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

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

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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Hulu and the press give Schlafly top billing in new series. Her Catholic faith? Say what?

Something else was mobilizing many people in the news media last week other than the COVID-19 virus. It was none other than Hulu’s premiere of “Mrs. America,” a tell-all on conservative icon the late Phyllis Schlafly.

There was no way that Hulu — famed for its dystopian series “The Handmaid’s Tale” about what might happen if biblical literalists took over America — was going to give Schlafly a fair shake. After all, Serena Joy, the sadistic Christian wife figure in “Handmaid” who preaches that women’s place is only in the home, is modeled after Schlafly, according to Margaret Atwood, author of the book on which the movie is based.

Indeed, Serena Joy, has been called “Phyllis Schlafly on steroids.” However, I wanted to see how “Mrs. Amerca” portrayed Schlafly, a larger-than-life personality whose strength lay in her Catholic faith — something nearly ignored, at least thus far, in the series. Maybe she is supposed to be a white evangelical?

Only the first three episodes have been aired (successive ones will be released on Wednesdays) and I’ve watched them all. The show’s creators missed the religious angle by a mile. There’s only a very slight allusion to Schlafly’s faith, other than a grace said before meals. Most Catholic homes in that era — and some even now — would have had some devotional paintings on the walls at least.

There were a bunch of reviews about the show, some of which revealed a major journalistic failing in that the main writer, Dahvi Waller, admits she didn’t bother contacting Schlafly’s family to check for accuracy. She explains to Vanity Fair that she didn’t want the family’s views to prejudice her own. Translation: She didn’t want to be bothered by the facts.

I found Waller argument beyond incredible. Would she have attempted a biopic of Michelle Obama without consulting the Obama family?


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No think piece this weekend! Time to take some virtual tours of stunning religion sites

Enough thinking, especially about the coronavirus crisis.

This is especially true for those of us who are Eastern Orthodox. Today is our Easter — Pascha — on the ancient Christian calendar.

So rather than a lengthy “think piece” to read on this Sunday — as is the norm at this blog — I would like to give readers a chance to do something relaxing and a bit inspiring.

My colleague Clemente Lisi of The King’s College in New York City has created a small collection of Internet links to virtual tours of several important religious sites and regions around the world. Thus, he writes, in a feature for Religion Unplugged:

With most of the world’s population stuck at home in an effort to stem the spread of the coronavirus, travel has come to a standstill. Springtime, and the approaching summer, are typically a time to take a flight and explore another part of the world.

Since most of us are inside and waiting for this pandemic to subside, you can still visit places virtually — with the help of your computer — from the comforts of home. Religious sites and museums, popular with pilgrims and tourists alike, are very popular this time of year.

Staying home doesn’t mean you can’t travel digitally. It is also a chance to research places you’d like to visit once normalcy resumes.

Amen. How else are you going to get to visit the Vatican, the Middle East, important mosques around the world and Westminster Abbey.

But since this is Pascha, allow me to start Lisi’s virutal here — in Hagia Sophia.


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

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

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?

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)

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

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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