Worship

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Thinking with Ryan Burge: Why it would be dangerous for most churches to reopen

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If you read newspapers, the world of coronavirus-era religion appears to be divided into two worlds.

On one side are lots of crazy white evangelicals — you know, the people in MAGA hats — who want to return to face-to-face worship and, thus, risk the lives of ordinary people in their communities. These are the bad guys in this drama.

There have been a few news reports that note that quite a few black Pentecostals are part of this camp, but, well, nevermind. That information just complicates things.

On the other side are the good guys — mainline Protestants and Catholics who have embraced online church life and deserve to be cheered.

Now, where does the following information from Baptist Press — the media arm of the giant Southern Baptist Convention — fit into this picture? This is from a story on initial discussions, among SBC leaders, of reopening the doors of their churches. That’s right — the Southern Baptists (I haven’t heard of any exceptions) have been worshiping online. This is long, but the details matter:

Michael Lewis, pastor of Roswell Street Baptist Church in Marietta, Ga., said his team is cautiously planning to reopen as early as May 10, though the date is tentative and dependent on progress as measured by the official guidelines for reopening set out by the White House Coronavirus Task Force.

Lewis said Marietta, one of Atlanta's northern suburbs, is almost through the Phase 1 of the COVID-19 guidelines from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention for reopening states. When the city enters Phase 2, Roswell Street Baptist, which averages about 700 in attendance Sunday morning, would conduct two worship-only services.

Two staff members would monitor two designated entrances. There would be no greeters, but those doors would remain open throughout the services. Attendees would be seated by household, with groups separated by at least six feet. They would be formally seated and dismissed in order to maintain social-distancing. Restroom use would be limited. The church would not print bulletins.

"We're going to adhere very strictly to the CDC guidelines," Lewis said, noting that the May 10 target date could be postponed if necessary.


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Washington Post gets inside the painful COVID-19 crisis in Church of God in Christ

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Back in the mid-1980s, I worked at The Charlotte Observer, in one of the most complex and fascinating religion-news cities in America.

Yes, that’s Billy Graham’s hometown. But during the years I was there, Charlotte was one of two or three cities south of the Mason-Dixon line in which there were more church people in another Protestant flock — Presbyterians — than there were Southern Baptists. Of course, lots of those Presbyterians were in churches that were as evangelical as any of the Baptists.

The Catholic diocese was, at that time, the smallest in USA — but ready to boom (which it has).

It only took a few months for me to realize that the city’s powerful African-American churches were not receiving the coverage that they deserved. This was especially true of the powerful, yet very private, Pentecostal congregations in the Church of God in Christ.

I signed up to receive stacks of church bulletins — looking for news — but I always seemed to hear about important events AFTER they had taken place, when it was too late to attend. When I missed a conference about the modern crisis in black family life, I immediately met with a few pastors requesting their help. I noted that they send me press releases about some events (like a program to honor a veteran church usher) but not about conferences of this kind.

Over and over I heard: We really don’t want coverage of negative issues that divide our people.

I thought of this when I saw the must-read Washington Post story that ran with this headline: “Covid-19 has killed multiple bishops and pastors within the nation’s largest black Pentecostal denomination.”

Much of the coverage of pastors who have insisted on holding face-to-face worship services has focused on independent white evangelical and charismatic congregations. Behind the scenes, there was a larger story taking place. Here is the overture, which is long — but essential.

The Church of God in Christ, the country’s biggest African American Pentecostal denomination, has taken a deep and painful leadership hit with reports of at least a dozen to up to 30 bishops and prominent clergy dying of covid-19, the disease caused by the novel coronavirus.


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#WeRemember: Thoughts on the 25th anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing

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At 9:02 a.m. on April 19, 1995, I had just stepped off The Oklahoman’s eighth-floor newsroom elevator when we heard the boom and saw the smoke in the distance.

In all, 168 people died in the bombing of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City — the deadliest act of domestic terrorism in U.S. history.

Twenty-five years ago, my Oklahoman colleagues and I found ourselves covering the biggest story of our lives, even as we joined our grieving community in shedding tears over an unfathomable tragedy.

I was blessed to tell many stories of victims and survivors.

No single profile stuck with me, though, like the one about a blue-eyed, light-brown-haired baby named Danielle, who was killed in the second-floor America’s Kids Day Care. A quarter-century later, I caught up with Deniece Bell-Pitner, Danielle’s mother, whom I first interviewed in the bombing’s immediate aftermath.

In my story, published on the front page of The Oklahoman last Sunday, Bell-Pitner described how she progressed from anger at God to relying on him.

“I realized, ‘He’s the only way I’m going to get through this,’” she told me.

Another bombing-related angle: I wrote a retrospective piece for The Associated Press on an April 23, 1995, prayer service that began the healing process for Oklahoma and millions of TV viewers around the world.

Power Up: The Week’s Best Reads

1. No hugs or handshakes: Pandemic complicates storm relief: You may — or may not — have heard that 100-plus tornadoes struck the South over two days this week, killing more than 30 people.

The COVID-19 pandemic has, for obvious reasons, eclipsed some ordinarily major news.


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AP covers Orthodox Easter around the world -- except in the churches of America

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All news is local? I guess not, when it comes to Eastern Orthodox Christianity.

I looked forward to coverage of Pascha (Easter in the West) this year for several reasons — in part because bishops in America have cooperated with “shelter in place” orders, but have also been creative in some of their responses. It’s hard to capture Orthodox liturgy with one digital camera, but monasteries and parishes have been doing their best, often with beautiful results. (Click here to visit my old parish outside Johnson City, Tenn, in the Smokey Mountains.)

Thus, I was disappointed when I read the Associated Press feature about Pascha. It was an impressive effort to cover the global angle of this story — but completely ignored the fact that Orthodoxy is right here in North America, as well. The story ended with this reporting credit:

Daria Litvinova reported from Moscow. Theodora Tongas in Athens, Menelaos Hadjicostis in Nicosia, Cyprus, Konstantin Testorides in Skopje, North Macedonia, Elias Meseret in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia and Dusan Stojanovic in Belgrade, Serbia, contributed.

All valid. But who covered Dallas, Wichita, Kan., Pittsburgh, Southern California, Appalachia, Florida and Washington, D.C., among other obvious locations? Did I miss a story somewhere?

You see, Orthodoxy in America has turned into an interesting quilt of ethnic traditions and thriving parishes packed with converts, from lots of other flocks or folks who had no faith at all.

Yes, the Greeks are the Greeks and the Slavs are the Slavs. But there are also Orthodox red necks, Midwestern farmers and lots of other American archetypes. Here’s a rather normal pack of folks singing in lockdown:


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It's a fact that the Holy Fire in Jerusalem is a hoax? Associated Press appears to assume that

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What, pray tell, are journalists supposed to do when people report miracles?

This question isn’t as simple as it sounds. For example, here are two statements to compare: (1) Every year, X-number of people are miraculously healed. (2) Every year, X-number of people pray for healing and they say that they have been healed.

Wait, let’s add another: (3) Every year, X-number of people claim they have been healed and doctors report that, in some cases, there is no simple explanation for the changes in their symptoms and health.

OK, that first statement is a statement of faith. The second is a statement of fact, in that it is accurate that these believers said this and that they believe it. This “they believe it” construction is common in news reports about this kind of thing. The third statement, however, involves information from outside sources — a medical journal, perhaps — that in some way support (or at least do not contradict) the faith claim. In other words, this is a belief statement PLUS some additional reporting.

Personally, I appreciate news reports that include this third stage (such as reports about Vatican investigations of healing claims when an intercessor is being considered for designation as a saint).

This brings me to a recent Associated Press report about the annual Holy Fire rite at Jerusalem’s most important ancient Christian sanctuary. Here is the overture (and pay attention to the final statement):

JERUSALEM -- Israel is working with foreign governments and Orthodox Christian leaders in the Holy Land to make sure that one of their most ancient and mysterious rituals — the Holy Fire ceremony — is not extinguished by the coronavirus outbreak, officials said. …

Each year, thousands of worshippers flock to Jerusalem's Old City and pack into the Church of the Holy Sepulcher — built on the site where Christian tradition holds that Jesus was crucified, buried and resurrected — for the pre-Easter ceremony.

Top Eastern Orthodox clerics enter the Edicule, the small chamber marking the site of Jesus’ tomb, and exit with candles said to be miraculously lit with “holy fire” as a message to the faithful. Details of the flame’s source are a closely guarded secret.

Note the double statement of authority for the authenticity of this rite and miracle claim. First there is a simple “said to be” structure, which is the safe type (2) form discussed above.

But what comes next, with “are” and the “closely guarded secret” language?


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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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For futures files: Women deacons and Latter-day Proclamation (plus bonus Godbeat anecdote)

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Right now, amid a global medical and economic emergency, few editors want stories on complicated religious debates about doctrines and church traditions, nor will distracted readers pay much attention.

Enter the futures file, where religion writers squirrel away material for later coverage when we all get a breather. Here are two key themes from last week.

An important Vatican announcement said Pope Francis has dissolved a study panel that couldn’t agree on whether women should join the order of deacons, and has appointed a completely new commission to undertake the task. This will remain a good situationer months from now because women’s role in the church is perennially interesting and no commission report will appear that soon.

The new study could be the most important — and controversial — result of last October’s synod on the Amazon region. Francis shelved the proposal there to allow married priests in special situations of dire clergy shortages. Deacons could help fill the gap and some said women should be included. Analysts figure that women deacons are more likely to be approved under the liberal Francis than future popes.

Deacons used to be only men on the path to ordination as priests. But the Second Vatican Council restored the ancient order of “permanent” deacons, including married men. They can perform most duties of priests (e.g. leading worship, preaching, teaching, pastoral and charity work, baptisms, weddings, funerals) except for three sacraments: celebration of Mass, hearing confessions and anointing of the sick.

The starting point for writers is a 30,000-word report from the International Theological Commission in 2002.

Also keep on hand National Catholic Reporter articles on the 2020 news here and also here.

The 2002 report acknowledged there were female “deaconesses” in the early Christian centuries but that their functions in church life and, especially, worship “were not purely and simply equivalent to” those of male deacons.


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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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