During the private funeral of her husband, Queen Elizabeth II sat alone near the St. George's Chapel altar, socially distanced from her family and wearing a black pandemic mask.

This searing portrait of grief moved viewers worldwide. And as Prince Philip's casket was lowered into the Windsor Castle vault, singers chanted the Kontakion of the Departed, a tie to his Orthodox roots in Greece.

“Give rest, O Christ, to thy servant with thy saints," they sang, "where sorrow and pain are no more; neither sighing but life everlasting. … All we go down to the dust; and weeping o'er the grave we make our song: Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia."

Only 18 months later, Queen Elizabeth requested the same chant, in the same chapel. This time it marked the start of the committal liturgy which closed a 10-day wave of statecraft, vigils, memorials and processions preceding the majestic state funeral.

The queen's final, intimate Windsor Castle service began where her husband's had ended, as if one rite was flowing into another.

"Queen Elizabeth was one of those people in this mortal life who always thought ahead," said David Lyle Jeffrey, distinguished senior fellow at the Institute for Studies in Religion at Baylor University. When preparing these rites, the queen was "clearly looking for prayers, scriptures and hymns that made connections she wanted to make for her family, her people and the world. … I think she succeeded brilliantly."

An Anglican from Canada, Jeffrey said the events closing the queen's historic 70-year reign were an appropriate time to explore the "essence of her admirable Christian character." Thus, the retired literature professor wrote a poem after her death -- "Regina Exemplaris (An exemplary queen)" -- saluting her steady, consistent faith. It ended with:

Hey churchgoers: How long has it been since you heard a political sermon?

Wait. We need to pause and discuss what a political sermon might sound like. For example, I think everyone would agree that an open endorsement of a political candidate from the pulpit would be “political.”

But what if a congregation or a denomination invited a political leader to speak in a worship service or some other event? This is something that happens on the political left and right. For generations, to name one example, Democrats have accepted warm, strategic invitations to speak — or perhaps simply exchange greetings — in African-American churches. It makes headlines when GOP leaders address major evangelical bodies (think Vice President Mike Pence and the Southern Baptist Convention).

More questions: What if a bishop or a preacher addresses issues that are clearly both doctrinal AND political, such as right-to-life concerns or threats to the environment? What about a conference focusing on ways religious groups can defend First Amendment rights, such as freedom of speech, freedom of association and freedom of religious practice? Is a liberal rally on abortion more “theocratic” than one organized by believers on the doctrinal right?

I ask these questions because of a piece GetReligion contributor Ryan Burge, he of the omnipresent charts and info on Twitter, wrote for Religion News Service. Here’s the newsy headline “When preachers get political, do they change minds? Preachers tend to risk political speech only when they know it will receive a warm reception.” The overture:

One of the most important and difficult questions among those who study religion and politics is just how important a pastor, rabbi, imam or other religious leader is when it comes to shaping the worldviews of their congregation. These figures get a weekly chance to dominate the attention of the people who come to listen to their sermons. They have a nearly unique opportunity to mold their congregants’ view of the theological, social and political world around them.

How often do pastors actually use that opportunity to speak out about the pressing issues of the day? Some new data gives us a look.

A Pew Research Center poll fielded in March of 2021 asked people if they had heard sermons that contained references to the fallout from the 2020 presidential election in the previous month. The survey asked about four topics specifically: the possibility that the 2020 election was rigged, former President Donald Trump’s inaccurate statements about election fraud, as well as support for or opposition to those who stormed the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021.

That is certainly a rather Donald Trump-era dominated list, but that reflects several years of headlines. Meanwhile, it’s safe to say that President Joe Biden is in the White House, in large part, because of support from voters in Black churches during several primaries. But I digress.

I have a journalism question, one that will require some time travel. Let’s flash back to the 2021 football game between the Brigham Young Cougars and the Baylor Bears, which was played in Waco, Texas, an interesting city known to many as “Jerusalem on the Brazos.”

After the first BYU score, a significant number of Baylor students are heard chanting “F*** the Mormons!” over and over. Or maybe, since we are talking about folks from a Baptist university, the chant is “Convert the Mormons!” The chant doesn’t focus on the “Cougars,” but on BYU’s obvious heritage with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

The chants were strong enough to be heard on broadcast media and, within minutes, there are clear audio recordings posted on social media.

My question, a which I asked during this week’s “Crossroads” podcast (CLICK HERE to tune that in): Would this nasty, crude event be considered a valid news story? In national coverage, would the religious ties of the two schools — soon to be rivals in the Big 12 — be discussed? In other words, would this be a religion-news story, as well as a sports story?

I think it’s pretty obvious that the answers would be “yes” and, again, “yes.”

This brings us, of course, to two BYU sports stories from recent weeks — one that received massive national coverage and the other that, well, didn’t get nearly as much ink. I think it’s valid to ask "Why?’ in both cases.

Before I share some links to coverage of the two stories, let’s pause and consider this related Religion News Service report: “Nearly 200 religious colleges deemed ‘unsafe’ for LGBTQ students by Campus Pride.” Here is the overture:

Dozens of religious universities across the country, including Seattle Pacific University in Washington and Brigham Young University in Utah, were listed as unsafe and discriminatory campuses for LGBTQ students by Campus Pride, a national organization advocating for inclusive colleges and universities.

Fewer than 10 of the 193 schools on the list released Thursday (Sept. 8), were not religiously affiliated or did not list a religious affiliation, according to Campus Pride.

The lengthy Campus Pride report on BYU opens with this statement (the shorter Baylor item appears here):

Brigham Young University has qualified for the Worst List because it has an established and well-documented history of anti-LGBTQ discrimination that endangers victims of sexual assault and has resulted in a call for it to not be included as a Big 12 school.

The key word, of course, is “endangers.”

Scribes in the U.S. press snapped to attention last year when the Gallup Poll announced that as of 2020 less than half of Americans held religious memberships for the first time in its eight decades of asking the question. Only 47% of Americans said they belonged to a church, synagogue, mosque or other house of worship, a dramatic loss from the 70% as recently as 1999.

Now comes the Pew Research Center with a related pulse-pounder issued last week.

Pew figures that currently 64% of Americans (including children) identify as Christians in some sense, compared with 6% for other religions and a hefty 30% for “nones” and “nothing in particulars” — those without religious affiliation. Then we’re told that 50 years from now the Christian percentage may well fall to a modest 54% or even to a remarkable 35% in the worst-case scenario, while the non-religious population rises to somewhere between 34% and a slim majority of 52%.

Understandably, the Pew numbers became spot news for, among others, CBS, National Public Radio, the Washington Examiner and Washington Post, both newspapers in faith-focused Salt Lake City, USA Today, Britain’s The Guardian and a host of religious outlets.

This remains a good spot story for media that haven’t yet reported Pew’s basics. But even media that have reported the topline numbers could return to the theme with illustrative anecdotes and reactions from area religious leaders. And for sure journalists and religious analysts will want to give the full report some careful thought.

Pew emphasizes that its numbers are only “possibilities,” not “predictions of what will happen,” and comments that such a future would have “far-reaching consequences for politics, family life and civil society.” For example, also consider the multiple social science surveys that associate religious involvement with psychological and medical well-being and positive life outcomes for youths. Also, there is the impact of religious charity, not only effective huge organizations but private person-to-person interactions. Also, religions strengthen community in our “Bowling Alone” culture.

Pew calculated four future scenarios based largely upon the rates at which Americans may switch in or out of Christian identification and in or out of religious “none” status.

Back in the late 1970s, during the cornerstone seminar in Baylor University’s Church-State Studies program, my major professor made an interesting prediction while reviewing some documents that would eventually surface with the Bob Jones University v. United States ruling at the Supreme Court in 1982.

That case pivoted on questions of racism and claims linked to religious doctrine. At some point in the future, my professor said, the high court would face similar cases in which centuries of religious doctrine would clash with beliefs at the heart of the modern Sexual Revolution.

The U.S. Supreme Court would be challenged to equate the facts of racism with the mysteries of sexual identity (or words to that effect). At that point, traditional forms of Christian education would be at risk.

Anyone who has followed American politics in recent decades has watched this conflict march through religious and educational structures and into the headlines. The question, all along, would be if “progressive” thinkers — the word “liberal” is problematic — would find a way for the Sexual Revolution to trump existing legal standards defending free speech, freedom of association and freedom of religion.

Thus, Julia Duin wrote a recent post describing coverage of SCOTUS moves linked to clashes between the modern Orthodox Judaism of Yeshiva University and LGBTQ groups on its New York campus. See this post: “New York Times pursues ultra-Orthodox yeshivas in massive story that raises (some) Jewish ire.”

One of the stories she discussed was a Jewish Telegraphic Agency piece with this headline, linked to an earlier stage in this legal struggle: “Yeshiva U can block LGBTQ club for time being, Supreme Court says.” This case provides, Duin noted, an:

… interesting counterweight on what’s happening in Christian colleges across the country. Last week a group called Campus Pride released a list on what it considers “the absolute worst, most unsafe campuses” for LGBTQ students. Not surprisingly, Yeshiva University is one.

She then stressed this crucial passage in the JTA report:

Yeshiva University’s case could be complicated by the fact that it removed religion from its charter, essentially the text that gives it permission to operate in New York State, in 1967 in an effort to secure more state funding.

A Republican politician with presidential aspirations visits a Christian college. What happens next, in terms of the way the event is covered by the mainstream press, is predictable — during this era of niche news, with stories written to appeal to the beliefs of specific political flocks.

The politician in question is Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis and the school is Hillsdale College in Michigan. The visit took place this past February and was used as an example in a recent Miami Herald article of DeSantis’ mingling of faith and politics.

This is how the paper opens its Sept. 13 piece:

While visiting a private Christian college in southern Michigan that wields influence in national politics, Gov. Ron DeSantis rephrased a biblical passage to deliver a message to conservatives.

“Put on the full armor of God. Stand firm against the left’s schemes. You will face flaming arrows, but if you have the shield of faith, you will overcome them, and in Florida we walk the line here,” DeSantis told the audience at Hillsdale College in February. “And I can tell you this, I have only begun to fight.”

The Republican governor, a strategic politician who is up for reelection in November, is increasingly using biblical references in speeches that cater to those who see policy fights through a morality lens and flirting with those who embrace nationalist ideas that see the true identity of the nation as Christian.

That’s followed by the thesis:

He and other Republicans on the campaign trail are blending elements of Christianity with being American and portraying their battle against their political opponents as one between good and evil. Those dynamics have some political observers and religious leaders worrying that such rhetoric could become dangerous, as it could mobilize fringe groups who could be prone to violence in an attempt to have the government recognize their beliefs.

The article has no problem finding experts who warn of impending danger.

I apologize for repeating this sobering anecdote, but — alas — it’s relevant again.

When “Blind Spot: When Journalists Don’t Get Religion” was released in 2008, several of the authors took part in a circle-the-globe trip for events linked to the issues covered in the book. One interesting — or disturbing — forum took place with journalism students at the multi-faith Convergence Institute of Media in Bangalore, India.

The topic, of course, was how to improve religion-news coverage in print and broadcast media. In a previous post — “Life and death (and faith) in India” — I noted:

I was struck by one consistent response from the audience, which I would estimate was about 50 percent Hindu, 25 percent Muslim and 25 percent Christian. When asked what was the greatest obstacle to accurate, mainstream coverage of events and trends in religion, the response of one young Muslim male was blunt. When our media cover religion news, he said, more people end up dead. Other students repeated this theme during our meetings.

In other words, when journalists cover religion stories, this only makes the conflicts worse. It is better to either ignore them or to downplay them, masking the nature of the conflicts behind phrases such as "community conflicts" or saying that the events are caused by disputes about "culture" or "Indian values."

Cover the story WRONG and more people die, they said. But if you cover the story ACCURATELY, even more people will die. As a rule, editors and producers resorted to vague terms — “community violence” was common — to hide bloody sectarian divides. Journalism is not an option when covering religious divides in India.

With that in mind, consider the foggy “word salad” language at the top of this recent BBC report about what were clearly sectarian riots in East Leicester. This is from a web archive, since the story was updated later without explanation. The bottom line: The religion angles in this story were too hot to mention.

Police and community leaders have called for calm after large numbers of people became involved in disorder in parts of East Leicester. Footage online shows hundreds of people, mainly men, filling the streets. …

It is the latest in a series of disturbances to have broken out following an India and Pakistan cricket match on 28 August.

During the pandemic lockdown, I rediscovered “The Waltons” and watched all 221 episodes.

Somewhere along the way, I learned that the classic TV show about a Depression-era family in rural Virginia made its prime-time debut on Sept. 14, 1972.

That’s 50 years ago.

I started emailing myself notes about religion references in specific episodes — those with titles such as “The Sinner”, “The Sermon” and “The Baptism” — and marked the anniversary date on my calendar. Journalists are always looking for a story, don't you know?

I pitched a piece to The Associated Press. To my delight, Global Religion news director David Crary and news editor Holly Meyer let me write it. This isn’t hard news, but I hope it’s interesting.

Speaking of AP friends, Matt Curry and I worked together in the Dallas bureau from 2003 to 2005. Curry later left journalism and attended Brite Divinity School at Texas Christian University. He's a big fan of “The Waltons,” and his family’s experience became the lede for my feature:

The Rev. Matt Curry’s parents were children of the Great Depression, just like “The Waltons” — the beloved TV family whose prime-time series premiered 50 years ago.

When Curry was growing up on a farm in northern Texas, his carpenter father and teacher mother often argued playfully over who had a poorer childhood.

“The Depression was the seminal time of their lives — the time that was about family and survival and making it through,” said Curry, now a 59-year-old Presbyterian pastor in Owensboro, Kentucky. “My dad used to talk about how his dad would go work out of town and send $5 a week to feed and clothe the family.”

So when “The Waltons,” set in 1932 and running through World War II, debuted on CBS on Sept. 14, 1972, the Currys identified closely with the storylines.

I enjoyed interviewing two stars of “The Waltons”: Richard Thomas (John-Boy Walton) and Kami Cotler (Elizabeth Walton).

The story explores how the series delved into spiritual themes at a time when the TV networks tended to avoid them.

Before wearing the Imperial State Crown, Queen Elizabeth II knelt at the Westminster Abbey altar for a moment of silent, private prayer.

The three-hour coronation in 1953 contained myriad oaths and symbols, but the most ancient rite -- Archbishop of Canterbury Geoffrey Fisher anointing Elizabeth with holy oil -- sought the highest possible blessing on her life's work and eventually her death.

"Our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God," he prayed, "who by his Father was anointed with the oil of gladness … that by the assistance of His heavenly grace you may govern and preserve the people committed to your charge in wealth, peace and godliness; and after a long and glorious course of ruling a temporal kingdom wisely, justly and religiously, you may at last be made partaker of an eternal kingdom."

Televised for the first time, 27 million BBC viewers watched what Oxford don C.S. Lewis called the "tragic splendour" of this drama.

“Over here people did not get that fairy-tale feeling about the coronation. What impressed most who saw it was the fact that the Queen herself appeared to be quite overwhelmed by the sacramental side of it," he noted, writing to an American friend.

It was "a feeling of (one hardly knows how to describe it) -- awe -- pity -- pathos -- mystery. The pressing of that huge, heavy crown on that small, young head becomes a sort of symbol of the situation of humanity itself: humanity called by God to be his vice-regent and high priest on earth, yet feeling so inadequate."

Few could have imagined that the woman many now call "Elizabeth the Great" would reign for 70 years, striving to lead by example after the suffering of World War II and into an age in which humanity would be united by the Internet, terrorism, pandemics and other challenges.

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