, , , , , , , ,

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

, , , , , , , ,
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.

, , , , ,

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

, , , , ,
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."

, , , , ,

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

, , , , ,
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.

, , , ,

Angel Studios offers a scary movie about families, death, grief and monsters

, , , ,
Angel Studios offers a scary movie about families, death, grief and monsters

During the rituals of prayers and stories one night, Angel Studios co-founder Jeffrey Harmon's young son asked: "Dad, what does the other side of your eyeballs look like? … Can I pull them out and look at them?"

The answer was "No." But this exchange was a reminder that kids tend to have "wild ideas" in their heads, said Harmon, in a video chat with Angel Guild members who crowdfund the studio's efforts to produce and distribute movies and cable shows.

The eyeball question surfaced during a discussion of "SKETCH," a new movie from the values-driven studio focusing on a widower and his children who are wrestling with grief. The artsy daughter, Amber, starts drawing vivid monsters, which -- after her notebook falls into a mysterious pond -- come to life and terrorize the community.

The "Evil Amber" character, a violent zombie shrouded in black, is "legit scary," admitted Harmon.

One Angel Guild member said: "This movie is demonic. I pulled my family out within 10 minutes." Others shared concerns about demons and Harmon said "dozens and dozens and dozens" said the movie needed a PG-13 rating because of language and horror issues.

One supporter bluntly asked if Angel is still a "Christian based platform." Harmon stressed that its motto promises to "amplify light," but that also means "demons are real" and believers must defeat them.

“If you think Angel is not going to show demons, or show scary images or scary monsters, we just may not be the home for your movie viewing," he explained. Harmon also offered this quotation from Christian apologist G.K. Chesterton: "Fairy tales do not tell children that dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed."

While "SKETCH" team members have called it "Jurassic Park" meets "Inside Out," the dark-humor flick also contains nods to Richard Donner's "The Goonies," Alfred Hitchcock's "Psycho" and the faith-versus-aliens flick "Signs" by M. Night Shyamalan. Some scenes resemble "Godzilla" movies, only created by a child with crayons and Sharpie pens.

, , , , , ,

The fellowship of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, shaped by reality in World War I

, , , , , ,
The fellowship of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, shaped by reality in World War I

A British soldier began writing "The Fall of Gondolin" while in a hospital bed, stricken by "trench disease" from the lethal front lines of World War I.

A German soldier later bemoaned the "lice, rats, barbed wire, fleas, shells, bombs, underground caves, corpses, blood, liquor, mice, cats, artillery, filth, bullets, mortars, fire, steel." Add poison gas to that ordeal.

Young J.R.R. Tolkien wrote: "The fume of the burning, and the steam of the fair fountains of Gondolin withering on the flame of the dragons of the north, fell upon the vale of Tumladen in mournful mists." The battlefields were "cold and terrible."

This was a vision of war from a man who had been there, said Joseph Loconte, author of "A Hobbit, a Wardrobe and a Great War." The book explores the many ways that World War I shaped Tolkien and C.S. Lewis.

"Tolkien wasn't writing escapist fantasy," said Loconte, reached by telephone. "If this is about escape, it's the writings of a prisoner who has escaped the world of cells, bars and keys. This kind of escapism … helps us realize that our prisons have windows and we can use them to see better things."

Tolkien later wrote that he began creating his Middle Earth mythology -- the foundation for the future "The Lord of the Rings" -- while "in grimy canteens, at lectures in cold fogs, in huts full of blasphemy and smut, or by candlelight in bell-tents, even some down in dugouts under shell fire."

Yes, the man who survived days huddled in shell craters and trenches in France would later write, in a blank page in an Oxford student's exam book, these famous words: "In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit."

Tolkien and Lewis remain stunningly popular -- in print and on digital screens.

, , , , , , ,

When did Stephen Colbert's satire, with it's Catholic grace, veer into ridicule and rage?

, , , , , , ,
When did Stephen Colbert's satire, with it's Catholic grace, veer into ridicule and rage?

Soon after Stephen Colbert landed "The Late Show" he welcomed tycoon Donald Trump as a guest and did something shocking — he apologized.

"I said a few things about you over the years that, that are, you know, in polite company, perhaps, are unforgivable," Colbert said, in 2015.

"Accepted," said Trump, smiling.

That encounter was light years from what happened after Trump celebrated the recent CBS decision to cancel "The Late Show."

On social media, the president said Colbert's "talent was even less than his ratings."

Colbert fired back in his monologue: "Would an untalented man be able to compose the following satirical witticism? Go f*** yourself."

While Colbert retains a faithful congregation, some fans who loved his sly blend of satire and progressive Catholicism mourn his decision to preach to only half of America, said media scholar Terry Lindvall, author of "God Mocks: A History of Religious Satire from the Hebrew Prophets to Stephen Colbert," published in 2015.

"He made you laugh and think," said Lindvall, reached by telephone. "When he turned on the rage, he turned mean. He turned bitter. He acted like he was a prophet, not a jester." Sadly, Lindvall added, the Trump era turned Colbert into "a liberal fundamentalist. … He drank the Kool-Aid."

The goal, in "God Mocks," was to offer a "bumpy tour through Rome, Jerusalem and Lilliput," arriving at Comedy Central. Lindvall praised Colbert's early work on "The Colbert Report," in which he pretended to be a blow-hard conservative pundit, creating an upside-down persona who could mock secular progressives and atheists, as well as thinkers on the right. Conservative guests, especially Catholics, were often treated with respect.

That was satire, wrote Lindvall, recognizing "a moral discrepancy between what is proclaimed and what is practiced. … The biblical satirist shares in the blame and shame of his defendants.

, , , , , , ,

Catholic social media enters the age of digital flocks and "hot priests"

, , , , , , ,
Catholic social media enters the age of digital flocks and "hot priests"

With a nod to digital life, Merriam-Webster has expanded its "influencer" definition to include a "person who is able to generate interest in something (such as a consumer product) by posting about it on social media."

Pope Leo XIV didn't use that term in his latest remarks on faith in the Internet age, even while addressing the recent Vatican Jubilee for Digital Missionaries and Influencers.

"Today, we are in a culture where the technological dimension is present in almost everything, especially as the widespread adoption of artificial intelligence will mark a new era in the lives of individuals and society as a whole," the pope told more than 1,000 "content creators," from 70 nations.

"We have a duty to work together to develop a way of thinking, to develop a language, of our time, that gives voice to Love" -- with a divine uppercase "L" in his text. "It is not simply a matter of generating content, but of creating an encounter of hearts. This will entail seeking out those who suffer, those who need to know the Lord, so that they may heal their wounds, get back on their feet and find meaning in their lives."

The pope, who studied mathematics as an undergraduate, warned Catholic "influencers" about temptations they should avoid, such as the "logic of division and polarization," "individualism and egocentrism," "fake news" and "frivolity."

The church, he noted, has "never remained passive" when facing cultural change, but strives to separate "good from evil and what was good from what needed to be changed, transformed and purified."

Meanwhile, journalists spotted modern trends while surfing the online work of many participants. The Daily Mail headline proclaimed: "Christianity is sexy now! How 'hot priest' influencers are drawing young people to the church in their droves." The Telegraph went further: "Vatican turns to 'hot priests' to spread faith -- Social media seen as means to ensure survival of a church suffering from declining numbers." 

Hooks for the coverage included an Italian "bodybuilder priest" on Instagram, whose bulging biceps are covered with tattoos. Other "influencer" priests offered digital followers content about their poetry, workouts, guitar skills, cycling trips and adventures with pets, as well as sermons and Bible studies. 

, , ,

The golf world is still dissecting Scottie Scheffler's heart, mind and soul

, , ,
The golf world is still dissecting Scottie Scheffler's heart, mind and soul

When Scottie Scheffler celebrated his recent victory at the British Open, it was hard to tell who drew the loudest cheers -- the world's No. 1 golfer or his toddler son.

Nike captured the family vibe with a viral advertisement showing Scheffler and Bennett, with the caption, "You've already won," before adding, "But another major never hurt."

After the win, Scheffler added fire to the week's hot story, which was his candid remarks about why he isn't obsessed with winning trophies week after week.

"My faith and my family is what's most important to me," he told reporters. "Those come first for me. … Golf is third in that order."

The key words were "in that order," noted Daniel Darling, director of the Land Center for Cultural Engagement at Southwestern Baptist Seminary. "Scottie Scheffler doesn't see golf as a god. He's thankful that God has given him the abilities that he has." However, he also "knows the challenge in life is to keep things in the right order, to focus on what really matters."

The firestorm began earlier that week, when the 29-year-old superstar drew nervous laughter by stressing: "I'm not here to inspire somebody else to be the best player in the world, because what's the point? … This is not a fulfilling life. It's fulfilling from a sense of accomplishment, but it's not fulfilling from a sense of the deepest places of your heart.

"There's a lot of people that make it to what they thought was going to fulfill them in life. And then you get there, then all of a sudden you get to No. 1 in the world, and they're like, what's the point? … That's something that I wrestle with on a daily basis."

Scheffler's remarks revealed a "human side we too often don't get to see," noted Shane Ryan, writing for Golf Digest. "For those with ears to hear it, there was a deep message at play, and an almost unbearably honest one." Perhaps, Ryan added, if "someone like Scheffler, who has been to the mountaintop of his world, finds spiritual emptiness on that summit, what hope do the rest of us have?"

, , , , , ,

Living Good Friday -- An Orthodox mother's meditation on autism

, , , , , ,
Living Good Friday -- An Orthodox mother's meditation on autism

On many Sundays, Corey Hatfield sent her family ahead into church, while she lingered outside with her autistic son Grayson -- trying to decide if he would scream or run the second they entered the sanctuary.

Approaching the chalice during Holy Communion was another challenge.

"Some Sundays, I drew near with Grayson in a headlock, my hand clamped tightly over his mouth to silence his steady stream of cuss words," she wrote, in "The Light from a Thousand Wounds," her spiritual memoir about the impact of profound autism on her family.

Getting to St. Spyridon Orthodox Church, in Loveland, Colorado, often left her "late, tousled and out-of-breath, adorned in bite marks instead of jewelry. Often, I never even made it to church. … I lamely offered God my unproductive exasperation."

Some congregations may have the resources and space to offer ministries to help families dealing with neurodiversity, said Hatfield, reached by telephone. But everyone needs to know that no one-size-fits-all strategy exists. One professional told her, "If you've seen one autistic kid, you've seen … one autistic kid."

What clergy and their people cannot do is look away, said Metropolitan Nathanael of Chicago, during the "Gathered as One Body: Disability, Accessibility and Inclusion in the Orthodox Church" conference this past spring in Boston.

"Isolation, not disability, is the greatest wound," he said. "Today, many people living with disabilities and their caregivers and families experience the same isolation. They feel invisible in their parishes, they feel they have no one to help them draw near to the healing waters of the church's life. …This is a tragedy, and it is also a sin."

Hatfield, in an interview focusing on issues in her memoir, noted specific responses that congregations could carefully consider.