How migrants are changing Europe's churches

“Each apartment block has its own community, its own dynamics, its own culture,” Ute Paul said as she walked among the Plattenbau — formidable apartments built of prefabricated concrete slabs —  in Gotha West, a working-class suburb of the central German city, Gotha.

Originally constructed as a planned housing development (Neubaugebiet) during the waning years of the socialist East German Republic, the district is now home to migrants who have made their way from Ukraine and Eritrea, Afghanistan and Romania, Nigeria and Syria. Many of them are relocated to places like Gotha West, where they often end up grouped with their fellow countrymen and forming cliques based on shared language, religion, or background.

On Coburger Place, a centrally located square with shops and a small casino that serves as the neighborhood’s main hangout spot, there is a small storefront with the words, “from dark to light” written across its windows.

The shop is the principle gathering place for the Mustard Seed District Mission (senfkorn.STADTteil Mission). Since 2015, pastor Michael Weinmann and his wife Christiane have been leading Mustard Seed and “experimenting with new forms of community in Gotha-West,” said Paul, who joined the pair along with her husband, Frank, in 2021.

Focusing less on events and more on “relationships, ‘accidental’ encounters, and natural life in the district,” Paul said the mission has little to show in terms of deliverables or church attendance.

Instead, reflecting the challenges and opportunities of migrant mission in Europe, Paul said Mustard Seed has been able to “create a vibrant network of relationships between people of different backgrounds and origins from across the world.”

Along the way, Paul said the Mustard Seed team has had to unlearn a lot of what they thought they knew about mission and adapt to the everyday realities of those God has given them to serve.

Since the unprecedented migratory movements that shook Europe in 2015 and 2016, an increasing number of Christian organizations have had to reshape their institutions and rethink the identity of Christianity from below.

Mustard Seed is just one example of how the movement of asylum seekers, economic migrants, and internally displaced persons has created new commissions and institutions to meet changing facts on the ground across the continent.

Migration to Europe is not a recent phenomenon. But since 2013, some 17.2 million migrants from outside the European Union (EU) have come to Europe, finding their way to places like Germany and Spain, the UK and Italy. As they arrived, they have sparked public discourse around European culture, values, and religious identity.

Amid the debate, churches have played key roles in the process of integration. Beyond offering religious hospitality, a 2018 study from the Churches’ Commission for Migrants in Europe (CCME) found how congregations provide “symbolic resources for positive self-identification and opportunities for interaction with others as well as crucial services.”

The result has been a transformation of the churches themselves.

'One victim is too many': Domestic Violence & Religion

Every day, millions of people are directly impacted by domestic violence.

According to the United Nations, domestic abuse — or “intimate partner violence” — is defined as “a pattern of behavior in any relationship that is used to gain or maintain power and control over an intimate partner.” This can be physical, sexual, emotional, economic, psychological or spiritual actions or threats of actions used to “frighten, intimidate, terrorize, manipulate, hurt, humiliate, blame, injure, or wound someone.” 

Domestic abuse can happen to anyone of any race, age, sexual orientation, gender or religion.

In the context of domestic violence, religious actors and institutions can both help and harm — but they are not neutral.

On the one hand, studies have shown how religion can be, and often is, used to condone, excuse or enact abuse. On the other hand, religious teachings and communities can provide significant resources for victims as they address abuse. Within religious communities, victims find support or counseling relationships as well as texts, teachings and rituals that provide protection, guidance or succor in the process of healing.

In this updated edition of ReligionLink, we provide resources, links, tips and potential sources to help inform your reporting on religion and domestic abuse. 

The Theme is Religion, James Bond Religion

When you think of James Bond, you probably don’t reckon with whether or not the super spy is religious or if spirituality plays a major role in his action-filled escapades.

But if you look for it, religion is everywhere in James Bond:

• In the novel You Only Live Twice, Ian Fleming casts James Bond in the role of a savior, prophesied by Shinto priests and embodying the saintly personage of the Catholic, dragon-slaying hero St. George.

• Live and Let Die — both the book and movie — heavily feature vodou and obeah, with a 007-emblazoned, customized tarot card deck specifically designed for the film.

• There is a “priest hole” and chapel on Bond’s family Scotland estate in the movie “Skyfall” (2012).

• Bond battles with a man dressed as a Nio guardian statue in the film, “The Man with the Golden Gun” and traipses through Cairo, Egypt’s Ibn Talun mosque in “The Spy Who Loved Me.”

• In 2015’s “Spectre,” Bond replies to his love interest Dr. Madeleine Swann's question, "Why does a man choose the life of an assassin?" with, "Well, it was that or the priesthood."

The list could go on, but suffice it to say: James Bond has a long and complicated relationship with religion.

On the occasion of the 60th-anniversary of the world premiere of the first James Bond film Dr. No in 1962 (October 5, 2022), I take a look at religion in the Bond universe and consider what we might have to learn about religion — and the world-famous super spy — in the process.

Creation care jobs signal possible climate shift for churches in the UK

If you were out there looking for a job this summer, you may have come across an eye-catching position at one of London’s largest churches.

Holy Trinity Brompton, or HTB, posted an ad for an “Environmental Project Manager,” to help “oversee the strategy, planning and execution of HTB’s approach to Creation Care.” The individual will work closely with other lead team members to put an “environmental response at the heart of church life,” according to the ad.

HTB, an Anglican church spread across six sites in London with around 3,500-4,500 worshipping every Sunday, is perhaps best known for being the place where the world-famous Alpha evangelistic course originated in the 1970s and 80s.

Jobs like this, at places like HTB, are notable, said Jo Chamberlain, National Environment Policy Officer for the Church of England. Such roles, she said, signal a wider sea change among evangelical churches in the UK — and perhaps elsewhere — realizing the critical importance of creation care and environmental stewardship at the congregational level.

“People are recognizing that we have to get our house in order,” said Chamberlain, “we can’t just talk about taking care of creation without doing the work and changing the way we do things.

But wait...is it a cult?

When I first moved to New Zealand to work with a Lutheran parish in Palmerston North, I came across some FAQs – frequently asked question – on the national church body’s website.

Along with the usual queries, I found one peculiar bullet point. It asked: are Lutherans a cult?

Granted, Lutherans can be strange people. With their penchant for sneaking carrots into Jell-O salads and an often-disconcerting fealty to European heritages, Lutherans are anything but normal.

But rarely, if ever, had I heard them called a “cult.”

Numerous communities and religious bodies have been labeled with the pejorative term over the years. From Jonestown to Aum Shinrikyo, the Manson Family to Raëlism, the Church of Scientology to Heaven’s Gate, the Branch Davidians to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and yes, Lutherans – all of these, at some point in time, have been labelled a “cult.”

Which is not a term you want used for your community.

Why? Because it immediately suggests things like brainwashing, mass suicide, and crazy-haired white dudes stockpiling women, weapons, and weed in the backwoods.

Therein lies the problem.

When we hear the term “cult” we already think we know everything there is to know about that group. They’re dangerous. They’re deviant. They don’t deserve to be called a “real” religion.

But if we take a moment to double-click on the term and expand on what it means from a social perspective, we might find that the word "cult" – or "religion" for that matter – doesn’t mean what we think it means.

On a Wing and a Prayer

Amid the hustle-and-bustle of checking in, making your way through the obstacle course that is security, and divining where your gate is, you might not have time to grab a bite to eat or sneak in a quick massage, let alone have time to settle yourself for prayer.

But, across the U.S. — and throughout the world — airport chapels, prayer rooms, and interfaith spaces offer travelers an opportunity to do just that: to meditate, catch a few moments of quiet contemplation, or perhaps beseech the travel gods for a bit of mercy when flights are canceled, or luggage lost.

According to sociologist Wendy Cadge,  airport chapels had their genesis in the daily devotional needs of Catholic staff working in the airline business. She wrote of how initially, airport chapels “were established by Catholic leaders in the 1950s and 1960s to make sure their parishioners could attend mass.” The very first was Our Lady of the Airways at Boston’s Logan airport, built in 1951. 

Today, major transit hubs across the world offer some sort of spiritual respite for the busy traveler.

Pew Research Center found  that more than half of the U.S.’s large hub airports (catering to 1% or more of annual air passengers) offer a chapel or interfaith prayer room of some sort. These include standouts like San Diego’s meditation room “The Spirit of Silence,”  Orlando’s former, centrally located prayer room,  San Juan, Puerto Rico’s decidedly Catholic chapel,  or John F. Kennedy Airport’s synagogue,  the only one of its kind in the Americas.

Internationally, you can find stunning examples like the Buddhist meditation space at Taiwan’s Taoyuan Airport,  Berlin’s Room of Stillness  and its formidable fire-brick interior façade, or the new Istanbul airport’s ecologically-certified Ali Kuşçu mosque,  which can fit up to 6,230 people for prayer.

Far from cheaply-packaged single-serving spirituality or simply a security threat,  airport chapels, prayer rooms, and interfaith spaces offer a chance to reflect on how we define religion, both at home and abroad. Their persistent popularity, and their place in our religious imagination, exhibit the pluralism, plasticity, and politics that typify global religion today.

Hail Mary, Mother of Midterms: Religion and the 2022 U.S. Elections

As President Joe Biden looks to the 2022 midterm elections -- and sees prophecies of a Republican surge -- perhaps the above has become his personal, as well as political, petition.

Whatever the Catholic President's prayers, and whether or not Republicans or Democrats come out on top, religion is sure to shape the results.

Fallout from multiple Supreme Court decisions and results from recent primary elections have shaken up the prospects for candidates on both sides of the aisle. Changes in access to abortion services, questions around notions of religious liberty and dramatic decisions impacting the interpretation of the Constitution's "Establishment Clause" are at the front of voters' minds along with religious takes on the rising cost of living, climate change and crime rates.

In this edition of ReligionLink, you will find important background, relevant stories, and numerous experts to help you understand the 2022 midterms and their religion angle with balance, accuracy, and insight.

Recession religion

The stock market is down. Gas prices are up. Rents, food prices, and mortgage costs are spiking. Interest rates are continually on the rise. Crypto is crashing.

If that were not already enough, analysts fear rising inflation and the stock market’s bear market growl could signal global recession.

In the midst of economic turmoil, it might be tempting to flip past the religion page and turn straight to business, finance and market reports. But that would be to miss the many intersections between religion and the economy that will be relevant to these storylines in the months to come.

Here are just some of the stories you might discover: Buddhist monks protesting on Sri Lankan streets in the midst of unprecedented economic crisis. U.S. churches buying up medical debt to relieve the burden on low-income families. A Sikh gas station owner in Phoenix selling petrol at a discount. Financial experts considering Islamic finance as a potential strategic growth market in the midst of global upheaval.

And let’s not forget that according to a 2016 study, the so-called faith economy contributes around $1.2 trillion (USD) of socioeconomic value to the U.S. economy every single year. That is more than Google, Apple, Amazon combined!

As financial news continues to come hard and fast, portending potentially precarious times ahead, the latest edition of ReligionLink provides background, example stories and potential experts and resources to help you explore angles related to religion, the economy and global financial markets.

Why does dialogue often fail? People just don't care

When I was in high school, I basically dated my way through the world’s religions.  

My first girlfriend was Wiccan. I dated a Buddhist. I was consistently invited to attend dances at the local stake of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I even went out with a Methodist! 

Beyond my romantic relationships, my friends were Jewish and evangelical, Muslim and atheist, as well as many traditions between and beyond.​

It was these relationships that motivated me — a Lutheran raised in a decidedly non-ecumenical denomination — to study religion and connect with people across deep differences. 

You could say I was intrinsically motivated to (ahem) figure these relationships out. 

Inspired, I became an ordained pastor and sought to lead congregations and communities in interreligious dialogue in New Zealand, South Africa, the U.S., and Europe.  

What I came to realize along the way is many people simply weren’t as motivated as me. No matter my fancy degrees, slick PowerPoint slides, or authentic relationships with people of other faiths, many folks I invited to join me just didn’t care as much as I did. 

This motivational divide is what I came to call the apathy gap.

Let there be nuclear light?

Christians wrestle with questions about radioactive accidents, technology, and replacing fossil fuels

By the end of 2022, Germany is set to decommission the last of its three nuclear reactors. But for local Christians, debates around nuclear energy will continue to have their own half-life. 

By December, Germany is pulling the plug on its last three nuclear power plants — Isar 2, Emsland, and Neckarwestheim II — as part of the country’s Atomausstieg, or “nuclear power phase out.”

Amidst the shutdown, evangelicals on both sides of the Atlantic are wrestling with the potential risks, rewards, and responsibilities of nuclear power. Discerning whether there is a Christian case for nuclear energy is not as simple as turning on the lights. At issue are questions about nuclear power’s potential to destroy life and poison the earth through toxic waste. 

Robert Kaita, 69, who worked for the Princeton Plasma Physics Laboratory for 40 years, said, “as human beings created in God’s image, we have tremendous power to create and destroy, to give life and to take it. 

“Nuclear energy isn’t inherently evil,” he said, “but we have to go beyond technical problems and consider the moral ramifications of what we are doing.” 

Indeed, as Germany shuts down its nuclear energy program, it is perhaps ironic that nuclear energy was invented in its capital, Berlin. In what is now the Hahn-Meitner building on the campus of Freie Universität Berlin (FU Berlin), chemists Otto Hahn and Fritz Straßmann utilized Lise Meitner’s theories to discover nuclear fission on December 17, 1938. The splitting of nuclear atoms (fission) not only came to provide the basis for usable energy, but also the explosive force of the atomic bomb. 

Following World War II and the monumental, if monstrous, demonstration of fission’s power, Germany’s nuclear energy program kicked off in the 1950s. Its first power plants followed in the 1960s. Already, German anti-nuclear movements organized resistance to nuclear power’s proliferation. 

Local accidents and international disasters further propelled the anti-nuclear movement in the 1970s and 80s. Between 1975 and 1987 small scale incidents in Germany led to local contamination, radiation emission, and worrisome fires. Then, the Chernobyl accident occurred in 1986 and fears of nuclear fallout became mainstream.  

Located in what is now Ukraine, Chernobyl lies around 775 miles from Germany’s eastern border. When the reactor was destroyed, radioactive waste spewed across swathes of Europe, including Germany. It not only threatened lives, but water and food supplies. Wild mushroom samples in German forests still show signs of Chernobyl’s radioactive contamination signature to this day. 

For Markus Baum, 59, Chernobyl was a decisive crossroads. 

Special Guest Episode at the Maydan

Podcasts are fun.

They’re even more fun when you get to do them with a valued colleague.

A couple of months ago, Wikke Jansen and I sat down to talk about my book The Muslims of Latin America and the Caribbean. Wikke is a visiting fellow at the Berlin University Alliance Project “Global Repertoires of Living Together (RePLITO) and received her Ph.D. in Global Studies from the Institute of Asian and African Studies at Humboldt University Berlin, where we got to know one another through the Berlin Graduate School Muslim Cultures and Societies.

Wikke not only carefully read my work, but also asked some poignant and pointed questions about what its points might have to say to other themes in the study of global Islam and decolonization.

The result is a special guest episode at the Maydan, an online publication of Ali Vural Ak Center for Global Islamic Studies at George Mason University, offering expert analysis on a wide variety of issues in the field of Islamic Studies for academic and public audiences alike, and serving as a resource hub and a platform for informed conversation, featuring original articles and visual media from diverse perspectives.

Apocalypse now? When religion and natural disasters collide

As the Atlantic hurricane season begins, meteorologists are watching the Gulf of Mexico with increasing concern. A current of warm, tropical water known as the Loop Current is causing forecasters to fear “monster hurricanes” and a generally intense tropical storm season.

Hurricane Katrina, which went on to famously devastate large swaths of Louisiana and Mississippi, including New Orleans, crossed just such a Loop Current before making its harrowing landfall in 2005.

Extreme weather events like Katrina, climate convulsions and other natural disasters such as fires, earthquakes or tornadoes have inspired a range of religious reactions from the fearful or affected faithful. 

Some interpret them as a form of divine retribution and look for scapegoats upon which to place the blame. Others turn to religion as a form of “positive religious coping,” taking comfort in a higher power. Still others spring to action, providing critical support in the aftermath or offering prophetic hope for the future. 

With the hurricane and tornado seasons already upon us, post-summer wildfires looming on the horizon, global famine forecasts and potentially cataclysmic climate instability to come in the near future, this edition of ReligionLink explores the fascinating and often unsettling connection between natural disasters and religion.

Background

Experiencing something between sublime terror and numinous indescribability, when humans come face-to-face with volcanic eruptions, floods, earthquakes or epidemics they often seek to explain their upturned worlds in religious terms. 

Examining Americans’ experience with tornadoes over the years, historian Peter J. Thuesen wrote that reactions range between abject fear and awestruck fascination. “In the tornado, Americans experience something that is at once culturally peculiar and religiously primal,” he wrote. Exposing them to mysteries “above and beyond themselves,” the tornado whips up a “vortex of theodicy and the broader question of whether there is purpose or chaos in the universe.” 

Likewise, historian Philip Jenkins said that time and again, the languages of apocalypse, persecution and judgment have been used to understand climate catastrophes. Looking back over the long term, Jenkins wrote that disasters and climate change often result in “far-reaching changes in the nature of religion and spirituality.” 

Astute religion newswriters have taken notice. Given the increasing intensity of natural disasters brought on by changes in climate conditions and the ominous threat of other cataclysms always a possibility, stories about the intersections between natural disasters and religion are featuring more and more in our reporting.

Although religion is not “the only aspect of human affairs that is transformed during climate-driven disasters,” Jenkins wrote, “it is a very significant one, especially because this has so often been the primary means through which human beings have interpreted the world they see around them.” 

Taking a look at the resources available through the link below, these stories chronicle a mix of terror, trembling and spiritual searching. They feature narratives of renewed passion and inspiring commitment, scapegoating and persecution, apocalyptic expectations and mystical interpretations. Above all, they show how the convergence of faith and disaster is an area ripe for more nuanced, in-depth religion reporting.

Mission Berlin: The Church Of Jesus Christ Of Latter-Day Saints And Its Nearly 170 Years In Germany’s Capital City

A tireless desire to share their message with the people of Berlin — and Germany as a whole — has helped the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints’ mission in Berlin persevere over the years, up to the present day. 

Despite criticism, shrinking numbers and the challenges of working in a diverse metropolitan area considered the atheist capital of Europe, numerous young church members fulfill their mission in Berlin and believe the city is rich with opportunity.

“Sure, we face difficulties, get tired or get nervous sometimes, but it’s all worth it to be able to represent Jesus Christ,” said Elder Wyatt Smith, 21, a missionary from Utah.

In the U.S., members of the faith have had a long on-again, off-again relationship with popular culture and the country’s religious mainstream. With the recent release of FX’s “Under the Banner of Heaven,” starring Andrew Garfield and based on the eponymous best-selling book by Jon Krakauer, Mormons — a colloquial term based on the church's sacred Book of Mormon — of various kinds have been thrust back into public conversation in a not-so-flattering light.

In Berlin, that relationship has perhaps been even more tenuous and tense. From resistance to their message and rejection by the Kingdom of Prussia in 1853 to their current mission to serve refugees fleeing the conflict in Ukraine, the church there has faced difficulties large and small.  

Across the years and various challenges, the church has persisted. Today, there are 39,456 church members across 149 congregations in Germany as a whole.

Young Latter-day Saints in Berlin have shaped their mission to the city, and in turn, the city has shaped the church and its efforts to reach one of the most secular urban communities in contemporary Europe.

Elder Joshua Obrist of Switzerland, 24, partners with Smith in Berlin’s Steglitz district to share the church’s message, “the restored gospel of Jesus Christ,” sometimes on the street to passers-by. 

On buses and trains, in front of cafés and kiosks, Obrist and Smith talk to anyone and everyone who has a moment to discuss questions about life, death and the ultimate meaning of the cosmos.

After five hours out on the streets, Obrist and Smith are on a bus headed back to the church’s ward — local congregation — in Berlin’s Dahlem neighborhood. But they are not yet done for the day. Starting around 6:30 a.m., a typical day in the life of church missionaries is relentless.

“We don’t really have time off,” Smith said. “We start early in the morning studying the Scriptures, catch up with contacts on Facebook, rehearse some conversations we might have that day, do our mission work and maybe have some evening meetings, but we aren’t done until around 9:00 p.m.

“And even though we have Mondays off,” he added, “we are still wearing our name tags if we go out.”

Asked if this schedule proved exhausting, Smith replied, “Not really. This is a calling for us, one we only get to know for a small window in our life.” 

Berlin's Transcultural Jam

“If Berlin and its music scene is something, it’s actually seeing people with their very diverse intersectional identities, and it’s celebrating that.”

— Jamila Al-Yousef

It’s a damp, cold October night in Berlin, but along Hauptstraße in the Friedenau district, inside the famed Zig Zag Jazz Club, the crowd waiting for Alaa Zouiten is lively, chattering and warm.

A fire-red glow reflects from the lights near the stage where the Morocco-born ‘ud player begins plucking a few of his instrument’s strings. Clinking glassware and the hum of conversation subsides into concentration.

“I love the transcultural approach in music, and that means there are no boundaries between music and cultures,” says Alaa Zouiten. Morocco-born and, since 2009, Berlin-based, the ‘ud virtuoso and music educator is among the more than 135,000 Arab-identifying residents of the city helping make Berlin one of the world’s hottest centers of creative arts. Zouiten cites the fusions in his own music as Moroccan, Amazigh, African, Jewish, North African and Andalusian. “Together it all sounds really organic,” he says, “In that moment, the listener says, ‘We’re all pretty close, and we have more similarities than differences.’”

Zouiten’s first song comes as a rapid-fire arrangement that at once showcases his virtuosity, flitting between styles he refers to as flamenco arabe and urban jazz. After that, his band joins him: a Spanish percussionist, a French bassist, a Canadian violinist and a pianist from Lebanon. Midway through their opener, Zouiten pauses to let his audience know it’s about to hear something new.

“We are trying a mix of different styles of music up here,” he says. “I hope it’s OK.” 

Cheers erupt. One woman near the front calls out, “It’s more than OK. It’s geil!”—a German slang compliment that falls between “cool” and “sick.” 

Reflecting on the audience’s enthusiasm, Zouiten elaborates as he strums and talks, strums and talks.

“I am neither a purist Arab ‘ud player, nor a jazz composer, nor a traditional flamenco artist,” he says, continuing to pad his thoughts with notes that will lead into the next song. “Just the fact that I’m from a country like Morocco, with its Arabic, Amazigh, Islamic, African, Jewish and Andalusian influences, makes the answer more difficult.” 

Like his band, his music and the city he now calls home, Zouiten is surrounded by a comingling of cultures and the resulting exchange of geographic collateral.

“While I was looking for a label for my music, some called my music Oriental Jazz. Others called it Arabic Andalusian fusion,” he says. “I was constantly dissatisfied with all these names, until finally I came to the right term. My music is about a plaisir transculturel, or transcultural enjoyment.” 

Music has never been about just one thing, he says. Throughout the Middle East, North Africa and the Mediterranean, music has always been rich with both tradition and the eclecticism that comes with movements of peoples. In Morocco, for example, where French and Arabic are spoken both independently and fused into a dialect, there’s a complex soldering and even reconciling of identities that often presents in music. Moroccans, like people elsewhere, understand nuanced cultural representations, which in their region light up a spectrum of Arab, Italian, French, Amazigh and Andalusian influences that have all at different times borrowed from and given to other styles. 

Today, through artists like Zouiten, Arab music continues evolving through a nuanced cultural dialogue in one of its newest nerve centers: Berlin. Arab-influenced, Arab-produced, and performed by a mix of Arabs, Germans, and others who have come together in this global fulcrum of connections, people, tones, rhythms, ideas, and instruments from the Arab world are converging with others in Berlin, creating new combinations that not only resonate with the city itself, but radiate outward across Europe, the Middle East, and beyond.

The churches are willing, but the bureaucracy is weak: UK Christians welcome refugees amid frustrations with immigration process

When Wai Lin Wong arrived in Bristol from Hong Kong in April 2021, one of the first things she did was look for a new church.

“I logged onto Facebook; I searched Google,” she said, “and found churches with webpages translated into Chinese, groups of other Hong Kongers, and sanctuaries full of people like me.”

That happened a lot, said Mark Nam, an Anglican priest in Bristol. As the Chinese government clamped down on the democratic freedoms of the former British colony in 2020, thousands of Hong Kongers fled to the UK thanks to a visa programthat allows them to live and work in Britain with a pathway to full citizenship.

Hundreds of churches announced they would welcome the Hong Kongers with open arms. They did. And cities like Bristol have since seen their churches swell with newcomers, Nam said. Anglican parishes, Chinese Protestant churches, and evangelical congregations all grew dramatically in the last year.

“It’s been wonderful to see the welcome,” Nam said last year.

In recent months, UK Christians responded to another influx of refugees, this time from Ukraine.

The Sanctuary Foundation, which supports potential sponsors and assists the government in rolling out its Homes for Ukraine program, said over 2,000 churches, businesses, and schools plugged into their programming or volunteered to help in some way since March.

But in both cases, along with the surge of compassion, support programs, and congregational growth, there have come a host of challenges—from bureaucratic inertia to worrying signs of prejudiced double standards.

Sanctuary Foundation’s founder Krish Kandiah, who has been working with refugees since the 1990s, said his organization has been seeing churches welcome thousands of newcomers from Hong Kong, Afghanistan, Syria, and Ukraine.

The outpouring of generosity by congregations, individuals, and local organizations has been immense. Amid the rush from Ukraine alone, more than 1,000 UK churches stepped up to host refugees, he said.

However, enthusiasm on the part of Britain’s churches has not always been met with efficiency or empathy by their government.

Religion on the docket: U.S. Supreme Court decides on cases with religious ramifications

Perhaps NPR’s Nina Totenberg put it best when she said the docket for the 2021-2022 U.S. Supreme Court term is “a humdinger with major cases involving the biggest social issues of the day.”

With a notably altered composition after the addition of three Trump appointees, the court now features six reliably conservative members. With that makeup, SCOTUS is set to decide on significant social controversies related to abortion, the separation of church and state, government surveillance and normative clarity around the scope of free expression. 

The news cycle on these cases started back in October as oral arguments began and three decisions were already issued. The churn of news is picking back up again as some cases are just now being argued and other rulings are handed down. 

Just as this edition of ReligionLink was about to go to press, the decision on Shurtleff v. Boston came out. Then, quite dramatically a draft opinion from Justice Samuel Alito was leaked to Politico, wherein he writes that the 1973 Roe v Wade decision legalizing abortion is “egregiously wrong.” The leak is unprecedented and if the draft is issued as a majority ruling, it would overturn the constitutional right to abortion in the U.S.

The latest edition of ReligionLink will get you up to speed with background explainers, resources and experts for covering the most relevant, religion-related cases the Supreme Court is set to decide on this term — or for which it already issued judgment.

Visiting Every. Church. In. Berlin.

When Berliners Piet and Ulrike Jonas travel abroad, they head into local churches to gawk at stained glass windows, ponder over ornate altar pieces, and discern the meaning of devotional art.

“It is a way for us to get to know the place,” said Piet, “to begin to understand its history and the people who lived there.”

With church visits featuring so prominently in their vacations, Piet and Ulrike wondered if they might start doing the same in their home city.

And so, one-by-one, they began to look in on Berlin’s churches. What started as a hobby quickly turned into a goal-oriented project: to visit every church in Berlin.

Alle Kirchen Berlins was born.

According to their website, their project is simple. “We want to see all the churches in Berlin from the inside,” they wrote. According to their count, that means visiting some 450 locations. As of January 2022, they were at number 381.

The project, however, is not explicitly religious in nature. Nor is it specifically historical, architectural, or social. Instead, Piet and Ulrike said it’s about getting to know Berlin.

Along the way, they are encountering the city’s diversity and development, it’s eclecticism and surprising spiritual effervescence.

“One would not think that Berlin is an especially religious city,” said Ulrike, “and yet we are finding out just how important religion has been and still is.

More than showcasing some of the most remarkable, interesting, or site-seeable places of worship, Alle Kirchen Berlins provides insight into how we understand and negotiate what counts as religion. Moreover, the project highlights how our encounter with religion is part of the way in which contemporary societies — and cities — organize and understand themselves.

Specifically, Piet and Ulrike’s project highlights how city dwellers determine what counts as sacred and secular, how immigration has long been a part of shaping urban religious expressions, and how the notion of religion and the notion of a city are entangled with one another, the one shaping the other and vice versa.

For Dr. Kezevino Aram, Joy Comes from Serving the Most Vulnerable

The township of Kovaipudur has a reputation.

Located in the foothills of the Sahyadri Mountain range and part of the city of Coimbatore, in Tamil Nadu, India, the township enjoys gentle mountain breezes and monsoon rains that create a generally serene setting of lush vegetation. Locals know Kovaipudur is cooler than the rest of the city.

But Kovaipudur is also known as the home of Shanti Ashram, an international centre for development, learning and collaboration founded by Dr. M. Aram and Mrs. Minoti Aram, who are Dr. Kezevino Aram´s parents,  in 1986 on the Gandhian principle of Sarvodaya (progress for all).

According to Shanti Ashram’s records, its community work impacts more than 250,000 people in Coimbatore and its environs. Dr. Kezevino Aram has been leading the Ashram as its President since 2014. Through her hands-on, collaborative approach, Aram has responded to numerous challenges and crises in her community— most recently the COVID-19 pandemic.

Hungarian Evangelicals Thank God for Viktor Orbán Victory

Szófia Boros voted for Victor Orbán. The young evangelical mother of two has her misgivings about the man who has been accused of undermining democracy—curtailing press freedom, undercutting the independent judiciary, and changing election rules to give an advantage to his political party, Fidesz.

But in the end, it was pretty simple to support him for reelection on April 3.

“Evangelical Christians support the majority of Orbán’s policies and positions, even if we don’t really admire the way he goes about his politics,” she said. “I voted for him because he is a conservative Christian standing up against a liberal Europe.”

Evangelicals aren’t a big or politically organized voting bloc in Hungary. Only a few evangelical groups are established enough to achieve recognition from the national government, including the Baptist Union, the Hungarian Methodist Church, the Hungarian Pentecostal Church, the Church of the Nazarene, and the charismatic Faith Church, whose pastor endorsedOrbán during a Sunday service.

About half the people in the country consider themselves Catholic, a quarter has no religious affiliation, and 16 percent—including Orbán—identify with the Reformed Church in Hungary, which is part of the mainline World Council of Churches and affiliated with the Presbyterian Church (USA).

Eighty percent of the country identifies as Christian, but only about 15 percent of Hungarians attend church on a weekly basis.

But a lot of Hungarians, it turns out, feel like Boros. They wanted a conservative Christian prime minister committed to defending what they see as a Christian culture and its Christian values.

This ain't your mama's paganism: understanding modern witchcraft, nature religions and ‘neopaganism’

As part of sweeping transformations in American religion and renewed interest in New Age spiritualities, modern paganism is tapping into a deep desire for self-empowerment, social engagement and reconnection with the natural world. 

Inspired by, or derived from, historical pagan and nature religions, modern paganism is an undeniably broad, collective category that covers a diverse range of groups that can differ greatly in belief and practice.

While Wicca and astrology have enjoyed a certain popularity for several decades, a wave of new publications has highlighted how personalized spiritual practices, home-brewed magic and shamanistic self-discovery are now enjoying their own renaissance. 

The latest edition of ReligionLink explores this new “neopaganism,” what some are calling a broader “re-paganization of religion.”