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How can churches fight sexual abuse? Denhollander has practical, spiritual advice

How can churches fight sexual abuse? Denhollander has practical, spiritual advice

In this age of small-group ministries, most pastors would know how to handle a crisis that affected significant numbers of believers in their pews.

"If you had one in four members of your congregation actively battling cancer or one in four members … experiencing being widowed or losing a spouse, chances are that you would have some level of intentional ministry to those individuals," said Rachel Denhollander, in a recent Trinity Forum event focusing on how churches respond to sexual abuse. "Maybe you would have a support group or a Bible study for them. You would have meal trains to help provide for their physical needs."

But many sexual-abuse victims hesitate to speak out, she said, because churches act as if they don't exist. Thus, they have little reason to believe the sins and crimes committed against them will be handled in a way that offers safety and healing. Far too many religious leaders act as if they haven't grasped the magnitude of this crisis.

"There is an astonishing perception gap and it's really inexcusable at this point in time," she said, speaking to victims, clergy and activists online -- including participants in 24 nations outside the United States. "We've had the data, literally, for decades. … Even what we know is dramatically undercounted.

"The statistic has stayed right around one in four women, for sexual violence, by the time they reach age 18. … The rate continues to rise and there really isn't any excuse, at this point in time, for not knowing that data. But sometimes, it's emotionally easier to not know that data and all of us have that intrinsic desire to not have to see the darkness that's around us."

Sexual abuse is a hot-button issue everywhere, from small fundamentalist flocks to the Roman Catholic Church. Revelations from #MeToo scandals have rocked the careers of A-list players in entertainment, politics, sports, academia and business.

Denhollander is an attorney, activist and author who is best known as the first female gymnast to publicly accuse Larry Nassar -- team physician for U.S.A. Gymnastics -- of committing sexual abuse during physical-therapy sessions. When telling her own story, she stresses that she was also abused in church, at age 7.

The complicated story of C.S. Lewis becoming a convert -- on screen, in his own words

The complicated story of C.S. Lewis becoming a convert -- on screen, in his own words

While historians argue about what C.S. Lewis did or didn't say, it can be stated with absolute certainty that the Oxford don never patted down his rumbled, professorial tweed jacket before exclaiming, "Where's my phone?"

That line occurs at the start of "The Most Reluctant Convert," as actor Max McLean enters a movie set preparing for the first scene. Seconds later, the camera follows him into the real Oxford, England, where Lewis was a scholar and tutor at Magdalen College.

At first, the famous Christian writer explains how he became an atheist. When he walks into the real White Horse pub, he orders two pints of beer, with one for the viewer. Soon, scenes from his memories spring to life, with Lewis striding through them as a narrator.

"Lewis is in his imagination. He's personified in his thoughts. … I do think that the structure emerged out of the fact that Lewis had a lot to say," said McLean, laughing.

Thus, director Norman Stone -- a BAFTA winner for BBC's "Shadowlands" -- let the "voice of Lewis articulate his struggle, his passion. He is one of those rare individuals where one's intellect, one's emotions and one's spirituality are completely intertwined," said McLean.

All of this is second nature to McLean since the film covers much of the same territory as his own "C.S Lewis Onstage." This was a one-man show at the Fellowship for Performing Arts in New York City, an off-Broadway company McLean founded and guides as artistic director. It has staged other Lewis works, such as "The Screwtape Letters" and "The Great Divorce," drawing warm reviews from The New York Times and other major publications.

The first-person narration, explained McLean, was primarily drawn from Lewis' autobiography, "Surprised by Joy," and the many volumes of his personal letters.

The jump from stage to screen, of course, allowed the film's creators to seek permission to film in some of the most important sites linked to Lewis' life. In addition to the White Horse, viewers follow Lewis into the historic Magdalen College library, a tutor's campus suite and, most importantly, The Kilns -- the home where Lewis lived for decades with his older brother Warren and, briefly, with his cancer-stricken wife, the American poet Joy Davidman.

The gospel according to post-theist Episcopal Bishop John Shelby Spong

The gospel according to post-theist Episcopal Bishop John Shelby Spong

Newark Bishop John Shelby Spong never stuck "Why Christianity Must Change or Die" on the doors of Canterbury Cathedral, since it was easier to post a talking-points version of his manifesto on the Internet.

"Theism, as a way of defining God is dead," he proclaimed, in 1998. "Since God can no longer be conceived in theistic terms, it becomes nonsensical to seek to understand Jesus as the incarnation of the theistic deity."

Lacking a personal God, he added, it was logical to add: "Prayer cannot be a request made to a theistic deity to act in human history in a particular way."

Spong's 12-point take on post-theism faith emerged after spending years on the road, giving hundreds of speeches and appearing on broadcasts such as "The Oprah Winfrey Show" and "Larry King Live." While leading the Episcopal Diocese of Newark, within shouting range of New York City, he did everything he could to become the news-media face of liberal Christianity.

By the time of his death at the age of 90, on Sept. 12 at his home in Richmond, Va., Spong had seen many of his once-heretical beliefs -- especially on sex and marriage -- normalized in most Episcopal pulpits and institutions. However, his doctrinal approach was too blunt for many in the mainline establishment, where a quieter "spiritual but not religious" approach has become the norm.

Spong called himself a "doubting believer" and said he had no problem reciting traditional rites and creeds because, in his own mind, he had already redefined the words and images to fit his own doctrines. He also knew when to be cautious, such as during Denver visit in the late 1980s -- an era in which the Diocese of Colorado remained a center for evangelical and charismatic Episcopalians.

After a lecture at the liberal St. Thomas Episcopal Church, I asked Spong if he believed the resurrection of Jesus was an "historic event that took place in real time."

"I don't think that I can say what the disciples believed they experienced. I'll have to think about that some more," he said, moving on to another question.

The bishop answered a decade later, in his memo calling for a new Reformation:

What shaped the mysterious mind (and soul) of comedian Norm Macdonald?

What shaped the mysterious mind (and soul) of comedian Norm Macdonald?

While debating heretics, early Christians used the Greek term "hypostasis" -- meaning "substance" and "subsistence" -- to help define their belief in the Incarnation of Jesus as one person, yet with divine and human natures.

This "hypostatic union" is not the kind of subject a comedian typically raises on a TV talk show while chatting about mortality with a Hollywood legend. Then again, Norm Macdonald -- who died on September 14 after a secret nine-year fight with cancer -- wasn't a typical funny man. He openly identified as a Christian, while making it clear that he didn't consider himself a very good one.

During an episode of "Norm Macdonald has a Show," the former Saturday Night Live star asked Jane Fonda -- who at one point briefly embraced evangelical Christianity -- this question: "Are you a religious person?"

"I have faith," said Fonda. The host quickly asked, "In Jesus Christ?" Hesitating, Fonda called herself "a work in process," saying she accepted "the historical Jesus."

Macdonald responded: "But do you believe in the hypostatic Jesus?"

When Fonda said "no," he added, "So, you're not a Christian. But you believe, you believe in something."

Raised vaguely Protestant in Canada, Macdonald didn't discuss the brand-name specifics of his faith, even as he wrestled with his own demons -- such as habitual gambling. Yet he could be stunningly specific when addressing criticisms of Christian beliefs. As a judge on NBC's "Last Comic Standing," he quietly shot down a contestant who trashed the Bible, before praising the Harry Potter series.

"I think if you're going to take on an entire religion, you should maybe know what you're talking about," said Macdonald. "J.K. Rowling is a Christian, and J.K. Rowling famously said that if you're familiar with the scriptures, you could easily guess the ending of her book."

The result was a public persona laced with paradoxes, an edgy, courageous comic who often seemed unconcerned if his work pleased the public or his employers.

When facing vaccine-doubters in pews, trust is crucial (as opposed to shame)

When facing vaccine-doubters in pews, trust is crucial (as opposed to shame)

Donald Trump had to know it was coming, even if -- to use a Bible Belt expression -- he was preaching to his choir.

"You know what? I believe totally in your freedoms," he said, at a rally in Cullman, Ala. "You got to do what you have to do, but I recommend: Take the vaccines. I did it -- it's good."

Videos of this August 21 event make it clear that quite a few people booed this request by the former president.

Truth is, the longer a health crisis lasts, the more pollsters will find that anti-vaccine citizens have "turned into true believers" who are rock-solid in their convictions, said political scientist Ryan Burge of Eastern Illinois University. He is co-founder of the Religion in Public website and a contributor to the GetReligion.org weblog I have led since 2004.

"At this point, the holdouts are the only people that (pollsters) have to talk to. … They've heard everything, and nothing is moving the needle for them," he said. "In fact, it seems like whatever you say to try to change their minds only makes it worse. These hardcore folks are digging in their heels all the more."

When exploring the most recent Data for Progress poll numbers, it's hard to nail down a religion factor in this drama. As summer began, 70% of non-evangelical Protestants had received at least one shot of COVID-19 vaccine -- but so had 62% of both evangelical Protestants and Catholics. As the author of a book entitled "The Nones: Where They Came From, Who They Are, and Where They Are Going," Burge found it significant that only 47% of the religiously unaffiliated reported receiving at least one shot.

"Religion may be a factor, for some people, but it's not the main thing" causing Americans to be reluctant, he said. "Age is clearly the No. 1 factor, even when you factor in politics. Young Republicans and independents are the same. …

"So how do you reach these people? I mean, independents trust authority even less than Republicans do these days."

Aliens in the news: Are UFOs a threat to traditional forms of religious belief?

Aliens in the news: Are UFOs a threat to traditional forms of religious belief?

The first episode of the "Ancient Aliens" cable-TV series promised to show that the growth of intelligent life on this planet had help that came from the stars.

The Prometheus Entertainment summary in 2010 asked: "If ancient aliens visited Earth, what was their legacy, and did they leave behind clues" that still exist?

The bigger question, nearly 200 episodes later, is whether aliens provided the building blocks of life itself. That's the kind of subject -- both theological and scientific -- that surfaces whenever there are debates about whether extraterrestrial life exists.

It's one thing for a recent U.S. national intelligence report -- "Preliminary Assessment: Unidentified Aerial Phenomena"-- to discuss incomplete technical data and the possibility of hostile spy drones. It was something else to say that experts had no scientific explanations for 140-plus reported "UAP" episodes.

The summary noted that 18 mysterious objects "appeared to remain stationary in winds aloft, move against the wind, maneuver abruptly or move at considerable speed, without discernable means of propulsion."

This raised familiar questions for those who have followed decades, even centuries, of debates about these mysteries: Who created these objects? Who created the beings who created them? Should this planet's religious leaders worry?

"The logic is that many people assume life is special, that human beings are uniquely purposed and created in God's image and that this life -- life made in God's image -- cannot exist anywhere else," said Stephen C. Meyer, who has a doctorate in the philosophy of science from Cambridge University. He is known for writing controversial books, such as "Signature in the Cell: DNA and the Evidence for Intelligent Design" and the new "Return of the God Hypothesis."

Many experts seem to think Christianity has explicit doctrines on this matter, he added, but "that's not a sound judgement, since there's no explicit Christian teaching on the subject -- unless we have now taken C.S. Lewis as canonical."

Flowers and the First Amendment: Once again, the Supreme Court elects to punt

Flowers and the First Amendment: Once again, the Supreme Court elects to punt

Florist Barronelle Stutzman and Robert Ingersoll have shared many details from the 2013 conversation that changed their lives and, perhaps, trends in First Amendment law.

For nine years, Ingersoll was a loyal customer at Arlene's Flowers in Richland, Wash., and that included special work Stutzman did for Valentine's Day and anniversaries with his partner Curt Freed. Then, a year after the state legalized same-sex marriages, Ingersoll asked her to design the flower arrangements for his wedding.

Stutzman took his hand, Ingersoll recalled, and said: "You know I love you dearly. I think you are a wonderful person, but my religion doesn't allow me to do this."

In a written statement to the Christian Science Monitor, Ingersoll wrote: "While trying to remain composed, I was … flooded with emotions and disbelief of what just happened." He knew many Christians rejected gay marriage but was stunned to learn this was true for Stutzman.

As stated in recent U.S. Supreme Court documents: "Barronelle Stutzman is a Christian artist who imagines, designs and creates floral art. … She cannot take part in or create custom art that celebrates sacred ceremonies that violate her faith."

This legal drama appears to have ended with Stutzman's second trip to the high court and its July 2 refusal to review a Washington Supreme Court decision the drew a red line between a citizen's right to hold religious beliefs and the right to freely exercise these beliefs in public life. Supreme Court justices Clarence Thomas, Samuel Alito and Neil Gorsuch backed a review, but lacked a fourth vote.

"This was shocking" to religious conservatives "because Barronelle seemed to have so many favorable facts on her side," said Andrew T. Walker, who teaches ethics at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary.

Stutzman is a 76-year-old grandmother and great-grandmother who faces the loss of her small business and her retirement savings. She has employed gay staffers. She helped Ingersoll find another designer for his wedding flowers. In the progressive Northwest, her Southern Baptist faith clearly makes her part of a religious minority.

"Barronelle is a heretic because she has clashed with today's version of progressivism," said Walker.

Chris Hillman of the Byrds sings (and writes) about faith, fame and musical ties that bind

Chris Hillman of the Byrds sings (and writes) about faith, fame and musical ties that bind

The Byrds' classic "Turn! Turn! Turn!" didn't sound like anything on the radio when it hit No. 1 on the Billboard charts in 1965.

For starters, the lyrics came from the Book of Ecclesiastes, noting "there is a season, and a time for every purpose, under Heaven. A time to be born, a time to die. A time to plant, a time to reap. A time to kill, a time to heal. A time to laugh, a time to weep."

What critics failed to realize, said Byrds co-founder Chris Hillman, was that covering the late Pete Seeger's classic was a logical move for musicians steeped in American roots music. Songs about struggle, glory, sacrifice and faith were common in early '60s folk concerts.

"Where did all of our music come from? Blues and Gospel. … White church, black church, the music all came from church," said Hillman, in a recent interview. "With the Byrds, we went right to that well. We didn't think twice about it. We didn't say, 'We can't do a Christian song.' "

Hillman's musical roots became more obvious as the Byrds ventured into what many started calling "country rock," especially with the landmark "Sweetheart of the Rodeo" album in 1968. Bluegrass, country and Gospel themes played a larger role as Hillman began writing songs for the Byrds and his later bands.

While the Byrds put him in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, it was Hillman's grassroots connections that made history, according to the legend who produced his "Bidin' My Time" solo project in 2017. The late Tom Petty said: "Chris was a true innovator -- the man who invented country rock. Every time the Eagles board their private jet, Chris at least paid for the fuel."

That musical and spiritual journey is clear in Hillman's recent autobiography, "Time Between," with its mix of rock lore and personal reflections. Rather than offering a tell-all about sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll, Hillman focuses on lessons he learned along the way and his love for the musicians who, flaws and all, helped him.

Under the 'nones' umbrella: America's 'nothing in particular' believers are a big story

Under the 'nones' umbrella: America's 'nothing in particular' believers are a big story

While working on the 1985 book "Habits of the Heart," the late sociologist Robert N. Bellah met "Sheila," who described her faith in words that researchers have quoted ever since.

"I can't remember the last time I went to church," she said. "My faith has carried me a long way. It's Sheilaism. Just my own little voice." The goal was to "love yourself and be gentle with yourself. … I think God would want us to take care of each other."

A decade later, during the so-called "New Age" era, researchers described a similar faith approach with this mantra -- "spiritual but not religious."

Then in the 21st Century's first decade, the Pew Research Center began charting a surge of religiously unaffiliated Americans, describing this cohort in a 2012 report with this newsy label -- "nones."

Do the math. "Nones" were 10% of America's population in 1996, 15% in 2006, 20% in 2014 and 26% in 2019. This stunning trend linked many stories that I have covered for decades, since this past week marked my 33rd anniversary writing this national "On Religion" column.

Obviously, these evolving labels described a growing phenomenon in public and private life, said political scientist Ryan Burge of Eastern Illinois University, author of the new book, "The Nones: Where They Came From, Who They Are, and Where They Are Going."

But hidden under that "nones" umbrella are divisions that deserve attention. For example, the 2018 Cooperative Congressional Election Study found that 5.7% of the American population is atheist, 5.7% agnostic and 19.9% "nothing in particular."

"When you say 'nones' and all you think about is atheists and agnostics, then you're not seeing the big picture," said Burge, who is a contributor at the GetReligion.org website I have led since 2004. "Atheists have a community. Atheists have a belief system. They are highly active when it comes to politics and public institutions.

"But these 'nothing in particular' Americans don't have any of that. They're struggling. They're disconnected from American life in so many ways."

In his book, Burge stressed that "nothing in particulars are one of the most educationally and economically disadvantaged groups in the United States today."