by Kevin Healey

Is the death of Trayvon Martin a religious issue? “Social justice” churches and leaders have placed the shooting at the center of attention. In New York City, Middle Collegiate Church held a “Hoodie Sunday,” with pastors and congregants donning the garment and holding signs that read, “We are not dangerous. Racism is.” In the Florida city where Martin died, the Rev. Jesse Jackson told a crowd that “the whole world is watching Sanford.” The Rev. Al Sharpton has drawn criticism and praise for leading rallies while highlighting the case on his MSNBC show. At Religion Dispatches, historian Anthea Butler argues that racism in the U.S. has long been buttressed by a religiously-infused vision of American exceptionalism. Sojourners picks up the thread, urging white Christians to “wake up” to their own prejudice. Yesterday, Congressman Bobby Rush appeared on the House floor wearing a hoodie, condemning racial profiling and quoting from the Bible.

Since the birth of fundamentalism early last century, conservatives have portrayed such social justice activism as contrary to “true” Christian values. Glenn Beck revitalized this rhetoric by railing against Sojourners' Jim Wallis and urging fans to “run as fast as you can” from churches that speak about social justice. But as Jewish Funds for Justice successfully argued, Beck's version of “authentic” Christianity is infused with racial prejudice. Not surprisingly, recent columns on Beck's website have portrayed Martin as an “aggressor” who was “possibly” guilty of homicide or sexual battery. No hoodies in Beck's church.

GOP candidates could dismiss the comments on Beck's website as “absurd” hyperbole—as Rick Santorum did in response to Rush Limbaugh's misogynist tirade against Sandra Fluke. But the racial element in conservatives' rhetoric of religious authenticity is as clear today as it was during the Jeremiah Wright hysteria of 2008 and the “Obama is Muslim” rumor-mongering that has only increased since the last presidential election. Shortly after warning that Obama's policies would hand over voters' hard-earned money to “blah people,” Santorum accused Obama of espousing a “phony theology” and condemned his contraception initiative as “a new low in this country's history of oppressing religious freedom.” Likewise, after describing Obama as the “food stamp president,” Newt Gingrich lambasted Obama's legislation as an “outrageous attack” on religious liberty. This rhetoric is noteworthy, considering that until Vatican II the Roman Catholic Church had framed religious “freedom” as a route to falsehood. As historian Samuel Moyn argues, the alliance between Catholics and evangelicals on this point is “as much a novel tactic as it is an eternal truth.” Indeed, it is part of a broader us-versus-them posturing in which race and religion are closely linked.

This link forms the backdrop for coverage of the Trayvon Martin case. While conservative sources covered the contraception debate extensively, they have remained relatively silent on the Martin shooting. A search for “Trayvon” on the Christianity Today and Charisma websites returns zero results as of this writing. Fox News' coverage of Martin's case has likewise been lacking, as illustrated by a chart of the day posted at Mother Jones. Mention of Martin from the GOP candidates came largely in response to Obama's comment that “if I had a son, he'd look like Trayvon.” Santorum accused Obama of “trying to drive a wedge in America.” More pointedly, Gingrich read Obama's comments as meaning that “if it had been a white that had been shot, that would be okay.” On the heels of the “blah people” and “food stamp” comments, such accusations of divisiveness are ironic. Yet they are not surprising if, as Anthea Butler suggests, these candidates embody a long-standing vision of Christianity that is inseparable from white privilege.

The Pew Forum notes that as a whole, Americans are growing more wary of “god talk” in political campaigns. That may be a reflection of the type of religious rhetoric that dominates politics—namely, that which trades in prejudice and stereotypes. In rallying one's political base, such talk is still effective—which may explain why supporters of Rick Santorum are among the few groups that crave more, not less. But if Trayvon Martin's death reveals a nation in need of soul-searching and healing, we might ask whether Americans are wary of god talk per se, or are simply hungry for a different kind. That shift would require journalists to ask tougher questions of candidates who claim the mantle of religious authenticity. To start: If Trayvon Martin were alive today, would he be welcome in your church—with or without a hoodie?

Kevin Healey currently holds a Postdoctoral Fellowship through the Institute of Communications Research at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. Kevin's research on media and religion appears in Journal of Mass Media Ethics, Cultural Studies <=> Critical Methodologies, and Symbolic Interaction. His co-edited volume on the “prophetic” critique of popular media is scheduled for publication in the fall of 2012.

by Megan Sweas

After visiting a slum in Delhi, India with a young evangelical woman from Georgia, a friend and I got into a discussion about Americans working in the developing world. “Maybe I just don't like NGOs,” he said, convinced that the efforts of not just evangelicals but all Westerners are tainted by a sense of cultural superiority.

After our India trip, I returned home to find an explosion of articles about Kony 2012, the flashy campaign to mobilize the world around capturing the infamous leader of the Lord's Resistance Army. Plenty of articles have expounded on the power of technology and celebrity to win supporters for humanitarian causes. Others have disparaged the campaign's creator, Jason Russell, for simplifying the facts so much that the media components of his project distort reality.

Another set of article addresses question that my friend and I had in India: What is the role of Westerners who want to help tackle injustice overseas? Particularly noteworthy is Teju Cole's article, “The White Savior Industrial Complex,” in the Atlantic. Due to their complexity, Africa's social ills defy easy intervention, Cole explains.

Overlooked, though, is the word “savior,” with its clear religious connotations. The media discussion could be served by unpacking the religious motivations for many Americans' overseas service. In connection with the story, little if any coverage has highlighted the relationship between Americans working abroad today, the history of missionary colonialism and the present-day evangelism behind the concerns voiced by many Africans about Kony 2012.

Invisible Children, Jason Russell's organization, is a good case-study for this issue. Russell is an evangelical, but he frames his work as secular in order to attract wider support. The Los Angeles Times mentions only in the last sentence of a story on Russell's mental breakdown that his parents run a Christian theater group. Right Wing Watch and an atheist blogger have written about Russell's faith, but both these groups want to disparage evangelical Christianity rather than reflect critically the relationship between overseas service and saving souls.

It's important not to restrict the conversation to American evangelism. As my friend observed, NGOs, religious or not, can carry with them a sense cultural imperialism left over from missionary days. We think secular activism is on the opposite end of the spectrum from evangelical mission work, but from a global perspective, they're not so far apart. From an interfaith point of view, it may be a hopeful sign to see George Clooney linking up with Pat Robertson, but such a partnership may also show that liberal secular Americans are just as “evangelical” in spreading their worldview as many Christians.

At the same time, it's also important not to dismiss all faith-based work as paternalistic or proselytizing, especially since many Africans, Indians and other formerly colonized peoples long ago embraced Christianity and made it their own. Though Kenyan intellectual Binyavanga Wainaina is critical of foreign aid, a few years ago he told Krista Tippett, host of “On Being,” that he supports the work of religious groups, especially the Roman Catholic Church, “because you have a very long relationship with people and you understand their value.”

Reporters writing about Kony 2012 and American service overseas would be served well by revisiting the 2009 interview with Wainaina, which delves into religion in the second half. Also check out Wainaina's satirical essay, “How to Write about Africa.”

There are a lot of religion angles in the Kony 2012 controversy that remain ripe for exploration. But as my classmates and I learned in India, it's critical to seek out non-Western voices to understand global issues completely.

Megan Sweas is an Annenberg Fellow studying the intersection of religion and politics in USC's Specialized Journalism program. She previously covered political and social issues as associate editor of U.S. Catholic magazine, where she also managed the website. After graduating from the Medill School of Journalism at Northwestern University, she spent a volunteer year at Free Spirit Media, a non-profit youth media organization on Chicago's West Side.

by Elise Hennigan

The anti-vaccine crowd is making headlines again. This week, the Wall Street Journal ran a story about public-health officials' worry over potential outbreaks of measles, diphtheria and other illnesses as a consequence of dangerously low vaccination rates in some parts of the U.S. The main reason people are skirting vaccinations? Religious exemptions.

In the name of Christianity, Judaism and Islam, some subsections of these religious groups have fought against vaccinations since the beginning of their widespread use in the late 18th century. The arguments vary, but many anti-vacciners believe inoculations to be against the will of God or take issue with the way a vaccine is derived—if the medicine comes from certain types of animals or from human cells, for example.

The WSJ article explains that a community needs about 95 percent of its members to be inoculated against measles to ensure “herd immunity,” meaning that enough people are immune that the disease is unlikely to spread to those who are not vaccinated. But in some pockets of country the inoculation rate is as low as 80 percent, increasing the chance of outbreak.

Stories about the vaccine debate evoke strong reactions from both sides. Gawker's rendition of the WSJ story, “Oregonian Religious Nuts are Going to Give Us All Measles,” has garnered about 500 comments, and counting. The measles outbreak in the wake of the Super Bowl caused journalists from nearly every mainstream publication to dig into why some football fans at the game had not been vaccinated.

If the vaccine debate were simply a matter of public health, journalists could boil the issue down to a simple narrative: There is a segment of the population that is putting the broader society at risk through their actions. Since many vaccine exemptions were granted on religious grounds, however, the story is more complex. If they reduce the narrative to a simple calculus of the good of the many versus the rights of the few, journalists risk over-simplifying the complexities–particularly the social values–inherent in the notion of religious freedom.

As it stands, the U.S. government allows people to govern themselves in accordance to their own religious, spiritual or humanist ideologies until their actions infringe on others' rights and / or violate federal laws. The tension between religious arguments against vaccines and our collective interest in the public good calls our attention to this often fuzzy line.

Many journalists opt to avoid these fine points and frame their stories to suggest that public health is ultimately more important than individual ideology. While this is arguably fair and reasonable, the fact that an argument is implied in the way a story is told shouldn't escape our attention.

Consider the issue of teaching evolution in public schools. Journalists generally cover the Creationism v. Evolution debate in a way that avoids taking sides in the argument. This is as it should be–it's not the journalist's job to chip away at faith-based assertion but rather to examine the consequences of actions that their sources justify through their faith.

This is where the vaccine debate becomes glaringly different from the evolution-in-schools issue. While Creationists may believe that teaching evolution in schools will undermine their kids' beliefs, the pro-vaccine crowd is worried about the issue of public health. While there is no clearly delineated pecking order for the relative importance of rights, the right to safety and health is usually one that the general public will rally behind. Even so, it is imperative that journalists are thorough in their analysis and transparent in their intentions. Otherwise they become complicit in the trampling of rights that all of us hold dear.

Elise Hennigan is a multimedia journalist who covers art, culture and globalization. She is currently working toward a Master's degree at the USC Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism.

by Richard Flory

The Crystal Cathedral has finally met its demise. After bankruptcy, the sale of the landmark sanctuary to the Orange County Roman Catholic Diocese and now the (somewhat ungraceful) exit of the entire Schuller family, the fate of the formerly iconic megachurch has been sealed. Whatever the future holds, the cathedral will likely no longer enjoy its identity of the past 40 years—a cultural landmark melding Christianity, American consumerism and celebrity.

The Crystal Cathedral story has been unfolding for the past several years. Robert Schuller (senior) first brought in his son, Robert A. Schuller, to take over as the church's figurehead and leader. Schuller fils was replaced by his sister, followed by the bankruptcy filing, the sale of the church's property and ultimately a Schuller-less church. Over that time, I have spoken to many reporters—both local and national—about the slow decline of the Crystal Cathedral. Their questions always focus on the future of the congregation and, more generally, what the story portends for the future of Christianity in America.

Does the demise of the Crystal Cathedral mean the end of megachurches in America? Not long ago, I wrote a short column about the potential cultural meaning of the fall of the Crystal Cathedral. I was surprised by how eager the editors were for me to frame the piece as the beginning of the end of the megachurch era. The story only seems to attract attention because of its strange combination of phenomenal spiritual success followed by decline and demise, all spiced with internal family conflicts and the not-so-subtle hint of greed and desire for fame that lies at the core of the Crystal Cathedral ethos. This mode of storytelling allows journalists to deploy the easy journalistic tropes of scandal, conflict and blood (however figurative the bloodletting may be).

Meanwhile, just up the Golden State Freeway from the Cathedral's home in Garden Grove, the Los Angeles City Council has been working on an important but complex redistricting plan. Buried two-thirds of the way into a recent Los Angeles Times story recounting the final approval of the plan were quotations from two of “several African American pastors” who were in attendance at the City Council meeting. These pastors spoke against the plan as it would, from their point of view, adversely impact the economic growth and development of large swaths of South Los Angeles.

After a bit of sleuthing, I determined that these pastors of medium-size African American congregations are acting as earnest advocates on behalf of their congregants and the surrounding communities. They are not famous, and the word “mega” does not figure into their modest stories–yet their actions and the cultural trends that they represent have enormous political implications citywide and beyond. Relegating these “several African American pastors” at the City Council meeting to the periphery of a local story overlooks what they and others like them are working to accomplish in the public sphere at a time when there are few other voices speaking to the needs and interests they represent.

These two stories, coming as they did within days of each other, got me wondering whether Robert Schuller, Rick Warren, Joel Osteen or any other megachurch pastor has ever attended a meeting of any public agency to speak as a proxy for his or her flock. And if so, was the purpose of that advocacy to help communities that feel left out or left behind, or for something that would primarily benefit their own congregation (like getting zoning laws changed to allow for more parking spaces)?

Megachurches actually represent of a fairly narrow slice of American religion—generally white, middle class and suburban—and tend not to be particularly interested in or involved with the life of their geographic communities. While ignoring megachurches would be folly, overlooking less obvious but more demographically diverse religious players is equally foolhardy. Megachurches may be titillating in their excesses, but the bigger story is with the other (and smaller) religious congregations that populate the American religious ecology. If reporters are really interested in the future shape of American religion, they need to look beyond the obvious for something more nascent and subtle. Look for what's sprouting rather than focusing on what is, arguably, past its prime.

Richard Flory is associate research professor of sociology and Director of Research in the Center for Religion and Civic Culture at the University of Southern California. He is the co-author of Growing Up in America: The Power of Race in the Lives of Teens (Stanford, 2010) and Finding Faith: The Spiritual Quest of the Post-Boomer Generation (Rutgers, 2008).

by Nicole Neroulias

Mainstream or religious, conservative or liberal media agree: The recent birth control brouhaha – should the HHS mandate faith-affiliated hospitals and schools to have contraceptives covered by their health insurance providers? – is a pitched battle between religious liberty and reproductive rights. Professionally, as a religion reporter weary of oversimplified culture wars, and personally, as someone who took birth control pills long before becoming sexually active, I feel disappointed by most of the reporting so far.

On the all-male panel of religious leaders who testified before House Oversight Committee on this topic last month, Roman Catholic Bishop William Lori delivered a “Parable of the Kosher Deli” equating birth control pills with ham sandwiches. “The Daily Show With Jon Stewart,” a fake news show, mined this for some laughs, but where was the real news coverage pointing out that one never needed a BLT the way that many women need BC? It fell to the Jewish media to offer this obvious rebuttal, while also noting that unlike including pork products on your menu, including contraceptive coverage on your insurance doesn't render the whole institution unkosher.

Then Rush Limbaugh came along and hijacked the debate entirely, calling Georgetown Law student Sandra Fluke a “slut” and a “prostitute” for testifying on behalf of women who need access to birth control. Fluke's defenders prompted an advertiser exodus from Limbaugh's show and an eventual apology, but the editorial question remained: religious liberty or reproductive rights? Yet as Fluke tried to explain in her opening statement, both frames miss the big picture: Women take the pill to address myriad health issues, from ovarian cancer, menstrual problems, hormone imbalances and fertility treatments to cystic acne, et al.

This is the angle I've been waiting in vain for religious and mainstream journalists to acknowledge and investigate. As a teenager, I had debilitating menstrual cycles, but the perceived stigma of going on the pill deterred me from getting the help I needed. I finally started taking it in college, as a virgin with no foreseeable pregnancy panic, buoyed by all other the young women around me who were taking it for a variety of reasons. (Plus, it was cheap at the student health center, and I didn't have to worry that my parents would find out and get the wrong idea.)

Since then, my mother and sister have also taken the pill on medical grounds, as have dozens of our relatives and friends. We're talking about a well-established legal medication routinely prescribed for a range of symptoms and sicknesses – but the media spotlight on non-medical opinions from the likes of Limbaugh and Lori, rather than doctors and patients, make it sound more like a Viagra and RU-486 drug cocktail.

So how about some coverage of where these outraged clergy and institutions stand on using contraception in all these medical cases? And even if they technically allow it, does that translate to allowing their health insurance policies to include it? Mollie Ziegler Hemingway, a conservative commentator who has slammed media “misrepresentation” of the HHS mandate at GetReligion, shrugged me off with “presumably” when I brought up this angle. Needless to say, “presumably” isn't good enough in journalism, especially when the story concerns fundamental questions about freedom and morality.

And logically, even when clergy approve of contraceptives for unrelated medical reasons, how would they have their institutions apply these directives? Should women who work at Catholic hospitals and schools get a doctor's note for their bosses before requesting insurance reimbursement for the birth control pill? Would ovarian cysts and infertility make the cut, but acne and bad cramps be more along the lines of God's will? And what if religious authorities and their hospitals disagree on these theories in practice, as they have in cases of abortion to save a woman's life?

When reporting on this polarizing issue, journalists should note the range of reasons that women seek affordable and accessible contraception, and ask how their clergy and institutions view these circumstances. Furthermore, when quoting people of faith who argue the HHS mandate violates America's constitutional guarantee for religious liberty, journalists could follow up with some context about freedom's limits. It's not hard to come up with relevant examples: polygamy is illegal; Jehovah's Witnesses may not deny their children blood transfusions; Muslim cab drivers aren't free to reject passengers carrying alcohol.

In the meantime, as an immediate improvement to the coverage, I propose we need a new word for birth control to clarify whether we're talking about contraception, sterilization, abortifacients, or any medical intervention that also prevents pregnancy. How about the Patriot Pill?

Nicole Neroulias is an award-winning religion reporter and Seattle-based correspondent for Reuters. A graduate of Cornell University and the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism, she has previously written for the New York Times, Religion News Service and other media outlets. Follow her on Twitter: @BeliefBeat.

by Sandi Dolbee

Last month's bonehead burning of Islam's holy book by U.S. troops in Afghanistan has reporters scrambling to cover the violent aftermath, trust issues and the time-line for withdrawal. There's a sidebar story that Voice of America picked up, but that merits broader exploration: the etiquette for handling religious texts.

The story includes, of course, Islam's extensive list of prohibitions concerning Qurans. One of injunction: don't burn them. You might also discover that the U.S. Defense Department issued its own set of orders several years ago for handling the Quran at the Guantanamo Bay detention camp.

Broadening the story to other religions, reporters will learn that Judaism also has rules for the disposal of damaged Torah scrolls. Don't burn them; bury them.

Catholic canon law lays out various options for disposing of blessed religious objects — including chalices that break, vestments that wear out and leftover Eucharist. Some seasonal trivia: Palms from Palm Sunday are to be burned and their ashes recycled, to be used for the next Ash Wednesday.

The news media serve as the continuing education classroom of the nation. Here's a chance to connect the dots to show the similarities — and not only the differences — of people of faith. The American landscape is painted with a rainbow of religions — including millions of Muslims, Jews and Christians. Which makes this a local story, whether you're in Los Angeles or Little Rock, Walla Walla or West Palm Beach.

Bounty Hunters

High fives to the Huffington Post and Sports Illustrated for tackling a crucial question in the New Orleans Saints' bountygate scandal. Paying players to take out their opponents isn't just a violation of NFL rules and good sportsmanship; it's also a crime.

“The bounty system implicates at least two types of criminal charges: battery and conspiracy,” writes attorney Michael McCann in his SI.com column on sports law. “Battery, which under Louisiana law is punishable by up to six months in jail, refers to the intentional use of force upon another person without that person's consent.”

Former Saints defensive coordinator Gregg Williams, who has already apologized for his role in the bounty bonuses, “could be charged as a conspirator,” McCann adds.

Attorney Linda Kenney Baden, writing in the Huffington Post, added another allegation: organized crime. Her blistering rebuke pointed out that players and coaches alike were part of the hits-for-hire campaign. “Call the bounty program that allegedly sought to hurt, maim, destroy and purposely injure high-powered football players what it is: criminal,” she writes. “This is organized crime at its worse — nothing less.”

Sports Illustrated is doing a particularly good reporting on bountygate. In this week's cover story, Peter King writes that NFL officials have damning audio picked up during the NFC Championship game two years ago between the Saints and the Minnesota Vikings.

“Over four quarters that Sunday at the Superdome, Vikings quarterback Brett Favre was hit repeatedly and hard,” King writes. “The league later fined Saints defensive linemen Bobby McCray and Anthony Hargrove a total of $25,000 for three separate improper hits, and NFL vice president of officiating Mike Pereira said the Saints should have been flagged for a brutal high-low mashing by McCray and defensive lineman Remi Ayodele in the third quarter. Favre suffered a badly sprained left ankle on that play and had to be helped off the field. On the New Orleans sideline, Hargrove excitedly slapped hands with teammates, saying, 'Favre is out of the game! Favre is done! Favre is done!'”

“An on-field microphone directed toward the sideline caught an unidentified defender saying, 'Pay me my money!'”

Edmund Burke, an 18th century Irish statesman and writer, said something about our behavior that's lived on through the ages: “All that is necessary for the forces of evil to win in the world is for enough good men to do nothing.” Huddle up; there's a whole lot more locker-room reporting left to be done.
 
Sandi Dolbee is the former religion and ethics editor of the San Diego Union-Tribune. Nominated for the Pulitzer Prize for her beat coverage, she also is a two-time recipient of Religion Reporter of the Year, the Religion Newswriters Association's top award. She is a past president of the RNA, which represents reporters who cover religion in the secular media, and has received fellowships to study religion and ethics issues at USC, the University of Maryland, New York University and the University of Cambridge in England.

by Umbreen S. Bhatti

Have you heard of Zombie Muhammad? Me neither, until a few days ago, under a National Review headline declaiming “The Sharia Court of Pennsylvania.” Apparently the zombie in question made his appearance last October 11 during the annual Halloween parade in Mechanicsburg, PA, alongside other members of the Parading Atheists of Central Pennsylvania. In that parade, Zombie Muhammad, also known as Ernest Perce V, was marching alongside a Zombie Pope when “a man tried to take his 'Muhammad of Islam' sign and choked him.” Within a day, Perce uploaded video of the incident to YouTube, writing,

Oct 11 2011 in the Mechanicsburg City Parade I was attacked by a violent muslim IN AMERICA! This is proof that muslims want Shria Law in America. He attacks me to pull my beard off so he could identify me and chokes me.

I understand many will say I deserved it, but no one has the right to abridge my freedom of speech and violence is never the answer to freedom of speech. Islam is a religion of Peace? This is not the case in this video. Remember that Halloween is also all Saints Day where people wore masks and costumes to fool the spirits and ghosts. I just happened to pick a costume that scared adults too! LMAO

The other party was later identified as 46-year old Talaag Elbayomy, who was charged with harassment. The first article after the incident took place reports that the charge was dismissed by Judge Mark Martin as “basically one man's word against another's,” noting the testimony presented came from Perce, Elbayomy and Mechanicsburg Police Sgt. Brian Curtis, who received the complaint from Perce but did not witness the attack. Following the dismissal, Judge Martin lectured Perce on the First Amendment, making such statements as, according to a recording made by Perce,

In many other Muslim-speaking countries, err, excuse me, many Arabic-speaking countries, predominantly Muslim, something like this is definitely against the law there, in their society. In fact, it could be punished by death, and frequently is, in their society.

Here in our society, we have a Constitution that gives us many rights, specifically First Amendment rights. It's unfortunate that some people use the First Amendment to deliberately provoke others. I don't think that's what our forefathers intended. I think our forefathers intended to use the First Amendment so we can speak with our mind, not to piss off other people and cultures – which is what you did.

And before we knew it, “Shari'a law” had come to Pennsylvania, according to pieces reflecting the usual fear-mongering that has come to characterize any discussion of Muslims and our judicial system.

Were the judge's statements inappropriate? In this lawyer's mind, yes, as has been argued by other lawyers such as Jonathan Turley and Eugene Volokh. The First Amendment does allow us to piss off other people and cultures, in poor taste though that may be, and what happens in “Arabic-speaking countries” is hardly relevant when dispensing justice in America.  

But was the judge's disquisition a sign of what has come to be called “shari'a creep” – as the zombie at the center of this story would like us to think? Hardly, and it would have been nice to see articles addressing this issue by actually, accurately talking about what shari'a is – at a time when legislation banning the use of “shari'a law” in state courts is being proposed all over the country. “Creeping shari'a” has now become a near daily part of our political conversation, and for journalists to allow those who are most eager to insert the phrase into our discourse to go unchallenged is nothing less than irresponsible.

Umbreen Bhatti is a lawyer with experience in civil rights and constitutional law, as well as the co-founder of islawmix.org, a service for news readers, media producers and legal scholars seeking credible, authoritative information about Islamic law.

by Adriana Janovich

The first paragraphs set the scene for what is to follow: a well-written, well-researched investigative narrative detailing the death of a Roman Catholic nun in the heart of a tribal region in eastern India.

Readers know the outcome of the story from the title of the series: “The Murder of Sister Valsa.”

Earlier this month, the Wall Street Journal ran a five-part series documenting the brutal Nov. 15, 2011, killing. The piece by reporters Krishna Pokharel and Paul Beckett was published on the newspaper's India Real Time blog as well as india.wsj.com. According to the introduction, the project was based on dozens of interviews, witness statements, court documents and police files.

The story is compelling from the start. The first eight paragraphs — none longer than two sentences — recreate a dramatic scene using dialogue and description, framing an ominous atmosphere and foreshadowing the imminent murder.

The following chapters deftly introduce characters and conflict, providing depth and breadth without being verbose or using the old, top-down news story structure of the inverted pyramid. This is the kind of investigative journalism that makes sense of complex issues and histories, takes readers to the scene because the reporters themselves traveled there and — above all — tells a riveting story.

It's also the kind of journalism most journalists who covered this story didn't do. Most news outlets — including BBC, Time, The Hindu, Hindustan Times, India Today and State Observer, among other mainly Indian media  — largely covered Sister's Valsa's murder as breaking or daily news. The Sunday Guardian did its own two-part series in January, two months after the murder. Sister Valsa isn't mentioned until the ninth paragraph.

Beckett and Pokharel do what most of reporters didn't: They went back and they went deeper. They provided context. They portrayed humanity.

New Delhi-based Pokharel and Beckett went beyond the daily deadlines to give an in-depth portrait of a person — and brutal tragedy — to tell a larger story, the story of modern India, a place where industrialization threatens traditional ways of life, women's and children's rights are often overshadowed and poverty and corruption compound problems that are already dire. This is a story not only of one nun's life and death, but also of friendship and faith, the old and the new, a village and a corporation, David and Goliath.

Most reports — particularly initial ones — barely began to scratch the surface of those elements. A few of the stories got Sister Valsa's age wrong. Most raised more questions than they answered. Because many were breaking and daily stories — likely written under the constraints of fast-approaching deadlines and pressure to get the scoop — they don't go deep. They offered superficial he-said, she-said accounts that lacked context and failed to paint a picture of Sister Valsa as a person.

They also highlighted the need for long-form investigative journalism, the kind of work that takes longer than a couple of hours or days and requires more than a few phone calls. It requires going beyond the news release or press conference, asking for records and knocking on doors. It requires leaving the office. It also requires support from editors, which it seems — since Beckett is his organization's South Asia bureau chief —this project enjoyed.

Beckett and Pokharel take a non-linear approach, explaining events of the last week of the nun's life, going back in time to shed light on where she comes from, exploring her work in the tribal areas of Jharkhand state, then coming back full circle to the night Sister Valsa was last seen alive. Their series  — as well as follow-up online  live chat and video — go beyond the breaking news briefs and daily headlines.

Pokharel and Beckett kept Sister Valsa's life and death from falling into the memory hole created by today's multi-platform, 24-hour news cycle, a place where all too many important stories unfortunately end up. Their work on this series can inform and enrich some of the basic strategies used in initial coverage of the story as well as other follow-up pieces.

Pokharel and Beckett let readers into Sister Valsa's world. They recognized her life and death — and the complexities surrounding both — were worth a closer look, which they provided in exemplary ways.

Adriana Janovich is an Annenberg Fellow in the specialized journalism program at the Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism at the University of Southern California. She's interested in reporting stories about education, immigration, youth, religion, lifestyles and social issues.

by Jane Iwamura

Slim were his chances in the NBA / Burdened with an Asian face / He conquered all through hard work / And the mercy of God's grace.

So goes “The Ballad of Jeremy Lin.” You would recently have had to crawl out from under a rock, especially if you are a sports fan, to have missed the news media coverage of NBA phenom Jeremy Lin. In less than a month since his start for the New York Knicks, Lin has turned the flailing team around. This impressive play, however, is not what has made Jeremy Lin the media sensation that he is today—witnessed by a Time feature article, two consecutive Sports Illustrated covers and countless other reports. The backstory is what has fueled Linsanity: first, NBA coaches overlooked his potential because Lin is Chinese-American and, second, Lin prevailed despite this obstacle with a winning combination of perseverance, hard work and humility.

Race and religion are two key dimensions of this compelling narrative. Numerous reports have focused on how Lin's playing time was influenced by the stereotypes of the emasculated Asian American male, as well as racist slurs and comments by sports commentators. Others have cautioned that the buzz around Lin follows the typical “model minority” script: Asians succeed because they work hard (and they have Tiger Moms). Lin's 4.2 high school GPA, as well as his Harvard degree, are often cited as evidence of this. Lin's “miraculous” rise is thus attributed to cultural characteristics rather than physical prowess—in contrast to African American players, whom the American press often defines by the latter. The disbelief that an Asian American player can be “this good” is loaded with racist assumptions.

Lin's Christian convictions have also become a significant part of the story. Tagged the “Taiwanese Tebow” (a nod to Denver Broncos quarterback Tim Tebow), Lin's religious background has been heavily referenced and explored. Lin spent his formative years in the Redeemer Bible Fellowship—the English ministry of the Chinese Church in Christ in Mountain View, California. During college, he was also a small group leader in the Harvard-Radcliffe Asian American Christian Fellowship.

In a recent CNN report, Steven Almasy discusses how Jeremy Lin has emerged “as an emblem of burgeoning Asian American Christianity.” Asian Americans have become the new face of Christianity, especially on college campuses. Outside the walls of the university, the Asian American faithful fill the pews on Sunday; in cities and suburbs, they have resuscitated dying congregations, taken over abandoned churches and created fellowships of their own. They are revitalizing American Christianity in new and arresting ways.

Few stories (if any) have probed the deeper phenomenon of the ethnic church or fellowship.  (After all, religion is supposed to be colorblind.)  But if one takes into account the work of sociologists who study Asian American Christians, some interesting insights begin to appear.  Beyond one's devotion to God (which should not be discounted), Taiwanese American immigrants view their faith as a way of transmitting Chinese cultural values to their second-generation children. Furthermore, Chinese American Christians create “adhesive identities” that draw together Chinese and American influences, and these new identities are expressed through their devotional practices. For Asian American immigrants marginalized in society and in white churches, and especially for their American-born children, ethnically defined religious institutions become a comfortable refuge. They also are a way for these Christians to theologically explore and express the “haunting memories of race” and oppression they possess.  

Michael Luo in the New York Times states: “Like Lin, many Asian-American Christians have deep personal faith, but they are also, notably, almost never culture warriors.” Perhaps, but culture and race have much to do with the contours of Lin's faith even though they may not appear on the surface of his profession of it.

This suggests that there are unplumbed differences between Jeremy Lin's and Tim Tebow's religiosity. But again, one must be cautious of how the usual script comes into play. As religious studies scholar Rudy Busto notes, it is too easy to embrace Asian Americans as a “spiritual model minority.” In this narrative, Lin emerges as an incredibly devout and humble exemplar of a colorblind faith. As such, Lin becomes a yardstick of personal discipline against which the likes of Tebow and a multitude of African American Christian athletes are measured.   

The news media's emphasis on Lin's “religion, education and hard work” makes the Chinese American player's journey less of a “Linderella” story. It is more in line with the tale of Horatio Alger—a “rags to riches” or rather “no contract to stardom” account of exceptionalism. A quintessentially American tale, but one that erases ethnic influences and the brutal facts of race.  While the ballad of Jeremy Lin may sound triumphant, it is laced with troubling tones that journalists would wisely learn to hear.

Jane Iwamura is a Visiting Scholar at the UCLA Asian American Studies Center. She is the author of Virtual Orientalism: Asian Religions and American Popular Culture and co-editor of Revealing the Sacred in Asian and Pacific America.