Evangelicals

A modern, urban pastor comes to terms with his backwoods mountain family roots

A modern, urban pastor comes to terms with his backwoods mountain family roots

Growing up in West Virginia, the Rev. Michael Clary always wondered about some of the archaic language his elders used, words like "yonder" and "reckon."

Then he learned that his grandfather -- a steel-mill worker and country preacher -- had memorized the classic King James Bible by listening to tapes during his long drives to the factory. He had a sixth-grade education and, if he couldn't spell something, he could still quote a verse that contained the word and then find it in his Bible.

All that scripture soaked in -- deep. Thus, "I reckon" wasn't just another way to say "probably." It was New Testament language, such as: "For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us."

These Appalachian roots caused pangs of shame during graduate school, said Clary, who leads Christ the King Church, a Southern Baptist congregation in Cincinnati.

Soon after that, "I was pastoring a fast growing church in an urban environment, and a spirit of elitism had infected us," he wrote, in a Twitter stream that went viral. "The people we felt free to mock were conservative, uneducated, backwoods fundies. … They lacked the theological sophistication and cultural insight I had acquired while doing campus ministry and studying at seminary."

The bottom line: "I had moved on. I was better than them. I was more learned and cultured. I had 'seen the world' and they hadn't."

Clary said he wrote those "words with tears in my eyes." Reached by telephone, he explained that he was facing the kinds of church tensions that arise while defending traditional doctrines in a flock located a few blocks from the University of Cincinnati. It's hard to be "winsome" -- a buzz word today -- while trying to remain faithful in a bitterly divided culture.


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Do American evangelicals suffer 'second class' status among political conservatives?

Do American evangelicals suffer 'second class' status among political conservatives?

One reason the media often fail to “get” American Evangelical Protestantism is that it’s a complex mashup of elements, not simply an alliance of conventional church bodies.

This overlapping empire of nondenominational “parachurch” agencies, colleges, freelance personalities, seminaries, publishing houses and, often, independent congregations is important and over the decades it rallied prominently at trade shows for retailers and broadcasters and the annual National Prayer Breakfast.

The first Prayer Breakfast occurred when President Dwight D. Eisenhower spoke just after his 1953 inauguration. Every president has appeared each year since, joined by politicians and powerbrokers. The idea emerged from private prayer meetings for members of Congress organized by a Methodist minister, but the sponsoring organization evolved into the Evangelical-toned International Foundation, a.k.a. “the Family” or “the Fellowship.”

Though pious participants luxuriated in mingling with the Washington elite at the large prayer assemblage, in Evangelical movement work what mattered most was the networking and punditry at assorted workshops the foundation sponsored in and around the big draw of the Prayer Breakfast itself.

Last week that setup disappeared.

A new sponsoring foundation had President Joe Biden address a cozy gathering for bagel-munching members of Congress who were allowed only one guest apiece. Simultaneously, the older foundation mounted its glitzy gathering where 1,600 enjoyed a ballroom breakfast, watched Biden’s talk by streamed video, then attended the usual array of Evangelical breakout sessions. Here's some Religion News Service background on this awkward two-way split.

The new arrangement symbolizes efforts to limit Evangelical influence upon political leadership. By coincidence, the competing breakfasts occurred as new debate emerges on whether Evangelicals actually have the political impact endlessly attributed to them by fearful opponents.

Pundit Rod “Benedict Option” Dreher raised that newsworthy question in a January 30 post, and in doing so highlighted a highly debatable but significant 2021 article that most journalists missed, including The Guy.


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Kansas City Star shows a curious lack of curiosity about pro-LGBTQ Christian school's closing

Kansas City Star shows a curious lack of curiosity about pro-LGBTQ Christian school's closing

All together now: Who. What. When. Where. Why. How.

Once upon a time, journalists were really curious people when it came to seeking basic, on-the-record answers to factual questions linked to the stories they were covering. That old “W5H” equation didn’t cover all the bases, of course, but it wasn’t a bad place to start.

When covering stories about a religious group, it really helps to know the specific religious tradition or larger organization (think “denomination”) to which it is linked. If it’s an ecumenical or interfaith group, that may require seeking the ties that band various groups of people who are involved in this project.

This brings us to a recent Kansas City Star report that ran with this headline: “KC Christian school lost donations after supporting LGBTQ rights. Now it’s closing.”

By definition, a “Christian school” is a religious organization. I have never heard of one that did not have ties of some kind — financial, theological, cultural or historical — to a specific religious tradition or to a group of churches that helped it get started. Think of this as the “Who” and “Why” factors.

Yes, in this nondenominational age a school may, in fact, have links to a number of congregations or religious networks. But that doesn’t mean there are no, to quote that old Gospel hymn, "ties that bind.” A nondenominational school will still have specific flocks of believersthat provide students, donations, training and other kinds of practical support.

The Urban Christian Academy certainly fits the nondenominational mold, or lack of a mold. Check out its online “manifesto” about it’s spiritual and intellectual commitments. However, that doesn’t mean that its leaders have zero practical or even personal links to institutional churches or other schools.

There was plenty of room to address questions of this kind in this 1,500-word feature. Was there a reason that the Kansas City Star included next to zero information about the institutional DNA of this urban school? I find the newsroom’s lack of curiosity to be be rather curious. Let’s look at a few pieces of this report and look for clues as to what is going on, starting with the overture:

In its nine years of existence, Urban Christian Academy steadily grew, adding a new grade each year in a neglected southeast Kansas City neighborhood.

The school has provided its students, kindergarten through eighth grade, with a tuition-free private education. And with its “inclusive theology,” it always supported LGBTQ students and staff. But it did so quietly, as issues like same-sex marriage and gay clergy divided Protestant denominations while hate crimes and violence against the LGBTQ community rose.

OK, this is a story about theological, doctrinal divisions inside “Protestant denominations.”


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Prayer in the NFL? The powers that be worry about this complex, controversial subject

Prayer in the NFL? The powers that be worry about this complex, controversial subject

Super Bowls create media storms, but many journalists and sports executives thought what happened in 1988 was totally out of bounds.

The establishment was shocked when players and coaches from Denver and Washington, D.C., held a prayer meeting on the eve of this NFL rite. The powers that be worried that "fraternization" of this kind could damage this clash between gridiron warriors.

To make matters worse, players from competing teams soon began kneeling in post-game, on-field prayer huddles as a symbol of unity and, often, shared concerns about injured players. Players waved off league efforts to stop the prayer circles.

"For the NFL, this was a corporate thing," said historian Paul Putz, of Baylor University's Faith & Sports Institute. Executives are "fine with prayer, as long as it isn't tied to anything controversial or a specific brand of religion. …

"The NFL didn't mind prayers that were out of sight, maybe in locker rooms with chaplains. But then things started happening on television. That was too much."

That was then. The electric wave of prayer that swept America after Buffalo Bills safety Damar Hamlin's heart-stopping injury was, he said, a "critical mass" moment and a sign of changing times -- maybe.

The key was that this drama happened on "Monday Night Football," with anguished players from both teams huddled around Hamlin near midfield, many visibly praying, as first responders fought to save his life.

It was natural for broadcasters to acknowledge the explosion of social-media commentary from athletes, coaches and others -- including fervent calls for prayer. All 32 NFL teams soon posted #PrayForDamar appeals.

"We have never seen anything like this before," said Putz. It became clear that it "was OK to tweet messages that went way beyond the usual thoughts and prayers."

The question, added Putz, is what happens next.


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(Still) thinking about Americans wanting other people's religion to stay out of politics

(Still) thinking about Americans wanting other people's religion to stay out of politics

How old does a “think piece” need to be for people to stop thinking about it?

Let me state that another way: What if a “think piece” is a year old and I am still thinking about it?

Part of my logic, in this case, is that discussion of certain topics linked to this particular Religion in Public blog piece have, if anything, only heated up in the 12 months since it was published. Consider the urgent push for reporting, publishing and polling about “Christian nationalism,” which has almost turned into an industry of its own, especially in certain niche corners of the press.

Oh, has the Associated Press ruled on whether the “n” in that term is upper- or lower-case? If this is a movement, it really needs its own website and corporate headquarters, or is that like asking for official contact information about the Mafia?

Anyway, this brings me to a really interesting piece by researcher Paul A. Djupe of Denison University, who is best known in these parts as a frequent co-writer with Ryan Burge, a contributor to this website. Here is the headline: “Congregations are Doing Acceptable Amounts of Political Engagement.”

The question at the heart of the essay: Do people who claim to want churches to stay out of politics include their own for of organized religion (and maybe unorganized sort-of religion)? Djupe is reacting, in part, to a Pew Research study posted online with this headline: “Americans Have Positive Views About Religion’s Role in Society, but Want It Out of Politics.”

So here is the first major chunk of material that readers — journalists especially — need to think about.

In October 2020, at the height of the voting phase of the presidential election, we asked 1,306 worship attenders about the level of political engagement in their house of worship, soliciting whether the congregation needed to be less political, more political, or had just the right level of political engagement. The (weighted) response is almost the exact opposite of the Pew result from a few years ago — 60 percent believe their congregation was just right or should be more political, while 40 percent say it should be less (or way less) political.


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Tradition, custom, religious law: How should worn-out Bibles or Qurans be disposed of?

Tradition, custom, religious law: How should worn-out Bibles or Qurans be disposed of?

THE QUESTION:

How should worn-out Bibles or Qurans be disposed of?

THE RELIGION GUY’S ANSWER:

Due to occasional news about Muslim riots when a copy of the Quran is believed to be mistreated, you’re probably aware that Islam takes very seriously the way its sacred book is handled, about which more below.

But The Guy has rarely if ever heard of such discussion about a printed Bible and therefore was intrigued this past week when Joe Carter (a GetReligion alumnus) responded online on behalf of the Gospel Coalition to a reader who asked, “How do you dispose of a worn-out Bible? Is there a protocol like with a flag?”

As the question indicated, federal law states that an American flag “in such condition that it is no longer a fitting emblem for display should be destroyed in a dignified way, preferably by burning.” Patriotic groups often provide public boxes to collect discarded flags that are then burned in formal ceremonies.

As for the Bible, the book itself contains no rules on proper disposal, so the Coalition regards this as “a matter of personal preference.” But many people naturally feel that respect for Scripture rules out simply tossing the holy book into the trash alongside cookie wrappers and egg shells.

As a conservative Protestant resource, the Coalition warns against any “unconscious sense that the printed pages of a Bible gain something of the spiritual essence of God’s Word,” which “could easily slip into a superstitious, or even idolatrous, view of print Bibles.”


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OK, we get it: That whole 'Christian nationalism' thing is hot, right now. But what is it?

OK, we get it: That whole 'Christian nationalism' thing is hot, right now. But what is it?

By all indications, urgent warnings against “Christian nationalism” (CN) will continue as a major media theme through Election Day 2024.

Journalists will need to be careful with a tricky label that’s mostly shunned by supposed participants in the CN movement and employed by opponents (as with “fundamentalist” or “ultra-“ or “cult”). How complex is the fighting about this term? Click here to tune in some of the YouTube debates.

Critics’ typical definition comes from attorney Amanda Tyler, who leads Christians Against Christian Nationalism (with a large “N”) and the proudly progressive Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty. She says CN “seeks to merge American and Christian identities, distorting both the Christian faith and America’s constitutional democracy.” Its “mythological” view of founding of a “Christian nation” means America is singled out “to fulfill God’s purposes on earth.” Further, CN “demands a privileged place for Christianity in public life, buttressed by the active support of government at all levels.”

Writers could pursue this sort of theme sideways by reviewing or collecting pro and con reactions to “How to Be a Patriotic Christian: Love of Country as Love of Neighbor,” the latest book by middle-roading evangelical Richard Mouw of Calvin University, formerly president of Fuller Theological Seminary.

Otherwise, here's a rundown to guide journalists on some of the notable CN chatter since The Guy took a whack at the definition issue last year year at GetReligion.

Hang on, because this gets complex. For starters, ambiguity abounded in an October Pew Research survey.

Some 60% of adults think -- yes -- the founders intended the U.S. to be a “Christian nation,” and 45% think it actually “should be” such, though for many that means only generalized moral guidance while only 18% think the phrase indicates Christian-based governance. Importantly, a 54% majority had never even heard of CN.

That belief the U.S. “should be” a Christian nation was favored by fully 65% of Black Protestants (compared with e.g. only 47% of Catholics). Yet University of Texas political scientist Eric McDaniel wrote for TheConversation.com that CN believes the only “true” Americans are “white, Christian and U.S.-born and whose families have European roots.”


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Podcast: Let's play 'spot the sound bite' with Joe Biden's sermon at Ebenezer Baptist

Podcast: Let's play 'spot the sound bite' with Joe Biden's sermon at Ebenezer Baptist

Communications specialists inside the D.C. Beltway — journalists, PR pros, everybody — used to have a game they would play when watching major speeches. Check out the Michael Keaton and Geena Davis flick “Speechless,” about two dueling speechwriters whose romance causes complications.

The goal: Watch the speech and predict the sound bite that would make it into news reports. The key was “buzz,” that mysterious factor linked to quotes — positive or negative — that grab editors and producers and, hurrah, affect whatever political war or horse race was in the headlines.

I offered a variation on this process during this week’s “Crossroads” podcast broadcast (CLICK HERE to tune that in), only I applied it, at first, to the pope.

My editors always thought the most important part of a papal speech was whatever he said that was linked to “real news,” as in American politics. I argued that it helped to figure out what the pope was trying to say to millions of Catholics around the world and this (#TriggerWarning) usually had something to do with faith, worship and, well, Catholicism. You know, Jesus stuff.

The goal in this podcast was to apply this process to the elite press coverage of President Joe Biden’s Sunday morning appearance in the pulpit of the historic Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, where the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., was once pastor. This was, according to most of the mainstream press, a “sermon,” as opposed to a political speech of some kind (click here to read the White House transcript).

As you would imagine, conservative media focused on Biden remarks that may or may not have had some connection to real events or even his own life. Was it accurate, for example, for Biden to say he was active, as a young man, in the Civil Rights Movement and highly influenced by the Black church?

The mainstream press mainly went with political sound-bites, but stressed the ones that contained references to Biden’s liberal Catholic faith, biblical social-justice language or muted jabs at Republicans. In other words, the MSM focused on the messages that Biden wanted to deliver. Hold that thought.


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