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Beyond Barbie and the Bomb: It's time for religion-beat pros to prepare for #BarbAslan

Beyond Barbie and the Bomb: It's time for religion-beat pros to prepare for #BarbAslan

Hey, religion-beat professionals and news consumers.

I know that it’s hard, right now, but try to ignore the whole “Barbenheimer” phenomenon. That tsunami is really a business-beat story — as Disney and Hollywood hang on for dear life (post-Snow White 2024) in a bitterly divided America.

I am talking about #BarbAslan.

Let’s start here, with the double-decker headline on this totally haunted little story at Entertainment Weekly:

Greta Gerwig says she's 'properly scared' about directing new Chronicles of Narnia movies

The filmmaker is going from Barbie Land to meeting Aslan.

OK, why is she “scared”?

Well, it is a big franchise and the financial risk to Netflix will be substantial. And then there is the fact that Narnia believers rank right up there with Lord of the Rings fans, when it comes to long attention spans and a fierce dedication to sweating the details.

What kind of details? Well, consider this headline from The Guardian, during an earlier Chronicles of Narnia media storm: “Narnia represents everything that is most hateful about religion.”

Thus, how does the EW story handle the obvious Christian images and themes in Narnia, when writing about Gerwig — Barbie, Little Women, Lady Bird — guiding the latest video version of these classics by C.S. Lewis? Think of it this way: What would Screwtape say?

That’s easy. The editors totally ignored it. Here is the overture:

Greta Gerwig is sharing her nerves about leading the charge on a new series of Chronicles of Narnia movies.

The Barbie director has been tapped to write and direct at least two films for Netflix based on the beloved C.S. Lewis novels, and she admitted during a recent podcast appearance that she's "terrified" to start developing them. 


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Podcast: That Baltimore Catholic clergy sexual-abuse report is a big, but complex, story

Podcast: That Baltimore Catholic clergy sexual-abuse report is a big, but complex, story

The inevitable clergy sexual-abuse report from the Archdiocese of Baltimore is a major news story, for legions of valid reasons.

Baltimore is this nation’s “premier see,” the oldest diocese in the United States. This city at the heart of a once-thriving Catholic region that now in a demographic death-dive that is extreme, even by the standards of 21st century America.

To move closer to issues discussed in this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (click here to tune that in), we are also talking about the city and Catholic culture in which the Sister Catherine Cesnik vanished in November of 1969. This is the murdered nun who left behind friends, colleagues and former female students who were convinced that she was about to blow the whistle on serial abuser Father Joseph Maskell, one of the villains at the heart of the famous Netflix who-done-it “The Keepers.”

Yes, the former chaplain at the famous (now closed) Keough High School was mentioned 200 times in the 450-page Maryland Attorney General report on child sexual abuse by clergy (and others) in the Archdiocese of Baltimore.

But here is the key point that I want to make — as part of a broader discussion of the hellish, I would argue demonic, sexual-abuse sins and crimes being committed against children, teens and adults in many different secular and religious institutions. Most journalists see this abuse crisis through a specific lens, and it’s a narrow Catholic lens with events beginning with the The Boston Globe and it’s pivotal Spotlight investigations that went public in 2002.

But, as “The Keepers” series on Netflix makes clear, Father Maskell had already abused children in Baltimore, abuse that was reported to superiors, before he was transferred over to Keough.

Note that this was long before Father Gilbert Gauthe was assigned to St. John the Evangelist Catholic Church in Henry, La., where he began abusing young boys — creating a landmark 1984 case that opened the modern era of media coverage of clergy sexual abuse in America. That media coverage took place early in my own journalism career and I’ve been covering this story ever since.

The whole point of this week’s podcast is that journalists need to think all this over. Do we want to keep painting the sexual abuse of children, teens and adults as a “Catholic” story that began a decade or two ago, or do we want to broaden the lens and look at the bigger picture — which would be an even bigger, more important and, yes, more difficult story?


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Concerning Prince Harry, Episcopalians and the choices faced by millions of 'nones'

Concerning Prince Harry, Episcopalians and the choices faced by millions of 'nones'

If low-church Anglican evangelicals were active in the whole naming-saints thing, you know that the process would already be in motion to honor Queen Elizabeth II. The quiet dignity of her Christian faith was at the heart of her long life of service.

This brings us to what I would argue is a valid religion-angle story linked to “Spare,” the tell-all confessional memoir Prince Harry has released from the media-friendly alternative palace that he is creating with Meghan Markle here in America.

Here is the basic question: In what church will Harry and Meghan raise their children?

This points, of course, to broader questions about the seismic changes inside England’s Royal Family after the passing of Elizabeth the Great. Yes, some of these questions are linked to the complex ecumenical history of King Charles III (see “The Religion of King Charles III” at The National Catholic Register). But it’s pretty clear that there is another divide — in style and content — between the king and Prince Harry.

This brings us to a good news-bad news situation for one of America’s most symbolic denominations.

The good news: Prince Harry would make a great Episcopalian.

The bad news: Prince Harry would make a great Episcopalian, or he could be another “none” or “nothing in particular.”

In a way, Prince Spare faces choices about faith — even liberal Protestant faith — linked to the great exodus of Americans from established religion and, in particular, from the fading “Seven Sisters” of liberal Protestantism. Will the Duke of Sussex and his family become active, vocal Episcopalians or will they become examples of trends described in the book “Nonverts: The Making of Ex-Christian America,” by Stephen Bullivant.

Think about this for a minute. If you sort through the 17,900,000 or so stories in a Google News file about “Spare,” it’s hard to find a better high-point in this drama than the 2018 wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle. And who was the rock star of that media circus? It was the preacher — the leader of the Episcopal Church in the United States. You can hear the hosannas in the overture of this celebratory New York Times feature:


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Here we go again: Hollywood doesn't 'get' America, so maybe religion is part of that?

Here we go again: Hollywood doesn't 'get' America, so maybe religion is part of that?

Every decade or so, power players in Hollywood discover that there are millions of Americans who do not mind buying tickets to see movies that contain overtly religious symbols, themes and even characters.

I’ve been covering this story since the 1980s. It’s fascinating how new generations of reporters manage to work up a sense of culture shock about this.

For example, consider that much-discussed Atlantic feature back in 2005 that ran with this headline: “Can Jesus Save Hollywood?

Another five or six years later, the discussion of niche-Christian entertainment was still creating buzz. The conservative interfaith journal First Things ran a provocative piece with this headline: “Is ‘Christian’ the new ‘Gay’?” Sociologist D. Michael Lindsay, at that time the president of Gordon College, responded to a question about that equation:

This comes from a quote that one woman who I interviewed in Hollywood recounted to me a story that she had where the conversation basically was a Hollywood producer telling her that it had become new and interesting for committed Christians to “come out” in Hollywood. And they actually used that language of “coming out” where one publicly identifies in this way. I think what it really reflects is although historically Christianity has been a very powerful force in this country, within the pockets of elite cultural life — in Hollywood, at universities like Harvard and Yale and the rarefied heights of arts and entertainment — being a deeply committed person of faith, whatever that faith tradition may be, is seen as unusual or odd. There’s pressure when you’re in those high positions not to be too public about your faith and certainly not a faith that is evangelistic in approach because that’s seen as overbearing or narrow-minded.

Like I said, this is “old” news. This trend will go on and on — because America is basically a red v. blue puzzle these days and it’s hard to ignore the evidence that “pew gap” statistics play some role in that.

That David French guy — much hated by Trumpian conservatives and lots of illiberal progressives — had a provocative summary of the situation in his must-read book “Divided We Fall: America's Secession Threat and How to Restore Our Nation.” Here is a summary of that French thesis from a new essay I wrote for the journal Religion & Liberty about the death of the old-school American Model of the Press:

The bottom line: Americans are divided by their choices in news and popular culture, choosing to live in protective silos of digital content. America remains the developing world’s most religious nation, yet its secularized elites occupy one set of zip codes, while most religious believers live in another. These armies share no common standards about "facts," "accuracy" or "fairness." 

 “It's time for Americans to wake up to a fundamental reality: the continued unity of the United States cannot be guaranteed,” wrote French. At this moment, “there is not a single important cultural, religious, political, or social force that is pulling Americans together more than it is pulling us apart.”

This brings me to a new City Journal piece with this headline: “Can Capitalism Save Hollywood? The gulf between elites and audiences is eroding profits throughout entertainment and news media — but signs of correction are emerging.”


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Elizabeth the Great: Why do many journalists choose to edit faith out of her Christmas talks?

Elizabeth the Great: Why do many journalists choose to edit faith out of her Christmas talks?

The Queen is dead. God save the King.

It’s hard to edit the religion content out of that equation. However, when journalists are asked to deal with the death of the queen who was, it can be argued, the most famous woman of the past 100 years, there are plenty of important, “real,” issues to deal with other than the state of her soul and her Christian faith.

I spent most of yesterday afternoon and evening watching the BBC Global coverage of the death of Queen Elizabeth II, as opposed to, shall we say, American “telly.” The BBC focused on the death of one of the greatest, if not “the” greatest, monarchs in Great Britain’s history. There were many references to her Christian faith. American television, for the most part, offered discussions of the death of a great celebrity. If I have been too harsh with that judgment, please send me some quality URLs.

How to approach this totally justified tidal wave of coverage? I think the easiest way to search out the religion-beat content is with two specific online searches.

First, search Google News for “Queen Elizabeth” and “Christmas.” Elizabeth the Great was known, of course, for her dignified and timely Christmas addresses — an essential part of the season for Brits and those who love all things British. The vast majority of the mainstream-media obits for the queen contain references to her Christmas talks — sort of.

What did she say in these very personal messages? That’s the key.

This leads to my second Google News search, for “Queen Elizabeth” and “Christian.” This is where the mainstream press — unless I have missed something, somewhere — offer, well, something like this. In the religious press, readers will find many, many pages of content, such as this feature from Premier Christianity, a niche UK religion website: “Queen Elizabeth II served Christ.”

There was, however, this Washington Post feature with a hopeful title: “Queen Elizabeth II, in her own words: Her most memorable remarks.” After all, it did include a section with this title: “Annual Christmas speeches.” These talks were, readers are told, “peppered with words of wisdom, faith and occasionally personal reflections from the nonagenarian.” However, this is what the Post offered:

“In the old days the monarch led his soldiers on the battlefield and his leadership at all times was close and personal. Today things are very different,” she said in her first televised Christmas broadcast in 1957. “I cannot lead you into battle, I do not give you laws or administer justice but I can do something else, I can give you my heart and my devotion to these old islands and to all the peoples of our brotherhood of nations.”


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Norm Macdonald's 'Nothing Special' -- final thoughts on mortality while the clock was ticking

Norm Macdonald's 'Nothing Special' -- final thoughts on mortality while the clock was ticking

Comedians frequently take shots at taboo targets, but that wasn't what Norm Macdonald was doing when he addressed Down's Syndrome while solo recording what became the new "Nothing Special" on Netflix.

"I love people with Down Syndrome," said Macdonald, in a no-audience performance packed with his familiar pauses and bemused expressions. "I wish I had Down Syndrome, and I'll tell you why. They're happy. You know what I mean? …

"What's wrong with that? … People get mad at them … and they pity them. Now, who's the bad person in that scenario?"

The former Saturday Night Life star -- who died September 14 after a secret nine-year fight with cancer -- recorded nearly an hour of material during the coronavirus pandemic, before yet another operation in the summer of 2020. He said he "didn't want to leave anything on the table in case things went south."

This Netflix finale offers fresh musings on mortality and morality that, with Macdonald's blunt language and haunting images, evolve into meditations on how modern people deceive themselves. The X-factors in his art were religious faith and his love of literature ranging from Mark Twain to Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

"Macdonald showed respect for basically everyone, with the exception of himself and people like O.J. Simpson and Bill Clinton," said Rich Cromwell, a television professional and essayist for The Federalist. "He was not a Christian comedian -- that's clear. But that was part of who he was, and he treated faith with respect. …

"This Down's Syndrome material is a perfect example. He didn't turn that into an overt argument about abortion, but it's clear that he is saying all life is worthy of respect, even if some people don't judge that life to be worthy. He's saying people with Down's Syndrome are God's children, no matter what."

"Nothing Special" ends with an A-list reaction panel -- David Letterman, Adam Sandler, Conan O'Brien, Dave Chappelle, David Spade and Molly Shannon -- who knew Macdonald as a friend and colleague. This special was full of "third-rail stuff," noted O'Brien.

Macdonald riffed on his own "degenerate" gambling sins, his fear of airplane crashes ("Ashes to ashes, stuff to stuff, as the scriptures say"), cannibalism, slut-shaming, racism, transgenderism and his fear of dying and discovering that he picked the wrong religion. He also discusses living wills and giving doctors explicit instructions not to yank "that plug in the wall" in the event of a coma.


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India's 'love jihad' interfaith marriage story may be political spin -- but its effects are real

I don’t recall ever watching it but I do remember the brouhaha that erupted within the Jewish community when the short-lived TV sitcom “Bridget Loves Bernie” debuted in 1972.

Despite the show’s audience popularity it was cancelled after just one season because of the high-profile flak it drew from establishment American Jewish community leaders who objected to the show’s premise — an interfaith romance between Bridget, a Catholic, and Bernie, a Jew. (Neither of its stars, Meredith Baxter and David Birney, were Jews.)

Given the entertainment media’s level of religious, racial, and gender mixing and matching today, “Bridget and Bernie” probably strikes you as pretty tame. However, the show’s timing couldn’t have been worse; the American Jewish community was just starting to publicly debate, with alarm, its growing intermarriage rate.

Leading Orthodox, Conservative and even theologically liberal Reform rabbis lambasted the show as an insult to one of Judaism’s most sacrosanct values, marrying within the tribe, which was particularly strong in the decades after the Holocaust. Boycotts were organized and meetings were held with the TV execs who backed the show. The radical, and sometimes violent, Jewish Defense League issued threats.

Yet in the end, “Bridget Loves Bernie” turned out to be a Jewish-American harbinger. Today, an estimated 50 percent-plus of American Jews marry non-Jews, though it’s still relatively rare within traditionalist Orthodox circles..

But as scandalous as “Bridget Loves Bernie” was in its day, it pales in comparison to the controversy now engulfing the contemporary Indian TV drama “A Suitable Boy.”

That’s because the show — which became available to American audiences via the streaming service AcornTV today (Monday, Dec. 7) — features a love story between a Muslim man and a Hindu woman. For India’s fervent Hindu nationalist politicians, that constitutes “love jihad” — a calculated attack by Muslims on the nation’s Hindu heritage.

In India, “A Suitable Boy,” a BBC production, was broadcast by Netflix. And even though the platform has a relatively small subscription base there it was enough to create quite a stir.

Here’s the top of the New York Times piece that alerted me to this story just before Thanksgiving.


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Stories near you? Ultra-Orthodox Jews making news in a time of coronavirus self-isolation

TV binge-watching has emerged as a primary coping strategy for — I’m estimating here — the gazillions of people tired of 2,000-piece puzzles and cleaning their homes, but who still find themselves indefinitely sequestered because of the coronavirus pandemic.

Dare I say, thank God for cable streaming?

I’d include in my moment of praise the new four-part Netflix series “Unorthodox,” the story of a young Jewish woman raised in the ultra-Orthodox, Hasidic Satmar community in Brooklyn’s Williamsburg neighborhood who runs away because, as she says, “there are too many rules.”

Click here to view the show’s official trailer. The dialogue is in Yiddish, German and English — a linguistic stew that my late in-laws also spoke, often in the same sentence. They also added some Hebrew and were particularly adept at mixing curse words. But I digress.

The show is based on the real-life story of Deborah Feldman. As with virtually all such shows, some details of Feldman’s best-selling (according to Amazon) memoir were changed or invented for dramatic impact.

Media depictions of insular religious communities — be they polygamist Mormons, as in HBO’s TV series “Big Love,” or the Amish in the Academy Award-winning Harrison Ford film “Witness” — require unusual sensitivity.

Journalism, regardless of the form taken (I’m including here cinematic documentaries), requires an equally deft hand. One reason is that the most insular religious groups are notoriously mistrustful of outsiders, making them difficult to penetrate. That in turn often leads to innocent misunderstandings that undercut credibility. (I’ll leave intentional distortions and sensationalism for another post.)

I’ll get back to the how-to issue below. But first let’s give “Unorthodox” a deeper look. This is a topic that could point to news stories linked to other tight-knit religious communities, here in America and around the world.


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LA and New York scribes ask: How does Dolly avoid politics while embracing gays and church folks?

I live in the heart of East Tennessee, which means I have heard more stories and rumors about the queen of our region — Dolly Parton, of course — than outsiders can even imagine.

This is one complex woman we’re talking about. What the locals want the big shots in America’s coastal media elites to get about Dolly is that she is smart as a whip when it comes to business, a phenomenally consistent singer, one of the great songwriters of her era (focus on the lyrics in “Little Sparrow”) and totally sincere in her love of East Tennessee’s mountains and the people who live there.

All the themes in the WNYC podcast series “Dolly Parton’s America” are too complex to handle in one post. Still I urge readers to subscribe to this and dig in — if only to hear the awe in the voices of some New York pros when they discover that Dolly’s mountains are as beautiful and even magical as she says they are. Pay attention to the material about the “Dolly trance” that settles over them from time to time.

One way to wade into the current Dolly surge is to read this recent Los Angeles Times feature: “Dolly Parton refuses to get political. She’d prefer to heal the divide.”

Yes, note the nod to our hellish political times.

How good, how complete, is this article? How you answer that question will probably pivot on which of the following questions matter the most to you: (1) How does Parton appeal to Democrats and Republicans at the same time? Or (2) how has Dolly, for a decade or two, managed to be a superstar with both LGBTQ and evangelical audiences?

If your answer is No. 2, then you’re going to be like me — disappointed that the LA Times scribe seemed to grasp that Christian faith is a huge part of the 73-year-old Dolly’s life, story and appeal, yet decided to avoid digging into the details of her life and beliefs.

I mean, Trump is more important and more interesting than Jesus. Right?

Early on, there are some wink-wink references to religion, like this:

Home to the Dollywood amusement park, a tourist destination that draws more visitors than Graceland, Pigeon Forge has become a pilgrimage site for those who worship at the Church of Dolly.


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