern Baptist life. If you want to know more about my own journey, see this lecture/essay from 2006: “What do the converts want?”

When people ask why I converted, my short response is that I was seeking a beautiful, conservative, ancient form of Christian tradition that didn’t include ties to American fundamentalism. Since my conversion 23 years ago, I have talked to — conservative estimate — several hundred converts in various settings, including my own parishes.

I would like to focus on the most obvious errors of omission and commission in the NPR piece — an important detail or two about the actual history of the “convert era” in “American” Orthodoxy, which began in the 1980s (click here for link to a crucial book). But first, here is the overture:


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Naomi Judd: 'It's scary to show that part of you that is the not so smart, not so together side'

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Naomi Judd: 'It's scary to show that part of you that is the not so smart, not so together side'

Naomi Judd thought she understood the ties that bind country-music stars and their audience -- then one aggressive fan went and joined the Pentecostal church the Judd family called home.

"It really burdened me," said Judd, after signing hundreds of her "Love Can Build a Bridge" memoir back in 1993. "I just don't sign autographs at church. The best way I can explain it to children … is to say, 'Honey, Jesus is the star.' "

After a year of this tense standoff, Judd became concerned and wrote the fan. "I said, 'I want you to really get away by yourself and read this letter and answer this question honestly: Do you come to church to see The Judds or do you come to church to see God?' She never came back to church. But she was in the autograph line today."

Through it all, Judd and her brash daughter Wynonna have talked openly about their triumphs and their struggles. Many fans identified with their failures just as much as the messages about faith and family.

At the time of that 1993 interview, Naomi Judd had battled through waves of anxiety attacks to address some dark realities -- such as rape, crisis pregnancy and her deadly battle with hepatitis C that retired the The Judds.

What she hadn't discussed at that time was the sexual abuse in her childhood that led to treatment-resistant depression. Judd's April 30th death, at age 76, focused new attention on blunt passages in her 2016 book "River of Time," in which she said had been tempted by suicide. "I wanted to be completely honest that if someone took out a gun and killed me on stage, they would be doing me a favor," she wrote.

The Judds were inducted into the Country Music Hall of Fame the day after Naomi's death and her shaken daughter Ashley Judd told the crowd, "I'm sorry that she couldn't hang on until today." Writing in USA Today, the actress expressed gratitude for her mother's legacy, but added: "Perhaps it's indecorous to say, but my heart is filled with something else, too. Incandescent rage. Because my mother was stolen from me by the disease of mental illness, by the wounds she carried from a lifetime of injustices that started when she was a girl."


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