"We sacrificed to send them to Catholic school. They went to youth group. We did everything we thought we were supposed to do. What happened?"

It's one of the most common questions we get from callers to our radio program and clients in our pastoral counseling practice. And despite its frequency, it never gets any less heartbreaking to hear.

The Catholic Church is facing a spiritual epidemic. A recent study found that only 15 percent of children raised in Catholic homes will grow up to be faithful Catholic adults.

The conventional wisdom about raising Catholic kids doesn't work, but until recently, no one knew what to do instead.

As a result, we've clung to giving the same old advice to parents (go to Mass, send them to Catholic school and youth ministry, and hope for the best).

Then, when it fails 85 percent of the time, we chalk it up to our kids' "free will." Of course, that's true as far as it goes. We can't force our children to be faithful adults. But it's cold comfort, and parents need better answers.

Looking for better answers

To try to provide those better answers, The Peyton Institute for Domestic Church Life (an apostolate of Holy Cross Family Ministries) worked with the Center for Applied Research in the Apostolate to create the Future Faithful Families Project.

First, we looked at data from the Global Social Survey, a representative sample of 2,600 Americans, to identify the general characteristics of families that successfully raised faithful adult kids.

More importantly, we identified Catholic families that successfully raised all of their children to a faithful adulthood, and we interviewed both parents and faithful adult children from those families.

We found that while things like regular Mass attendance, Catholic education, youth ministry and parish involvement were important, they were seen by these families as secondary and supportive of the way they lived their faith at home.

I want to clarify the last part of the above statement because when people hear us talk about the importance of living their faith at home, they tell us that they imagine that these families are always on their knees in prayer and somehow immune from the pressures of the real world. That is not true.

While families who successfully raised all of their children to a faithful adulthood did have regular family prayer times (usually some kind of morning, mealtime, and/or bedtime prayers), that doesn't appear to be the main factor responsible for their success.

Faith as a source of warmth

What mattered most was a family dynamic in which the family (especially the children) experienced their faith as the source of the warmth in their homes.

Children raised in these households experienced their family's faith as something that drew them together in good times and bad.

Of course, these families faced the same stressors and conflicts that all families encounter. Still, they felt their family prayed about these problems in a way that led to better conversations and stronger relationships. Read more

• Dr. Greg Popcak is an author and the director of www.CatholicCounselors.com.

The pupils of nine Dunedin Catholic schools held a social justice day yesterday, taking part in 14 different projects throughout the city including a rubbish cleanup of the Town Belt, baking for residents of Ross Home and connecting with pensioners.

St Joseph's Cathedral School religious studies director Kelly Braithwaite said her classroom had four Domincan sisters and a priest visit.

Pupils aged 5 to 7 put on a concert for them as a way to share love and year 0 to 2 pupils made cards and shared a morning tea with them. Read more

In a world run by free-thinking creatives and people with secular, progressive values, those who hew to more traditional, conservative Christian beliefs tend to be less visible.

But Mark Wahlberg has no problem being vocal about his Catholic faith, which must be refreshing to the approximately 61 million Catholics in America.

Striking a balance

Wahlberg spoke about the balance he has to strike between his private and professional life on the Today show on February 22, also known as Ash Wednesday to Christians.

The "Boogie Nights" actor wore an ash cross on his forehead to commemorate the holy day.

"It's a balance," the 51-year-old actor said.

"I don't want to jam it down anybody's throat, but I do not deny my faith. That's an even bigger sin.

"You know, it's not popular in my industry, but I cannot deny my faith. It's important for me to share that with people.

"But, I have friends from all walks of life and all different types of faiths and religions, so it's important to respect and honour them as well."

Leading through example

He also believes in leading through his example instead of pressuring his four children to follow his faith.

"I don't force it on them," he said.

"But they know that Dad can't start the day without being in prayer, can't start the day without reading my Scripture or going to Mass.

"And hopefully, instead of forcing that on them, they'll say, ‘Well, if it works for Dad, maybe it'll work for us,' and they'll kind of gravitate towards it on their own."

Wahlberg can keep his faith strong while dealing with the pressures of Hollywood thanks to his relationship with Father Flavin, a parish priest who helped him make drastic changes in his life. Read more

• Mark Robert Michael Wahlberg, formerly known by his stage name Marky Mark, is an American actor. His work as a leading man spans the comedy, drama, and action genres.

With confusion around identity in such a fluid and conflicting world, is it any wonder why young Catholic women are adhering to a more concrete and traditional faith, as the recent study by the University of Newcastle has found?

The subjectivity of modern society has put young Catholic women at a crossroads, forcing themselves to ask the question: Do we relax the moral law on issues such as contraception or our place in church leadership, and try to discern the limits of reform ourselves?

Or do we simply turn to the universal and timeless wisdom of Holy Mother Church?

Young women appear to be rejecting the former approach and taking the road less travelled — just 21 percent of women aged 18-40 told the survey they strongly supported reform in the church, compared to 83 per cent of over-70s.

Why is this so? As young Catholic women working in youth ministry, we have the privilege of meeting thousands of high school students and young adults.

One of the joys of our job is seeing young women come to recognise the truth of their femininity, as expressed through Christ and his church.

But this isn't because they're carried by cultural Catholicism. Rather, young Catholics must be more intentional and proactive in their faith, and this is made possible by greater access to formation.

Young women today are lucky enough to have grown up in the wake of St John Paul II's papacy. His legacy gave us clear teaching on the dignity of human life, sexuality and particularly women.

This asset of formation has provided younger generations with a greater appreciation for the beauty of sexual ethics, and the complementarity of the sexes, rather than a merely legalistic understanding of what one may or may not do.

God invites us into obedience to his will. A zeal for the faith is neither a justification nor a right to lead in the church. No woman or man has a right to anything that God does not call.

This is not a gendered thing — this is a Body of Christ thing.

Unlike previous generations where there existed minimal avenues for laity to genuinely share the faith, young women today have countless opportunities to serve the church without ever feeling the need to enter the liturgical space.

Whether in youth ministry, marriage support, charitable works, sacramental preparation, public school catechesis, teaching, administration or raising the next generation of saints, the space for feminine influence continues.

These charisms, held by women, are never to stray from the mystery of Catholic anthropology and the complementarity — not competition — between men and women.

Young Catholics of today are simply trying to protect these God-ordained differences.

Additionally, there seems to be a fear among the older generations that unless the church is entertaining or keeping up with the times, she will lose her young ones.

There were hints of this same sentiment at the most recent World Youth Day week in Portugal; the relentless noise and general lack of reverence felt more like Coachella than celebrating the mysteries of Christ.

It is no wonder that an overwhelming majority of young Catholics want to return to a more traditional participation in the faith.

But it is not tradition for tradition's sake. We want to set our feet in the apostolic tradition for the sake of drawing upon the richness it provides, along with scripture and the church's magisterium.

The truth, beauty, and goodness of the faith speaks for itself. Young people don't need to be sold the faith with festivals or diluted teachings.

Young Catholics want to return to the basics, to the complementarity of men and women, the sacraments, and to Jesus himself. This is their identity, and the appeal of tradition.

• Catherine Phillips and Anna Harrison are youth officers for Sydney Catholic Youth.
• First published in Catholic Weekly. Republished with permission.

The Black Madonna of Częstochowa looks much like other Eastern religious icons, with its deep golden halos and sombre colour palette.

But the painting, whose origin is still unknown, has come to represent not only Catholicism in Poland, but also Polish national pride.

Each year, more than 120,000 pilgrims make the journey to the shrine to pay homage to an image once described as the "Queen of Poland".

In the late 1980s, the face of the Black Madonna appeared on Solidarity leader Lech Wałęsa's lapel.

Pilgrims risked their lives to travel on foot to the monastery during the German Nazi occupation of Poland, and a rosary made from concentration camp beads is on display as one of many relics of the nation's painful past.

An attempted robbery of the icon in 1430 left two slashes on the Virgin Mary's face, reminding its viewers of what the icon and its home country have been through.

For Renata Zabłocka, 49, raised in a Catholic family in small-town southeastern Poland, the church was the centre of public life. "Everything revolved around the church," she says - cultural events, social life and shared values.

But now she has stopped attending weekly mass on Sundays, even though she still describes herself as a believer in God. She says she felt "forgotten and judged" by the church, which used to be her main mechanism of support, after she divorced her husband of 20 years last year.

"When I needed help, no one came to check if I was okay," she says. "I can't say that I'm no longer faithful, but my thinking on certain issues has changed."

Poland has been experiencing increasing scepticism towards the Catholic church in the past few years. That phenomenon is most visible among the young and in big cities.

According to data from CBOS, a state research agency, today less than 25% of young Poles regularly practise their religion, down from around 70% in the early 1990s.

"In big cities like Warsaw, church attendance is around 20% of what it once was", says Franciszek Mróz, a professor of geography at the Pedagogical University of Kraków specialising in religious tourism. But he also notes that, even in small villages, that figure is around 80%, indicating a decline in conservative rural areas.

However, falling involvement with the Catholic church as an institution does not necessarily mean that Poles are losing their faith in God.

CBOS data show that, among all Poles, weekly religious practice has declined from almost 70% in the early 1990s to 42% now. The church's own figures tell a similar story. Read more

The new monarch, who immediately acceded to the throne following the death of Queen Elizabeth II on Sept. 8 and will be crowned May 6 in Westminster Abbey, has long had close ties with the Catholic Church.

As heir to the throne, he spent many years supporting Catholic charities, as well as often speaking out on behalf of persecuted Christians, including working with the Catholic charity Aid to the Church in Need.

He welcomed Pope St John Paul II on his historic visit to Canterbury in 1982 and has made many trips to the Vatican, including meeting in a private audience with John Paul II in 1985 and attending his funeral in 2005, meeting Pope Benedict XVI in 2009, and visiting Pope Francis in 2017.

In 2019, he represented the queen at the Rome canonization of St John Henry Newman and penned a commentary for L'Osservatore Romano in which he praised how, through his Catholic faith, Cardinal Newman had contributed so much to the Catholic Church and his homeland.

"I know of nothing which would lead me to think that he isn't strongly supportive of the faith and devotional life of his Catholic subjects and of Pope Francis," said Anglican Archbishop Ian Ernest, director of the Anglican Centre in Rome.

How does King Charles understand the Catholic faith?

Does Charles recognize the differences between the Catholic Church and the Anglican Communion, and how might he influence relations in the future?

"He will certainly be aware that the Roman Catholic Church teaches transubstantiation and that the Church of England does not," said Gavin Ashenden, a former Anglican bishop and chaplain to the queen who was received into the Catholic Church in 2019.

"He is probably aware that the Church of England only recognizes two sacraments against historic Christianity's seven."

Adrian Hilton, the editor of the popular Anglican website ArchbishopCranmer.com, also believes Charles is aware of the denominational differences and recalled how, during his visit to John Paul II in 1985 with his then-wife Princess Diana, he had wished to attend Mass with the Pope, upon which the queen intervened.

But to Hilton, this suggests "that he sees the Church as one and rather laments divisions within."

"He is clearly aware of sacramental differences and interecclesiastical tensions but doesn't view them as primary issues of salvation," he said.

"That he gifted the Pope [in 1985] a copy of Bede's Ecclesiastical History of the English People also suggests that he views the Church of England as an expression of Catholic continuity."

Does he relate to Jesus as Lord?

But asked if Charles sees the Catholic Church and the Anglican Communion as equals in the service of the same Lord, Ashenden said he sees "no evidence in Charles' public language that he relates to Jesus as Lord" and noted that he "has chafed at the exclusiveness of Christianity and only recently committed himself to Anglicanism."

Ashenden could not testify to Charles having any special interest in the Catholic Church per se; rather, he believes Charles has gravitated toward "spirituality, both Islamic and that of Greek Orthodoxy," but added that this appears to be no more "than observer status" and that Charles' affection for Orthodoxy is more diplomatic than personal.

Asked if Charles was perhaps closer to the Greek Orthodox Church, similar to his father, the late Duke of Edinburgh, who was a member of the Greek royal family, Hilton said: "This is difficult, not least because he has manifestly changed his mind on some theological issues over the years — as I guess we all do — so his thinking on Eastern Orthodox Christianity 20 years ago may not be what it is today."

Still, Hilton said he senses Charles has inherited a "deep respect for Orthodoxy and also the cosmology of Universalism," and Mount Athos, which Charles has visited several times, "represents to him a cultural history, spiritual unity and interfaith harmony which supersedes the divisions within and between Jerusalem, Rome and Canterbury."

The new king is reportedly a more high-church Anglican than his mother and predecessor, Queen Elizabeth II. Might that perhaps make him closer to the Catholic Church? Continue reading

Her research explored post-conflict recovery as well as oil development in rural Timor Leste, one of the only two Catholic-majority countries in Asia.

In 2015, she published her book, The Land of Gold: Post-Conflict Recovery and Cultural Revival in Independent Timor-Leste, which explores the process of Timor-Leste people rebuilding their lives after more than two decades of violence and forced dislocation.

In particular, the book highlights the key role of ancestor worship in addressing the region's specific kind of tensions.

Could you tell us what brought you to study post-conflict resolution?

There are several things that attracted me in Timor-Leste. Most notably, I was interested in its anti-colonial movement, and later in its resistance to Indonesian occupation.

I am from Berlin, but I grew up in this alternative milieu and was interested in a left-wing political movement.

Initially, the anti-colonial movement in Timor-Leste was a socialist one.

That was one I was interested in at the time. I studied anthropology and anthropologically speaking, this was a fascinating place. But there were several coincidences that brought me to do fieldwork in Timor-Leste.

Can you give us a review of the conflict, war and massacres in Timor-Leste between 1975 and 2000?

A bit of history will help us understand it better.

The eastern part of Timor Island was a Portuguese colony, and the western part, like many other parts in Southeast Asia, was a Dutch colony.

After the Second World War, Indonesia struggled against colonial rule and became an independent nation. The Dutch-occupied western part became part of Indonesia, but its eastern part remained a Portuguese colony.

That was the time independence movements were developing in many other parts of the world.

Such moves emerged in the Portuguese colony too, but with wide differences of opinion among different political parties.

The pro-Portuguese party, the Timorese Democratic Union (UDT — Uniao Democratica Timorense), was looking at independence after being part of a Portuguese federation for some time.

The more socialist-inspired independence party Fretilin, or Frente Revolucionaria de Timor-Leste Independente, campaigned for independence.

Fretilin declared independence on Nov 28, 1975, and nine days later the Indonesian military invaded.

Formally, the invasion was projected as an attempt to prevent communism from developing in Southeast Asia. But there were other motives of course. For example, the fact that oil had been identified in offshore waters and south of the island of Timor. The Indonesian military occupied Timor-Leste soon after it declared independence, and it was an extremely violent occupation.

They invaded from land, sea, and air, from all sides, and continued it over the next 24 years.

There were initially pockets of resistance in the highlands of the country, but slowly they were quashed.

Until the Indonesian occupation ended in 1999, people put up resistance against the occupation, which included armed struggle led by guerrilla fighters.

There were also other forms of resistance. There was civilian resistance, diplomatic resistance and the Catholic Church, which played quite a big role.

Is it correct to say about one-fourth of the population died over those 25 years?

Numbers often differ.

An estimated 100,000 people died directly in conflict-related deaths. But many died as a consequence of the occupation, such as starvation or poverty.

That's why it is estimated that a fourth of the population died in the 25 years of conflict.

In the 1999 referendum, the majority voted in favour of independence and another series of massacres followed.

The Indonesian military systematically destroyed infrastructure and carried out mass killings together with pro-Indonesian militias. The occupation was violent, and it ended with violence.

Could you tell us how you conducted research there a few years after those massacres?

Following the referendum, Timor-Leste officially regained independence in 2002, and I started my fieldwork in 2005. I was a student, and at the time, I wasn't quite able to recognize, as much as I do now, how much it was still a post-conflict country.

There was destroyed infrastructure on the roads; you could see the impact of the Indonesian occupation everywhere.

I had no contacts there but I was very lucky.

I sent emails to all contacts I could get and one of them put me in touch with someone working for the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in Timor-Leste. An East Timorese woman and her family living in the capital city, Dili, took me in. So I could live with them. I didn't want to go to a hotel and I wanted to live with a family, with people.

My first three months in Timor-Leste were spent in that home.

But Dilli was very hot, and I struggled with the heat. I tried to find a higher-up place. Having spent some time in Dili, I was also looking for places where I could then do long-term fieldwork.

Can you tell us about the village, where you did work in the mountain?

I carried out my research in Laclubar subdistrict, in a village called Funar, which was quite high up in the central mountains. It's nice and cool there, and you can look down into the valleys and often see the clouds below you. Through complicated connections, someone again found a family for me to live with.

It's an area where people speak Idate, an Austronesian language. Only some 10,000, maybe it's 15,000 people now, speak that language.

The entire village had been destroyed during the conflict between the UDT and Fretilin in 1975 and during the Indonesian occupation.

The entire village was forcibly moved and villagers had to live in Laclubar town during the occupation.

The Indonesian military did this across Timor-Leste to control the resistance. They didn't want people to join the resistance. So villagers were forcibly resettled during most of the Indonesian occupation.

But then in the early nineties, some villagers from Funar wanted to go back to their ancestral land, where they could do agriculture. Going back was important for them. They slowly started moving back, and when Timor-Leste regained independence, many of them fully moved back.

When I arrived there, the process of moving back was still in the process. But the process of reconnecting with the land and with the places of origin, and rebuilding ancestral houses was a long one.

What was the main finding your book presented?

I went to Timor-Leste because my of theoretical interest in finding out how people talk about periods of violent conflict, and their memories of it.

I found it interesting that people in Funar hardly spoke about the Indonesian occupation.

It took me a long time to find out that the village of Funar, where it is located today, was not actually where it was located before the Indonesian occupation. It is because people were emphasizing continuity with the past, that they did not talk much about the Indonesian occupation.

They sought to emphasize continuity with a pre-Indonesian, and sometimes even a pre-colonial past. So they didn't talk much about recent history. But they talked a lot about the importance of the land and the fertility of the land and reconnecting with the land.

The book was titled The Land of Gold because people often spoke about specific sacred sites as having a lot of gold. These were often sites that had some ancestral significance [in origin narratives].

It was perhaps a site where ancestors grew from the land or it was a place where a specific event had happened in the ancestral past.

People would say there's a lot of gold beneath these lands.

It was another way of saying that it's very sacred and potent land.

The importance of the ancestors and the importance of these sacred sites were what people emphasized in this post-conflict period.

My main argument is that people weren't directly talking about what happened during the Indonesian occupation. But they were dealing with what was happening during that time precisely by reinvigorating these ancestral sites and connections. This was a way of dealing with all the changes that had happened and all their traumatic experiences by creating this continuity with this ancestral past.

What has been the most challenging during your research?

I think it's hard to identify one specific aspect that's been most difficult.

But I think when I was doing my fieldwork, there were many practicalities that I found difficult such as living in an area without public transport and electricity. I think that was physically challenging in many ways.

So, when I was doing my fieldwork, I often tried to deny the differences between the people with whom I was living and me.

That was partly because I wanted them to feel that they could have a good relationship with me. I tried to eat whatever food there was, and sleep wherever I could sleep.

I tried not to have any expectations.

I didn't know anything about their life. I was the one who was there to learn. So, I never wanted to complain about anything.

By doing that I sometimes also denied the differences that we had.

I was privileged because for me living in poverty was temporary, and I had the possibility that I could go back home and continue my studies and have a totally different lifestyle. (Many of the people I lived with did not have that privilege).

When my mother saw the photos of the area where I was doing fieldwork, she would always say, "Oh, people are so incredibly poor."

I would ask her to "stop saying that.

That's not the most important thing.

The important thing is the relationship I have with them."

I was annoyed at the comment because I felt that poverty was not the most important thing about people that I lived with and whom I cared a lot about.

But I think, retrospectively, I perhaps didn't fully acknowledge some of the poverty and the problems of people there.

I think dealing with that kind of tension between me being able to go there and being able to leave was emotionally the most challenging thing.

How has the socio-economic and also religious situation of people in Funar evolved since the beginning of your fieldwork up to today?

I haven't been back there for quite some time. The last time I was back was in 2016.

I would have liked to have gone last summer, but that wasn't possible because of the pandemic. Every time I've gone back, I have seen a huge amount of investment in this rural area.

Most of the houses in the village where I did my fieldwork research in Funar were made from natural materials such as grass and wood.

Nowadays, people have stone houses and there's a sort of clear investment.

Now they have electricity, mobile phones, and internet connections. There has been quite a dramatic change and a lot of it has been enabled through the Petroleum Fund and massive state spending. Funar is much more connected now than it used to be.

There's also a religious change.

People were nominally Catholic, and there was a lot of creative mixing of Catholicism and ancestral ideas during my fieldwork. But when I went back recently, my impression was that the influence of the Catholic Church had grown.

When I was doing my fieldwork, only some people went to Mass on Sundays; many didn't.

That has changed in recent years, and the influence of the Catholic Church has become stronger.

It seems that would be an interesting research project to see exactly how things have changed.

How is your research impacting your own understanding of Catholicism?

I think that Catholicism in Timor-Leste is an interesting one, because there is so much active mixing and playful mixing with ancestral practices.

If I think about how this experience changed my understanding of Catholicism, I guess that, in some way, I began to appreciate the animist potential of Catholic thought.

There is much potential in Catholicism and Catholic practice to be incorporated into existing ancestral practices.

Some people in Timor-Leste think that tradition and the Church are two different things and that they need to be separate. But there are others who see this as a positive alliance between two powerful spheres.

The sort of Catholicism that I find most interesting is the one where there's this playful interaction between these different spheres where you have a statue of the Virgin Mary put up at an ancestral site. And then these different entities co-exist — ancestral powers and Catholic sacred powers.

They become mixed up in people's understanding of these sites.

So, if anything, it has made me appreciate the potential of Catholicism to be creatively intermixed with existing ideas and beliefs, even thought, though it's often denied officially.

• Michel Chambon is a French theologian and cultural anthropologist who studies Christianity in the Chinese world. At the National University of Singapore, he coordinates ISAC, the Initiative for the Study of Asian Catholics
• First published by UCANews.com. Republished with permission.

Catholic mortician Andres "June" Ybarra (pictured with his wife), is a Knight of Columbus at his Catholic Church in Texas and is closely involved with his parish.

He and other Knights are helping their town's traumatised community of 16,000 cope with the shooting deaths of 19 elementary school children and two teachers on May 24.

Eleven of the victims were parishioners of Sacred Heart.

Ybarra and other Knights provided hamburgers for participants at a candlelight vigil held on Thursday night.

During the day, he prays while he's working. He's helped prepare the bodies and organise funeral arrangements for 16 of the 21 victims.

"It's the hardest thing I've ever seen, the hardest thing I've ever seen," Ybarra says. "I never ever thought something like this would happen in Uvalde."

He's suffered his own loss in this tragedy too. One of the victims he had to prepare for burial was a cousin. He says God's grace gave him the strength to do his job and "be strong for the families".

A mortician for 32 years, Ybarra retired years ago, but he felt the urge to come back to work 11 months ago.

"God brought me back for this," he says.

Parish priest Father Eduardo Morales, who's had to bury several of the victims, is also drawing on his faith.

"There's a lot of pain and a lot of hurt," he says. "But we can't lose our faith. Faith has to be part of this journey to find comfort."

Parishioners are aware of the challenge burying so many parishioners will be for Morales.

"I just pray that he has enough energy to be in all the Masses," one says. "It must be overwhelming. It must be impossible."

He's been trying to heal his community while burying their dead. Anger cannot turn into hate, he tells people. The lives of the victims must be celebrated. The parish — and the city — must try to heal as one.

That is a particularly sensitive command in Uvalde, where parents of some victims have expressed outrage at law enforcement officers' slow response during the shooting. Some of the law enforcement staff are also members of the parish.

The sequence of funerals at Sacred Heart Church began last Tuesday, with the service for a 10-year old girl.

After recalling the young girl's creativity and her dream of becoming an art teacher, he prepared the congregation for the coming days of funerals by previewing one of his favourite sayings at times of mourning.

"You will hear me say this at every single funeral celebration that we have," he said.

"We are not in the house of God to celebrate her death. We are here to celebrate her life. We are here to celebrate the life that allows her to continue to be among us."

Source

• Washington Post
• CNA
• Image:

He encouraged Slovak Catholics to open their hearts to "a faith that becomes compassion" that "identifies with those who are hurting, suffering and forced to bear heavy crosses."

It is "a faith that does not remain abstract, but becomes incarnate in fellowship with those in need. A faith that imitates God's way of doing things, quietly relieves the suffering of our world and waters the soil of history with salvation," Francis said.

"The world needs Christians who are "signs of contradiction," who demonstrate the beauty of the Gospel rather than hostility toward others."

He invited Slovakians to be Christians who are "bringers of the sweet fragrance of hospitality and solidarity".

Reflecting on Mary as a "model of faith" for Catholics in Slovakia, Francis noted that despite being chosen to be the mother of God, Mary did "not consider it a privilege," nor did she lose her humility.

Instead, she accepted "the gift she had received as a mission to be carried out" and set out on a journey to take God's love to those in need."

In making this journey, the Pope told Slovakians that like Mary they overcome the temptation to a passive faith, content with this or that ritual or ancient tradition.

"Instead, you leave yourselves behind and set out, carrying in your backpacks the joys and sorrows of this life, and thus make your life a pilgrimage of love toward God and your brothers and sisters. Thank you for this witness!"

Francis said Mary's prophetic faith shows "God's presence in human history; even in moments of trial and suffering.

Faith "cannot be reduced to a sweetener to make life more palatable," he said.

Mary's faith is also compassionate and she understands the suffering endured by humanity, Francis finished.

She is a mother who "dries our tears, comforts us and points to Christ's definitive victory."

He made the comments while celebrating Mass in Šaštin, on the final day of his apostolic trip to Slovakia.

Source

• National Catholic Reporter
• Image: Herald Malaysia

His friend, Senator Chris Coons, Democrat of Delaware, spoke about Mr Biden's faith, saying it "is strong and it's personal and private. For Joe, faith isn't a prop or political tool."

If Mr Biden wins in November, he will be just the second Catholic elected president.

During his acceptance speech, Mr Biden reiterated his idea that this election is a "battle for the soul of America." He repeatedly drew upon the themes of darkness and light.

"In this dark moment, I believe we are poised to make great progress again, to find the light once more," Mr Biden said.

He offered words of consolation to the families and friends of the roughly 170,000 Americans who have died from Covid-19 and urged Americans to fight racism and division.

"Love is more powerful than hate. Hope is more powerful than fear. Light is more powerful than dark," Mr Biden said."

This is our moment. This is our mission."

Ahead of Mr Biden's speech, Mr Coons highlighted Mr Biden's faith background.

"People, Joe believes, were made in the image of God. Joe learned that from his parents and the nuns and priests right here in Delaware, who taught him and inspired in him a passion for justice," said Mr Coons, a Yale Divinity School graduate.

He said he has seen firsthand Mr Biden's deep faith and compassion, noting how the former vice president consoled him while his father was in hospice care.

"Joe's faith is really about our future, about a world with less suffering and more justice, where we're better stewards of creation, where we have a more just immigration policy, and where we call out and confront the original sins of this nation, the sins of slavery and racism."

— Chris Coons (@ChrisCoonsforDE) August 21, 2020

Mr Coons, in a nod perhaps to the decreasing religiosity of Democratic voters, said Mr Biden would be "a president for Americans of all faiths, as well as people of conscience who practice no particular faith."

"Joe's faith is really about our future, about a world with less suffering and more justice, where we're better stewards of creation, where we have a more just immigration policy and where we call out and confront the original sins of this nation, the sins of slavery and racism.

"Joe knows these are central issues in this election. And for him, they're rooted in faith," Coons said.

"Joe knows that it's faith that sustained so many ordinary Americans who do extraordinary things," he said.

Americans, Mr Coons said, "deserve a servant leader who knows the dignity of work; who sees them, respects them, fights for them.

"We need a president who brings people of all faiths together to tackle our challenges, rebuild our country and restore our humanity.

"Someone who knows we're called to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God. Joe Biden will be that president." Continue reading

The views expressed here do not necessarily reflect those of CathNews.

Former King of Queens actress Leah Remini left the Church of Scientology in 2013 after decades of membership.

"I was always religious. I was baptised as a Catholic. I got my daughter baptised as a Catholic," she said.

"I'm reconnecting with my faith. It's been a beautiful thing."

In tandem with her newfound faith, Remini said her quality of life overall has been uplifted.

"Your life becomes about being celebratory. There's a freedom to it," she said.

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I'm privileged to share a story of the latter kind, the experience of a young woman who had never had any interest in religion.

Her passion was architecture, and she was in Rome with a camera, pencils and pad, capturing the shape of history.

St Peter's basilica was crowded but she found an empty side chapel, sat in one of the pews and began sketching her surroundings.

Of course, she didn't know those chapels are not empty for long.

A large number of nuns in brown habits came in, talking in a language she couldn't identify. Within seconds she was hemmed in at all sides, unable to make an exit.

When a man came in and stood up front, she realised a service had started and she felt she was intruding. There was nothing she could do about it.

When it was time for holy communion, she did the easiest thing, and followed the sisters.

She received the body of Christ without knowing what it was.

She told me that after everyone else had left, she stayed in the chapel, wondering what had happened to her.

She felt different.

There seemed to be a deep peace inside her, something she recognised but could not name.

The feeling stayed and it created in her a hunger.

She is now a Catholic and as enthusiastic as converts often are.

Her story was important to me, creating awareness that also raised a few questions.

The Eucharist is at the heart of our faith, and is revered and protected.

The disciplines and rituals associated with the body of Christ are like fences around a mystery too deep to be named, too sacred to be dishonoured in any way. That's the awareness.

Who owns the sacraments?

It is a persistent question and my answer to that is God; but there are other questions that have no ready answers.

When does reverence become tribalism?

Do the rules that come from our love and devotion, actually limit God?

I don't know.

All I know is this sort of thing never bothered Jesus. He had no fences and he didn't put labels on people.

Yet we know the disciplines of faith are important. They are the container that has held the sacred throughout the ages.

Will these disciplines change? I hope not. But maybe the rules could be softened in their execution.

At mixed gatherings such as wedding and funerals, a priest usually makes some form of the "us and them" statement about receiving holy communion. He usually does this apologetically.

What would happen if he said nothing?

If someone from another Christian church came up to receive the body of Christ, would that be a sin?

And what if someone who had no faith, played follow-the-leader? Should we get overly anxious about that?

There is always a danger that in our thinking we will make God too small.

• Joy Cowley is a wife, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and retreat facilitator.

I was born during WWII and educated at Catholic Schools (1948-1960).

Our family practiced its faith even if it didn't really value a personal relationship with Jesus - that was something for folk like Methodists - we Catholics had the Pope and the Catechism. Yes, there were a lot of rules, but there was also Our Lady and the Rosary.

In my teenage years, circumstance found me spending much time on horseback moving beef cattle in a remote area hemmed by swift rivers which had to be forded.

From half kneeling on the saddle with heels tucked up behind to keep feet dry and praying your horse didn't stumble, all the time trying to look tough and nonchalant - I learned about security - you can trust a good horse - you have to - and I was only fourteen years old.

The large family I stayed with back then knelt to pray the rosary every evening after mealtime. Back in town popular films like Shane also helped - good and evil opposed in plain view - and they had horses in them as well.

After high school I did compulsory military service and still practiced my faith even though many I went through school with were jettisoning theirs - this was the 1960s - enough said.

I sought reasons to abandon the Catholic faith and its ‘irksome' rules but the vision always came to me of dismounting from a horse in mid river without having another to mount beside me - yes if I was going to chuck over my faith I needed another to take its place. Continue reading

• Stephen Sparrow writes from New Zealand. He is semi-retired and reads (and writes) for enjoyment. His secondary school education was undertaken by Society of Mary priests at St. Bede's College and after leaving school in 1960, he joined a family wood-working business, retiring from it in 2001.