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Friday, April 11, 2025

The Atlantic

Thinking about 'fundamentalism' with David French: Does this f-word apply to liberalism?

Once upon a time, the word “evangelical” was not the primary curse that public intellectuals (and some journalists) hurled at people they considered dangerous.

Instead, they used “fundamentalist.” That’s a term that, originally, was much easier to define because it was linked to a specific set of documents — the “Fundamentals of the Faith” — produced by a specific set of Protestant thinkers. This crowd, believe it our not, included quite a few conservative Anglicans, Presbyterians and other “mainliners,” including some from the Northeast.

Over time, use of the term got sloppy, even among scholars (as opposed to journalists). As I wrote in an “on Religion” column on this topic:

Anyone who expects scholars to stand strong and defend a basic, historic definition will be disappointed. As philosopher Alvin Plantinga of the University of Notre Dame once quipped, among academics "fundamentalist" has become a "term of abuse or disapprobation" that most often resembles the casual semi-curse, "sumbitch."

"Still, there is a bit more to the meaning. ... In addition to its emotive force, it does have some cognitive content, and ordinarily denotes relatively conservative theological views," noted Plantinga, in an Oxford Press publication. "That makes it more like 'stupid sumbitch.' ... Its cognitive content is given by the phrase 'considerably to the right, theologically speaking, of me and my enlightened friends.' "

However, as your GetReligionistas have noted many times over the past 17 years, the Associated Press Stylebook maintained a nuanced and historically accurate reference to this term. (If this has changed, please let me know. The stylebook on my desk is several years old.)

fundamentalist: The word gained usage in an early 20th century fundamentalist-modernist controversy within Protestantism. In recent years, however, fundamentalist has to a large extent taken on pejorative connotations except when applied to groups that stress strict, literal interpretations of Scripture and separation from other Christians. In general, do not use fundamentalist unless a group applies the word to itself.

Alas, the use of “fundamentalist” in other contexts kept spreading, producing “fundamentalist” Muslims, “fundamentalist” Catholics and other non-Protestant variations. The idea was that, instead of specific doctrines, “fundamentalism” could be seen as an approach to culture, faith, public life, leadership, etc.

With that in mind, readers should check out this recent David French piece from The Dispatch, which ran with this headline: “America Is in the Grips of a Fundamentalist Revival But it’s not Christian.”


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Home, home on the rage: And seldom was heard an unpredictable word in Trump Bible wars

Let me just shout a quick “Amen!” in response to the sentiments offered on Twitter by my colleague Bobby Ross Jr.

Here’s the quote: “Too. Much. News.

For the past three decades or so, Tuesday has been the work day when I try to hide away and write my “On Religion” column, which I ship to the Universal syndicate on Wednesday morning (this week: black preachers, Old Testament prophets and centuries of pain).

Nevertheless, during the past day or so I have been following the Trumpian Bible battles on Twitter. I saw, of course, quite a few people — including conservative Christians — addressing President Donald Trump’s Bible-aloft photo op. I wondered, frankly, whether we would hear from many of those people in the mainstream press coverage that would follow. Uh. That would be “no.”

So raise your hands if you were surprised that the Episcopal Church leadership in Washington, D.C., was outraged? Their comments were essential, of course, because the story unfolded in front of the historic St. John’s Episcopal Church near the White House (site of a fire a day earlier). So you knew religious progressives would get lots of hot ink, as in the Washington Post piece that opened with the Right Rev. Mariann Budde, Episcopal bishop of Washington:

“I am the bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington and was not given even a courtesy call, that they would be clearing [the area] with tear gas so they could use one of our churches as a prop,” Budde said.

She excoriated the president for standing in front of the church — its windows boarded up with plywood — holding up a Bible, which Budde said “declares that God is love.”

“Everything he has said and done is to inflame violence,” Budde of the president. “We need moral leadership, and he’s done everything to divide us.”

Let’s keep reading. Raise your hand if you are surprised that predictable evangelicals said predictable things — which is also a valid part of the story:

Johnnie Moore, a spokesman for several of Trump’s evangelical religious advisers, tweeted favorably about the incident as well.

“I will never forget seeing @POTUS @realDonaldTrump slowly & in-total-command walk from the @WhiteHouse across Lafayette Square to St. John’s Church defying those who aim to derail our national healing by spreading fear, hate & anarchy,” he wrote. “After just saying, ‘I will keep you safe.’ ”


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Thinking about QAnon: Joe Carter sends strong warning to evangelicals about new heresy

This weekend’s think piece is, the final piece of a kind of evangelical-QAnon trilogy, in the wake of the must-read — even if you disagree with parts of it — “Shadowlands” package at The Atlantic Monthly.

By the way, I wonder if anyone in management at the Atlantic realized the religious implications that the term “Shadowland” would have for millions of C.S. Lewis readers. That’s the first thing I thought of when I saw the title. Just saying.

Early this week, I wrote a post about the “The Prophecies of Q” piece of the package and followed up with this week’s “Crossroads” podcast and post. In both, I argued that the Atlantic piece was essential reading — especially in terms of politics and technology. The religion angle — with QAnon as an essentially “evangelical” subculture — wasn’t as solid, in part because of next to zero input from evangelical leaders, including mainstream evangelical leaders, academics and writers who view QAnon as a dangerous heresy that catching on with some grassroots evangelicals. Thus, I argued:

It needed material drawn from major evangelical leaders who are concerned about QAnon and who can critique this trend, drawing on deep wells of evangelical history and doctrine. Baylor University historian Thomas Kidd leaps to mind, author of the recent book “Who Is an Evangelical? A History of a Movement in Crisis.” Or how about former GetReligionista Joe Carter of The Gospel Coalition? Karen Swallow Prior, now of Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary, is a well-known voice online.

Then again, Ed Stetzer — leader of the Billy Graham Center at Wheaton College — has been writing about conspiracy thinking for several years now. Here is a chunk of a new piece, written with colleague Andrew MacDonald, at The Dallas Morning News. The headline: “Too many evangelical Christians fall for conspiracy theories online, and gullibility is not a virtue.”

The podcast post took a look at that Stetzer-MacDonald essay. Now, I would like to point readers toward a think piece at The Gospel Coalition by journalist Joe Carter (a former member of the GetReligion team). The headline: “The FAQs: What Christians Should Know About QAnon.”

Carter opens with one the key claims in the Atlantic piece: “To look at QAnon is to see not just a conspiracy theory but the birth of a new religion.” Carter then adds:


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New podcast: The Atlantic needed to interview some evangelical leaders about QAnon heresy

What do you think? Is this whole QAnon conspiracy thing important or not? And should mainstream evangelical leaders be concerned?

That was the messy topic that “Crossroads” host Todd Wilken and I discussed in this week’s podcast (click here to tune that in). Looming in the background were some Twitter debates in which several people criticized my recent GetReligion post that ran with this headline: “The Atlantic probes QAnon sect and finds (#shocking) another evangelical-ish conspiracy.

Let’s review a few things that I said in that earlier post. For starters, I do plead guilty to saying that some folks on the cultural left are a bit too fond of conspiracy theories involving scary evangelicals. Here’s how I stated that, while taking a shot at fringe folks on the right, as well:

It’s almost as if evangelicals are playing, for some strategic minds on the left, the same sick, oversized role in American life that some evangelicals assign to Hillary Clinton, George Soros, Bill Gates and all those liberal Southern Baptist intellectuals who love Johnny Cash and Jane Austen.

I was reacting to that recent “The Prophecies of Q” at The Atlantic, part of a larger “Shadowland” package about the growing importance of conspiracy theories in American politics.

Now, I think this Atlantic material is must reading, in part because the QAnon phenomenon isn’t well known in the evangelical mainstream. There are run-of-the-mill evangelical leaders who need to know more about this dark-web stuff, just as they needed to know about the twisted religious elements in the larger alt-right. When it comes to technology and politics, this “Shadowlands” package breaks new ground.

Did I attack The Atlantic — a publication frequently praised at GetReligion — and tell people to ignore this topic? Did I say QAnon has nothing to do with the big, complex world of evangelicalism? Let’s see. Here is the end of my earlier piece.


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The Atlantic probes QAnon sect and finds (#shocking) another evangelical-ish conspiracy

There are times, when reading the sprawling “Shadowland” package at The Atlantic, when one is tempted to think that the goal was to weave a massive liberal conspiracy theory about the role that conservative conspiracy theories play in Donald Trump’s America.

At the center of this drama — of course — is evangelical Christianity. After all, evangelical Christians are to blame for Trump’s victory, even if they didn’t swing all those crucial states in the Catholic-labor Rust Belt.

It’s almost as if evangelicals are playing, for some strategic minds on the left, the same sick, oversized role in American life that some evangelicals assign to Hillary Clinton, George Soros, Bill Gates and all those liberal Southern Baptist intellectuals who love Johnny Cash and Jane Austen.

Let’s focus on this piece: “The Prophecies of Q.” Toward the end, a fervent supporter of Trump and the mysterious QAnon offers her credo. It’s clear that she speaks for, you know, millions of people hiding like terrorist sleeper cells in ordinary pews from coast to coast.

This had been something she was reluctant to speak about at first. Now, she said, “I feel God led me to Q. I really feel like God pushed me in this direction. I feel like if it was deceitful, in my spirit, God would be telling me, ‘Enough’s enough.’ But I don’t feel that. I pray about it. I’ve said, ‘Father, should I be wasting my time on this?’ … And I don’t feel that feeling of I should stop.”

Well, “GOD WINS” and all that.

This leads us to an update on “The Late Great Planet Earth” and legions of similar end-of-the-world classics, only this time the man on great white horse (or whatever) is Trump:

Arthur Jones, the director of the documentary film Feels Good Man … told me that QAnon reminds him of his childhood growing up in an evangelical-Christian family in the Ozarks. He said that many people he knew then, and many people he meets now in the most devout parts of the country, are deeply interested in the Book of Revelation, and in trying to unpack “all of its pretty-hard-to-decipher prophecies.” Jones went on: “I think the same kind of person would all of a sudden start pulling at the threads of Q and start feeling like everything is starting to fall into place and make sense. If you are an evangelical and you look at Donald Trump on face value, he lies, he steals, he cheats, he’s been married multiple times, he’s clearly a sinner. But you are trying to find a way that he is somehow part of God’s plan.”

Author Adrienne LaFrance does note that conspiracy theories exist on the cultural and political left (maybe, kind of), as well as the theological and political right. But it’s clear evangelical Protestantism is the X factor in this growing threat to America and the world.


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Key words in New York Times look at nuns killed by coronavirus? Don't look for 'Jesus' or 'God'

There are often times when it isn’t fair to compare a story from one news source with a story offered by another newsroom on a very similar topic. This may be one of those times.

I’ve been reading The Atlantic and The New York Times for decades, through good times and bad — focusing on coverage of religion. I am well aware of the ingredients that you tend to find in feature stories in these elite publications.

Earlier this week, I joined readers and religion-beat pros in pouring social-media praise on an Atlantic feature about the Little Sisters of the Poor. The key was their efforts, in a Catholic nursing home, to carry on with their ministry work — while the coronavirus kept striking down elderly sisters (and a priest) in their flock. Click here to see that post.

As you would expect, the story was packed with news information, as well as poignant details that took readers inside the prayers and rites that define life among the sisters, while discussing the deep religious challenges and questions raised by the pandemic. Yes, “theodicy” questions lurked in the background.

The bottom line: These sisters were living lives defined by the vows and traditions of their faith. There was no way for readers to avoid that — which was crucial during this life-and-death crisis.

This brings me to a stunningly faith-free report at New York Times that ran under this headline:

After Decades of Service, Five Nuns Die as Virus Sweeps Through Convent

The coronavirus outbreak was difficult to trace in the Wisconsin convent, which specializes in care for aging nuns with dementia.

This feature focuses on the School Sisters of Notre Dame, a global order that — as the name suggests — focuses on teaching, at all levels. Here is how they define their mission, shown in an excerpt from the order’s constitution:

Our Mission is to proclaim the good news as School Sisters of Notre Dame, directing our entire lives toward that oneness for which Jesus Christ was sent. As He was sent to show the Father’s love to the world, we are sent to make Christ visible by our very being, by sharing our love, faith, and hope.

How is this mission expressed in Times-speak?


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Little Sisters of the Poor in crisis: This Atlantic feature is about COVID-19 and sacrifice

The Little Sisters of the Poor are back in the news.

Yes, it’s true that, for the third time, the order’s legal team is back at the U.S. Supreme Court. This is, of course, a case linked to the Health and Human Services mandate requiring most religious institutions to offer employees — even students — health-insurance plans covering sterilizations and all FDA-approved contraceptives, including "morning-after pills."

The issue, of course, is whether leaders of the Little Sisters of the Poor, and others, can be forced to cooperate with government programs that violate the doctrines that define their work.

This raises a question that few SCOTUS-beat reporters have answered. Who are the Little Sisters of the Poor and what do the members of this order do to help others?

That brings us to a must-read feature at The Atlantic (by religion-beat pro Emma Green) that ran with this dramatic double-decker headline:

Nuns vs. the Coronavirus

At a Catholic nursing home in Delaware, one-fifth of residents have died. The nuns who run the facility are grappling with their calling.

This story isn’t about politics and SCOTUS, although it might have helped to have included a sentence or two pointing to this order’s role in that First Amendment fight. This feature offers an inside look at the work that the Little Sisters of the Poor are doing during the coronavirus crisis.

As it turns out, they are doing what they have always been doing — but this work now requires them to risk their lives on a daily basis. Here is a crucial early summary:

In many ways, the Little Sisters were founded for a moment like this: The nuns take a special vow of hospitality, promising to accompany the elderly as they move toward death. But like other long-term-care facilities in the U.S., the Little Sisters home in Delaware was blindsided by this pandemic. Even those most at peace with death have been deeply shaken by COVID-19.


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Atlantic feature on Francis Collins covers lots of COVID-19 territory, but gets the faith angle, too

One of the most important religion stories in America right now are the tensions inside many religious organizations — usually between high-ranking clergy and laypeople in the pews — over the extreme forms of “social distancing” that are shutting down worship services or, at best, sending them online.

Ironically, these tensions would fade, to some degree, if American Christians were willing to listen to some of the coronavirus lessons learned by believers in other parts of the world, especially Asia. Click here for a recent GetReligion post on that topic.

Like it or not, these arguments are also being shaped by politics, more than theology, as political scientist and mainline Baptist pastor Ryan Burge has been demonstrating in some of his recent work dissecting some older poll information. See the recent post entitled, “Faith in quarantine: Why are some people praying at home while others flock to pews?”

At the same time, the pew-level arguments about COVID-19 and congregational life may contain themes that are common in many arguments about faith and science. One way to address that divide — as Clemente Lisi said the other day — is to focus on people of faith whose work in labs and hospitals is helping shape the global response to this crisis. See his GetReligion post: “The quest for religion and science coverage of COVID-19 — in the same news report.

If GetReligion readers want a strong summary of some of this material — viewed through the lens of science — they can turn to a strong Peter Wehner feature at (#NoSurprise) The Atlantic. Here’s the double-decker headline:

NIH Director: ‘We’re on an Exponential Curve’

Francis Collins speaks about the coronavirus, his faith, and an unusual friendship.

This long, long interview is worth reading — top to bottom. It’s packed with newsy material and how Collins views what is going on. Note, in particular, the reference to remdesivir and the tests that are underway to see if this drug is as effective as it appears to be in fighting, even curing, COVID-19. Can you think of a bigger potential news story right now than that?


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Was Romney's faith taken seriously in impeachment coverage? Alas, few surprises here...

In the end, the only drama in the impeachment vote didn’t involve the Democrats and Donald Trump.

No, it involved Sen. Mitt Romney and Trump. If you looked at this from Romney’s stated point of view, the final decision came down to Trump vs. God — as in Romney’s oath to follow his faith and his conscience, as opposed to loyalty to his political party.

The most dramatic moment in Romney’s speech on the U.S. Senate floor — that long, long, long pause as he fought to control his emotions — came as he tried to explain how his decision was linked to his faith and his family.

So how did this obvious faith factor show up in the mainstream coverage of the political story of the day? The results, for better and for worse, were totally predictable.

Take the New York Times, for example. Here is the crucial passage, pushed deep into the main Romney story.

On the Senate floor on Wednesday, Mr. Romney placed his decision in the context of his faith, his family and how history would remember it.

And that was that.

The political desk team at The Washington Post managed to get one snippet of Godtalk into its Romney story. Readers who made it to the 12th paragraph read the following:

Romney said he couldn’t let concerns over breaking with his party guide his vote, which he cast as one of conscience and rooted in his religious beliefs.

“I am aware that there are people in my party and in my state who will strenuously disapprove of my decision, and in some quarters, I will be vehemently denounced,” Romney said on the Senate floor. “I am sure to hear abuse from the president and his supporters. Does anyone seriously believe I would consent to these consequences other than from an inescapable conviction that my oath before God demanded it of me?”


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