Worship

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Passover Seders without your grandchildren? Coronavirus crisis forced painful changes

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Passover Seders without your grandchildren? Coronavirus crisis forced painful changes

Passover Seders include one moment that is especially poignant for grandparents.

Early in this ritual meal they look on as one or more of their grandchildren sing or recite the "Ma Nishtana," the "Four Questions" that frame the lessons Israelites learned from their bondage in Egypt and Exodus to freedom.

The first line echoes from generation to generation: "Why is this night different from all other nights?"

This year, Jews everywhere are wrestling with the fact that -- in a world wracked by the coronavirus -- this Passover is radically different from other Passovers.

"There's no way to replace having Passover with your parents, your grandparents, your friends and loved ones," said Rabbi Yaacov Behrman, founder of the Jewish Future Alliance and director of Operation Survival, a drug abuse prevention program in the Crown Heights neighborhood of Brooklyn.

"A grandmother looks forward to seeing her grandchildren at the Seder. Fathers and mothers look forward to seeing their families around that table. … There's no way to ignore the pain of what is happening this year."

Prayers and symbols describing suffering and liberation are at the heart of Haggadah (Hebrew for "telling") texts that guide the Seder meal and interpret the eight-day Passover season, which began this year at sundown on Wednesday, April 8.

Why is matzo the only bread at Passover? Because the Israelites didn't have time to bake leavened bread as they fled Egypt. Why dip bitter herbs into chopped apples, dates, nuts and wine? Because this paste resembles the clay Hebrew slaves used to make bricks. Why dip parsley into salt water? This represents new life, mixed with tears.

One ritual will have special meaning this year, as the leader of the Seder prays: "Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us concerning the washing of the hands."

Some secular and religious Jews are creating digital windows from one table to another, following how-to guides for "online Seders" using Zoom and similar video programs.


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Enforcement overkill? Louisville newspaper tries to document the 'war on Easter'

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This past week was quite the drama-filled battle of church vs. state fought out in, of all places, Louisville/

Here you had a mayor saying one thing, a governor saying another, the nation’s oldest Southern Baptist seminary weighing in and members of Congress jumping in with angry tweets and phone calls. And a federal judge jumped into the drama, as well.

The Louisville Courier-Journal did yeoman work — with one or two small holes — in covering this battle that began with an announcement on Good Friday that cops were going to be taking down license plates in church parking lots and plunking quarantine notices on car windshields.

But there was a ton of confusion as to who was in charge.

Louisville Metro Police officers will be writing down the license plate numbers of those who attend church services over Easter weekend, Mayor Greg Fischer said Friday.

Fischer has asked Louisvillians to forgo in-person gatherings, including drive-in services, to lessen the spread of the coronavirus. He said the license information would be given to the city's health department.

"If we allowed this in Louisville, we'd have hundreds of thousands of people driving around the city Sunday, and boy, the virus would just love that," Fischer said.

Really? Is that what Louisville is like on a typical Easter? (Also, note the phrase “including drive-in services.”)

This is where the reporter should have pointed out there’s never “hundreds of thousands” of locals driving about the city on a Sunday morning.

Dr. Sarah Moyer, the city's public health director, said knowing who was at gatherings, such as in-person church services, can help the department notify those who might have been exposed if an attendee later falls ill.

"If we have a case, we have a list of names of who needs to quarantine and isolate," she said. "And it'll just make our investigation go quicker, as well."

Kentucky’s governor issued a similar order Friday, saying in-person attendance at religious services was forbidden — but not drive-ins.

So you’ve got two standards being pushed here by public officials who didn’t check with each other first. That confusion lingered over the online firestorm that grew out of this conflict.


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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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An Easter think piece: What happens when movie-makers talk to scribes who 'get' religion?

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When I first met Dwight Longenecker in 1999 I already thought his life story was unique.

The setting was an international journalism conference in Chichester, England. Longenecker was working in journalism at the time, after studying theology at Oxford University. He had already been ordained as an Anglican priest, but then saw the writing on the ancient church walls and swam the Tiber to Roman Catholicism.

But here’s the biographical detail that grabbed me. I was fascinated that, after growing up evangelical in Pennsylvania, he had done his undergraduate work at Bob Jones University in Greenville, S.C. — America’s famous campus that proudly embraces the loaded term “fundamentalist.”

From BJU to England and on to Rome! What a journey, I thought. And people said my pilgrimage from Southern Baptist preacher’s kid to Eastern Orthodoxy was unusual.

But there was one more remarkable shoe to drop in the Longenecker story. In 2006 he returned to America with his wife and four children and — taking the Pastoral Provision door opened by Pope John Paul II (now a saint) — Longenecker was ordained as a Catholic priest.

So where is he now? He is the pastor of Our Lady of the Rosary Catholic Church in — wait for it — Greenville, S.C., a few miles from his old BJU stomping grounds. So the Catholic priest who is “in charge” of Bob Jones territory (long ago, the founder called Catholicism a “Satanic cult”) is a BJU graduate.

Now, I offered all of that as an intro to our think piece for this Easter Sunday (for Western churches). It’s a blog post by Longenecker entitled “The Passion of the Christ, me and Mel Gibson” that includes a fascinating detail about what many consider the most beautiful image in that controversial movie (click here for his “Standing on my head” website).

The key: Longenecker, as a journalist, did quite a bit of writing about film. Thus, he ended up in one of those famous advance screenings with Gibson — who showed a rough edit to a variety of religious audiences while raising money to independently release the film. After showing this early version of his movie, Gibson came out to take questions from the small crowd. Then this happened:


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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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No confessions? Coronavirus crisis creates legal, doctrinal Lenten minefield for priests

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No confessions? Coronavirus crisis creates legal, doctrinal Lenten minefield for priests

Every now and then, while a priest is traveling or out running errands, a stranger will approach and ask: "Father, will you hear my confession?"

This can happen on a city sidewalk or in a quiet corner of a big-box store. Often the question is urgent -- because something disturbing has shaken someone's faith.

"I've been asked for confession in a taxi. I've been asked while on a train," said Father Fergal O'Duill, part of the Dallas-Fort Worth branch of the Catholic movement Regnum Christi. His name is pronounced "O'Doul" and he is originally from Dublin, Ireland.

These requests happen, he added, because "people see you and they know you're a priest. We're priests no matter where we go."

Hearing confessions is crucial during the penitential season of Lent, which precedes Easter, which is on April 12th this year for Catholics and Protestants (and April 19th for Eastern Orthodox Christians). Centuries of Catholic and Orthodox tradition urge believers to go to confession during Lent, before receiving Holy Communion on Easter.

The irony, right now, is that O'Duill can hear confessions during chance encounters, but not during scheduled times at the school where is serves as a chaplain.

The evolving coronavirus pandemic has turned Lent into a confusing minefield of legal and doctrinal questions for pastors and their flocks. In many communities, but not all, state or local officials have ordered people to "shelter in place" -- staying home unless they have "essential" needs elsewhere. This has raised an obvious question: Is going to confession "essential," even if Catholics are preparing for Holy Week and Easter rites they will have to watch on digital screens at home?

For most of March, O'Duill was one of several priests who heard confessions in a giant parking lot, or in a pair of tents, near the Highlands School in Irving, Texas. Every effort was made to provide enough privacy to maintain the "dignity" of the sacrament, he said, while priests remained a safe distance from the penitents. Priests offered similar "drive-through" confession opportunities in a few other parts of America.

Then, on March 22, Dallas County Judge Clay Jenkins issued a "shelter in place" order effective through April 3 and, perhaps, beyond.

The ground rules changed.


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Angry preachers fight 'shelter in place.' #NEWS Major religious groups follow rules? #SOWHAT

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If you were going to create an FAQ built on complaints from ordinary news consumers about the journalism biz, some variation on this question would have to be at or near the top of the list: “Why do journalists cover so much bad news? Why do they ignore all the good things that people do in our town/city/country/world and focus only on the bad things that a small handful of people do?”

I believe it was the late Walter Cronkite of CBS Evening News fame who said something like this (I’ve been hunting, but can’t find the quote): It would be a terrible thing if we lived in a world in which good news was so rare that everyone considered it unique and truly newsworthy.

If you pay attention to religion threads on Twitter, you know that we are living through a textbook case study of people arguing about this subject. This time, 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.

Some people are upset, I think, because the rebels are all independent church leaders who, as a rule, perfectly match each and every stereotype of the angry white evangelicals and Pentecostals who back, you know, Citizen Donald Trump. In a way, this is a life-and-death example of the great evangelical monolith myth. 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?

Frankly, the leap to online worship hasn’t been ignored. It has been covered over and over in local and regional news and in a few national stories that have not received all that much attention.

It’s also true — you know this if you follow Twitter — that Catholic and Eastern Orthodox people have been arguing about “shelter in place” rules, as well. The news there is that bishops have been making decisions to protect their priests and laypeople (see my most recent “On Religion” column). That’s a big story, too.

So what do these mad-preacher stories look like? For some reason, Reuters seems to be Ground Zero. Consider this headline: “The Americans defying Palm Sunday quarantines: 'Satan's trying to keep us apart'.” The story opens with a brave woman near Cincinnati who is staying at home and then jumps to this:


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