young people

, , , , , ,

The Big Ideas at March for Life 2025 were bigger than mere political slogans

, , , , , ,
The Big Ideas at March for Life 2025 were bigger than mere political slogans

The questions at the 2025 March for Life were familiar ones for D.C. Beltway insiders: Would major politicians show up and what would they say?

After a White House race in which his softer abortion language worried conservatives, President Donald Trump's video message affirmed: "To all of the very special people marching today in this bitter cold, I know your hearts are warm and your spirits are strong because your mission is just very, very pure: to forge a society that welcomes and protects every child as a beautiful gift from the hand of our Creator."

Vice President J.D. Vance, a convert to Catholicism, appeared in person and stressed the need to be "pro-family and pro-life in the fullest sense of that word. … Let me say very simply: I want more babies in the United States of America. I want more happy children in our country, and I want beautiful young men and women who are eager to welcome them into the world and eager to raise them."

Speaker of the House Mike Johnson, in deeply personal remarks, stressed that he was born just before Roe v. Wade and this timing was more than symbolic. "I was the product of an unplanned teen pregnancy," he told the rally crowd, "and I am so eternally grateful that my mom and dad ignored all the people who told them to just take care of that problem, and they chose to embrace life and to have me, the first of their four children. It's a simple fact -- a very simple fact -- that had they not done that, I would not be here."

This was the third national March for Life since the Supreme Court vote to overturn Roe v. Wade and the January 24 event was affected by harsh winter weather that, days earlier, moved the presidential inauguration ceremonies inside the U.S. Capitol. Nevertheless, organizers estimated that the rally and march drew about 150,000 people, including busloads of students.

The vigil Mass the night before the march packed the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, with 5,000 students, adults and activists gathered in a variety of worship spaces inside the basilica, since the upper-sanctuary pews hold about 3,500 people.

, , , , , , ,

Life lessons (along with some parables) in the classic comedy 'A Christmas Story'

, , , , , , ,
Life lessons (along with some parables) in the classic comedy 'A Christmas Story'

Humorist Jean Shepherd was a teen-ager when his father came home from work and began packing a suitcase.

"What are ya doin', Dad?", asked Shepherd.

Describing the scene to communication scholar Quentin Schultze, he said that his father replied: "I'm leaving. You'll understand when you get older."

Shepherd's father moved away and married a "trophy wife."

This wasn't the kind of dark, life-changing event that tends to inspire a crucial symbol and theme in a beloved Christmas movie, noted Schultze. But Shepherd wove parts of his own life story into his storytelling, including work that became "A Christmas Story."

Americans who watch this 1983 family comedy -- about 40 million click into the 24-hour marathon on TBS and TNT, starting on Christmas Eve -- know that it centers on a boy named Ralphie who is obsessed with his parents giving him a 200-shot Red Ryder air rifle BB gun.

But another iconic image is the leg-shaped lamp, wearing a fishnet stocking worthy of a bordello, that Ralphie's "Old Man" received as his "major award" after winning a quiz contest. What was that all about?

Schultze learned the answer when, for three years in the 1980s, he taught a college-level storytelling class with Shepherd, while saving notebooks full of insights from their time together.

"As Shepherd told me, the leg lamp became the Old Man's trophy wife, which he had to show off to the world. He was unable to carry on his 'affair' with discretion," wrote Schultze, in "You'll Shoot Your Eye Out! Life Lessons from the movie 'A Christmas Story.'" He is now professor emeritus at Calvin University in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

The quest for the Red Ryder rifle has a heartwarming final act, with a boy bonding with his volatile "Old Man," the father's only name in the script. And the leg lamp story also has a happy ending, even though it's clear that Ralphie's mother broke it on purpose.

, , , , ,

The mysteries of Our Lady of Guadalupe: It's a story for researchers and childen

, , , , ,
The mysteries of Our Lady of Guadalupe: It's a story for researchers and childen

The cloak worn by St. Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin was made from rough cactus materials from central Mexico and it should have deteriorated after 15-30 years.

But this "tilma" remains intact and its mysterious image of the Virgin Mary has not faded since December 1531, when the indigenous peasant reported a series of Marian encounters. The framed cloak is displayed behind the high altar of the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe at the foot of Tepeyac Hill in Mexico City.

Scientists have studied the cloak for centuries. For starters, it's hard to describe the survival of this cactus-fiber cloak without using the word "miracle."

"We are dealing with mysterious events, but that doesn't mean they aren't real," said Vivian Dudro, a senior editor at Ignatius Press who helped produce a new edition of "The Lady of Guadalupe," a classic children's book by the late artist Tomie dePaola.

"All I know is that historians and scientists keep digging into the details of all this. Even with what we call 'legends,' you soon realize that there are real people involved in stories of this kind," she said, in a telephone interview. "The story of Our Lady of Guadalupe is best described as 'sacred history,' and pieces of this history continue to emerge to this day."

Year after year, Juan Diego's tilma is viewed by an estimated 20 million pilgrims, with more than 10 million visiting the basilica close to December 12 -- the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the patron saint of Mexico and the Americas. Around the world, throngs march in parades and sacred processions behind copies of this iconic Marian image.

While Our Lady of Guadalupe has played a central role in Mexico's tempestuous history, Pope Francis has stressed that this image should not be tethered to culture and politics. "The message of Guadalupe does not tolerate any ideology of any kind," he said, during last year's Vatican rites for the feast day. Instead, believers should focus on Mary's question to Juan Diego: "Am I not here, I, who am your mother?"

This is a key message, said Dudro, that children need to hear when parents and teachers introduce them to the story of Juan Diego, the Castilian roses he plucked -- following Mary's instructions -- from the frozen soil and, finally, the image of her that appeared on his cloak when the roses spilled out before the Franciscan bishop of Mexico.

, , , , ,

Why are most clergy timid about smartphone wars? They fear offending parents

, , , , ,
Why are most clergy timid about smartphone wars? They fear offending parents

As the star of the scathing documentary "Religulous" -- "religious" plus "ridiculous" -- Bill Maher has never hidden his agnostic views about faith.

But that doesn't mean the stand-up comic doubts the reality of evil. Consider this blistering comment on smartphones, drawn from his "Real Time" talk show earlier this year.

Far too many people think "they don't need reality," Maher told social psychologist Jonathan Haidt of New York University, author of "The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness."

"We've made reality obsolete -- interesting choice," said Maher. "Parents today, it's kind of the worst of both worlds. Too much hovering in real life, where there is any left, and then none with virtual. You go in your room, lock yourself in there with the portal of evil, that is the phone. … I feel like parents, in each generation, ceded more control to children."

In response, Haidt -- a self-avowed Jewish atheist -- stressed that modern life continues to eat away at the traditions of the past.

"As life gets easier, as people get wealthier, as they move away from the old days, authority tends to decay -- there tends to be less respect for authority, less respect for the old ways," said Haidt. "Kids need structure, they need moral rules. … When it seems as though anything is permissible, it doesn't make people happy. It makes them feel disoriented and lost."

Maher has made it clear that he is "not a tech enthusiast," noted Emily Harrison, in her "Dear Christian Parent" Substack newsletter. But the shocker in that HBO exchange was his claim that smartphones serve as a "portal of evil" in daily life.

"Wait. What? … Yes, smartphones can do lots of great things, but they also have made the proliferation of pornography mind boggling large," wrote Harrison. After all, five years ago, PornHub was already reporting 115,000,000 visits "per day with smartphones accounting for almost 84% of their online traffic. So, is the smartphone a 'portal of evil'? Yeah, I'd say so."

, , , , ,

Jonathan Haidt: It's time for clergy to start worrying about smartphone culture

, , , , ,
Jonathan Haidt: It's time for clergy to start worrying about smartphone culture

Preaching to teen-agers has always been a challenge.

But in the smartphone age, clergy need to realize that the odds of making a spiritual connection have changed -- radically. Young people who spend as many as 10 or more hours a day focusing on digital screens will find it all but impossible to listen to an adult talk about anything, especially in a religious sanctuary.

"As long as children have a phone-based childhood there is very little hope for their spiritual education," said Jonathan Haidt, author of a bestseller -- "The Anxious Generation" -- that has raised the heat in public debates about controlling or banning smartphones in schools.

"An essential precondition is to delay the phone-based life until the age of 18, I would say. Don't let them fall off into cyberspace, because once they do, it's going to be so spiritually degrading for the rest of their lives," he said, in a Zoom interview. "There's not much you can do in church if they are spending 10 hours a day outside of church on their phones."

It would be hard for the cultural stakes to be higher, argued Haidt, the Thomas Cooley Professor of Ethical Leadership at New York University. Thus, his book's weighty subtitle: "How the Great Rewiring of Childhood is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness."

While Haidt's work has ignited debates among politicians, academics and high-tech entrepreneurs, reactions have been muted among religious leaders who are usually quick to spot threats to children. Then again, clergy may not be used to a self-avowed Jewish atheist issuing warnings about the "spiritual degradation" of young people.

It would be a big step forward, he said, if "the leaders of various denominations could make a clear statement about how the phone-based childhood is a threat, not only to their mental health, but to their spiritual health. … We can only save our kids from this if we have the churches, families and schools all working together."

, , , , , ,

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.

, , , ,

At crucial times in life, J.D. Vance focused on 'Wisdom from the Book of Mamaw'

, , , ,
At crucial times in life, J.D. Vance focused on 'Wisdom from the Book of Mamaw'

The young J.D. Vance was used to the melodramas surrounding his mother Beverly Vance with her addictions to painkillers, heroin and alcohol, as well as the chaos caused by her five failed marriages and countless live-in boyfriends.

But his mother was trying to steer a car during one pivotal clash with Bonnie Blanton Vance, the matriarch known to all as "Mamaw."

"There was a lot of screaming, some punching and driving, and then a stopped car on the side of the road," wrote Vance, in his bestseller "Hillbilly Elegy," from 2016. "It's a miracle we didn't crash and die: Mom driving and slapping the kids in the backseat; Mamaw on the passenger side, slapping and screaming at Mom. … We drove home in silence after Mamaw explained that if Mom lost her temper again, Mamaw would shoot her in the face."

Once he was safely home -- at his grandmother's house -- Vance approached her on the battered couch where she napped, watched TV and read her Bible. He asked one question: "Mamaw, does God love us?" She hugged him and began weeping.

What Vance calls "Wisdom from the Book of Mamaw" guided his rise through the U.S. Marines to Ohio State University, Yale Law School, Silicon Valley, the U.S. Senate and now the Republican nomination to become Vice President of the United States.

Mamaw was a lifelong Democrat who distrusted organized religion, including "holy rollers" and snake handlers, cursed like a sailor and, when she died, her house contained 19 loaded handguns. But the soft heart and steel spine of the family's "hillbilly terminator" provided stability when needed.

In "Hillbilly Elegy" described what she taught him: "To coast through life was to squander my God-given talent, so I had to work hard. I had to take care of my family because Christian duty demanded it. I needed to forgive, not just for my mother's sake but for my own. I should never despair, for God had a plan."

Mamaw wasn't much of a churchgoer, but no one doubted her faith.

, , , , , , ,

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."

, , , , , ,

Critics insist that star placekicker Harrison Butker's Catholic speech sailed way right

, , , , , ,
Critics insist that star placekicker Harrison Butker's Catholic speech sailed way right

There was nothing unusual about the conservative Catholic leaders of Benedictine College inviting a conservative Catholic to deliver a conservative Catholic speech.

But the May 11 commencement ceremony was different, since the speaker was three-time Super Bowl champion Harrison Butker of the nearby Kansas City Chiefs.

The team's star placekicker stressed that "being Catholic alone doesn't cut it," while attacking many famous Catholics, including President Joe Biden for, among other choices, making the sign of the cross during a Florida abortion-rights rally. Butker spent most of his 20-minute address criticizing many American bishops, while also offering blunt defenses of Catholic teachings on sexuality.

But the words that ignited a media firestorm hit closer to home.

Butker asked the female graduates: "How many of you are … thinking about all the promotions and titles you're going to get in your career? Some of you may go on to lead successful careers in the world. But I would venture to guess that the majority of you are most excited about your marriage and the children you will bring into this world."

Butker stressed that his wife, Isabelle, is "a primary educator to our children. She is the one who ensures I never let football, or my business become a distraction from that of a husband and father. … It is through our marriage that, Lord willing, we will both attain salvation."

Pundits and comics claimed that Butker criticized working women -- while his mother, Elizabeth, is a medical physicist in the radiation oncology department at Atlanta's Emory University School of Medicine. In a 2020 Mother's Day tribute, he tweeted: "Growing up my mom was my biggest supporter, guiding me to be the man I needed to become."

Early this week, Change.org had gathered 221,866 signatures urging "Kansas City Chiefs management to dismiss Harrison Butker." The petition said the kicker's remarks "were sexist, homophobic, anti-trans, anti-abortion and racist," thus hindering "efforts towards equality, diversity and inclusion in society. It is unacceptable for such a public figure to use their platform to foster harm rather than unity."