Worship

Time to dig into World Religions 101: Does Vivek Ramaswamy's Hinduism shape his politics?

Time to dig into World Religions 101: Does Vivek Ramaswamy's Hinduism shape his politics?

Vivek Ramaswamy — and his Hindu background — is the hot new flavor in religion reporting this week, with pieces coming out in Rolling Stone and Religion News Service. The New York Times did a piece earlier in July.

Yet, the outlet asking the best questions on this relevant topic may be Globely, a website that tracks international news. We will get to that in a moment. Ramaswamy

For those of you who don’t yet know, Ramaswamy is running for president — the second Hindu to do so since Tulsi Gabbard ran in 2020. In terms of interviewing actual Hindus, RNS came out on top.

Their numbers in this country are about 1% of the populace — 3 million maybe — and they are overwhelmingly first-generation immigrants, educated and majority male. According to this Pew Research data, they aren’t particularly observant religiously and they tend to be well-off.  

Let’s dig in.

First, a gripe: As someone who’s studied the false, independent Christian prophets who swore up and down that Donald Trump would be re-elected president in 2020, it’s beyond annoying when publications choose those folks to represent the beliefs of mainstream Christianity.

Not only did RNS do this in Monday’s story, but sadly, Rolling Stone does the same in their recent story.

Quoting Omaha, Neb., pastor Hank Kunneman — one of the prophets who got it wrong — and applying terms like “Christian nationalist” to anyone to the right of President Joe Biden is giving a big megaphone to this extreme wing of Christianity.

Rolling Stone proclaims:

VIVEK RAMASWAMY IS getting a hard look by Republicans willing to entertain alternatives to Donald Trump, especially as Ron DeSantis continues to flounder. The 37-year-old biotech entrepreneur has surged into third place in several national polls, ahead of prominent Republicans like Mike Pence, Nikki Haley, and Tim Scott.

Ramaswamy is also a practicing Hindu, and though he has been campaigning as an anti-abortion religious conservative, his non-Christian faith is a major stumbling block for many in the GOP’s evangelical base. He’s been on a charm offensive with these evangelical audiences, but the outreach appears to be backfiring, at least among the Christian nationalist set.


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The bottom line: The 'pew gap' remains a powerful reality in American political life

The bottom line: The 'pew gap' remains a powerful reality in American political life

As an emerging American voice, the Rev. Jerry Falwell visited South Carolina in 1980 to promote his new Moral Majority network, while urging evangelicals to back Ronald Reagan, instead of President Jimmy Carter, a Southern Baptist.

Then Furman University professor John C. Green was intrigued by mixed reactions on three Baptist campuses in Greenville -- his own "moderate" Baptist school, a mainstream Southern Baptist college and the proudly fundamentalist Bob Jones University. For example, Bob Jones, Jr., called Falwell the "most dangerous man in America today," because of his efforts to unite religious groups in political activism.

This potent blend of politics and religion was an obvious topic for political-science research. Colleagues agreed, but one said they needed to act fast, "since these kinds of trends burn out quick," Green recalled, laughing. "Here we are in 2023 and arguments about religion and politics are hotter than ever."

From the start, experts tried to show a clash between religion and secularism, noted Green, author of "The Faith Factor: How Religion Influences American Elections."

The reality is more complex than a "God gap." By the late 1980s, researchers learned that -- while most Americans remain believers -- it's crucial to note how often voters attend worship services. The more fervently Americans support religious congregations with their time and money, the more likely they are to back cultural conservatives.

This "religiosity gap" remains relevant. A new Pew Research Center analysis noted that, in 2022 midterms: "The gap in voting preferences by religious attendance was as wide as it's been in any of the last several elections: 56% of those who said they attend religious services a few times a year or less reported voting for Democratic candidates in the 2022 midterms. … But GOP candidates were the favorite among those who attend services monthly or more by more than two-to-one (67%, vs. 31% who voted for Democratic candidates)."

Meanwhile, Protestants supported the "GOP by nearly two-to-one." White evangelical support for Republicans hit 86%, while white Catholics "favored Republican candidates by 25 points, whereas Hispanic Catholics favored Democratic candidates by an even greater margin (34 points)." Jewish voters preferred Democrats -- 68% to 32%. Atheists, agnostics or "nothing in particular" voters remained loyal to the Democrats, with 72% supporting that party, and 27% backing Republicans.

In 2012, Green was part of the Pew Research team behind the landmark "Nones on the Rise" study, which documented the stunning growth of the "religiously unaffiliated."


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Thinking about taking the day off from church, with some help from Lifeway Research

Thinking about taking the day off from church, with some help from Lifeway Research

During my decades on the religion-news beat, I have had conversations with editors about this fact of journalism life in lots of zip codes: Readers who are active in religious congregations tend to be interested in reading news about nuts-and-bolts issues linked to what happens in pews, pulpits, worship, music, religious education, etc.

The problem, of course, is that the vast majority of secular journalists — editors, for example — are not interested in these topics. They don’t “get” why stories that are really, really about religion (as opposed to religion and politics) matter all that much.

As an editor in Charlotte once told me (while discussing a seismic event in Southern Baptist Convention life that created a firestorm among readers): “Nobody reads this stuff but fanatics and every time you write about it we get too many letters to the editor.”

This brings us to a Christianity Today headline — pushed with a clever tweet by Daniel Silliman — that I thought deserved “think piece” status this week: “6 Reasons Bedside Baptist and Church of the Holy Comforter Are So Popular.”

Alas, that story will, for most GetReligion readers, be locked behind a paywall. However, the original Lifeway Research essay by Aaron Earls was also posted at the Baptist Press website. Here is the gently snarky overture:

Jesus said the gates of hell will not prevail against His Church, but sleet and hail will keep many churchgoers out of the pew on a Sunday. In fact, some may even skip to get a little extra sleep or watch their favorite team.

A Lifeway Research study of U.S. adults who attend a religious service at a Protestant or non-denominational church at least monthly finds several reasons some will miss church at least once a year.

Respondents were asked how often they would skip a weekly worship service for six different scenarios – to avoid severe weather, to enjoy an outdoor activity in good weather, to get extra sleep, to meet friends, to avoid traveling when it’s raining or to watch sports.


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Mainline Protestant evolution rolls on: The Sparkle Creed creates some online heat

Mainline Protestant evolution rolls on: The Sparkle Creed creates some online heat

While wrestling with heresies in the Roman world, 2nd-century Christians began combining crucial doctrines into creeds to help converts prepare for baptism.

Soon, the Apostles' Creed emerged as a cornerstone of Western Christianity, with short, ringing phrases that millions recite to this day.

This is not the stuff of viral videos: "I believe in God, the Father almighty, Creator of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried; he descended into hell; on the third day he rose again from the dead; he ascended into heaven, and is seated at the right hand of God the Father almighty; from there he will come to judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting."

However, the Edina Community Lutheran Church in Minneapolis created a stir recently by posting part of a Pride Month service that featured a radically modernized take on the faith passed down through the ages — the Sparkle Creed.

"I believe in the non-binary God whose pronouns are plural. I believe in Jesus Christ, their child, who wore a fabulous tunic and had two dads and saw everyone as a sibling-child of God. I believe in the rainbow Spirit, who shatters our image of one white light and refracts it into a rainbow of gorgeous diversity," affirmed the congregation, which -- in the video -- appears to consist primarily of aging Baby Boomers.

"I believe in the church of everyday saints as numerous, creative and resilient as patches on the AIDS quilt, whose feet are grounded in mud and whose eyes gaze at the stars in wonder. I believe in the call to each of us that love is love is love, so beloved, let us love. I believe, glorious God. Help my unbelief."

Online commentary noted that this text was not created by the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, a mainline Protestant flock that now ordains LGBTQ pastors living in committed relationships.

The Sparkle Creed was circulated in 2021 by the Rev. Rachel Small-Stokes of Immanuel United Church of Christ in Louisville, Kentucky. A "Shower of Stoles" website biography notes that she was raised United Methodist, served as a missionary in that denomination and trained for the ministry. However, she switched to the United Church of Christ -- which began ordaining gay ministers in 1972 -- before being ordained in 2009 and marrying her lesbian partner in 2012.

On Facebook, she explained that this creed began with a computer glitch.


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Bonus thinking about a trend reporters need to 'get' -- that nondenominational boom

Bonus thinking about a trend reporters need to 'get' -- that nondenominational boom

What about that elephant in the religion-beat living room?

I’m talking about nondenominational evangelical and charismatic Protestantism. It’s everywhere. It shows up in story after story, from the January 6th riots at the U.S. Capitol to discussions of the future of the Southern Baptist Convention and other big religion name brands.

In the past week or two, here at GetReligion, we had: “NPR discovers megachurches! But, wait, there is one new wrinkle in this old story.” Or how about: “Many churches are vanishing, while others are growing. Trends worth covering?” Then again: “How many believers exit their childhood faith? And where are they headed these days?

I could go on. But nondenominational churches play a major role in lots of stories and trends worthy of coverage.

So, as a weekend “think piece,” let me point readers to a must-read Christianity Today piece that Bobby Ross, Jr., plugged in last week’s Plug-In feature. Here’s the headline on that Daniel Silliman feature: “Nondenominational Churches Are Growing and Multiplying in DC.

Now, this is a story about religion inside and close to that Beltway thing. But it’s also relevant to people trying to understand that nondenominational elephant (sorry for the political animal image). Thus, the overture:

The District Church could be a Baptist church. The lead pastor, after all, grew up as a Southern Baptist missionary kid and still has a lot of ties to that denomination.

It could also be Anglican, with the way it leans into liturgy and the church calendar. Or a social justice church, with its focus on the inequality so visible in Washington, DC, or charismatic, with its emphasis on prayer and sensitivity to the Spirit.

Instead, the church is a little bit of all these things. It is nondenominational, pulling together different Christian streams to minister effectively to the young white professionals who have moved to work in the capital, as well as the upwardly mobile Nigerians and South Koreans who’ve emigrated to the seat of the United States government.


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Podcast: WPost finds a 'good' religion vs. 'bad' religion sermon in small-town Georgia

Podcast: WPost finds a 'good' religion vs. 'bad' religion sermon in small-town Georgia

If you grew up in the Bible Belt or in the heavily churched Midwest, you know that a good sermon is supposed to contain (all together now) “three points and a poem.”

This week’s “Crossroads” podcast (click here to tune that in) focused on a Washington Post sermon that ran with this headline: “A small-town Georgia preacher fills pews by leaving no one out.

It’s possible that the author of this highly doctrinal news story understood the basics of Southern preaching. Hold that thought, because we will return to it. But first: The Big Idea of this sermon is stated in absolute terms — there is “good” religion and there is “bad” religion. Let they who have ears, let them hear (or whatever the new language is in this case).

I. It is always appropriate to open a sermon with a conversion story that illustrates the preacher’s Big Idea. This grab-a-tissue Washington Post feature could not be more explicit about that:

HARTWELL, Ga. — At night, the worn sign looks like a beacon in the darkness out front of the modest, red-brick Mt. Hebron Baptist Church.

The tired, it reads. The poor. And huddled masses. Welcome home.

In this small town in the rural northeast corner of Georgia, it’s the kind of message that assures Teri Massey she is loved for being who she is — a message 180 degrees from the one she heard in the Baptist church where she spent her teens into her 40s, where her grandfather, father and brother all held leadership positions.

When Massey came out in 2004, shortly after meeting the woman she later would marry, the congregation in that other small Georgia town responded by campaigning to send her to conversion therapy and holding prayer vigils outside her home.

She found Mt. Hebron a few years ago through a friend. Pastor Grant Myerholtz, whose usual preaching attire is T-shirt and jeans, met her and her wife at the door. They listened carefully as he stood in the pulpit and proclaimed: All are welcome.

“It was like this load was off of me,” Massey, 63, recalled last week.

There are good churches and there are bad churches. Got that.

II. This is an age in which churches need to change their doctrines if they want to, well, grow (or at the very least get good coverage from blue-zip-code elite newsrooms).

Thus, this Post story offers a very clear thesis statement as Point II.


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NPR discovers megachurches! But, wait, there is one new wrinkle in this old story

NPR discovers megachurches! But, wait, there is one new wrinkle in this old story

Not that long ago, National Public Radio came to my backyard. The headline on the resulting GetReligion post summed up what happened: “NPR comes to hills of Tennessee and sees exactly the religion trends that you would expect.”

This was another one of those post-coronavirus pieces that talked about the challenges to the mainline churches that are dear to the heart of spiritual seekers in prestigious newsrooms. The NPR team headed straight to progressive East Tennessee churches — many already in decline — in which the pews are full of people who have NPR as the main pre-set on their car radios.

The result was valid, but so, so, so incomplete. As I wrote at the time:

It’s absolutely true that there are declining churches here in the mountains of East Tennessee, especially during COVID-tide. That’s an important story. The problem is that there are also growing churches in the region (yes, including my own Orthodox parish, which has grown at least 25% in the past three years) and that’s a detail that makes this story more complex.

Well, I am happy (sort of) to note that NPR journalists have now discovered (or rediscovered) two major trends that began back in the 1970s and, maybe, they see some new connections. The headline on this feature: “Megachurches are getting even bigger as churches close across the country.”

The two old trends: (1) Megachurches are real and growing and (2) much of this is linked to the stunning growth of nondenominational evangelical and charismatic Protestantism in American life (and around the world).

I will stress, once again, that this is a valid story. I am less convinced that this is somehow linked to life after the COVID-wave, although it is certainly important that entrepreneurial megachurches were already wired for online worship, while most denominational churches were not.

Anyway, here is the long overture, which includes several themes:

Something clicked for Marlena Bhame when she first stepped into Liquid Church about four years ago. She'd been searching for something more spiritually dynamic and meaningful than the faith tradition she'd grown up in, or the various others she had tried out over the years.


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A nuanced look at Portland Archbishop Sample? Journalists aren't coming up with it

A nuanced look at Portland Archbishop Sample? Journalists aren't coming up with it

It must be a trend: Catholic bishops are laying down the law these days on the use of preferred pronouns, cross-dressing and other accoutrements of transgender individuals on their property – and they’re not getting a lot of love from the media over it.

The latest fight is within the Archdiocese of Portland (Ore.), but the dioceses of Des Moines, St. Paul and Minneapolis and Springfield, Ill. have taken similar stands. So I am curious a decision by the Catholic archbishop of Portland has created such a ruckus. Could it be because of the ultra gay-friendly ethos of the area? The Oregonian’s headline made it clear where it stood: “Portland-area Catholic schools are at a crossroads over transgender, nonbinary student rights.”

Hundreds of Portland area families whose children attend Catholic schools are protesting western Oregon Archbishop Alexander Sample’s guidance that schools under the church’s umbrella not recognize transgender and nonbinary students’ pronouns and identities.

Sample quietly released the 17-page document in January, when it was billed as a “teaching and formation resource” and not a mandate for the 41 archdiocesan schools, which stretch from Portland to Medford and include Central Catholic High School and 15 K-8 schools in Portland.

Nowhere in the rest of the piece is the statistic of “hundreds” of families supported although I read elsewhere that more than 1,000 people signed a petition opposing the archbishop.

The news of Catholic resistance to Sample was broken in the middle of Pride Month, a true insult in left-left Portland. (Note: I attended college there, had my first newspaper job in the Portland suburbs, have friends and family there, and I swoop through town at least once or twice a year, so I have more than a glancing knowledge of the place).


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