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Concerning heaven, hell and the eternal prospects of President Donald Trump

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Concerning heaven, hell and the eternal prospects of President Donald Trump

The U.S. Secret Service spotted the hunter's stand high in a tree near Palm Beach International Airport.

It's possible that it could be used to shoot invasive wildlife. Then again, this potential sniper's nest had a clear sightline to the departure stairs for Air Force One, when parked in its usual slot when President Donald Trump returns to Mar-a-Lago.

Obviously, Trump knows he has enemies who want to help him spend eternity in real estate infinitely hotter than South Florida.

"I'm not supposed to be here tonight," he told the Republican National Convention, days after an assassin just missed his head. When the crowd shouted, "Yes you are!", Trump responded, "I thank you, but I'm not, and I'll tell you, I stand before you in this arena only by the grace of Almighty God."

The president believes God saved his life for a purpose. That's interesting, considering his history of remarks doubting whether he is worthy of heaven.

During Trump's recent journey to Israel, a Fox News reporter asked if the Gaza ceasefire effort might open heaven's gates.

"I'm being a little cute. I don't think there's anything going to get me in heaven," said Trump. "I think I'm not maybe heaven bound. ... I'm not sure I'm going to be able to make heaven, but I've made life a lot better for a lot of people."

That question was linked to his August remarks about ending the bloodshed in Ukraine.

"If I can save seven thousand people a week from getting killed, that's pretty good," Trump said. "I want to get to heaven if possible. I'm hearing I'm not doing well. I hear I'm at the bottom of the totem pole. If I can get to heaven, this will be one of the reasons."

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Southern humorist's memories: Halloween in the Bible Belt is a whole different thing

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Southern humorist's memories: Halloween in the Bible Belt is a whole different thing

In the first act of the Judgement House drama, actors gathered for a raucous teen party with lots of booze.

In the second scene at the born-again haunted house, the young Matt Mitchell and other kids saw a DUI car crash, with dead teens surrounded by ambulance lights, police and loud sirens. The third room was Hell, a dark, cramped, basement room with the heat set on stun.

This morality tale was rather blunt. But, for Mitchell, the scariest moment took place in Heaven -- the church gym decorated with fluffy white curtains, the bright light of eternity and Jesus descending on a scissor lift from a construction site.

The man dressed as Jesus got off the lift and "he went around the room whispering into everyone's ear, individually," recalled Mitchell, in "Southern Halloween is … Different," a feature on his YouTube channel dedicated to deep-fried culture, food and humor.

"When he got to me, he said, 'I'll see you one day.' But I thought he said, 'I'll see you MONDAY.' Yeah, not a fun weekend. Even less of a fun Monday. … So, happy Halloween, y'all. Watch out for Jesus on a scissor lift."

Obviously, there's Halloween and then there's Bible Belt Halloween.

Modern Halloween is complicated. Old-fashioned Halloween still exists, with costumed children going door-to-door seeking candy. But on some suburban streets, many homes are now buried in intense lights, spiderwebs and armies of devils, demons and skeletons, like a spooky competitor with the December holidays.

Mitchell, a seventh-generation Alabamian, grew up Baptist and remains active in a Baptist congregation. Today, he said, it appears that the "hell" house era -- with its Off Broadway meets Bible camp vibe -- has run its course. What started as evangelism "kind of went wild and turned into theatrics and less about the Gospel. ... The wheels came off."

However, lots of Southern believers still consider Halloween a "celebration of all things evil" and thus, strive the avoid the holiday -- sort of, noted Mitchell, reached by Zoom.

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Graffiti tales at Canterbury, and a new leader for divided Anglican Communion

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Graffiti tales at Canterbury, and a new leader for divided Anglican Communion

In ordinary times, the arrival of a new Archbishop of Canterbury would be a headline that stood alone, especially if England's monarch had just approved the first woman to serve as the symbolic leader of the Anglican Communion.

But the recent decision to add decorative graffiti inside Canterbury Cathedral, founded in 597, added tension to debates surrounding the October 2 appointment of the Right Reverend and Right Honorable Dame Sarah Mullally as the 106th successor to St. Augustine.

The "Hear Us" exhibition added flashy decals to the columns, walls and floors of the iconic sanctuary, imitating the spray-paint art common in alleys, road underpasses and urban neighborhoods. The images offered bold challenges, such as: "God, what happens when we die?", "Are you there?", "Why did you create hate?" and "Do you ever regret your decisions?"

Cathedral Dean David Monteith explained: "There is a rawness which is magnified by the graffiti style which is disruptive." The exhibit, which ends in January, "allows us to receive the gifts of younger people who have much to say."

Among Anglicans, Monteith's leadership role has fueled debates because of his public decision to enter a same-sex civil partnership -- a stance rejected by traditional clergy in England and around the world. He also made headlines in 2024 with "Rave in the Nave" disco nights, with a temporary alcoholic bar located near where St. Thomas Becket was martyred in 1170.

In her first sermon after being named Archbishop of Canterbury, Mullally alluded to the messy divisions inside the worldwide Anglican Communion, with its 85-110 million believers.

"In an age that craves certainty and tribalism, Anglicanism offers something quieter but stronger: shared history, held in tension, shaped by prayer, and lit from within by the glory of Christ," she said.

"Across our nation today, we are wrestling with complex moral and political questions. The legal right of terminally ill people to end their own lives. Our response to people fleeing war and persecution. … The deep-rooted question of who we are as a nation, in a world that is so often on the brink."

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When pope's hold quick gaggles with reporters, strange things can happen

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When pope's hold quick gaggles with reporters, strange things can happen

As Pope Leo XIV left his summer residence at Castel Gandolfo, a circle of reporters pressed forward.

Early in his pontificate, Leo has been cautious with the press. But after some comments in Italian, he agreed to "one question" from the EWTN network. It focused on Chicago Cardinal Blase Cupich's decision to honor U.S. Senator Dick Durbin with a lifetime achievement award.

The problem: Durbin consistently backs abortion rights and remains barred from receiving Holy Communion in Springfield, Illinois, his home diocese. The senator has since declined the honor.

In English, Leo stressed looking at a politician's "overall work." The Chicago-born pope added: "Someone who says, 'I am against abortion,' but says, 'I am in favor of the death penalty' is not really pro-life. Someone who says that 'I am against abortion, but I am in agreement with the inhuman treatment of immigrants who are in the United States,' I don't know if that's pro-life. So, they're very complex issues."

What happened next was totally predictable.

"The Catholic right has been divided between those inclined to try to explain away the pope's language, and those insisting he was just flat wrong," wrote Crux editor John L. Allen, Jr. "The American Catholic left, meanwhile, has been gripped by a paroxysm of delight."

It's one thing that didn't happen -- with "all the polarization in social media, instant news and even fake news" -- was a clear statement by Pope Leo XIV about these complex doctrinal issues, said Amy Welborn, a popular Catholic blogger since 2001.

"Popes should not do press conferences or drive-by press gaggles – never, ever," she said, reached by telephone. In fact, popes should avoid all hasty statements on politics and public events. It would be safer for Leo to discuss his tennis game, she added.

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Parsing Pope Leo XIV: Journalists, Catholic insiders trying to read between the lines

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Parsing Pope Leo XIV: Journalists, Catholic insiders trying to read between the lines

Early in the Mass, the priest -- chanting in Latin -- leads the congregation into a prayer of repentance.

The faithful respond: "Confíteor Deo omnipotenti et vobis, fratres, quia peccavi nimis cogitatione, verbo, opere et omission," which in English is, "I confess to almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do."

Then everyone adds: "Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa" -- "through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault."

This Mass is in Latin, but it's the basic Latin text for the Vatican II Novus Ordo (.pdf here), noted Pope Leo XIV, in lengthy interviews with Elise Ann Allen of Crux.

A big issue in current conflicts, he said, is that "people always say 'the Latin Mass.' Well, you can say Mass in Latin right now. If it's the Vatican II rite there's no problem. Obviously, between the Tridentine Mass and the Vatican II Mass … I'm not sure where that's going to go."

It doesn't help, the pope added, when Catholics witness "abuse" of the Novus Ordo. This offends those "looking for a deeper experience of prayer, of contact with the mystery of faith that they seemed to find in the celebration of the Tridentine Mass. Again, we've become polarized, so that instead of being able to say, well, if we celebrate the Vatican II liturgy in a proper way, do you really find that much difference between this experience and that experience?"

Pope Leo's call for celebrating the "Vatican II liturgy in a proper way" -- including Latin -- will "strike at least some American Catholics as either pointedly ironic or frustratingly hypothetical, given the number of bishops who have restricted 'traditional' celebrations of the ordinary form, even those 'proper' according to the rubrics," noted Ed Condon, editor of The Pillar, in a recent online essay.

If the goal is to heal "polarization around the liturgy," the pope needs to describe "proper" ways to celebrate the Novus Ordo, Condon added. But it "remains to be seen if those bishops who have clamped down on ordinary liturgical practices, or taken a relaxed view of liturgical abuses, will feel moved to revisit their positions in the light of the pope's words -- or if the pope will do anything to actively encourage them to do so."

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Erika Kirk and the message behind the St. Michael's cross she gave to her husband

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Erika Kirk and the message behind the St. Michael's cross she gave to her husband

Soon after she began dating Charlie Kirk, Erika Frantzve -- a devout Catholic -- asked him: "Why don't you wear a cross?"

Kirk's response: "I'm not a jewelry guy." She gave him a St. Michael's Cross, which he started wearing as "he felt the weight of the world on him," Turning Point USA spokesman Andrew Kolvet told Fox News. "He never took it off again, until he was assassinated and the people caring for him ripped it off as they tried to save his life."

The St. Michael's prayer, written in 1898 by Pope Leo XIII, describes fierce warfare between good and evil: "St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. … By the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls."

Erika Kirk wore that blood-stained pendant during the September 21 memorial service in State Farm Stadium in Glendale, Arizona -- with an estimated 100,000 people inside and thousands gathered nearby. At least 20 million watched on Fox, X and YouTube, with many more using other simulcasts.

In her 30-minute testimony, she said her husband knew his life was in danger, but he stressed the biblical message in a verse from Isaiah: "Here I am, Lord. Send me."

Kirk said she once told him: "Charlie, baby, please talk to me next time before you say that. … When you say, 'Here I am, Lord. Use me,' God will take you up on that.' … God accepted that total surrender from my husband and then called him to His side."

Erika Kirk's address dominated an event that featured President Donald Trump and multiple cabinet members. While praising what Kirk achieved in his 31-year life, several shared how his death has pushed them to ponder their own beliefs.

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When Charlie Kirk sat down with Bill Maher and discussed the importance of Easter

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When Charlie Kirk sat down with Bill Maher and discussed the importance of Easter

Offered a choice, Charlie Kirk would have preferred not to enter a marijuana cloud to discuss theology, politics, science and the dangers of free speech.

But the Turning Point USA activist -- assassinated on September 10 at Utah Valley University -- had welcomed the opportunity to join comic Bill Maher on the "Club Random" podcast that aired this past Easter.

"Bill treated me great. … He was very pleasant, albeit at times rather crude," said Kirk, in an online commentary about the show. However, he quipped, if football players have to "play in the snow," then a "political commentator fighting for Jesus" needs to "play in the weed."

Maher was shaken by Kirk's bloody death. On his "Real Time" show days later, the religious agnostic and political liberal said: "I like everybody. … But he was shot under a banner that said, 'Prove me wrong,' because he was a debater, and too many people think that the way to do that -- to prove you wrong -- is to just eliminate you from talking altogether. So, the people who mocked his death or justified it, I think you're gross. I have no use for you."

Both men worked with security teams, due to death threats. Kirk described his calling with variations on this: "When people stop talking, really bad stuff starts. … What we as a culture have to get back to is being able to have a reasonable disagreement where violence is not an option."

In addition to discussing the potency of modernized marijuana, Kirk and Maher veered from science debates about gender dysphoria to the origins of ultimate truth, from Hollywood trust-fund "nepo babies" to myriad battles surrounding Kirk's friend, President Donald Trump.

The "real fun" began, said Kirk, with complex issues defined by Maher's "Religulous," a scathing critique of religious faith. Kirk knew the book inside out.

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What is "success" for modern pastors working in a stressful ministry marketplace?

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What is "success" for modern pastors working in a stressful ministry marketplace?

Every decade or so, perhaps during a global pandemic, it's common to see news reports about pastors leaving pulpits in search of less stressful work.

Consider the 2024 Hartford Institute for Religion Research poll in which more than half of pastors said they have, at some point, seriously considered quitting, with 10% admitting this often crossed their minds. According to 2022 polling by the Barna Institute, the main causes for anxiety were strong job stress (56%), feeling isolated (43%) and current political tensions (38%).

These reports are sobering, but complex, noted Ryan Burge of the Center on Religion and Politics at Washington University in St. Louis. But it's important to note the other side of the equation, when studying how clergy view their work. Five years ago, the National Survey of Religious leaders found that, when asked if "in most ways" their lives were ideal, 21% of pastors "completely" agreed, 50% said "moderately" and 16% “slightly." Only 1% "completely" disagreed and 2% said "moderately."

"The long and short of it was this -- I can't find another population group that scores higher on this metric than clergy," noted Burge, on his Graphs about Religion website. In fact, "I'm pretty confident in saying that clergy seemed pretty content with their station in life (or at least this was the case before the pandemic)."

No one doubts that pastors face significant stress, said Scott McConnell, executive director of Lifeway Research. The key is whether clergy and laity have clear understandings about what is expected from pastors and their families.

For example, what does the word "success" mean? Is that defined by growth in the congregation's size, as well as its facilities, staff and budget?

Lifeway has done a number of surveys on topics related to the life of pastors and, for most, "success" means "they are seeing lives changed, people following Christ more closely, troubling sins being avoided, people serving the Lord in ways that they have not done before," said McConnell, reached by telephone. "I think most pastors see some of that every year, but they always want to see more."

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Will Leanne Morgan's faith make the cut in her new sitcom on Netflix?

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Will Leanne Morgan's faith make the cut in her new sitcom on Netflix?

It's hard to take Jello salad to the after-church brunch a few hours after your husband of 33 years runs off with a younger woman.

But the old-fashioned church Leanne Morgan attends in her summer Netflix sitcom does have a Philippians 4:13 poster in the fellowship hall proclaiming: "I can do all things through Him who gives me strength."

Alas, the faithful are walking stereotypes. Asked how she's doing, a widow offers a pasted-on smile and says she is "basking in the sunshine of our Savior." Leanne remains silent about her marriage disaster, until she cracks and dashes, shouting, out the door.

"You've been a good Christian your whole life," her twice-divorced sister quips. "You're intitled to a small psychotic break in fellowship."

The writers' room for "Leanne" did some Southern-church research, but the faith content is nowhere near as smart and on-target as Morgan's stand-up comedy, said Randall King, who teaches classes in video storytelling at North Greenville (S.C.) University.

"It's not anti-Christian. … But some of the people behind this show are totally tone-deaf when it comes to the Christian faith. And we know that isn't the case with Leanne," he said, reached by telephone. "You can be smart and funny and moral. Leanne Morgan is all of that. … That's what we want, if you're going to take her comedy up a level" into a sitcom.

After binging "Leanne," King said "it's obvious that the character Leanne is playing is a believer. But it's like she's all alone, surrounded by hypocrites making jokes. … Is it realistic that no one close to her shares her faith and can help?"

King admits that his interest in the Netflix series is linked to his "darling fanboy" appreciation of Morgan's stand-up skills. Plus, the comedienne, and her real-life husband, live in the booming "new south" city of Knoxville, Tennessee. She has a University of Tennessee degree in child and family studies. King earned his communications doctorate there, while continuing his work as a reporter, producer and anchor in broadcast journalism.

Truth is, YouTube clips turned Morgan into an "overnight sensation" after two decades of stand-up comedy, mostly in women's groups, church events and small comedy clubs.