Godbeat

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Memory eternal: Wichita's smiling bookstore hero is gone, but his dream lives on

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Memory eternal: Wichita's smiling bookstore hero is gone, but his dream lives on

Theologians will travel far and wide searching for the perfect book, but few would think to shop near the Flint Hills of Eastern Kansas. 

Metropolitan Saba Esper, leader of the Antiochian Orthodox archdiocese in North America, was searching for a rare book by Oliver Clément of Paris -- the translation of a complex work written in French. While in Wichita two years ago, he went to Eighth Day Books to consult with owner Warren Farha.

"He smiled with his familiar joy, went to a far corner of the bookstore, and brought it to me. I could hardly imagine that he would have it -- yet there it was, in English," said the archbishop, in a letter read to mourners who filled the Cathedral of St. George for the May 26 funeral rites for Farha.

Metropolitan Saba, originally from Syria, first encountered Farha during a 1995 trip to America that included a lengthy stay in Wichita.

"I was struck by his bright and cheerful face, which seemed to tell you that he came to you from a world purer and more radiant than the one in which we live," he added. "His warm smile, his spontaneous innocence, his quiet voice, and his remarkable calm -- these were all signs of God's presence within him and indications of a light descending upon him from on high."

Farha was more than an entrepreneur who built what the New York Times once described as a touchstone that "serves as a secret handshake among Christian book lovers, and its following reaches far beyond the heartland city it serves." It became a hub for conferences and projects with traditional Catholics, Lutherans and the Orthodox.

In an age of cookie-cutter chains and Internet stores, Eighth Day Books only sells books that its team truly wants visitors to read. The shelves are packed and floors stacked with around 46,000 books on its three stories and in the "Hobbit Hole" basement for children.

Farha was constantly asked if he was running a "Christian bookstore."

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Concerning God, UFOs, angels, demons and centuries of mystery

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Concerning God, UFOs, angels, demons and centuries of mystery

For centuries, stargazers of many kinds have debated the meaning of unidentified objects in the heavens and encounters with mysterious beings on earth.

"Each new discovery, even every new theory, is held at first to have the most wide-reaching theological and philosophical consequences. It is seized by unbelievers as the basis for a new attack on Christianity," noted Oxford don C.S. Lewis, in a 1958 essay, "Will We Lose God in Outer Space?" This was years after the Christian apologist finished his science-fiction trilogy that imagined contacts between humanity and extraterrestrials. 

After the "novelty has been chewed over by real theologians, real scientists and real philosophers, both sides find themselves pretty much where they were before," Lewis added. The big question remains: Are there other beings with "what we call 'rational souls'?"

In 2014, the Jesuit brother Guy Consolmagno wrote a book with this title, "Would You Baptize an Extraterrestrial?" He stated, with "whatever authority I have as a scientist and as one of the 'Official Astronomers' at the Vatican Observatory: Neither I, nor anyone I know, has any evidence that extraterrestrials exist."

The latest media storm was triggered by this Truth Social post by President Donald Trump: "Based on the tremendous interest shown, I will be directing the Secretary of War, and other relevant Departments and Agencies, to begin the process of identifying and releasing Government files related to alien and extraterrestrial life, unidentified aerial phenomena (UAP), and unidentified flying objects (UFOs), and any and all other information connected to these highly complex, but extremely interesting and important, matters. GOD BLESS AMERICA!"

The first release included 170-plus files, beginning in the 1940s, ranging from encounters reported by farmers to videos filmed by U.S. military pilots.

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Soaring Orthodox crosses at monastery in a holler in the mountains of West Virginia

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Soaring Orthodox crosses at monastery in a holler in the mountains of West Virginia

There is nothing unusual about turning a corner in West Virginia's maze of rough mountain roads and seeing churches with plain white walls and big porches.

But the new sanctuary at the Hermitage of the Holy Cross -- 10 miles of twists and turns into a holler outside the town of Wayne -- offers a variation on that vision. Its green-metal roof has domes resembling medieval Russian helmets, topped with golden cupolas and soaring Slavic crosses.

"When you go to the monastery you begin to think that you're driving off the edge of the world, but then you come around the bend and they've built this whole civilization up there," said Andrew Gould, the Orthodox artist from Charleston, South Carolina, who designed this church for a compound of log-cabins and rustic buildings.

The goal was to blend Orthodox tradition and the simplicity of the local culture.

"We needed people to see this building and immediately say, 'That's a church. That's a beautiful church.' It is always my goal to design churches that are linked to Orthodox traditions but still look like churches to people here in America, even in Appalachia," he said.

The church can hold 50 monks and 150 worshippers -- but the giant, wraparound porch can welcome twice that for feast-day celebrations and special events, especially on rainy mountain days.

"The porch was something we had in the plans, but it is serving a purpose greater than what we intended. It was something God intended," said Abbot Gabriel, 39, a native of Appalachia who converted to Orthodoxy in 2007 and became a novice in 2011.

"The locals have become more and more comfortable with our presence" even if some may not enter the sanctuary, he said. "But gathering on a big porch for food and fellowship, that's different. That's what the locals do. That's mountain hospitality."

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Another year on the religion beat: The great Russell Shaw on secrecy in Catholic life

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Another year on the religion beat: The great Russell Shaw on secrecy in Catholic life

In the spring of 1972, Catholic bishops gathered in Atlanta for an historic event -- their first gathering under a policy that would allow journalists inside the doors of their meetings.

Cardinal John Krol of Philadelphia, the conference president, promised to honor the policy approved by the bishops, which did allow many sensitive topics to be discussed during closed executive sessions.

"Cardinal Krol managed to get his own back, after his own fashion," wrote journalist Russell Shaw, in his book "Nothing to Hide: Secrecy, Communication and Communion in the Catholic Church." He served, with different titles, as press aide for the bishops from 1969-1987 and wrote more than 20 books and thousands of articles for Catholic and mainstream publications.

"At the start of the meeting, after the bishops had prayed and taken care of preliminaries, the cardinal rose to speak. He spoke rapidly and at length -- in Latin! Nervous coughing and shuffling of papers could be heard from the press section."

Eventually the cardinal faced the journalists, with what Shaw called a "wicked grin." Krol quipped: "We told you we'd let you in. We didn't tell you what language we'd speak."

Krol was a conservative, but progressives have used similar tactics. I once asked Cardinal Joseph Bernardin of Chicago, after tense debates about the morality of nuclear weapons, if several bishops -- by switching to Latin at key moments -- had "launched a preemptive strike" on newspaper headline writers. He smiled and said, "Yes."

This past week marked the start of my 38th year writing this "On Religion" column, and I spent 20 years leading GetReligion.org, a website that critiqued mainstream coverage of religion news. Over the decades, I had many encounters with Shaw and his January death, at age 90, reminded me that choices made by powerful clergy, as well as newsroom managers, often determine what news makes it into print.

One story loomed over Shaw's career more than any other -- decades of hidden and then public scandals about the sexual abuse of children, teens and adults by Catholic clergy.

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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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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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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.'"