RNA inspires new voices, echoing my own beginnings

RNA inspires new voices, echoing my own beginnings

Commentary by Tracy Simmons | FāVS News

“I blinked my eyes and in an instant, decades had passed,” wrote poet John Mark Green.

I felt that this week while attending the annual Religion News Association (RNA) conference in Arlington, Virginia.

At a professor’s nudge, I first attended a conference in the early 2000s. I don’t remember what city it was in, or even the exact year. I do remember how awkward it felt. I stood shyly by myself —  away from the religion reporters I admired so much — when I should have been networking.

Looking around at this year’s conference I see some young, new reporters doing the same — avoiding eye contact, arms wrapped protectively around themselves. Today, RNA has a mentorship program, which I’m on the committee for. Myself, Liam Adams from the Tennessean and Kathryn Post from the Religion News Service, meet monthly via Zoom with these emerging journalists. At this year’s conference, we organized a happy hour for them, and slowly other veteran reporters joined our table and connected with them.

I hope it’s opened doors for them.

RNA’s always been good that way. Rookies are noticed and taken under a wing — only now it’s intentional. When I got my first religion reporting job in Victoria, Texas, two journalists took me in. Richard Vara from the Houston Chronicle and Jeffrey Weiss from the Dallas Morning News helped me learn the ropes. I remember calling on them for tips the first time I went into a mosque, or leaning on them for career advice. They introduced me to others in the industry.

Mentors like Weiss and Vara shaped my early career, but they’ve been joined by others over the years — Julia Duin with her fearless reporting and Scott Thumma with his encyclopedic knowledge of American religious trends. Some mentors have retired or left the beat entirely. Others, like Weiss, have passed away, leaving holes in our collective wisdom.

What strikes me most isn’t just how the industry has evolved, but how my own role has transformed alongside it.

I’ve spent most of my career as a quiet observer, focused on local religion news rather than chasing national headlines. It’s work that rarely earns spotlight recognition but reaches directly into communities where faith shapes daily life. This year marked a turning point when I shared my entrepreneurial journey as a panel participant, sitting where my mentors once sat.

Sadly, RNA’s membership is much smaller than it once was as the religion beat never fully recovered from the 2009 economic crash.

Yet some things remain constant. The camaraderie among religion reporters endures. When we gather, conversations still blend the sacred and profane, jumping seamlessly between theological nuance and industry gossip. We still discuss coverage, ethics and share contact recommendations.

As I watched the new crop of journalists gain confidence throughout the conference, I saw reflections of my younger self. They’ll face challenges, but they’ll have mentors to guide them, just as I did.

The rhythm of these gatherings serves as a reminder that journalism isn’t just about deadlines and bylines — it’s about community and continuity. Digital platforms like FāVS may transform how we distribute news, but the essence of good religion reporting remains unchanged: curiosity, context and compassion. 

I wonder what a newcomer at this year’s conference will remember two decades from now, when they’re the veterans mentoring the next generation. Perhaps they’ll look back at awkward beginnings, appreciate those who extended a hand and recognize how quickly time passes when you’re doing work that matters. In the end, that’s what makes the religion beat special — we don’t just document faith communities, we build our own.

The views expressed in this opinion column are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the views of FāVS News. FāVS News values diverse perspectives and thoughtful analysis on matters of faith and spirituality.