KIM LAWTON, guest host: Now, more on religion and politics with Kevin Eckstrom, editor in chief of Religion News Service. Kevin, we’ve seen since the very beginning of this primary season that Mitt Romney has consistently done best among the Catholic voters in contrast to Rick Santorum, who is Catholic, and this really helped him out of course last week in Ohio, where about a third of the Republican voters were Catholics, and he got the majority of them and that helped him win. Why do you think that Catholics are really gravitating toward Romney as opposed to Santorum?

KEVIN ECKSTROM (Editor-in-Chief, Religion News Service): Well, I think it’s because Rick Santorum is sort of a very particular kind of Catholic that is a bit actually outside the mainstream of the American Catholic church. You know, the surveys indicate that the American Catholic church, or the American Catholics don’t buy the line that the contraception mandate, for example, is an attack on religious freedom, which is what Rick Santorum and the bishops have been saying. They don’t buy that. Americans Catholics by and large use contraception. Rick Santorum thinks it’s a moral evil, and so there is a disconnect. He is a particular kind of Catholic that I think is a little bit out step with the mainstream, rank-and-file Catholic church, and so I think when they look to him, a lot of them don’t see themselves in him, and a lot of people actually don’t even know that he’s Catholic. Most people assume he’s an evangelical.

LAWTON: And he also generated controversy when he criticized John F. Kennedy’s speech where he talked about the separation of church and state, and Santorum was very critical of that. He said that speech shows a philosophy that wants to keep religion out the public square. He wants to have more religion in the public square of all stripes, he says, and that also affected perhaps some of the Catholic views of him.

EKSTROM: Right. Again, you know, there are Rick Santorum Catholics and John F. Kennedy Catholics, and I think most Catholics, when they look at the two, they sort of identify with John F. Kennedy. They are fine with the separation of church and state. They actually think it’s a good thing. Rick Santorum thinks it’s kind of a bad thing. But what you see, I think, is Rick Santorum in a lot of ways is the Tea Party candidate in this race. I mean, he’s talking about issues of freedom and liberty and big, aggressive government, and that’s really not in line where most Catholics are, sort of the rank and file. They’re just of a different stripe, and so he’s going after the base of the party, and that’s really not where the Catholics are.

LAWTON: Rick Santorum has done extremely well among evangelicals. Of course, there are evangelicals who do support Mitt Romney, but by and large Santorum’s been getting the majority of those votes and especially in states where there are a large number of evangelicals. That’s made a big difference for him. We have a couple states coming up, Mississippi, Alabama, where that may be a factor for Santorum.

ECKSTROM: Right, and in a place like Tennessee, which Rick Santorum won, I mean, he won the evangelical vote decisively, and the thing to watch, I think, in the Southern primaries coming up, in Alabama and Mississippi, is how well he does among evangelicals and how well Newt Gingrich, who also has strong appeal among some evangelicals, how they do. And one of them is going to get that vote and I think if Santorum gets it, I think Newt Gingrich is pretty much done. But, you know, one of them is going to be the evangelical candidate, because clearly Mitt Romney is not, and I think the next coming week will tell us who that’s going to be.

LAWTON: And, of course, there’s been a lot of jockeying already, everybody calling on the other one to get out of the race, saying that if it were more of a two-man race that perhaps it would be a more interesting competition.

ECKSTROM: Right, and I think, as we’ve talked about, Newt Gingrich really has two roles he can play here. He can be a kingmaker and step aside and throw his support behind one candidate or the other. Or he can be a spoiler and prohibit, you know, drag out this contest among conservatives even longer.

LAWTON: Well, we’ll keep watching. Thank you so much, Kevin Eckstrom.

ECKSTROM: Thank you.

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Romney appealed to the “common creed of moral convictions” shared by all Americans, that every human being is a child of God and thus entitled to inalienable rights. In a Tocquevillian turn of phrase, Romney said that “freedom requires religion just as religion requires freedom.” “Freedom and religion endure together,” he said, “or perish alone.” Evocatively, Romney also linked the Constitution’s prohibition against state religion to the religious vitality in America, in contrast to Europe’s established churches with cathedrals “so inspired…so grand…so empty.”

Because Romney’s speech obviously harkens back nearly a half century ago to John Kennedy’s address before Baptist ministers in Houston, it is instructive to compare the two. Like JFK, Romney pledged his loyalty to the Constitution and declared that if he was fortunate enough to take the presidential oath of office he would view that as “my highest promise to God.” Like Kennedy, Romney assured his fellow Americans that “no authorities” of his church would “exert influence over his presidential decisions.” In a direct echo of Kennedy’s address Romney said that he was not a Mormon running for president but an American running for president who happened to be Mormon. Like Kennedy, Romney linked the history of his people to the American story of advancing tolerance and freedom, but he did so by shining the light on shortcomings: “Anne Hutchinson was exiled from Massachusetts Bay, a banished Roger Williams founded Rhode Island, and two centuries later, Brigham Young set out for the West.”

Unlike Kennedy, Romney did not entertain the possibility that a conflict could arise between the dictates of his religious faith and his constitutional obligations. Kennedy declared that if such a rare choice presented itself he would resign from office. Romney made no such declaration.

Romney also had to go further in defining his faith than did Kennedy. Although he refused to explain his church’s distinctive doctrines — because to do so would “enable the religious test the Founders prohibited in the Constitution” — Romney did declare his Christianity in simple, accessible language: “I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and the Savior of mankind.” But he also embraced the “the faith of my fathers,” pledging to be true to his Mormon beliefs. He did not think that would sink his candidacy because Americans respect “conviction” and “tire of those who would jettison their beliefs, even to gain the world.”

Tellingly, where Kennedy outlined the challenge from communism, Romney identified as a mortal threat to America the “theocratic tyranny” of “radical violent Islam.” Though not likely to be well received by American Muslims, this phrase seems designed to create solidarity with the majority of non-Mormons in the nation.

Romney’s speech was more overtly religious than Kennedy’s. Kennedy in effect said that his faith would have no bearing on his public work, and he went out of his way to oppose positions — such as state support for parochial schools — backed by his church hierarchy. Declaring that the separation of church and state should be “absolute,” Kennedy envisioned a civic life in which no religious body would seek to influence public policy (which he described as attempting to impose its will on officials).

Reflecting the tenor of public discourse in conservative circles today, Romney, in contrast, charged that church-state separation had been distorted by secularists in an attempt to remove religion from public life. “We should acknowledge the Creator as did the Founders — in ceremony and word. He should remain on our currency, in our pledge, in the teaching of our history, and during the holiday season nativity scenes and menorahs should be welcome in our public places.”

In evoking both the Bible and America’s public religion, Romney described how he “was taught in my home to honor God and love my neighbor.” He saw his “father march with Martin Luther King” and his “parents provide compassionate care to others.” He said he was moved by “the Lord’s words,” in Matthew 25, to feed the hungry and clothe the naked.

Romney’s speech celebrated religious pluralism in more vivid terms than Kennedy. Where Kennedy referenced the Jew, the Quaker, the Unitarian, or the Baptist who suffered persecution for their faith, Romney made a more personal declaration. He declared that he loved “the profound ceremony of the Catholic Mass, the approachability of God in the prayers of the evangelicals, the tenderness of spirit among the Pentecostals, the confident independence of the Lutherans, the ancient traditions of the Jews… and the commitment to frequent prayer of the Muslims.”

Romney’s speech was thus even more ecumenical than Kennedy’s. One could hear evocations, even, of John Paul II’s encyclical Fides et Ratio, when he spoke of how “reason and religion” join to lift the human spirit in the cause of liberty.

Will the speech make a difference? Probably. It was an often eloquent and evocative address designed to allay concerns of evangelicals, tie his personal story to the nation’s heritage, and appeal to the broader public. But it remains to be seen whether it will do enough to win the hearts of born-again Christians who still view Mormonism as a non-Christian cult. One thing is likely: whether or not Romney wins the presidency, his quest will renew and advance the distinctly American refrain for religious freedom.

Allen Hertzke is professor of political science and director of religious studies at the University of Oklahoma.

But there is one promise Romney made at the beginning of his speech on which I thought he later did not adequately deliver. This is where he said that he “will offer perspectives on how my own faith would inform my presidency, if I were elected.” He later explained how his faith has instilled in him certain moral values that he shares with all persons of faith, “the great moral inheritance we hold in common,” as he put it. This is good as far as it goes. But is there not something more and deeper? Surely, each faith has more specific beliefs and values that shape how its adherents view the world, including the world of public policy issues and debates.

The Mormon tradition is well known for its emphasis on strong, traditional families and hard work, and on its opposition to abortion and same sex marriages, as well as other distinctive beliefs and values. How do such beliefs work to mold the development of his positions on public policy issues? This Romney did not seek to explain. He at one point referred to “the Creator,” but did not explain how his seeing God as the Creator shapes his understanding of environmental issues, or creation care issues as some of us like to put it.

All of us have been shaped by our deepest beliefs, by our faith. I believe Mitt Romney — as do all of the candidates for president — have an obligation to explain how their various religious faiths have worked in their lives to inform their understanding of the world and shape the public policy positions they take. Romney did some of that today, but I am still looking for a fuller discussion of how his own faith would inform his presidency, if he were elected.

Steve Monsma as a senior research fellow at the Henry Institute for the Study of Christianity and Politics at Calvin College and professor emeritus of political science at Pepperdine University. His book HEALING FOR A BROKEN WORLD: CHRISTIAN PERSPECTIVES ON PUBLIC POLICY will be published in March 2008 by Crossway Books.

Speaking as committed men of faith, they could then claim, if they should become president, to represent all citizens of faith. Neither man worried about alienating the minority of non-religious voters. Kennedy, like Martin Luther King three years later in the “I Have a Dream” speech, spoke of America as a nation of Protestants, Catholics, and Jews; Romney bravely brought Muslims into the fold, explaining that as a Mormon he had something to learn from people of other religious traditions. He appreciated the “frequent prayer” practiced by Muslims, just as he liked the evangelical Christians’ sense of the “approachability” of God, the Lutherans’ “confident independence,” the Pentecostals’ “tenderness of spirit,” the “ceremony” of the Catholic Mass, and the “ancient traditions” of the Jews.

In that litany he very noticeably said nothing about what the rest of America could learn from his own Latter-day Saints. He came close to claiming devotion to family as a distinctive LDS virtue, but backed off, stressing that even his own family fell short of the “perfection” to which they aspired. But throughout the speech he argued implicitly that the Mormons’ commitment to religious freedom stood as a model for all. Has any presidential candidate ever before stated that as a man of faith he wished his church would learn from the traditions of others?  (Non-candidate Mario Cuomo has said so many times, adding that encountering other religions permits one to rediscover forgotten features of one’s own tradition, as encountering Judaism led him to new appreciation of his Catholic faith.)

If anything, Romney surpassed Kennedy in the passion he conveyed while tracing the history of the battle for religious liberty, likening Brigham Young’s trek West in the 19th century to Anne Hutchinson’s and Roger Williams’s struggles in the 17th. Romney said nothing about his specifically Mormon beliefs, but everything he said about faith in America — his own and everyone else’s — was subtly and potently informed by his memory of the persecution experienced by his Mormon ancestors. The power of the speech reminds me of the power of Barack Obama’s at the Democratic convention in 2004: Obama’s vision of a multicultural America was rooted in his own biracial, binational past. I sense Romney’s speech will go down as a memorable American political oration regardless of his success as a candidate. He spoke eloquently of what it means to be an American whose ancestors fought for the freedom of religion guaranteed to them by the Bill of Rights, and to practice one’s faith in a religiously pluralistic society where everyone can gain by opening up to the spiritual insights of others.

Romney’s speech was twice as long as Kennedy’s (20 minutes to 10 minutes), but Kennedy stayed at the podium for 30 more minutes of questions from seven Protestant ministers, who were permitted to grill him with unlimited follow-ups. Kennedy shined in that format of quick-witted repartee, treating his questioners respectfully, almost deferentially, while still expressing himself forcefully. Romney took no questions. In the weeks and months to come, he will face some of the grilling to which Kennedy submitted right after his speech. Kennedy, by gaining the support of prominent Protestants in 1960 (Reinhold Niebuhr and John Bennett among them) probably saved Romney the trouble of having to reconcile the hierarchical structure of the LDS Church with American democratic values. And it should be easy enough for Romney to handle the narrow “Jesus” issue. He can keep repeating what he said in the speech: “I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God and the Savior of mankind,” then claim that he would rather leave the fine points to the theologians. It may be harder for him to explain what Latter-day Saints mean when they say that the 19th-century Book of Mormon counts as a revelation like the Old and New Testaments, or that all believers can aspire to being “gods.”

Finally, Romney’s speech shrewdly combined reaching out to Protestant evangelicals with an overture to the general religious population, liberals included, whom he will want to win over if he gets the Republican nomination. He went out of his way to distance himself from many Protestant Republicans by stating that “reason and religion are friends and allies.” In a general election campaign he would try to position himself right on that boundary line: welcoming religion into public life (as many Democrats nowadays, unlike Kennedy, are also eager to do) while asserting that rational judgment and scientific expertise are fully compatible with faith. But some questioner may complicate matters for him by asking, for example, how, given his dual embrace of reason and religion, he interprets his prophet Joseph Smith’s claim to have himself translated, from the hieroglyphics on gold plates he discovered on September 22, 1827, the Book of Mormon.

Richard Wightman Fox is the author of JESUS IN AMERICA: PERSONAL SAVIOR, CULTURAL HERO, NATIONAL OBSESSION (HarperCollins, 2004).

Governor Mitt Romney of Massachusetts understood that he had a special burden to get right with religion today (December 6). Many commentators have likened Romney’s challenge to the address by candidate John F. Kennedy 47 years ago to the Greater Houston Ministerial Association, but the challenge was quite different. Despite the presence of an anti-Catholic spirit coming forward from the 1950s, Kennedy was a member of an ancient, large church whose membership comprised 33 percent of the population, whereas Romney is a member of a newer religious tradition whose membership comprises 3 percent of the American population.

The way each candidate framed his speech is revealing. Kennedy, a master speaker, built his tightly focused, briefer speech around a steady litany of “I believe in an America where…,” with few specifics about the American religious landscape. He even said at the outset, “we have far more critical issues to face in the 1960 election,” a comment that reflected accurately the very different America to which he spoke. Romney, by contrast, acknowledged that religion was a critical issue, and the architecture of his address contained far more building blocks, because his burden was both to reach out to an American public expecting to hear candidates speak their faith, but at the same time not turn away other Americans concerned that there is a recent conspiracy to construct a certain kind of religion in American society.

Romney chose not to place the focus on his personal faith but to make a plea for the role of faith in the public square. For me, his thesis sentence was: “It is important to recognize that while differences in theology exist between the churches in America, we share a common creed of moral convictions.” He illustrated this conviction by listing as examples “abolition, or civil rights, or the right to life itself,” thereby including causes from the 19th, 20th, and 21st centuries embraced by religious people from left to right on the religious spectrum. Romney was making a plea for a common ethic or morality as the ultimate basis for the role of religion in America.

This was a speech in which Governor Romney sought to earn the right to be heard. He did so by affirming his faith in Jesus Christ as the Son of God, but admitting that others may have differing beliefs about Christ. He affirmed the separation of church and state, but stated that the intention of the founders was not the elimination of religion from the public square. He recalled that the first Americans came to find religious liberty, but acknowledged that once here ended up denying religious liberty to those with whom they disagreed, citing Anne Hutchinson, Roger Williams, and Brigham Young as examples. Romney celebrated the religious vitality in America by contrasting it with the empty cathedrals of a Europe “too ‘enlightened’ to venture inside and kneel in prayer.” A strength of Romney’s speech, and a contrast with Kennedy’s speech, were his affirmations of the specific beliefs, ceremonies, prayers, and traditions of Catholics, Evangelicals, Pentecostals, Lutherans, and Jews.

Romney’s speech also contained a warning about “the creed of conversion by conquest.” Although Romney mentioned the murder of Christians, Jews, and Muslims, his focus was on the danger of “theocratic tyranny” by “radical Islamists.”

In the end, Romney offered an assurance that sounded very much like Kennedy in 1960: “Let me assure you that no authorities of my church, or of any other church, for that matter, will ever exert influence on presidential decisions.”

Did Romney get right with religion in 2007/8? He is in a box, and he knows it. On the one hand, he will never be able to get right with the religion of those who will never vote for a Mormon. On the other hand, in a brief address, Romney made a thoughtful argument for the role of religion in the public square that he hopes can reach across denominational divisions.

The question Governor Romney did not address was what was the content of that religion?  He had to say, even as Kennedy had to say, that he would not be influenced by his church in forming the moral guidelines for his political leadership. But why not? What are the foundations of morality?  In a religiously diverse society some have argued that we can simply separate ethics from theology. George Washington declared long ago that morality severed from religion will not long remain moral. Abraham Lincoln, in his Second Inaugural Address, combined an indicative, what God has done — “The Almighty has his own purposes” — with an imperative, what we are to do — “With malice toward none; with charity for all.” Governor Romney affirmed today that religion needs to be part of the public square. He, and other candidates, have yet to tell us in any specificity what the indicatives are that will allow us to act on what imperatives to make this a more loving and just society.

Ronald C. White, Jr. is the author of LINCOLN’S GREATEST SPEECH: THE SECOND INAUGURAL and THE ELOQUENT PRESIDENT: A PORTRAIT OF LINCOLN THROUGH HIS WORDS. He is writing a biography of Lincoln that will be published by Random House in January 2009.

From the perspective of 2007 — indeed, from the perspective of presidential politics since 1976 — such views sound almost as archaic as Thomas Jefferson’s declaration that he cared not whether his neighbor believed in no god or twenty gods. This change in the political zeitgeist does not simply reflect growing religiosity in the electorate. On the contrary, depending on where and how we look, Americans in the aggregate are less religious now than in 1960. Rather, starting with the polarized high “sixties” that began a half decade later, social and cultural issues related to religion have become a larger part of the nation’s political divisions. As religion-related issues multiplied, so did rival groups dedicated to mobilizing the devout, the secular, and those in between. In 1960, despite rising Catholic and Protestant tensions during the previous decade, Kennedy could affirm the “absolute” separation of church and state, reject diplomatic relations with the Vatican, call federal aid to parochial schools unconstitutional, and be done with it. The chances of Congress passing a foreign aid bill funding birth control seemed “very remote,” he said. And of course Kennedy spoke thirteen years before Roe v. Wade legalized almost all abortions.

With varying degrees of piety, sincerity, and success, presidential candidates have adapted to and promoted the proliferation of religion-related issues and a zeitgeist that now seems to impose a de facto religiosity test for the major party nominations.

Jimmy Carter’s courtship of his fellow “born again” Protestants helped him win the 1976 election but many of them defected from his coalition when they discovered on closer inspection that Carter was theologically and politically more liberal than he had sounded. Ronald Reagan, an eclectic Protestant with a Catholic father, toyed with religious beliefs ranging from Baha’i to premillennial prophecies of Jesus’ imminent return. On the thinnest of evidence, he convinced most evangelicals and fundamentalists that he, too, was a born again Christian, and the briefly influential new Christian right accepted a very junior partnership in the Reagan coalition. As president, Reagan’s religious style recalled Eisenhower’s affirmations of religion in general; he began the contemporary practice of ending speeches with “God bless America.” On thinner evidence and with less success, George H. W. Bush claimed that he, too, was sort of born again. Bill Clinton, who combined spiritual searching and womanizing in the fashion of Lyndon Johnson, continued the speech-ending ritual of asking God to bless America. George W. Bush, a moderate evangelical himself, has given a larger governmental role to the Christian right than Reagan did because that interest group is now more firmly established in the Republican Party.

Meanwhile, the specific issues related to religion have waxed and waned. For instance, most Americans stopped noticing that numerous presidential contenders since 1960 have been Catholics. Even among pundits, who knew in 1988 that Alexander Haig’s brother was a Catholic clergyman? Throughout these three decades, however, religious liberals and militant secularists have continued to warn that the “wall of separation” between church and state has been breached and perhaps seems on the verge of collapse.

In short, the period since 1976, characterized by religion-related issues and an open mixture of religion and politics, looks like most eras in American history rather than the atypical “fifties.” Yet even in that stereotyped era, conflict, including substantial religious conflict, could be found just below the enforced consensus.

Viewed in this context, in which conflict relating to religion is viewed as the American historical norm rather than the exception, is there a major “Mormon issue” in contemporary presidential campaign? If so, is it comparable to the “Catholic issue” in 1960?

There is at the moment a Mormon issue in the Republican Party centered on the state of Iowa.  Specifically, there is a close race in the upcoming caucuses between former Massachusetts Governor George Romney, a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS), and former Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee, a Baptist minister and television evangelist before he entered politics. This competition has drawn attention to differences between Mormons on the one hand and evangelical and fundamentalist Protestants on the other.

In theological terms, the differences are substantial. Although the LDS Church developed out of the lively Protestant religious stew of the early nineteenth century, Mormons under the leadership of Joseph Smith and Brigham Young intended to improve upon Christianity, with significant departures even from the increasingly amorphous standards of the day. These included new scriptures, including most famously the Book of Mormon, new core beliefs, such as Jesus’ presence in the western hemisphere after the resurrection, and controversial practices, such as direct revelation and (until 1890 and most notoriously) plural marriage.

Until the early twentieth century, evangelical Protestants often paired popery and the LDS as comparable autocratic and lecherous evils. If anything, the Mormons looked worse. Catholicism could be viewed as a precursor, a legitimate defender of the pure faith until it went astray. The LDS Church claimed to be a successor, holding that all of the proliferating denominations growing out of Reformation Protestantism needed to be replaced. To reformed Protestants this upstart faith looked like an un-Christian cult. Indeed, Joseph Smith had called himself the second Muhammad.

Our lives are often more flexible than our doctrines, and the religious rank-and-file in America have always mixed incongruous beliefs in ways that distressed their clergy. By the 1950s most animosity to Mormonism had dissolved in the solvent of religion in general. By the late 1970s, evangelicals, fundamentalists, and Mormons often united in defense of “traditional” values. Jerry Falwell might have suspected that Mormons were doomed to hell but, in the meantime, they were welcome to join the Moral Majority.  During the past quarter century, Mormons have typically placed a stronger emphasis on Jesus Christ as savior and in general sounded more and more like evangelicals.

Yet significant tensions remained. Not only was Mormonism not really Christian in the eyes of many evangelical and fundamentalist leaders, but also these theological conservatives and the LDS competed in the missionary field. Doctrinal differences and lingering suspicions provided an opening for political exploitation — especially in the insular world of Republican caucuses and primaries.

Governor Romney apparently thought he could win the Republican presidential nomination by combining relatively cosmopolitan appeals in places like New Hampshire, where there were few religious conservatives, while fitting into the traditionalist family values niche in places like Iowa, where there were lots of them.  Few Republicans in New Hampshire seem to care that Romney is a Mormon.  But evangelical and fundamentalist Republicans in Iowa apparently do, as they almost certainly will in states with comparable religious constituencies.

Still, how deeply they care and what this says about religious tolerance in the United States is hard to say. Undoubtedly they would care less about Mormonism if Romney’s chief opponent were Rudolph Giuliani, a thrice married Catholic of sorts. But Governor Huckabee fills the traditionalist family values niche just as well as Romney, and he is, more importantly, an evangelical himself.

An even harder question is to what extent evangelicals in Iowa are supporting Huckabee because he is one of their own, a fact he is strongly advertising, and to what extent he is winning support because his campaign is exploiting anti-Mormon sentiment. According to press reports, Huckabee has declined to say whether or not he considers Mormonism a cult or just a different but legitimate version of Christianity. An American is certainly allowed to believe and declare that “my religion is better than yours,” but at least since the 1930s no serious presidential candidate has said so even in private. Perhaps Huckabee should be the candidate giving a speech on church, state, and religious tolerance.

Romney’s speech on those subjects contained few surprises. Much of it echoed Kennedy in 1960. He was a American running for president who happened to be a Mormon rather than the Mormon presidential candidate. He endorsed the separation of church and state. He would not take orders from LDS leaders. He would rather lose than repudiate his faith.

Most of the civil religion passages could have been lifted from addresses by Eisenhower or FDR. The merit of religion in general was a persistent theme. Liberty was said to be God’s gift. John Adams and Abraham Lincoln were invoked as men of faith, as indeed they were, but Romney did not note that their Christianity was considerably less orthodox than Hillary Rodham Clinton’s Methodist social gospel. Following the now standard ritual, he ended by asking God to bless America. He did not suggest, along with Lincoln, Jimmy Carter, and even Richard Nixon, that God might decide otherwise.

Three points were noteworthy, if far short of extraordinary. First, fighting for the traditionalist family values niche, he promoted religion in general in the public square, including religious symbols in literal public squares, and scorned the “religion of secularism.” Second, perhaps to reassure evangelical and fundamentalist Protestants, he called Jesus the “Son of God and Savior of Mankind.” Third, Romney admitted that religious intolerance is one of our American traditions, and he cited the travails of dissident puritan Anne Hutchinson and LDS leader Brigham Young as cases in point.

Romney’s speech will probably not affect the outcome of the Iowa caucus. It does not rank with either of Kennedy’s 1960 addresses as a political performance or a serious discussion of church and state. Nonetheless, the speech shows that Romney has begun to think about questions that he will face over and over and over again if he wins the Republican nomination.

One thing that has not changed significantly since 1960 is the dismal performance of the news media when covering religion and politics. There are exceptions. This week these included Kenneth Woodward’s New York Times op ed on the differences between the situations faced by JFK and Romney. Reporters now feel obligated to call scholars to explain, for example, the difference between Mormons and evangelicals. But expert advice rarely affects the main narrative line, which still highlights the atypical and the lurid. As Kennedy told the editors in his lesser known 1960 speech, they should stop “magnifying” and “oversimplifying” religious issues.

Leo P. Ribuffo, a professor of history at the George Washington University, specializes in 20th century U.S. history and American intellectual history.

David O’Brien is a historian of American Catholicism and professor of Roman Catholic studies at the College of the Holy Cross in Worcester, Massachusetts.

The parallels are unmistakable. Both men felt compelled to address what was openly discussed as the “religious issue” during the 1960 presidential campaign. Both men were reared from infancy in a tradition different from Protestantism, which in its various forms claims the allegiance of at least a plurality (if not a majority) of Americans.

But the parallels end there. Unlike Mormonism, Roman Catholicism was well known to most Americans in 1960, although many Protestants had a jaundiced view of the Roman Catholic Church. Many Americans today, by contrast, know little about Mormonism, officially named the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Much like the anti-Masonic movements in the nineteenth century, Americans see Mormons as secretive; their temples, for instance, are closed to “gentiles” (non-Mormons).

For evangelicals in particular, some of the tenets of Mormonism are troubling. The Mormon notion of God as both male and female, baptism for the dead, and even the practice of wearing Mormon underwear (thought by many to have protective powers) strike many evangelicals as unorthodox, if not downright bizarre.

Most crucial, however, is the doctrine of revelation. Mormons accept the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament) and the New Testament as divinely inspired, but they believe that the Book of Mormon, discovered by Joseph Smith in Palmyra, New York, in 1827, is similarly inspired. And Mormons believe that the president of the Latter-day Saints is the conduit for continuing inspiration.

Evangelicals, on the other hand, have an almost talismanic view the Bible (Old and New Testaments), which they often refer to as “the word of God” and which provides their sole religious authority. For another religious group to “tamper” with the canon of scripture — much less add to it at any time — strikes most evangelicals as utter blasphemy.

All of these suspicions do not augur well for Romney. Politically conservative evangelical voters have become the core constituency for the Republican Party, much the way that labor unions once provided the backbone of the Democratic Party. In order to win the Republican nomination, Romney needs the support of politically conservative evangelicals, who are especially active in Iowa.

Throughout the early months of the campaign, Romney sought to downplay his faith, protesting that he is not a spokesman for Mormonism. But many voters, evangelicals especially, have not been mollified — which led him to the dais of the George Bush Library in Texas Thursday morning (December 6) to deliver his “JFK speech.”

Two of the most compelling arguments central to Kennedy’s speech in 1960, however, are not available to Romney. Kennedy unequivocally affirmed his “absolute” support for the separation of church and state, and he also foreswore government support for religious schools. Romney cannot echo those positions, and indeed he hedged on the former and refused to address the latter. The leaders of the religious right preach that the separation of church and state, as encoded into the First Amendment, is a “myth.” They also seek taxpayer support for church-related schools.

So, in the end, Romney was reduced to bromides about religious liberty and “family values.” (Mormons are good at “family values.”)

Ironically, Romney missed the opportunity to make his best case for a Mormon to be president. Mormons believe that America’s charter documents, the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, are actually divinely inspired. After seven years of an administration that views the Constitution as a nuisance, many Americans, I suspect, would welcome a president who sought to defend the integrity of the Constitution rather than subvert it.

Randall Balmer, an Episcopal priest, is professor of American religious history at Barnard College, Columbia University, and a visiting professor at Yale Divinity School. His most recent book, GOD IN THE WHITE HOUSE: A HISTORY: HOW FAITH SHAPED THE PRESIDENCY FROM JOHN F. KENNEDY TO GEORGE W. BUSH, will be released by HarperOne in January.