Terry Mattingly

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This week's podcast: Bari Weiss and the influence of woke orthodoxy at the New York Times

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When I read the Bari Weiss resignation letter, I knew (#DUH) that it represented an important development at The New York Times and, thus, in American journalism.

I thought that for legal reasons linked to the omnipresent newsroom reality called Slack — the software program that businesses use for in-house discussions, memos and chatter.

Please read the following comments from Weiss — in a letter to the publisher of the Times — and pretend that you are a lawyer who specializes in civil lawsuits claiming workplace discrimination and verbal violence.

My work and my character are openly demeaned on company-wide Slack channels where masthead editors regularly weigh in. There, some coworkers insist I need to be rooted out if this company is to be a truly “inclusive” one, while others post ax emojis next to my name. Still other New York Times employees publicly smear me as a liar and a bigot on Twitter with no fear that harassing me will be met with appropriate action. They never are.

There are terms for all of this: unlawful discrimination, hostile work environment, and constructive discharge. I’m no legal expert. But I know that this is wrong.

I do not understand how you have allowed this kind of behavior to go on inside your company in full view of the paper’s entire staff and the public.

If Weiss sues the Times, will her legal team — during the discovery process — be able to access those Slack files? How many posts did she save to back her case? Could Times leaders claim a right to privacy there, after years of doing coverage based on internal communications in other offices?

Big questions, but are they linked to religion — other than the Weiss claims that some of her colleagues kept asking why she was “writing about the Jews again”? Was there material here for a “Crossroads” podcast?

As it turned out, there was lots to talk about (click here to tune that in). The key word in the discussion? That would be “orthodoxy.”


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Talkin' Charlie Daniels 2.0: Country music is a mix of Sunday morning and Saturday night

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There’s this old saying here in Tennessee: When you’re talking about country music, you have to deal with stuff that happens on Saturday night and on Sunday morning.

The first person I heard say that was Naomi Judd and, well, she would know a thing or two about that. However, I don’t think that soundbite of wisdom originated with her. That would, for example, help explain the music of Hank Williams. Ditto for Willie Nelson. How about Dolly Parton?

You can put Charlie Daniels in there, as well. This leads me to the podcast conversation I had this week with Eric Metaxas, who has been a friend for 20 years or so. Please note that this goes way back before Donald Trump decided to enter politics.

Metaxas and I agree on many things and we disagree on a few things, too. But we care deeply about what happens when religious issues collide with the news. Eric tends to focus on the end product, while — as someone who has worked in newsrooms — tend to focus on the process.

You see, in the newsrooms I have worked in there have been lots of people who “get” Saturday night, by which I mean the rough-and-tumble topics (including politics) that folks hash out in honky-tonks. There are also a few newsroom pros who “get” what happens on Sunday morning, as in the world of religion.

When it comes time to write about the life of a person like country-rock superstar Charlie Daniels, what ends up in print largely depends on who is assigned to cover the story. That usually offers a window into the worldview of newsroom managers, just as much as it does reporters.

I was stunned when the Nashville Tennessean obit for Daniels viewed his life through the lens of politics and the Trump era (oh, and music). This affected what many news consumers read all over Tennessee, since Gannett now runs this state’s dominant newspapers (including my local paper in Knoxville).

My concern about that obit led to this post: “There was more to Charlie Daniels than politics and even his music (hint: 'I'll Fly Away').” This part of the piece jumped out at me:

… Daniels undoubtedly had many other passions. A staunch supporter of U.S. troops and veterans, he spent much of his career traveling overseas to play for service members in Kuwait, Iraq and Afghanistan. …

For the last four years, hardly a day went by without Daniels sharing this message on his Twitter account: “22 VETERANS COMMIT SUICIDE EVERY DAY!!”

On the platform, the man who sang 1980's confrontational "In America" solidified his reputation as one of the most outspoken figures in country music. In daily posts, he would decry abortion as “murder,” ask fans to “pray for the blue,” and declare that “Benghazi ain’t going away.”


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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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AP explains why it was wrong for local-level Catholic employees to get coronavirus relief money

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That Associated Press headline the other day certainly was a grabber: “Catholic Church lobbied for taxpayer funds, got $1.4B.” Let’s start with three statements about this in-depth report:

(1) The headline and the lede both assume there is such a thing as the “U.S. Roman Catholic Church” and that someone can write a check that will be cashed by that institution. This is like saying that there is an “American Public School System,” as opposed to complex networks of schools at the local, regional and state levels.

(2) There are national Catholic organizations that speak — and even lobby — for Catholic groups and causes, such as the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops. This doesn’t wipe out the reality of local parishes, ministries, schools, religious orders, regional dioceses, etc.

(3) It was completely valid to do an in-depth report on how Catholic nonprofit groups campaigned to receive coronavirus relief money for their employees — for precisely the same reasons journalists can, and should, investigate similar activities by other huge nonprofits and companies with complex national, regional and local structures. Maybe start with Planned Parenthood, just to provide some balance?

The key, once again, is a concept that came up the other day at the U.S. Supreme Court — “equal access.” Under these legal principles, part of the legacy of a liberal-conservative coalition in the Clinton-Gore years, government entities are supposed to treat religious organizations (think nonprofits) the same way they treat similar secular groups. They can work with all of them (sacred and secular alike) or they can turn all of them down.

They key is that they are treated the same. The bottom line: Religion is not a uniquely dangerous force in American life. This topic is discussed — sort of — way down in the AP feature.

But here is the overture of this follow-the-money investigative piece:

NEW YORK (AP) — The U.S. Roman Catholic Church used a special and unprecedented exemption from federal rules to amass at least $1.4 billion in taxpayer-backed coronavirus aid, with many millions going to dioceses that have paid huge settlements or sought bankruptcy protection because of clergy sexual abuse cover-ups.

The church’s haul may have reached -- or even exceeded -- $3.5 billion, making a global religious institution with more than a billion followers among the biggest winners in the U.S. government’s pandemic relief efforts, an Associated Press analysis of federal data released this week found.

Note that nice neutral noun there in the second paragraph — “haul.”


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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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Baseball offers lots of parables about the American spirit, for those with the eyes to see

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Baseball offers lots of parables about the American spirit, for those with the eyes to see

Fans who crack open baseball history books are sure to find photographs of Jackie Robinson stealing home and wreaking havoc on the base paths.

It's less likely they will learn about him teaching Sunday school classes.

Nevertheless, Brooklyn Dodgers President Branch Rickey saw a connection between those skills.

When they met in 1945 to discuss breaking major-league baseball's color barrier, Rickey quoted Jesus and the Sermon on the Mount while describing the challenges ahead: "You have heard it said, 'An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say to you, do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also."

Rickey said: "God is with us in this, Jackie." In the movie "42," that thought turned into this memorable quip: "Robinson's a Methodist. I'm a Methodist. God's a Methodist. You can't go wrong."

This bond changed history. When broadcaster Larry King praised the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., as the "founder of the Civil Rights Movement," King responded: "The founder of the Civil Rights Movement was Jackie Robinson."

On one level, that's a baseball story. But it's also an example of how baseball has played a mythic, strangely spiritual role in American life, said Bryan Steverson, author of "Baseball: A Special Gift from God."

"Look at it this way. The object of baseball is to get home. And you are trying to make it home, safe. Sometimes, someone on my side may even need to make a sacrifice for me to get home, safe. Think about it," he said.

There's nothing new about scribes finding spiritual lessons in athletics, including numerous New Testament examples from St. Paul. But something about baseball's language and imagery encourages a special kind of reverence for many fans, said Steverson, a member of the Society for American Baseball Research. This unique role in the American story is especially obvious whenever baseball is missing -- due to a global pandemic or mere labor disputes.

Part of the appeal is the intricate nature of the sport's picky rules and even its structure, starting with what many scribes hail as the perfection of the diamond's 90-foot base paths. Steverson dedicated an entire book chapter to the practical and symbolic roles that the number three -- think Christian trinity -- plays in baseball.


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Does it matter if journalists have quit asking about the missing McCarrick report?

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It’s July of 2020.

Do you know where the McCarrick report is?

There are people who still care about the who, what, when, where, why and how of the scandal that brought down former cardinal Theodore McCarrick, at one time the most press-friendly and influential cardinal in the United States of America.

In a way, it’s even more important to know more about the rise of McCarrick in church circles in and around New York City and then learn the details of his networking years in Washington, D.C. Who were McCarrick’s disciples and to what degree did they protect him, during the years when rumors were thick on the ground about — to be specific — his unique personal style when dealing with seminarians.

It’s totally understandable that the McCarrick investigation has faded from view. The year 2020 has, after all, served up challenge after challenge for journalists and church leaders, alike. McCarrick was shipped off to western Kansas and, now, it appears that he has moved to a safe house of his own choosing.

The former cardinal is now an afterthought.

But not for everyone. The other day, J.D. Flynn of the Catholic News Agency produced a thoughtful essay on what this silence means and the long term effects it could have on Catholic laypeople and their trust of the church hierarchy. It’s worth reading — even as the year 2020 rages around us. Here is the overture:

On June 20, 2018, American Catholics woke up to discover that retired Cardinal Theodore McCarrick stood accused of sexually abusing a teenager.

The cardinal said he was innocent. The New York archdiocese said it was a singular allegation. Dioceses in New Jersey said they had received isolated allegations of misconduct with adults.

Then the dam broke. It emerged that McCarrick had a pattern of sexual abuse and coercion, with minors and with young priests and seminarians. American Catholics learned about the cardinal’s beach house, his wandering hands, his preference for thin non-smoking seminarians. His coercive and manipulative letters became available to read, the testimony of his victims was crushing.

But the story didn’t stop at McCarrick.


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Are the Sexual Revolution vs. religious liberty wars over at Supreme Court? Let's ask Bluto ...

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Want to hear a depressing question?

How many years, or even months, will it take for someone to pull the Little Sisters of the Poor back to the U.S. Supreme Court for another case linked to the status of Obamacare’s contraception mandate?

That’s right. The odds are good that we can brace ourselves for yet another Little Sisters of the Poor vs. the United States of America (or maybe the leaders of a blue-zip-code state or local government).

I predict that we will see Little Sisters of the Poor Round 4 in the headlines sooner or later, for reasons that host Todd Wilken and I discussed during this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (click here to tune that in).

For starters, in this recent case the high court upheld an executive order from the Donald Trump White House, as opposed to grounding its decision in the defense of a specific piece of legislation — as in the Religious Freedom Restoration Act (RFRA) of 1993. You may recall that this bill defending a liberal (in the old sense of that word) take on religious freedom passed with an impressive margin — 97-3.

One of the sponsors of that legislation — which was backed by a Clinton-Gore era coalition of liberals and conservatives — had this to say about its importance:

Today I am introducing legislation to restore the previous rule of law, which required the Government to justify restrictions on religious freedom. …

Making a religious practice a crime is a substantial burden on religious freedom. It forces a person to choose between abandoning religious principles or facing prosecution. Before we permit such a burden on religious freedom to stand, the Court should engage in a case-by-case analysis of such restrictions to determine if the Government’s prohibition is justified. …

This bill is needed because even neutral, general laws can unnecessarily restrict religious freedom.

That was U.S. Sen. Joseph Biden, of course, during an era when he was considered a moderate who tended to stand with the U.S. Catholic Bishops on quite a few social and moral issues.

The question now is this: What are the odds that one of the first things President Joe Biden’s team will do is erase most, if not all, of the Trump-era executive orders linked to religious liberty and the First Amendment?


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#BlackLivesMatter: Are church leaders fighting about a slogan, a movement or an organization?

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Journalists covering the demonstrations and riots after the killing of George Floyd have struggled with a number of issues and several are directly linked to religion.

For starters, I’ve been stunned at the lack of coverage of the African American church. It would appear that the traditional leaders of Civil Rights Movement-style marches and protests have been replaced by anonymous leaders, many of them young, white and linked to colleges and universities.

My question: Is this true? Have black church leaders been silent or has the press been looking the other way, in part because violent protests and riots are “more newsworthy” than peaceful demonstrations that play by the rules of a civil society? I’m genuinely curious about this.

There is another issue that really needs to be addressed head-on in mainstream coverage. When we talk about #BlackLivesMatter — and cover disputes inside religious groups about supporting #BlackLivesMatters — are we talking about:

(a) The ideas and concerns expressed in a slogan?

(b) A movement that is planning specific demonstrations inspired by that slogan (it would appear there is no one unified movement, as noted earlier)?

(c) The actions, goals and doctrines of a specific organization that calls itself Black Lives Matter?

Journalists cannot accurately cover controversies inside religious groups linked to these issues without settling, or discussing, that issue.

With that in mind, I want to point readers to a long and very detailed feature at The Christian Chronicle written by Bobby Ross, Jr., a long, long-time contributor here at GetReligion. Here is his double-decker headline, which is quite revealing:

Why the ‘Black Lives Matter’ movement is so controversial to many Christians

Some believers point to a radical, anti-Christian agenda. Others see racism at play in the slogan’s opposition

You can see the main theme right up top:


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