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What did a Boomer priest learn from a year leading a flock of Millennials?

What did a Boomer priest learn from a year leading a flock of Millennials?

As a Pittsburgh Pirates fan, Father Stephen Noll felt a sense of loss when he learned he would need a smartphone app to attend baseball games.

Noll calls himself a "digital dinosaur, perhaps from the Jurassic period." What he didn't expect, after 50 years of priesthood, was for this digital divide to affect his ministry.

"I am fundamentally app-horrent," he wrote in "Millennial People, Boomer Priest," a book of lessons from his year as a young parish's interim pastor. The big problem was staying in contact with members of Redeemer Anglican Church, in north Pittsburgh. It was even harder to reach potential converts who kept walking through the doors.

"Caving to the need to reach my Millennial parishioners," he wrote, "I learned to text with the help of the voice input mic, which is a good thing since it seems no one answers voice messages – or even answers the phone at all!"

Noll was 74 when he became interim pastor on May 1, 2021, after the traumas – in pews and pulpits – of the coronavirus pandemic. He decided that many young adults were wrestling with anxiety, loneliness and other painful realities that were both modern and ancient.

According to the 2022 American Religious Benchmark Survey, many people stopped attending worship during the pandemic. Surveys before 2020 found that 25% of Americans never attended services. It was 33% in 2022.

But something else was happening during those years. Surveys found that 19% of Americans changed from one religious affiliation to another, including 6% of those who were religiously unaffiliated before COVID-19.

Noll said some of the young adults in his pews were asking hard questions about the brokenness around them, including in their own lives and the homes in which they were raised.

Olympics debates rage on: Why did Dionysus invade The Lord's Supper tableau?

Olympics debates rage on: Why did Dionysus invade The Lord's Supper tableau?

The Catholic bishops of France admired the "marvelous display of beauty and joy" in the 2024 Olympics opening rites, but also slammed the blending of Christian sacred art, Greek mythology and the sexual revolution.

"This ceremony unfortunately included scenes of mockery and derision of Christianity," said the bishops. "We are thinking of all the Christians on every continent who have been hurt by the outrageousness and provocation of certain scenes."

That was soon followed by an appeal to the International Olympic Committee from a global circle of cardinals and bishops protesting "a grotesque and blasphemous depiction of the Last Supper. … It is hard to understand how the faith of over 2 billion people can be so casually and intentionally blasphemed."

But the Vatican remained silent for more than a week, while online combat raged between clergy, entertainers, academics, diplomats and armies of social-media warriors. Finally, the Holy See released a muted statement that it was "saddened" by the "offence done to many Christians and believers of other religions. … In a prestigious event where the whole world comes together around common values, there should be no allusions that ridicule the religious convictions of many people."

These debates raged on and on because few combatants could agree on what took place, in part because the opening ceremonies were quickly removed from the official Olympics YouTube and NBC Universal accounts.

However, photographs showed 16 or more drag and transgender performers, with one child, posed in "vogueing" stances along one side of a table, in front of the Seine River and Eiffel Tower. The edgy drama also included, with brief nudity, couples and threesomes prancing on a stylized fashion runway.

Eventually, a silver food dish opened to reveal, instead of bread and wine, singer Philippe Katerine – painted blue – portraying Dionysus, the Greek god of wine and ecstasy. Pointing to his groin, he sang (translated from French): "Where to hide a revolver when you're completely naked?"

RFK Jr. offers a testimony about God, faith, heroin and fighting his personal demons

RFK Jr. offers a testimony about God, faith, heroin and fighting his personal demons

After he decided to kick heroin, the young Robert F. Kennedy, Jr., tried to think about daily life in a totally different way.

Rather than trusting his willpower to do the right thing for a whole day, he began dividing each day into 40 or more decisions.

"When the alarm goes off in the morning, do I get immediately out of bed, or do I stay in bed for an extra 20 minutes with my indolent thoughts?", asked Kennedy, speaking to a recent Socrates in the City gathering. "When I reach in the closet and pull out a pair of blue jeans, and all those wire hangers fall on the ground, do I shut the door like I used to and say that I'm too much of a big shot, that's somebody else's job, or do I go in there and clean up my own mess?"

After 14 years of addiction, Kennedy said he tried to act as if each decision was a moral test and God was watching. This was a leap of faith, since his addiction attacked the Catholic faith of his childhood.

This New York City audience – Socrates events focus on "Life, God and other small topics" – knew Kennedy would discuss his independent White House campaign and his edgy views on the environment, vaccines, autism, assassinations and similar topics.

Basic questions would be covered, as with previous guests since 2000 – such as scientist Francis Collins, author Malcolm Gladwell, television legend Dick Cavett, Rabbi Sir Jonathan Sacks of England, Anglican Bishop N.T. Wright and Ambassador Caroline Kennedy, JFK's daughter.

But politics isn't the only reality. Socrates in the City founder and host Eric Metaxas – a conservative Christian radio host and the New York Times bestselling author of "Bonhoeffer," "Miracles" and other books would ask Kennedy about the role of faith in his complicated and controversial life.

"I was never an atheist – ever. I was raised in a deeply religious family, and I integrated that," said Kennedy. "My dad was killed when I was 14. I became a heroin addict when I was 15. ... When you're … living against conscience, which is what happens when you're an addict, you tend to push any kind of notion of God off over the periphery of your horizon."

Should the Vatican cancel art by a world-famous priest accused of abuse?

Should the Vatican cancel art by a world-famous priest accused of abuse?

When members of the Society of Jesus gather at Borgo Santo Spirito, their headquarters near the Vatican, they worship surrounded by the relics of Jesuit saints and works of sacred art.

This includes the work of Father Marko Ivan Rupnik, who the Jesuits expelled in June 2023 after long investigations into allegations that he sexually and emotionally abused as many as 30 women in religious orders. The Vatican excommunicated the Slovenian priest in 2020 – but quickly withdrew that judgment.

Some abuse, according to alleged victims, took place while nuns were serving as models for Rupnik's art.

The question the Vatican should answer, according to the leader of the Pontifical Commission for the Protection of Minors, is whether it's time to remove Rupnik's art from Vatican websites and publications, as well as holy sanctuaries.

"We must avoid sending a message that the Holy See is oblivious to the psychological distress that so many are suffering," wrote U.S. Cardinal Seán P. O'Malley of Boston, in a June 26 letter to leaders throughout the Vatican curia. "I ask you to bear this in mind when choosing images to accompany the publication of messages, articles, and reflections through the various communication channels available to us."

O'Malley's full text has not been released, but quotations have appeared in Catholic media, including a report posted on the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops website.

Still, the Vatican News website continues – on the June 28 "Saint of the Day" page – to feature an image of St. Irenaeus drawn from a Rupnik mosaic in the Catholic diplomatic office in Paris. The website of the Rupnik-linked Centro Aletti in Rome documents that his images are displayed in 200-plus locations around the world.

Southern Baptists wade into the troubled waters of religious liberty – once again

Southern Baptists wade into the troubled waters of religious liberty -- once again

In the midst of heated debates about female pastors and the morality of in vitro fertilization, the national Southern Baptist Convention recently passed a religious liberty resolution that – in terms of Baptist history – was rather ordinary.

But these are not ordinary times in American life.

"Messengers" from autonomous SBC congregations resolved: "That we encourage and support robust Christian engagement in the public square, including individual Christians who pursue elected or appointed office in order to influence government by living out their Christian worldview while advocating Christian morals with respect for the consciences of all people."

The "resolved" clauses then became much more specific.

"That we oppose any effort to establish a state religion of any nation, including the United States of America; that we refute the idea that God has commanded any state to establish any religion or any denomination; and we reject any government coercion or enforcement of religious belief, including blasphemy laws. …

"That we oppose any effort to use the people and the churches of the Southern Baptist Convention to establish Christianity as the state religion of the United States of America."

During debates on convention-floor debates, that blunt line in Resolution 2 – opposing efforts to establish a Christian "state religion" – was challenged by the Rev. Justin Ramey of Crider Baptist Church in Eddyville, Kentucky.

"What does that mean?", he asked. "Should we remove 'In God We Trust' from our currency? Does it mean we should remove 'under God' from our pledge? I'm grateful that our government at one time at least acknowledged Christianity as our foundation and encouraged it."

The final Resolution 2 text failed to include two important words in today's fiery debates about religion in American life, according to Mark Wingfield of the progressive Baptist News Global website.

Celtics coach Joe Mazzulla: Battles with ambition and pride, appeals for grace and faith

Celtics coach Joe Mazzulla: Battles with ambition and pride, appeals for grace and faith

It's rare to hear eight seconds of dead silence during an NBA Finals press conference.

Boston Celtics head coach Joe Mazzulla was asked if – because of the "plight" of Black head coaches – it was significant that both teams were led by Black men. Was this a source of "pride" for him?

The son of an Italian father and a Black mother, Mazzulla is an outspoken Catholic whose pre-game routine includes pacing through an empty arena, praying with a rosary made with wood from the court of the original Boston Garden.

Mazzulla's answer was blunt: "I wonder how many of those have been Christian coaches?"

While this response drew many cheers in social media, Los Angeles Lakers legend Kareem Abdul-Jabbar was not amused.

Mazzulla "decided to ignore a legitimate question about race that might have been illuminating and inspiring for others, and instead decided to virtue signal," the six-time NBA Most Valuable Player wrote on Substack. The answer was "strangely aggressive since Christians are not discriminated against but, as a group, are more likely to discriminate against others," Abdul-Jabbar added.

The reporter who asked the pivotal question went further, suggesting that the Celtics coach apparently didn't grasp that it's "possible to be both Black and Christian."

"This didn't feel like a denouncement of Mazzulla's Blackness, so to speak," wrote Vincent Goodwill of Yahoo Sports. "It wasn't quite the 'I'm not Black, I'm OJ' moment; it just leaves room for interpretation."

This wasn't the first time that Mazzulla has puzzled journalists. In 2022, he was asked if he met the "royal family," after Prince William and Princess Kate Middleton attended a game.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph? … I'm only familiar with one royal family," he quipped.

The new kind of threat to Alaska's historic Russian Orthodox cathedral

The new kind of threat to Alaska's historic Russian Orthodox cathedral

The fire began in the early hours of January 2, 1966, and spread through the business district of Sitka, Alaska – toward the historic St. Michael's Russian Orthodox Cathedral.

"Everyone in town ran to the church and started passing things out hand to hand in long chains of people," said Father Herman Belt, the cathedral's current dean. "They even carried out the chandelier, since you could lower it back then. They ran out with all the candlestands. They carried out the crosses. We lost one icon."

The rescued treasures included the bishop's throne carved by St. Innocent Veniaminov, the Siberian priest and missionary who in 1840 was sent to serve as bishop of "New Archangel," the island village that would become Sitka. The bishop translated the Gospels and Orthodox texts into several Alaskan languages and dialects and, later, served as Metropolitan of Moscow.

The bishop's staff of St. Innocent is in the rebuilt sanctuary, leaning next to the central doors before the altar. The cathedral – designed by St. Innocent – contains other links to six saints whose lives touched Sitka.

The original cathedral was completed in 1848, built with logs, clapboard siding and interior walls covered in sailcloth. St. Michael's was rebuilt using concrete, steel and fire-resistant materials, using 1961 drawings from the Historic American Buildings Survey.

Russian churches can handle winter. But snow isn't the problem, in a cathedral near the Gulf of Alaska. There are leaks along joints in the domes and the wooden floors squeak because of water damage. Bedrock under Sitka ends a block away.

"We're in the mush below that, then we've got the ocean, so all the rain and melt running down dumps into our basement," Belt explained. "If we get snow here, it isn't too bad. But we get lots of rain with wind, coming off the water."

Sitka averages 90 inches of rain a year, in this temperate rain forest. Seattle gets 40.

United Methodist establishment wins and steers left into a sea of red ink

United Methodist establishment wins and steers left into a sea of red ink

While the "Kingsfold" hymn melody was traditional, the modern text of "Creator of the Intertwined" captured the progressive course steered by the recent General Conference of the embattled United Methodist Church.

"Creator of the intertwined, you made us all unique: / each one with ears to hear faith's call, each one with voice to speak. / Each worships where the call is heard, in forest, temple, dome, / on mountain top, in upper room – each one must find a home," sang the delegates, on April 30. The final line added: "From different sources comfort comes, each seeks for the divine: / your voice speaks many languages, just one of them is mine."

While insiders grasped the symbolism of this interfaith affirmation, the news at this pandemic-delayed gathering focused, as expected, on biblical authority and sexuality. This General Conference urgently moved to modernize many UMC doctrines and laws, after the exit of 7,659 congregations in America's biggest church split since the Civil War.

With a 523-161 vote, these words vanished from the Book of Discipline: "The practice of homosexuality … is incompatible with Christian teaching." This had long banned "self-avowed practicing homosexuals" from ordination. Another revision instructed regional leaders to start training churches to accept pastors, whatever their LGBTQ+ identities.

"It's about damn time!", said John Pavlovitz, a pastor, author and activist popular with UMC progressives. "Either you believe LGBTQ are made by God and fully indwelled with beauty and dignity as-is – or you don't. … Either you declare their worth by inviting them fully into your community – or you refuse to. Either you believe gender identity and sexuality aren't moral flaws – or you believe they are," he wrote, at his The Beautiful Mess website.

The General Conference also approved a "regionalization" constitutional amendment allowing U.S. churches to modernize church law and doctrine, while Global South conservatives, especially growing churches in Africa, could retain old traditions.

The big idea: Harrison Butker focused on pandemic-era Catholic pain about sacraments

The big idea: Harrison Butker focused on pandemic-era Catholic pain about sacraments

Early in the coronavirus pandemic, Catholic clergy – along with pastors in many other traditions – struggled with secular authorities or even their own leaders while trying to provide sacred rites at the heart of their faith.

Churches were locked. Some priests turned to open-air confessions, even automobile drive-through lanes. In some cities priests in hazmat suits were allowed to offer last rites, usually without family members present. Some officials, secular and sacred, were more flexible than others.

A network of Catholic activists wrote an urgent plea: "Bishops, we, your faithful flock, implore you to do everything you can to make the sacraments more available. … Something is terribly wrong with a culture that allows abortion clinics and liquor stores to remain open but shuts down places of worship."

This bitter divide resurfaced during the May 11 Benedictine College speech by Harrison Butker, a three-time Super Bowl champion from the nearby Kansas City Chiefs. While remarks about women and family life dominated headlines, most of the placekicker's 20-minute address focused on divisions inside Catholicism.

Cultural chaos is "in our parishes, and sadly, in our cathedrals too," said Butker. "As we saw during the pandemic, too many bishops were not leaders at all. They were motivated by fear, fear of being sued, fear of being removed, fear of being disliked. They showed by their actions, intentional or unintentional, that the sacraments don't actually matter. Because of this, countless people died alone, without access to the sacraments."

Thus, many Catholics have simply stopped listening to bishops they believe are acting like politicians, instead of spiritual fathers, he claimed. "Today, our shepherds are far more concerned with keeping the doors open to the chancery than they are with saying the difficult stuff out loud."