The Morning After ... Blues

 As we write, the newsboys are standing on the corners shouting, "Wuxtry! Read all about it! Blue wave swamps billionaires' yacht! Getcha morning paper!"

Which is to say the the November 2025 election appears to be good news for the Democratic Party and correspondingly bad for the Republicans. This appearance is purely arithmetical, in the sense that it is attested by votes counted and estimated. While no doubt encouraging, it is by no means clear -- nor could it be at this preliminary stage -- that the results will actually conduce to strengthening the Democratic Party or weakening the grip of Trumpism on America.

Two of the most heralded victories of the moment, for example, are those of Zohran Mamdani in New York City and Abigail Spanberger in Virginia.  Neither of these is surprising in itself. Mamdani was the Democratic nominee in a city where Democrats enjoy a powerful historic advantage, notwithstanding the Giuliani years. Spanberger was the Democratic nominee in a state where governors must stand down after a single term, and are most often chosen from the party that does not hold the White House. (She was also running against a Black woman in the South.) So neither victory was inherently unpredictable.

The more interesting point, as pundits observed often during the campaign, is that these are two very different varieties of Democrat. New York's mayor-elect is conspicuously young for the job, at 34. Although born in Africa, he was raised in the cushiest and New-Yorkest of confines, among the Upper West Side's academic and artistic elites.  His politics certainly lean left, as reflected by his decade-long affiliation with the Democratic Socialists. He is a Muslim. Also -- and perhaps most interesting to both readers of this blog -- he worked on the unsuccessful 2017 campaign of our friend and seminary classmate, the Rev. Khader El-Yateem.

Spanberger is 12 years older than Mamdani. In matters of faith, she is something called "Protestant Unspecified," which we imagine means as religious as her constituents need her to be in the moment. Born in New Jersey but raised in Virginia, with a background in federal law enforcement and intelligence, she has cut a considerably more conservative pose. After the Dems' 2020 election losses, she famously argued that they had suffered because Republicans were able to accuse them of "socialism," as well as because of the poorly-phrased call to "defund the police." She went so far as to propose that no Democrat should ever use the word "socialist" again.

Clearly, these two Democrats are shaped differently, both by their life experience and by the constituencies they serve. While it is certainly true that America's two principal parties are by nature complex and often unwieldy coalitions, it is also fair to ask how easily these two leaders, or their respective supporters, will be able to collaborate on policy and governance.  This is not a new question; the co-existence of conservative Democrats and liberal Democrats is as old as the party. But in a time when Republicans are so very ascendant, and so very averse to be caught compromising with the other party, it will be impossible for Democrats to make headway except by working closely with each other, even when their convictions and constituencies differ deeply.

Looking for analogies on the other side of the aisle, we recall that the Paleo-Cons and Neo-Cons of old managed reasonably well despite some fundamental differences. Yes, the Tea Party was the bane of John Boehner's life, but he was also able to make common cause with them against the ACA, and even to promote the career of a TP leader.  More recently, though, there appears to be an impassible chasm between the radical Republicans aligned with President Trump and virtually the entirety of the party's old guard.  Even the late Dick Cheney, than whom few Republican leaders could be called more Republican, and whom this blog pilloried with zeal during his vice-presidency, cast his last vote for a Democrat. 

Put plainly, Republicans unwilling to endorse both Trump's extreme policies and his chaotic personal style find themselves as impotent at the moment as Democrats, if not more so. Democrats are feeling good indeed this morning, as well they might -- but their ability to continue feeling good, and above all to govern effectively, may come to depend on their ability to do what the Republicans currently cannot and do not need to: work closely even when they disagree.

Good Sermons, Warm Welcome, and Maybe a Maniple

Legend has it that 70% of the new members at an average American church are there because they were invited by a friend.

For thirty years or more, this factoid has been passed around among the clergy like a joint at a hippie gathering, which is to say that it has been held reverentially, spoken of in hushed but appreciative tones, breathed in and then put aside until it is needed again -- all while, quite possibly, creating mild hallucinations.

The truth is that the supposed study behind this figure is hard to track down, and even if it exists it is very old.  American church life has changed dramatically in the past 50 years, and especially in the last 5.  Moreover, standards of privacy and sociability have also changed.  What was once genial may now seem intrusive -- ask any pastor who still drops in unannounced, or at least the people upon whom that pastor drops in.

The most recent information we can find that might support the old 70%-invited-by-a-friend comes from Pew Research, which is generally pretty creditable (as opposed to, say, Barna).  It also places that number in an important context.

In 2026, Pew released a report called "Choosing a New Church or House of Worship," based on data from a 2014 study.  This wouldn't be so very old, had not COVID intervened, but COVID did intervened, and so the results must be looked at skeptically indeed. Still, it will be a while before anything newer covers the same territory in as much detail.

The overall conclusion of the report may be the least surprising thing ever said on the subject, summed up in a headline:  "Americans look for good sermons, warm welcome."  (The report also ranks "worship style" almost as high as homiletics and how-d'ya-do, so don't forget your maniple, because nothing says style like a ceremonial hand-towel.) 

Location also matters, so choose yours wisely, as do programs for the wee ones.  All of these things -- sermons, welcome, style, location, programs -- seem to be ranked more highly on the list of reasons that worshipers choose a new church than personal connections.  But those connections do play a role.  The report offers this useful chart:

There it is in the second column: 69% of people seeking a new church have talked to members of the congregation.  That is not far at all from our 70% story.  And the numbers also back up an important corollary of the legend -- conversation with lay members appears to be more important than conversation with the clergy.

But where the legend is framed to highlight the urgency of personal invitation, the wording of the study implies that the person seeking a church may be more active, and the church member more passive.  More important still is the addition of "friends and colleagues," a category which is apparently separate from church members.   

Our conclusion is something like this:  The legend is spun to encourage congregants to invite people to church, and to make them feel a little bit guilty if their church isn't growing.  The numbers presented by Pew suggest that in fact a person looking for a place to worship will ask around rather broadly, and compile a sort of "local reputation score" consisting of what impression of a church they get from different sources, including but not limited to its members.  This seems natural.

It should be obvious that, since 2014, the internet has continued to take over every aspect of our lives, including our spiritual affiliations. How many of us live-streamed a decade ago?  How many of us even considered the possibility of what is politely called "virtual communion"?  In that spirit, it seems natural to assume that, were this study to be repeated in 2025, the "looked for information online" category would have eaten up numbers from the others, and probably swallowed the quaint old-fashioned "made a phone call" bones and all.

Anyway, it seems to us that the basics are unlikely to have changed.  A church that hopes to grow should certainly have good preaching, welcome new people with love, worship with zeal, and be located in an accessible place.  A good website doesn't hurt, and neither does a favorable reputation. 

To all these things we add:  Many churches possess all these attributes and do not grow.  Some possess most of them and still shrink. Such are the times in which we live.  Don't beat up on yourself, whether you are a pastor or a lay member.  And don't beat up on each other, either.  Ultimately, it is in God's hands, not ours.

An American(ish) Pope!

 Our deepest condolences to Robert Cardinal Prevost, Archbishop Emeritus of Chiclayo, Peru. Having been elected, he will rule as Leo XIV, and we wish him the very best.

We has considered him out of contention because he is an American, but that merely shows how little we know. His nationality is historic, although its practical significance is hard to guess. We are deeply encouraged by his years of service in Peru, which speaks to a continued papal emphasis on care for the poor. And we are delighted that he is (like Luther) a member of the Augustinian order.

Please keep him in prayer tonight, as his life changes irrevocably.

The Room of Tears

 

This is the Room of Tears.

It is a small chamber to the left of the altar in the Sistine Chapel. Some day quite soon, one man will walk into it, don one or more of the garments in this photo -- not having been tailored, they will not fit properly; it is possible they will be secured with safety pins -- and then be presented to the crowds waiting in Piazza San Pietro. He will be the new pope.

The people in the crowd (and watching on television) will be straining their eyes for some hint of what is to come.  Will he wear the mozzetta, or abjure it?  Will he speak in Italian -- and if so, with what accent? Before he has gone to bed, the city and the world, but most especially the internet, will be alive with hopes and fears, acclamations and derogations, all based on the flimsiest guesswork, and the most trivial research.

You can imagine where this plain little room gets its nickname.  It has long been our custom ot offer condolences to our friends and colleagues elected as mere bishops. The challenges of serving as the Bishop of Rome, Patriarch of the West, and all those other things they are called, are unimaginable.

The Tragedy of Sweden?

 A few Lutherans have expressed mild interest in the potential papacy of Anders Arborius. We are not among them.

Arborius is a well-respected church leader, the first and only Swedish cardinal, formerly chair of the Episcopal Conference of Scandinavia (which we imagine must be a rather small organization.) He is also a convert from Lutheranism to Roman Catholicism.

It is this last fact that excites the mild interest among Lutherans -- "One of us," we cry, out of habit.  Bit of course, he has deliberately chosen not to be one of us, preferring instead not only to join the 1.5% of his countrymen in communion with the Pope, but also to become a Discalced Carmelite, a group with strong ties to the Counter-Reformation. (We do wonder how he manages to go shoeless in those Swedish winters).

In an interview published online, when asked about the unique contributions of Swedish Catholicism, Arborius first denies that there are any, saying in effect that "we're just like other Swedes," and then takes a cheap shot at the church of his childhood:

Because there is no real longing for female priests among Catholics, we can concentrate upon the real [sic] possibilities for women. We have seen the tragedy of the Lutheran Church of Sweden, where there have been female ministers since 1958. Since then, a fierce conflict has raged between those in favor of female ministers and those in opposition.

Disapproving of the ordination of women is not, by itself, remarkable or disappointing in a cardinal; it is pretty much his job description. But the fact is that he wasn't asked about it, or about the majority church in his nation  He decided on his own that those were the things he wanted to talk about. 

On balance, we do not think somebody who considers the Church of Sweden to be a "tragedy" would be a useful ecumenical partner for the LWF. 

On the other hand, we are interested in Robert Cardinal Prevost, Archbishop Emeritus of Chiclayo, Peru.  He will never be pope, goes the familiar logic, because he is an American by birth.  But among his many leadership positions, Prevost served for twelve years as the Prior General of his religious community -- the Order of Saint Augustine.  We do like our Augustinians.