The complicated story of C.S. Lewis becoming a convert -- on screen, in his own words

The complicated story of C.S. Lewis becoming a convert -- on screen, in his own words

While historians argue about what C.S. Lewis did or didn't say, it can be stated with absolute certainty that the Oxford don never patted down his rumbled, professorial tweed jacket before exclaiming, "Where's my phone?"

That line occurs at the start of "The Most Reluctant Convert," as actor Max McLean enters a movie set preparing for the first scene. Seconds later, the camera follows him into the real Oxford, England, where Lewis was a scholar and tutor at Magdalen College.

At first, the famous Christian writer explains how he became an atheist. When he walks into the real White Horse pub, he orders two pints of beer, with one for the viewer. Soon, scenes from his memories spring to life, with Lewis striding through them as a narrator.

"Lewis is in his imagination. He's personified in his thoughts. … I do think that the structure emerged out of the fact that Lewis had a lot to say," said McLean, laughing.

Thus, director Norman Stone -- a BAFTA winner for BBC's "Shadowlands" -- let the "voice of Lewis articulate his struggle, his passion. He is one of those rare individuals where one's intellect, one's emotions and one's spirituality are completely intertwined," said McLean.

All of this is second nature to McLean since the film covers much of the same territory as his own "C.S Lewis Onstage." This was a one-man show at the Fellowship for Performing Arts in New York City, an off-Broadway company McLean founded and guides as artistic director. It has staged other Lewis works, such as "The Screwtape Letters" and "The Great Divorce," drawing warm reviews from The New York Times and other major publications.

The first-person narration, explained McLean, was primarily drawn from Lewis' autobiography, "Surprised by Joy," and the many volumes of his personal letters.

The jump from stage to screen, of course, allowed the film's creators to seek permission to film in some of the most important sites linked to Lewis' life. In addition to the White Horse, viewers follow Lewis into the historic Magdalen College library, a tutor's campus suite and, most importantly, The Kilns -- the home where Lewis lived for decades with his older brother Warren and, briefly, with his cancer-stricken wife, the American poet Joy Davidman.

Pope Francis, President Biden and the U.S. Catholic bishops: Who said what to whom?

Pope Francis, President Biden and the U.S. Catholic bishops: Who said what to whom?

Asked if he discussed abortion with Pope Francis during their recent Vatican summit, President Joe Biden said: "No, it didn't. It came up -- we just talked about the fact he was happy that I was a good Catholic, and I should keep receiving Communion."

The next day, the Associated Press noted that Biden received Holy Communion at St. Patrick's Church in Rome.

Asked to validate the president's second-hand quotation, Vatican spokesman Matteo Bruni told reporters: "I would consider it a private conversation."

What do U.S. bishops think? That has remained a hot topic as the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops braces for its fall 2021 meetings next week (Nov. 15-18) in Baltimore -- its first in-person assembly since the start of the coronavirus pandemic.

What is labeled as "draft 24" of a proposed USCCB statement on "Eucharistic coherence" flashes back to an earlier controversy about Catholic politicians, Holy Communion and an atmosphere of "scandal" among the faithful.

"We repeat what the U.S. bishops stated in 2006: 'If a Catholic in his or her personal or professional life were knowingly and obstinately to reject the defined doctrines of the Church, or knowingly and obstinately to repudiate her definitive teaching on moral issues, he or she would seriously diminish his or her communion with the Church," said this draft from late September -- first obtained by The Pillar, a Catholic news website.

The quote continued: " 'Reception of Holy Communion in such a situation would not accord with the nature of the Eucharistic celebration, so that he or she should refrain.' "

As insiders have predicted, this draft of "The Mystery of the Eucharist in the Life of the Church" doesn't mention debates about the sacramental status of Catholic politicians who have consistently served as advocates for abortion rights, such as Biden or House Speaker Nancy Pelosi.

When facing cultural chaos, priests need ancient symbols and truths, not more political talk

When facing cultural chaos, priests need ancient symbols and truths, not more political talk

Chaos is coming, so get ready.

That was the warning that -- four years ago -- iconographer and YouTube maven Jonathan Pageau offered to leaders of the Orthodox Church in America's Diocese of the South.

The French-Canadian artist was reacting to cracks in "cultural cohesion" after Donald Trump's rise to power, with wild reactions on left and right. And corporate leaders, especially in Big Tech, were throwing their "woke" weight around in fights over gender, racism, schools, religious liberty and other topics. Fear and angst were bubbling up in media messages about zombies, fundamentalist handmaidens and angry demands for "safe spaces."

Pageau didn't predict a global pandemic that would lock church doors.

But that's what happened. Thus, he doubled down on his "chaos" message several weeks ago, while addressing the same body of OCA priests and parish leaders.

"If some of you didn't believe me back then, I imagine you are more willing to believe me now," he said.

Pageau focused, in part, on waves of online conspiracy theories that have shaken many flocks and the shepherds who lead them. Wild rumors and questions, he said, often reveal what people are thinking and feeling and, especially, whether they trust authority figures.

"Even the craziest conspiracy nuts, what they are saying is not arbitrary," he said, in Diocese of the South meetings in Miami, which I attended as a delegate from my parish in Oak Ridge, Tenn.

"It's like an alarm bell. It's like an alarm bell that you can hear, and you can understand that the person that's ringing the alarm maybe doesn't understand what is going on. ... They may think that they have an inside track based on what they've heard and think that they know what is going on. But the alarm is not a false alarm, necessarily."

The chaos is real, stressed Pageau. There is chaos in politics, science, schools, technology, economic systems, family structures and many issues linked to sex and gender. It's a time when conspiracy theories about vaccines containing tracking devices echo decades of science-fiction stories, while millions of people navigate daily life with smartphones in their pockets that allow Big Tech leaders to research their every move.

Why did a lion among Church of England evangelicals swim the Tiber to Rome?

Why did a lion among Church of England evangelicals swim the Tiber to Rome?

As always, rumors swirled around the favorites in the 2002 race to become the 104th Archbishop of Canterbury.

Efforts to derail Bishop Michael Nariz-Ali of Rochester were different, in part because he was born in Pakistan -- fluent in Urdu and Farsi -- and was poised to become the first non-white leader of the Church of England. Others noted that he attended Catholic schools as a boy and practiced that faith.

Progressives warned that Nazir-Ali was too conservative on issues dividing Anglicans. He opposed the ordination of noncelibate gays and lesbians, while defending ancient teachings on marriage. He was a fierce critic of Sharia law and "radical Islam," while defending persecuted Christians around the world Most of all, critics noted that he was a strong evangelical leader in the global Anglican Communion.

Nazir-Ali insisted that he was "evangelical and Catholic," even as he lost his shot at the Throne of Canterbury.

That's the same label that he used when he stunned the Anglican world by announcing that he was returning to Roman Catholicism. He is expected to be ordained as a Catholic priest this Sunday (Oct. 30), serving in the Ordinariate of Our Lady of Walsingham, a canonical structure established in 2011 by Pope Benedict XVI that allows Anglicans to enter Catholicism while retaining many Anglican rites and traditions. The 72-year-old Nazir-Ali is married and has two children.

This move was necessary "because I believe that the traditional Anglican desire to adhere to the fullness of apostolic, patristic and conciliar teaching can now best be maintained in this way," the former bishop announced.

Writing in The Daily Mail, he called the decision a "bittersweet moment."

It's an important political question: Are you a believer or a self-identified believer?

It's an important political question: Are you a believer or a self-identified believer?

When political scientists and pollsters discuss faith and politics, one of their biggest challenges is separating the true believers from those who merely say they are believers.

It's kind of like distinguishing between "football fans" and "FOOTBALL FANS," said John C. Green of the University of Akron, who for decades has been a trailblazer in studies of politics, pulpits and pews.

"Lots of people say they're football fans and they like to watch games on television," said Green. "Then there are the people who buy jerseys and get decked out in their team colors. They never miss a home game and everything that goes with that. You can just look at them and know that they're really FOOTBALL FANS."

In terms of faith and politics, oceans of ink have been spilled describing the beliefs and goals of evangelical Protestants, Catholics and members of other religious groups, he said. The problem is that there are "self-identified" evangelicals and then there are truly faithful evangelical Christians. There are plenty of people who tell pollsters they attend worship services every week and that their faith shapes their lives. Then there are those who truly walk that talk.

"All religious communities have lots of highly committed people, and all religious communities have their share of marginal members whose faith isn't all that active," said Green. For pollsters, the challenge is asking questions that help draw lines between "self-identified believers and those who are truly active" in their faith groups, he added.

The American Bible Society, in its "State of the Bible" surveys, has tried to document ways in which beliefs about the Bible, and personal interactions with scripture, separate "practicing Christians" from "self-identified Christians." This matters, in part, because religious groups containing a high percentage of committed believers usually maintain their members, or even make converts, while other groups struggle to survive.

The most recent ABS survey (.pdf here) was completed last January, with data collected from 3,354 online interviews with adults in all 50 states and the District of Columbia. The American Bible Society began studying these kinds of issues as early as 1812.

Mainstream press is building unity in America. Who says so? Cardinal Gregory of DC

Mainstream press is building unity in America. Who says so? Cardinal Gregory of DC

With a controversial Catholic in the White House, there was no way for Cardinal Wilton Gregory to face a pack of Beltway journalists without fielding political questions.

Job 1 was addressing President Joe Biden's statement: "I respect them -- those who believe life begins at the moment of conception and all -- I respect that. Don't agree, but I respect that."

The leader of the Catholic Archdiocese of Washington, D.C., has made it clear that Biden can receive Holy Communion. However, Gregory also noted: "The Catholic Church teaches, and has taught, that life -- human life -- begins at conception. So, the president is not demonstrating Catholic teaching."

That was the big headline after this event, but this wasn't the topic Gregory came to the National Press club to discuss. In his recent address, he poured praise on America's mainstream press, especially journalists who -- during this "anxious time" -- have openly pushed for change on issues linked to racism and social justice.

"You are the ones we rely on to keep us informed, updated and connected as a global community of various faith traditions," said Gregory, America's first Black cardinal. "Like all industries, journalism has certainly changed over the years. Technology has expanded your reach and abilities to share our life stories, our dreams and our hopes.

"You are the professionals with just the right words, who immerse yourselves in a community, a situation or even a crisis -- to bring us the facts, the people and the takeaways that can help us work toward living in true peace and equality for all, without the threat of violence or harm."

According to a sobering blast of data from Gallup, the cardinal's critique of the national press would ring true for Democrats and political progressives -- but not for Republicans and cultural conservatives. Catholics can be found in both of those camps, of course.

New York Gov. Kathy Hochul: 'God gave us the vaccine' and smart believers know that

New York Gov. Kathy Hochul: 'God gave us the vaccine' and smart believers know that

In an age in which satire and news often overlap, it was hard to know what to make of this headline: "New York Atheists Claim Religious Exemption From Vaccine After Governor Claims That It's From God."

This was satire, care of the Babylon Bee website. But the barbed humor focused on real quotes from the governor of New York that raised eyebrows on the cultural left and right.

"We are not through this pandemic," said Gov. Kathy Hochul, at a New York City megachurch. "I prayed a lot to God during this time and you know what -- God did answer our prayers. He made the smartest men and women, the scientists, the doctors, the researchers -- he made them come up with a vaccine. That is from God to us and we must say, thank you, God. ...

"All of you, yes, I know you're vaccinated, you're the smart ones. But you know there's people out there who aren't listening to God. ... I need you to be my apostles. I need you to go out and talk about it and say, we owe this to each other. We love each other."

Clearly, the governor said, getting vaccinated was the best way to obey God in this crisis.

Writing at The Friendly Atheist website, Beth Stoneburner argued that this was not the kind of church-state sermonette that should trouble atheists and other secularists.

"Is it a speech that atheists will appreciate? Probably not," she noted. "But as far as a politician using the language of faith to reach an audience that desperately needs to get vaccinated -- but might not because other prominent Christians are feeding them lies -- it's arguably effective."

If this blast of God-talk from a Democrat "helps Christians get vaccinated when some of them might choose otherwise, then perhaps that outweighs any criticisms people may have of her speech," said Stoneburner.

The gospel according to post-theist Episcopal Bishop John Shelby Spong

The gospel according to post-theist Episcopal Bishop John Shelby Spong

Newark Bishop John Shelby Spong never stuck "Why Christianity Must Change or Die" on the doors of Canterbury Cathedral, since it was easier to post a talking-points version of his manifesto on the Internet.

"Theism, as a way of defining God is dead," he proclaimed, in 1998. "Since God can no longer be conceived in theistic terms, it becomes nonsensical to seek to understand Jesus as the incarnation of the theistic deity."

Lacking a personal God, he added, it was logical to add: "Prayer cannot be a request made to a theistic deity to act in human history in a particular way."

Spong's 12-point take on post-theism faith emerged after spending years on the road, giving hundreds of speeches and appearing on broadcasts such as "The Oprah Winfrey Show" and "Larry King Live." While leading the Episcopal Diocese of Newark, within shouting range of New York City, he did everything he could to become the news-media face of liberal Christianity.

By the time of his death at the age of 90, on Sept. 12 at his home in Richmond, Va., Spong had seen many of his once-heretical beliefs -- especially on sex and marriage -- normalized in most Episcopal pulpits and institutions. However, his doctrinal approach was too blunt for many in the mainline establishment, where a quieter "spiritual but not religious" approach has become the norm.

Spong called himself a "doubting believer" and said he had no problem reciting traditional rites and creeds because, in his own mind, he had already redefined the words and images to fit his own doctrines. He also knew when to be cautious, such as during Denver visit in the late 1980s -- an era in which the Diocese of Colorado remained a center for evangelical and charismatic Episcopalians.

After a lecture at the liberal St. Thomas Episcopal Church, I asked Spong if he believed the resurrection of Jesus was an "historic event that took place in real time."

"I don't think that I can say what the disciples believed they experienced. I'll have to think about that some more," he said, moving on to another question.

The bishop answered a decade later, in his memo calling for a new Reformation:

What shaped the mysterious mind (and soul) of comedian Norm Macdonald?

What shaped the mysterious mind (and soul) of comedian Norm Macdonald?

While debating heretics, early Christians used the Greek term "hypostasis" -- meaning "substance" and "subsistence" -- to help define their belief in the Incarnation of Jesus as one person, yet with divine and human natures.

This "hypostatic union" is not the kind of subject a comedian typically raises on a TV talk show while chatting about mortality with a Hollywood legend. Then again, Norm Macdonald -- who died on September 14 after a secret nine-year fight with cancer -- wasn't a typical funny man. He openly identified as a Christian, while making it clear that he didn't consider himself a very good one.

During an episode of "Norm Macdonald has a Show," the former Saturday Night Live star asked Jane Fonda -- who at one point briefly embraced evangelical Christianity -- this question: "Are you a religious person?"

"I have faith," said Fonda. The host quickly asked, "In Jesus Christ?" Hesitating, Fonda called herself "a work in process," saying she accepted "the historical Jesus."

Macdonald responded: "But do you believe in the hypostatic Jesus?"

When Fonda said "no," he added, "So, you're not a Christian. But you believe, you believe in something."

Raised vaguely Protestant in Canada, Macdonald didn't discuss the brand-name specifics of his faith, even as he wrestled with his own demons -- such as habitual gambling. Yet he could be stunningly specific when addressing criticisms of Christian beliefs. As a judge on NBC's "Last Comic Standing," he quietly shot down a contestant who trashed the Bible, before praising the Harry Potter series.

"I think if you're going to take on an entire religion, you should maybe know what you're talking about," said Macdonald. "J.K. Rowling is a Christian, and J.K. Rowling famously said that if you're familiar with the scriptures, you could easily guess the ending of her book."

The result was a public persona laced with paradoxes, an edgy, courageous comic who often seemed unconcerned if his work pleased the public or his employers.