young people

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

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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."

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

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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."

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

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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.

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

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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.

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

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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."

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

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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."

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A hard truth: Most American Catholics no longer worry about saving souls

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A hard truth: Most American Catholics no longer worry about saving souls

As a rule, evangelists from Texas don't go shopping for bourbon before a speech.

But that's what Marcel LeJeune and some friends did when the Catholic Missionary Disciples leader spoke at a Franciscan University conference last summer in Steubenville, Ohio. Things turned serious, while chatting with a saleswoman, when he asked how she was doing and she bluntly replied, "I wish I wasn't on this earth."

There was no easy response. The woman was angry, LeJeune said, "because something was hurting." He offered to pray, and she fired back, "Oh, don't do that. You're talking to a rabid atheist, and I don't want your prayers."

LeJeune returned to discussing bourbon options and, as he left, the woman smiled and laughed when he said, "Look, I'm going to pray for you, but you just pretend I'm not. OK?"

That's really all that could happen in that setting, stressed LeJeune, a veteran of years of campus ministry near Texas A&M University. The saleswoman was candid, and he tried to show sincere concern.

Truth is, the woman he met "when I was buying bourbon was … easier to evangelize than the people who go to my parish who don't know Jesus Christ."

Catholic leaders need to understand that, a decade ago, Pew Research Center numbers were already warning that 13% of American adults are ex-Catholics, with 6.5 former Catholics for every Catholic convert. Waves of "nones," the religiously unaffiliated, cannot be ignored.

Meanwhile, LeJeune has stressed another sobering reality -- that nearly half of church-going Millennials think it's morally wrong to seek converts. Among Catholics, many assume that "evangelism" is a Protestant concept and the same thing as "proselytism" that pressures people to convert.

The reality is that more and more churchgoers are, at the practical level, "universalists" who assume people go to heaven, no matter what, he noted.

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Canterbury Cathedral throws a flashy disco rite for chic modern pilgrims

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Canterbury Cathedral throws a flashy disco rite for chic modern pilgrims

The Gothic Revival sanctuary of the former Episcopal Church of the Holy Communion was a strange edifice to house a dance club, but that's what happened in the early 1980s with the infamous Limelight club in New York City.

Rocker Steve Taylor penned a snarky tribute, including this pounding chorus: "This disco used to be a cute cathedral / Where we only play the stuff you're wanting to hear … / This disco used to be a cute cathedral / But we got no room if you ain't gonna be chic."

Four decades later, this song surfaced during online chatter about the February 8-9 dance nights inside Canterbury Cathedral, the Church of England's most hallowed sanctuary.

Dubbed the "rave in the nave" by critics, revelers gulped drinks from the bar and sang along to hits streamed by DJs into rented headphones. One participant described dancing to "Horny" by Mousse T. -- "I'm horny, horny, horny, horny, I'm horny, horny, horny, horny tonight" -- not far from the stone tiles on which St. Thomas Becket was murdered in 1170.

"The decline of Western Christendom continues unabated," noted Taylor, via email. His song, with its Limelight callout, was a critique of modernized brand of faith that sacrifices its message to gain popular appeal. "I think that I referred to it as country club Christianity."

Outside Canterbury Cathedral, one protester told The Telegraph: "Thomas Becket is buried in the same location in this cathedral as our late Queen is buried in St George's Chapel. Would it be acceptable to have a rave in that place? Would anyone accept that? … This is going to make people take the church less seriously than they did before, rather than more seriously."

Canterbury's dean rejected the "rave in the nave" label and argued that the "90s-themed silent disco" would show proper respect for the cathedral's cultural and arts heritage.

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Can Christian colleges 'keep the faith' or is avoiding compromise impossible?

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Can Christian colleges 'keep the faith' or is avoiding compromise impossible?

As America's second-oldest Lutheran college, Roanoke College in Virginia's Shenandoah Valley proclaims that it is "never sectarian" in outlook, while maintaining that "critical thinking and spiritual growth" are essential.

The online spiritual-life page also offers this advice: "We encourage you to follow your own personal spiritual path while here at Roanoke." The collage "honors its Christian heritage" and its affiliation with the progressive Evangelical Lutheran Church in America by stressing "dialogue between faith and reason," according to its "Mission & Vision" statement. "Diversity, inclusion and belonging" are strategic goals.

These commitments are "so informal that it's hard to call them doctrinal commitments at all," said Robert Benne, a retired Roanoke College professor who founded its Benne Center for Church and Society. "This is what you see in many Christian colleges. … These vague commitments go along with efforts to embrace whatever is happening in modern culture."

This isn't unusual, he stressed, after studying trends in Christian higher education for decades. In the post-pandemic marketplace, an increasing number of small private schools -- religious and secular -- face economic and enrollment challenges that threaten their futures.

Leaders of many Christian colleges and universities face a painful question as they try to stay alive: When seeking students and donors, should administrators strengthen ties to denominations or movements that built their schools or weaken the ties that bind in order to reach outsiders and even secular students?