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Southern Baptists wade into the troubled waters of religious liberty -- once again

Southern Baptists wade into the troubled waters of religious liberty -- once again

In the midst of heated debates about female pastors and the morality of in vitro fertilization, the national Southern Baptist Convention recently passed a religious liberty resolution that -- in terms of Baptist history -- was rather ordinary.

But these are not ordinary times in American life.

"Messengers" from autonomous SBC congregations resolved: "That we encourage and support robust Christian engagement in the public square, including individual Christians who pursue elected or appointed office in order to influence government by living out their Christian worldview while advocating Christian morals with respect for the consciences of all people."

The "resolved" clauses then became much more specific.

"That we oppose any effort to establish a state religion of any nation, including the United States of America; that we refute the idea that God has commanded any state to establish any religion or any denomination; and we reject any government coercion or enforcement of religious belief, including blasphemy laws. …

"That we oppose any effort to use the people and the churches of the Southern Baptist Convention to establish Christianity as the state religion of the United States of America."

During debates on convention-floor debates, that blunt line in Resolution 2 -- opposing efforts to establish a Christian "state religion" -- was challenged by the Rev. Justin Ramey of Crider Baptist Church in Eddyville, Kentucky.

"What does that mean?", he asked. "Should we remove 'In God We Trust' from our currency? Does it mean we should remove 'under God' from our pledge? I'm grateful that our government at one time at least acknowledged Christianity as our foundation and encouraged it."

The final Resolution 2 text failed to include two important words in today's fiery debates about religion in American life, according to Mark Wingfield of the progressive Baptist News Global website.

Celtics coach Joe Mazzulla: Battles with ambition and pride, appeals for grace and faith

Celtics coach Joe Mazzulla: Battles with ambition and pride, appeals for grace and faith

It's rare to hear eight seconds of dead silence during an NBA Finals press conference.

Boston Celtics head coach Joe Mazzulla was asked if -- because of the "plight" of Black head coaches -- it was significant that both teams were led by Black men. Was this a source of "pride" for him?

The son of an Italian father and a Black mother, Mazzulla is an outspoken Catholic whose pre-game routine includes pacing through an empty arena, praying with a rosary made with wood from the court of the original Boston Garden.

Mazzulla's answer was blunt: "I wonder how many of those have been Christian coaches?"

While this response drew many cheers in social media, Los Angeles Lakers legend Kareem Abdul-Jabbar was not amused.

Mazzulla "decided to ignore a legitimate question about race that might have been illuminating and inspiring for others, and instead decided to virtue signal," the six-time NBA Most Valuable Player wrote on Substack. The answer was "strangely aggressive since Christians are not discriminated against but, as a group, are more likely to discriminate against others," Abdul-Jabbar added.

The reporter who asked the pivotal question went further, suggesting that the Celtics coach apparently didn't grasp that it's "possible to be both Black and Christian."

"This didn't feel like a denouncement of Mazzulla's Blackness, so to speak," wrote Vincent Goodwill of Yahoo Sports. "It wasn't quite the 'I'm not Black, I'm OJ' moment; it just leaves room for interpretation."

This wasn't the first time that Mazzulla has puzzled journalists. In 2022, he was asked if he met the "royal family," after Prince William and Princess Kate Middleton attended a game.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph? … I'm only familiar with one royal family," he quipped.

The new kind of threat to Alaska's historic Russian Orthodox cathedral

The new kind of threat to Alaska's historic Russian Orthodox cathedral

The fire began in the early hours of January 2, 1966, and spread through the business district of Sitka, Alaska -- toward the historic St. Michael's Russian Orthodox Cathedral.

"Everyone in town ran to the church and started passing things out hand to hand in long chains of people," said Father Herman Belt, the cathedral's current dean. "They even carried out the chandelier, since you could lower it back then. They ran out with all the candlestands. They carried out the crosses. We lost one icon."

The rescued treasures included the bishop's throne carved by St. Innocent Veniaminov, the Siberian priest and missionary who in 1840 was sent to serve as bishop of "New Archangel," the island village that would become Sitka. The bishop translated the Gospels and Orthodox texts into several Alaskan languages and dialects and, later, served as Metropolitan of Moscow.

The bishop's staff of St. Innocent is in the rebuilt sanctuary, leaning next to the central doors before the altar. The cathedral -- designed by St. Innocent -- contains other links to six saints whose lives touched Sitka.

The original cathedral was completed in 1848, built with logs, clapboard siding and interior walls covered in sailcloth. St. Michael's was rebuilt using concrete, steel and fire-resistant materials, using 1961 drawings from the Historic American Buildings Survey.

Russian churches can handle winter. But snow isn't the problem, in a cathedral near the Gulf of Alaska. There are leaks along joints in the domes and the wooden floors squeak because of water damage. Bedrock under Sitka ends a block away.

"We're in the mush below that, then we've got the ocean, so all the rain and melt running down dumps into our basement," Belt explained. "If we get snow here, it isn't too bad. But we get lots of rain with wind, coming off the water."

Sitka averages 90 inches of rain a year, in this temperate rain forest. Seattle gets 40.

United Methodist establishment wins and steers left into a sea of red ink

United Methodist establishment wins and steers left into a sea of red ink

While the "Kingsfold" hymn melody was traditional, the modern text of "Creator of the Intertwined" captured the progressive course steered by the recent General Conference of the embattled United Methodist Church.

"Creator of the intertwined, you made us all unique: / each one with ears to hear faith's call, each one with voice to speak. / Each worships where the call is heard, in forest, temple, dome, / on mountain top, in upper room -- each one must find a home," sang the delegates, on April 30. The final line added: "From different sources comfort comes, each seeks for the divine: / your voice speaks many languages, just one of them is mine."

While insiders grasped the symbolism of this interfaith affirmation, the news at this pandemic-delayed gathering focused, as expected, on biblical authority and sexuality. This General Conference urgently moved to modernize many UMC doctrines and laws, after the exit of 7,659 congregations in America's biggest church split since the Civil War.

With a 523-161 vote, these words vanished from the Book of Discipline: "The practice of homosexuality … is incompatible with Christian teaching." This had long banned "self-avowed practicing homosexuals" from ordination. Another revision instructed regional leaders to start training churches to accept pastors, whatever their LGBTQ+ identities.

"It's about damn time!", said John Pavlovitz, a pastor, author and activist popular with UMC progressives. "Either you believe LGBTQ are made by God and fully indwelled with beauty and dignity as-is -- or you don't. … Either you declare their worth by inviting them fully into your community -- or you refuse to. Either you believe gender identity and sexuality aren't moral flaws -- or you believe they are," he wrote, at his The Beautiful Mess website.

The General Conference also approved a "regionalization" constitutional amendment allowing U.S. churches to modernize church law and doctrine, while Global South conservatives, especially growing churches in Africa, could retain old traditions.

The big idea: Harrison Butker focused on pandemic-era Catholic pain about sacraments

The big idea: Harrison Butker focused on pandemic-era Catholic pain about sacraments

Early in the coronavirus pandemic, Catholic clergy -- along with pastors in many other traditions -- struggled with secular authorities or even their own leaders while trying to provide sacred rites at the heart of their faith.

Churches were locked. Some priests turned to open-air confessions, even automobile drive-through lanes. In some cities priests in hazmat suits were allowed to offer last rites, usually without family members present. Some officials, secular and sacred, were more flexible than others.

A network of Catholic activists wrote an urgent plea: "Bishops, we, your faithful flock, implore you to do everything you can to make the sacraments more available. … Something is terribly wrong with a culture that allows abortion clinics and liquor stores to remain open but shuts down places of worship."

This bitter divide resurfaced during the May 11 Benedictine College speech by Harrison Butker, a three-time Super Bowl champion from the nearby Kansas City Chiefs. While remarks about women and family life dominated headlines, most of the placekicker's 20-minute address focused on divisions inside Catholicism.

Cultural chaos is "in our parishes, and sadly, in our cathedrals too," said Butker. "As we saw during the pandemic, too many bishops were not leaders at all. They were motivated by fear, fear of being sued, fear of being removed, fear of being disliked. They showed by their actions, intentional or unintentional, that the sacraments don't actually matter. Because of this, countless people died alone, without access to the sacraments."

Thus, many Catholics have simply stopped listening to bishops they believe are acting like politicians, instead of spiritual fathers, he claimed. "Today, our shepherds are far more concerned with keeping the doors open to the chancery than they are with saying the difficult stuff out loud."

The rise and fall of the AI 'Father Justin' is a technology parable for our time

The rise and fall of the AI 'Father Justin' is a technology parable for our time

The penitent crafted the perfect sin to confess to a virtual priest: "Bless me father, for I have sinned. … I have had anger in my heart about the deployment of AI chatbots in inappropriate places."

"Father Justin," a 3D AI character created by the San Diego-based Catholic Answers network, offered biblical advice for wrestling with anger.

"God is merciful and loving, my child," the bot concluded. "For your penance, I ask you to pray the Our Father three times, reflecting on God's infinite mercy and love. And now, I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

Legions of cyberspace believers pounced. One tweeted this cry: "HAIEEEEEEE." Susannah Black Roberts of Plough Magazine noted: "Hey @catholiccom, your AI 'priest' is offering absolution. Might want to kill it with fire and never do anything like this again."

Online detectives found other flaws. The National Catholic Register noted the app struggled when turning voices into printed words, translating "Eucharist" as "caressed" or even "you, you, you," while "Communion" became "commute." The Pillar asked if it was possible to baptize "my baby with Gatorade in an emergency" and Father Justin affirmed that option.

"I say this with nothing but respect for you guys and your work, but ... this should've just been a plain search engine," tweeted Father Mike Palmer of the Congregation of Holy Cross. "Dressing it up as a soulless AI avatar of a priest does absolutely nothing except cause confusion and invite mockery of your otherwise excellent work."

Catholic Answers President Christopher Check quickly confessed that his team "received a good deal of helpful feedback." Thus, "Justin" lost his clerical collar.

Into year 36: When it comes to religion news, many journalists are in a class of their own

Into year 36: When it comes to religion news, many journalists are in a class of their own

After studying relevant police reports, Americans Against Antisemitism issued a 2023 document noting the obvious -- that rising numbers of Orthodox Jews were being assaulted in New York City.

The Orthodox, especially Hasidic Jews, were victims in 94% of the 194 antisemitic assaults between 2018-2022 reported to the city's Hate Crimes Task Force. Most of these crimes occurred in Jewish neighborhoods and some were captured on video. Only two of the criminal cases led to convictions.

Assaults on Orthodox men and women "ranged from spitting, to punching, to someone being hit in the face with a brick," noted Batya Ungar-Sargon of Newsweek, in her book "Bad News." The crime wave produced few news reports until a 2019 mass shooting at a Kosher supermarket in Jersey City and a machete attack on a Hannukah party in Monsey, north of New York City.

Then came COVID-19 and Orthodox Jews, along with others in close-knit ethnic and immigrant communities, were hit hard.

"Because the national news media saw that they could cast the Jews as the villains of the virus instead of its victims, they suddenly couldn't get enough of them," wrote Ungar-Sargon, an Orthodox Jew. "Every outlet began running pieces … blaming Orthodox recalcitrance to social distancing or mask wearing for spreading the virus, not just among their own communities but to their neighbors, too."

Many of these pandemic-driven stories were valid -- but packed with errors about Orthodox beliefs and traditions. Ungar-Sargon asked: Why did journalists jump into "hyperdrive" in this case, after downplaying all those antisemitic attacks? Why do many journalists see Americans they consider "less intelligent and uneducated" as "beyond salvation, irredeemable and filled with hate"? She has continued her work in a new book, "Second Class."

In the late 1970s, researchers began asking why journalists often struggle when covering religion stories or avoid religious news altogether. I wrote my 1982 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign graduate project on this topic and some of that work was published by Quill, the magazine of the Society of Professional Journalists.

This week marks the start of my 36th year writing this "On Religion" column. I also spent 20 years leading the GetReligion.org project, which closed in February, but its archive remains online for those studying religion and the press.

Another Cardinal 'Demos' letter fuels debate about Catholicism after Pope Francis

Another Cardinal 'Demos' letter fuels debate about Catholicism after Pope Francis

Catholic cyberspace melted down during Lent in 2022 as cardinals circulated a letter from "Demos" -- Greek for "people" -- an anonymous scribe claiming that "this pontificate is a disaster in many or most respects; a catastrophe."

The author turned out to be the late Cardinal George Pell of Australia, who served Pope Francis as leader of the Vatican's Secretariat of the Economy.

Now, there is a "Demos II" epistle from another anonymous cardinal -- criticizing Pope Francis and describing seven tasks facing the next pontiff.

"It is clear that the strength of Pope Francis' pontificate is the added emphasis he has given to compassion toward the weak, outreach to the poor and marginalized, concern for the dignity of creation and the environmental issues that flow from it, and efforts to accompany the suffering and alienated in their burdens," noted Demos II, at the Daily Compass website in Italy.

"Its shortcomings are equally obvious: an autocratic, at times seemingly vindictive, style of governance; a carelessness in matters of law; an intolerance for even respectful disagreement; and -- most seriously -- a pattern of ambiguity in matters of faith and morals causing confusion among the faithful. … The result today is a Church more fractured than at any time in her recent history."

An American Jesuit, one who has influenced journalists for decades, responded in an equally blunt manner.

"In truth, Demos II is a fraud who mourns a church of the past and his own loss of power in it," noted Father Thomas J. Reese, currently a Religion News Service columnist. "Make no mistake about it, this document is about power and influence in the church."

Another critic of the cardinals circulating Demos II noted that it was released while Pope Francis was hospitalized with a respiratory infection.

Canterbury Cathedral throws a flashy disco rite for chic modern pilgrims

Canterbury Cathedral throws a flashy disco rite for chic modern pilgrims

The Gothic Revival sanctuary of the former Episcopal Church of the Holy Communion was a strange edifice to house a dance club, but that's what happened in the early 1980s with the infamous Limelight club in New York City.

Rocker Steve Taylor penned a snarky tribute, including this pounding chorus: "This disco used to be a cute cathedral / Where we only play the stuff you're wanting to hear … / This disco used to be a cute cathedral / But we got no room if you ain't gonna be chic."

Four decades later, this song surfaced during online chatter about the February 8-9 dance nights inside Canterbury Cathedral, the Church of England's most hallowed sanctuary.

Dubbed the "rave in the nave" by critics, revelers gulped drinks from the bar and sang along to hits streamed by DJs into rented headphones. One participant described dancing to "Horny" by Mousse T. -- "I'm horny, horny, horny, horny, I'm horny, horny, horny, horny tonight" -- not far from the stone tiles on which St. Thomas Becket was murdered in 1170.

"The decline of Western Christendom continues unabated," noted Taylor, via email. His song, with its Limelight callout, was a critique of modernized brand of faith that sacrifices its message to gain popular appeal. "I think that I referred to it as country club Christianity."

Outside Canterbury Cathedral, one protester told The Telegraph: "Thomas Becket is buried in the same location in this cathedral as our late Queen is buried in St George's Chapel. Would it be acceptable to have a rave in that place? Would anyone accept that? … This is going to make people take the church less seriously than they did before, rather than more seriously."

Canterbury's dean rejected the "rave in the nave" label and argued that the "90s-themed silent disco" would show proper respect for the cathedral's cultural and arts heritage.