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Here's a COVID-19 era book list for writers and readers intrigued by religion themes

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In these strange times, writers and others who are intrigued by religion have extra time on their hands. This offers a special opportunity, often hard to manage when deadlines beckon, to read substantive, off-the-news material.

So The Religion Guy offers a few suggestions on what media folk might read themselves or recommend to their audiences.

First, heavy material.

For obvious reasons, any educated 21st Century citizen should read through Islam’s holy book, the Quran, at least once and here’s the chance. (Note that for Islam, English versions are mere educational paraphrases; actual Scripture exists only in the Arabic language.) This can be a challenge for non-Muslims because the meaning is often elliptical, the context obscure and the chronology absent. So The Guy highly recommends “The Study Quran: A New Translation and Commentary” (HarperOne, 2015) by a team of North American Muslim scholars led by Seyyed Hossein Nasr of George Washington University. The readable text is enlightened by elaborate commentary.

Serious inquirers might want to compare the comments in the rather fusty 1934 Quran translation by Abdullah Yusuf Ali (Amana), a traditionalist favorite. For personal reading, M.A.S. Abdel Haleem’s rendition is a felicitous choice (Oxford University Press, 2004). However, The Guy recommends that journalists quote from Majid Fakhry’s translation (New York University Press, 2000) because it carries approval from Sunnism’s Al-Azhar University in Cairo.

Jewish Scripture, a.k.a. the Tanakh or what Christians call the Old Testament, is much better-known.


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That ancient question that will not go away: Where is God in the coronavirus crisis?

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That ancient question that will not go away: Where is God in the coronavirus crisis?

Queen Elizabeth II has seen more than her share of good and evil during her 68 years on the British throne.

Candles shining in the darkness just before Easter are familiar symbols of the presence of good, even in the hardest of times, said the 92-year-old queen, in a recent address about a single subject affecting her people -- the coronavirus crisis.

"Easter isn't cancelled. Indeed, we need Easter as much as ever," she said. "The discovery of the risen Christ on the first Easter Day gave his followers new hope and fresh purpose, and we can all take heart from this. We know that coronavirus will not overcome us. As dark as death can be -- particularly for those suffering with grief -- light and life are greater."

An ancient question loomed over the queen's remarks: Where is God during this global pandemic that threatens the lives and futures of millions of people?

Theologians have a name -- "theodicy" -- for this puzzle. One website defines this term as "a branch of theology ... that attempts to reconcile the existence of evil in the world with the assumption of a benevolent God."

In his book "God in the Dock," the Christian apologist C.S. Lewis of Oxford University argued that "modern man" now assumes, when evil occurs, that God is on trial. This process "may even end in God's acquittal," he noted. "But the important thing is that Man is on the Bench and God is in the Dock."

This tension can be seen during news coverage of tragedies, wars, disasters and pandemics. Ordinary people involved in these stories often address "theodicy" questions, whether journalists realize it or not. This is a pattern I have observed many times -- since this past week marked my 32nd anniversary writing this national "On Religion" column.

The late Peter Jennings of ABC World News Tonight noted that, whenever news teams cover disasters, reporters often ask questions that sound like this: "How did you get through this terrible experience?" Survivors frequently reply: "I don't know. I just prayed. Without God's help, I don't think I could have made it."

What happens next, Jennings once told me, illustrates the gap that separates many journalists and most Americans. There will be an awkward silence, he said, and then the reporter will say something like: "That's nice. But what REALLY got you through this?"


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

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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

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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

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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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