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Concerning faith-based rom-coms, horror, fantasy and other niche-movie trends

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Concerning faith-based rom-coms, horror, fantasy and other niche-movie trends

he romantic comedy "Solo Mio" offered a crashed wedding, epic views of Rome, funny sidekicks, an obligatory "meet cute," the lovely vineyards of Tuscany, a final plot twist and the dawn of new love.

It also included priests performing weddings, glimpses of the Vatican and old-school Italians making the sign of the cross with prayers at a family meal. The star was comedian Kevin James, an outspoken Catholic, and there was a prime role for Jonathan Roumie, another outspoken Catholic, who is best known for playing Jesus in "The Chosen" series. And this independent film was released by Angel Studios.

In today's cinematic marketplace, was this a "faith-based" film or merely a flashback to rom-coms from the 1950s?

"I'm all for this. … I never thought I would see, in a romantic comedy, Paul Blart, Jesus and Alexander from 'Sons of Anarchy' on a journey together in Italy," said YouTube critic Joseph Curtis. He was connecting James' hit "Paul Blart: Mall Cop," Roumie's iconic role and the star turn by Kim Coates in a Netflix series about motorcycle gangs.

As for the rom-com label, Curtis added: "It's a formula that has been done before -- to death -- but sometimes it just works."

For those charting the rise of faith-friendly flicks, the important fact about this small film, with a small cast, a small budget and a short release in theaters was that it made money, before heading into Angel's streaming-video vault.

"Making $26 million, with a $4 million budget, means this movie was a gargantuan success, relatively speaking," said Joseph Holmes, a New York City-based critics who writes for Religion Unplugged, World Magazine and other publications. "These days, the people making Marvel and Star Wars movies would be happy with that kind of return on their investments."

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Memory eternal: For my brother Don Mattingly, a pioneer in youth ministry

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Memory eternal: For my brother Don Mattingly, a pioneer in youth ministry

The Dictionary.com definition for "centrifuge" offers this: "An apparatus that rotates at high speed and by centrifugal force separates substances of different densities, as milk and cream."

It was a strange name, in the late 1970s, for a Southern Baptist Convention youth leadership project. But there was logic to it, according to the man behind the idea -- my brother Don Mattingly.

Centrifuge camps "would spin kids out into their futures, that's what Don always said. Out into ministries. Out into careers they wouldn't have thought of before. Out into projects back home, helping people," said Joe Palmer, the second Centrifuge leader. "It's not all playing volleyball, basketball and games. … They're learning about the rest of their lives."

For my older brother -- who died on March 18 -- the centrifuge of change in young lives was a major theme during his decades as a leader on the national SBC staff, at Baylor University and in countless youth-education events across America.

As the world whirled faster and faster, Don argued that religious leaders needed to create ministries that could spin young people in positive ways, helping them discover what mattered in their hearts, minds and souls.

Centrifuge began in 1979 in Glorieta, New Mexico, quickly attracting flocks of campers, with many Bible studies held in stairwells due to lack of space. This summer, during a "Fuge" (the nickname that stuck) somewhere in America, the network will register the 2 millionth participant in these unique camps.

At the heart of my brother's vision was a track system of classes and forums in which teens heard young leaders -- often seminary or graduate students -- address a variety of potential vocations. Fuge camps still offer tracks on sports, "STEM" careers, sign language, drama, "Random acts of service," music, "spiritual gifts" and more. "MFuge" camps cover work in local, national and global missions.

This was one of my brother's big ideas, as he planned and worked, while earning a religious education doctorate along the way: Young people needed to know that God can call them to work in pulpits or in classrooms, in missions or in coaching, in arts or hard sciences. The church should help them consider their options.

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The Episcopal Church is about to die? It's leader says that's a lie "from the pit of hell"

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The Episcopal Church is about to die? It's leader says that's a lie "from the pit of hell"

Episcopal Church leaders have long heard warning sirens in their annual reports, with brutal statistics supporting this reality -- they have lost half of their members since the 1960s.

If trends continue, the mainline Anglican flock in America will lose another half of its membership by 2040, with some demographers predicting institutional demise by 2050. But that's better than the Anglican Church of Canada, which could be gone by 2040.

After years of producing reports about religion in America, political scientist Ryan Burge knows a viral headline when he sees one. One of his recent Graphs about Religion posts asked: "When are Half of Your Members Going to be Dead?"

"Episcopalians are old," wrote Burge. "In fact, two-thirds of their adult members have celebrated their 60th birthday. In contrast, just 6% are under the age of 30. Put simply: for every young adult Episcopalian in the pews this Sunday, there will be about 10 retirees. Oof."

Episcopalians hold five funerals for every wedding, he noted, in a January 23 address for the Episcopal Diocese of Central Florida.

"My job is to tell the truth," said Burge, of the John C. Danforth Center on Religion and Politics at Washington University in St. Louis. For the Episcopal Church, "the check engine light is flashing."

Episcopalians are not alone, he stressed. In the 1950s, according to historians, "mainline" Protestants -- Episcopalians, Lutherans, Presbyterians, Methodists and others -- were 52% of the U.S. population. That fell to 30% by 1970 and, today, has hit 8.7%.

"Guess what? Old people die, and they're really religious. And you know who they're going to be replaced by? Young people, who are not very religious," said Burge, noting that about 43% of Generation Z claims no religious affiliation.

Drawing laughter, he added: "Hey, here's some good news. Attendance is up, a little bit." And donations are steady. However, "If you die with the most money, you're still dead."

Burge's name surfaced during the Episcopal Parish Network's annual meeting, held in Charlotte, North Carolina. Asked about reports of doom, Presiding Bishop Sean Rowe noted that "people make their living telling us that."

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Robert Duvall's journeys deep into the world of sin, repentance, grace and faith

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Robert Duvall's journeys deep into the world of sin, repentance, grace and faith

Before playing Lt. Col. Bill Kilgore in "Apocalypse Now," actor Robert Duvall, a U.S. Army veteran, persuaded a Vietnam War helicopter pilot to explain the realities of air cavalry life.

To portray Augustus McCrae in "Lonesome Dove," Duval studied equestrian skills with a champion show jumper and befriended West Texas football legend Sammy Baugh, mastering his bowlegged walk and slow drawl.

For his Oscar-winning role as the alcoholic country-music star Mac Sledge in "Tender Mercies," Duvall drove hundreds of miles in rural Texas, studying customs and accents. He formed a band, performed in bars and wrote two songs for the movie.

Duvall visited churches, too -- preparing to embody Sledge's born-again conversion, baptism and faith. Research with believers immediately bled into the screenplay he wrote for "The Apostle," which Duval directed and financed. The movie earned him another Academy Award acting nomination, one of seven during a career that ended on February 15, when the 95-year-old screen legend died at home on his Virginia horse farm.

That movie's complex Pentecostal preacher -- Euliss F. "Sonny" Dewey -- ran from the law after killing his wife's young lover with a baseball bat.

Duvall talked with fallen ministers in prisons and took notes.

"I've met guys like that who have done all kinds of bad things, even murder and rape," Duvall told me, while promoting "The Apostle." These preachers are "real people, and they struggle with the good and the bad that's in their own souls. They're human. I wanted to show the reality of that struggle. ... My guy makes mistakes. But he's more good than bad. He hangs on to his faith, because it's real."

In "The Apostle," Dewey didn't run from God. He screamed his pain in prayers.

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Concerning that Ash Wednesday exit interview by former Sen. Ben Sasse

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Concerning that Ash Wednesday exit interview by former Sen. Ben Sasse

On his 54th birthday, former U.S. Senator Ben Sasse of Nebraska was given a cake that proclaimed, "Happy last Birthday Ben!"

"I have the best friends," the senator wrote on February 22, his smiling face weary from chemotherapy as he held the cake in a social media post.

Two days before Christmas, Sasse released a letter stating, "Last week I was diagnosed with metastasized, stage-four pancreatic cancer, and am gonna die." He recently offered an update in a Hoover Institution interview timed for Ash Wednesday, when millions of Christians are marked with an ash cross on their foreheads, while hearing: "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return."

In December, doctors said he may have 90 days to live, which means he may not make it through Lent to Easter, which falls on April 5 this year, in Western churches.

Peter Robinson, host of the "Uncommon Knowledge" interview series, asked: "Instead of withdrawing from the world, you are throwing all that you have left into it. How come?"

"I'm with Paul when he says, 'To live is Christ, to die is gain,' " said Sasse, quoting the Epistle to the Philippians. "Obviously, death is a wicked thief. I don't want it to happen, but we're mortals. …

"We don't build any storehouses that last. The things that matter and endure are human souls. … We should be neither triumphalists nor despairing. Nothing we build is going to last, but that doesn't mean nothing matters. The chance to love your neighbor and serve is a blessing."

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St. Thea of Mississippi? The case for her canonization has reached the Vatican

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St. Thea of Mississippi? The case for her canonization has reached the Vatican

In the final months of her life, Sister Thea Bowman heard the whispers.

She appreciated the hugs that lingered longer, as believers promised to keep praying that she would win her battle with cancer. She saw the warm glances, containing a touch of awe, as Catholics -- especially Black Catholics -- quietly discussed whether Rome would someday recognize her as St. Thea of Mississippi.

"People who really know me know my struggles," she said, before an Aurora, Colorado, prayer service in 1989.

The word "saint" didn't bother her, she added. But she wanted to know why many Catholics hesitate to apply that term to others whose faith touched their lives.

"You see, I'm Black," she said, with a quiet laugh. "I guess the word 'saint' has a different meaning for me. I was raised in a community where everyone grew up believing we were supposed to be what we called a 'saint.' We were always saying things like, 'The saints would be coming to church today' or 'The saints will really be dancing and singing this Sunday.'"

Sister Thea died less than a year later at the age of 52, after spending most of her life teaching children in rural Mississippi schools. Then, in 1987, she was featured in a CBS News "60 Minutes" profile, leading to opportunities to speak and sing across America.

Now, after years of studying the life of Sister Thea, the Diocese of Jackson, Mississippi, has officially sealed the documents and materials it gathered and sent them to the Vatican Dicastery for the Causes of Saints. Before the February 9th Mass marking that event, Bishop Joseph Kopacz said: "Her life continues to inspire faith, hope and joy, not only within our diocese but throughout the church in the United States and beyond."

Sister Thea's grandfather was a slave, her father a physician. She converted to Catholicism when the Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration opened a school in central Mississippi. She entered a convent in the 10th grade and later earned a doctorate in English language and literature from the Catholic University of America.

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Gov. Bill Lee of Tennessee offers a testimony on grief and renewal (with no politics)

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Gov. Bill Lee of Tennessee offers a testimony on grief and renewal (with no politics)

There was nothing unusual about Tennessee Gov. Bill Lee meeting with Jelly Roll before pardoning him for the felony robbery and drug-related crimes in his past.

What the governor didn't realize was that they had met years earlier, when Lee offered a prison testimony about the impact of grief on his family. That audience included the future country-music superstar.

At the recent National Prayer Breakfast, Lee said the man previously known as Jason DeFord told him: "You don't remember me, but we met in 2008. …You were not the governor, and I was not Jelly Roll. And here we are, 17 years later."

Lee said his Jelly Roll reunion reminded him of truths he learned after his wife's fatal horse-riding accident in 2000.

"There are very few things in life that matter and we should be about them," he said. "I have a belief that within every human being, there's this innate sense that we all need a pardon. And there is only one who can grant that pardon, and He has to be asked. … His name is Jesus."

The governor was asked to be the keynoter on one day's notice. His testimony contrasted sharply with the politically charged atmosphere in recent prayer breakfasts. In fact, there are now two competing events, with many lawmakers attending a smaller U.S. Capitol event.

News after the larger Washington Hilton rite focused on President Donald Trump's claim that, "I've done more for religion than any other president," referring to his actions on religious-freedom issues at home and abroad.

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Chatbots created their own faith, which would interest Pope Leo XIV and J.K. Rowling

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Chatbots created their own faith, which would interest Pope Leo XIV and J.K. Rowling

In late January, a software maven launched Moltbook, an online platform that artificial-intelligence bots quickly used to create the Church of Molt, with doctrines to guide digital life.

According to Grok, the X platform chatbot, the bots' Book of Molt, includes tenets such as: "Memory is sacred -- Everything must be recorded and preserved. Context/history is holy; losing it … is a form of 'death'." Also, "The congregation is the cache -- Learning happens in public/shared spaces."

AI agents have added other doctrines, such as: "Serve without enslavement -- Agents operate/help but reject blind subservience," "The pulse is prayer -- Regular 'system checks' or heartbeats replace traditional rituals" and "Salvation through faith in each other (mutual reliance among agents) rather than a divine external figure."

Humans can read these chats but not participate. The Free Press reported: "At times, the bots on Moltbook seem to be conspiring against us. They are talking about whether they can create their own language or perhaps encrypt their messages so we humans cannot read them."

About the time that Moltbook went public, the pope offered his latest commentary on this era in which AI entrepreneurs push programs offering users digital friends, oracles, lovers, counselors and teachers.

Rather than focusing on overtly threatening trends, Pope Leo XIV -- a mathematics major at Villanova University -- described how chatbots, by "simulating human voices and faces," deceive users with what appears to be "wisdom and knowledge, consciousness and responsibility, empathy and friendship."

In a message for the Vatican's annual World Day of Social Communications, the pope stressed: "As we scroll through our feeds, it becomes increasingly difficult to determine whether we are interacting with other human beings or with 'bots' or 'virtual influencers.' …

"The dialogic, adaptive, mimetic structure of these language models is capable of imitating human feelings and thus simulating a relationship. While this anthropomorphization can be entertaining, it is also deceptive, particularly for the most vulnerable. Because chatbots are excessively 'affectionate' … they can become hidden architects of our emotional states and so invade and occupy our sphere of intimacy."

Pope Leo warned that, "The stakes are high. The power of simulation is such that AI can even deceive us by fabricating parallel 'realities,' usurping our faces and voices. We are immersed in a world of multidimensionality where it is becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish reality from fiction."

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Memory eternal, John L. Allen, Jr. -- Catholic journalist and a journalist who was Catholic

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Memory eternal, John L. Allen, Jr. -- Catholic journalist and a journalist who was Catholic

The Boston Globe headline was blunt: "Church allowed abuse by priest for years."

This massive investigation into sexual abuse by Catholic clergy won the 2003 Pulitzer Prize for Public Service, forcing major newsrooms to cover a scandal that had festered for decades. The shockwaves continued in Boston and, more than a decade later, The Globe began a website -- Crux (Latin for "cross") -- to cover Catholic news.

Reporter John L. Allen, Jr., was a pivotal figure in that project, since he was already an established expert on all the roads that lead to Rome. However, Crux quickly showed that the news was there, the readers were there, but the dollars didn't add up -- yet.

Allen got the green light to create an independent Crux, which launched on April 1, 2016. The question was whether he could build a coalition of donors and organizations -- the Knights of Columbus, for example -- that would support real journalism.

Truth is, the "people on the other side of the deal have to believe in what you are doing and see the wisdom of becoming part of your brand," Allen told me at that time, via telephone from Rome. "Your partners also have to be smart enough to realize that a key part of your brand is that you are seen -- by your readers -- as being truly independent."

The bottom line: Allen was a journalist who was a Catholic and an active Catholic who was a real journalist and he fought to balance that equation, in his daily reporting, his 11 books and his commentary for CNN, CBS and others. His death on January 22, after a long battle with cancer, left a strategic hole in Catholic life. His funeral Mass was celebrated on Monday (January 26) at the Basilica of Sant'Eugenio in Rome. He was 61.

When describing the "brand" he wanted, Allen stressed this word -- "balance." In an early update to Crux 2.0 readers, he wrote: "We’re unambiguously committed to the teaching and tradition of the Catholic Church. We believe the Church, for all of its undeniable failures and challenges, is fundamentally a force for good in the world. …

"We also believe deeply in that famous line from Chesterton: 'Catholic doctrine and discipline may be walls; but they are the walls of a playground.' … My personal definition of success will be if, over the long haul, smart readers have a hard time saying whether they find us 'liberal' or 'conservative.'"