McLeod says the project has been a major labour of love that is deceptively complicated to create and maintain.

"It's not an exhaustive source of all information in these areas, but rather takes snapshots and encourages people to seek a moment to reflect, pray and respond," says NCRS Director Colin MacLeod.

We tried very hard to continue our weekly ritual of prayer and worship.

Like many families, we created a small home altar. We lit a candle. We set out a statue of Mary. We stood. We knelt. We sang. We tried.

Our parishes tried, too.

Priests who never heard of Facebook Live quickly learned how to livestream. They bought tripods and tried different camera angles. Some relied on their parishioners to lend expertise on video production. Everyone tried their best in a difficult time.

I know quite a few priests, so my Facebook feed was inundated with livestream Masses in the early days of the pandemic.

Every day, I would scroll through and see priest after priest celebrating Mass in an empty church. I would watch them receive Communion, give a small teaching, and do all the rituals associated with the prayer.

They were doing their best.

As the weeks went on, the experience of watching Mass got more difficult for my family.

I would often miss the readings or homily because I was wrangling our toddler.

In the end, Mass was more of a spectator sport than worship experience.

What became clear to us after weeks of watching online Mass was that it boiled down to watching someone else pray.

We who sat in our living room weren't experiencing a sacrament.

We were watching someone else experience it.

And, at least for us, that was frustrating more than it was uplifting.

So, we stopped watching virtual Mass and we haven't watched a Mass for months.

After further reflection, I've come to realize my problem was not with live-streamed Mass.

I know many who love the experience, and it has served as a lifeline for their faith.

I think it's an important ministry and it should continue.

My problem with virtual Mass was that it was the only form of ministry I was experiencing from my parish. And because it was the only form of ministry — it was wholly inadequate.

I have witnessed creativity and ingenuity in ministry during this difficult time.

I saw parishes and priests who hosted a daily evening prayer, a weekly rosary, or weekly virtual Bible study.

I've seen parishes offering virtual lectures and other learning opportunities.

I know of priests and deacons who call their homebound parishioners to check in.

I think that is a good start to the new kind of community parishes are building. Because, we are, in fact, in the process of building a new kind of community.

There will not be a return to the way things were.

How could there be?

The world has changed and so have we.

And moving forward, that kind of ingenuity and creativity is what I'm asking of our priests and parishes. In short, how can I pray with you?

Because, I'm tired of watching you pray.

We know this pandemic is far from over and there are many, like my family, who will not see the inside of a church for many more months.

Many are scared to go back, too at-risk, and it's precisely those people who need their parish more than ever.

So, our parishes must consider how to create virtual and in-person worship experiences that are communal and meaningful.

What resources can we send to our parishioners to support their prayer at home?

How can we support young families, our elders, our homebound in their experience of faith at home?

What do we have to do to make human connections in a time when those things are in short supply? Continue reading

For though he is one of Islam's greatest prophets, referenced throughout the Quran and praised with lofty virtues, to pray in his name would be a violation to my faith's tenets.

In a recent conversation with two friends, a rabbi and a Baptist minister, the rabbi jokingly asked me, "Do you also hold your breath at times while a Christian minister prays, wondering if you're going to be able to say ‘Amen' at the end?"

Considerations such as this come with the territory when you do interfaith work.

The occasional interfaith vigil after a national tragedy doesn't normally warrant concern, though there are examples of conservative ministers facing discipline for praying with other clergy, and some traditional faith leaders prefer to abstain from such events.

But when interfaith understanding is not only necessary to connect with your wider community but part of the dissolving of differences you believe faith can achieve, the question becomes, at what point is making adjustments to accommodate the other still fruitful?

As an orthodox Sunni imam from Louisiana who now lives in Texas, I too have struggled with these questions.

There are two basic ways to encounter a person of another faith seriously.

One, which is engaging with another's Scripture, will inevitably reveal expected differences, as well as some surprising similarities. In an effort to harmonize, it can be tempting to depart from one's own understanding of Scripture to demonstrate an added layer of sameness that just isn't there. But that would remove the richness of the study, and potentially compromise the authenticity of it as well.

There is also multifaith community work — when we form coalitions with other faiths to make a meaningful difference in society.

This shouldn't be a problem: You don't have to shred your faith identity or Scripture; just champion its elements of service. Come to the table in the fullness of yourself, and demonstrate how you're going to enrich that table with your faith-inspired work. Easy, right?

Not always.

For instance, inevitably there are common prayers said over our common efforts, or introductory remarks that suddenly turn into prayer.

Some faith traditions see the divine as more abstract, and an invocation — a prayer that calls upon God for relief or change — can be grasped by members of those faiths even if the prayer is calling upon different deities.

To others, the divine is personal and fixed and can only be invoked in specific ways. It should never be an expectation that a faith leader pray or say amen to anything that would violate that leader's creed or traditions, but the onus should probably be on those who can adjust without violating to accommodate everyone in the room.

Perhaps, for example, if a Christian minister feels uncomfortable omitting "in Jesus' name" when among colleagues of different faiths, the minister can offer a reflection instead or give a courteous disclaimer that "I will be offering this prayer as such" that at least gives the others a chance to respectfully abstain. To make fellow faith leaders uncomfortable with your invocation could compromise the very unifying spirit that calls us all together in the first place.

In the same way, we should be careful not to assert that those who believe in an exclusive route to salvation are necessarily unable to work with a diverse group of people.

One of the most fruitful dialogues I've had in years came in March at North Carolina State University with the Rev. J.D. Greear, who serves as president of the Southern Baptist Convention. At an event convened by Neighborly Faith, Greear and I founded a friendship on our ability to speak faithfully and honestly about our differences, even with a crowd of more than 1,000 looking on.

Five years earlier, three young Muslims had been murdered in nearby Chapel Hill. Some of the family members of those victims were present.

Our topic was hope and uncertainty, and we expressed hope that we could work together against hatred and polarization.

As a start, Greear, one of the most prominent evangelicals in America, openly condemned anti-Muslim bigotry.

Pastor Greear and I also spoke about religious freedom not being restricted to one religious group, without either my or his concept of salvation being compromised or made ambiguous.

I was and am fine with his vision of the hereafter not having space for me, so long as it doesn't become an obstacle to me having space in the here and now.

Often the obstacle to interfaith communication is not between faiths but within them.

I often joke about my relationship in New Orleans with a Reform rabbi and Orthodox rabbi who seemed to view me as a safe mediator regarding some of their core disagreements.

While their disagreements were friendly, sometimes our internal disagreements as faith communities are more intense than our larger disagreements with different faith communities altogether.

It can be so much easier to unite with an outsider than an insider who you feel threatens the foundations or trajectory of your shared faith.

Indeed, a theological progressive may have a harder time with a traditionalist of the same faith than a traditionalist of another faith.

But it's a mistake to think that the divisions in our faith give us implicit insights into those of other faiths.

Each faith's factions have their own unique political and scriptural considerations in their internal debates. The basis of our broader cooperation is not what we share as believers, but instead shared community goals.

As our country becomes further polarized into a secularized left and right (white nationalism is no less secularizing than any "ism" on the left), it is imperative that as religious people we don't merely dress political slogans with religious scripture.

We must instead model for the broader society what it looks like to work on shared goals despite our different beliefs.

We can talk openly and honestly with one another without shying away from our disagreements. And we can work, proudly anchored in our different faith traditions, with similar goals through recognition of our full shared humanity.

• Imam Omar Suleiman is the founder and president of the Yaqeen Institute for Islamic Research and an adjunct professor of Islamic studies in the graduate liberal studies program at Southern Methodist University. He is also co-chair emeritus of Faith Forward Dallas and a special adviser to Faith Commons. First published by RNS. Republished with permission.

It's a switchboard of extemporaneous ideas, thoughts, memories and questions that is always on, always lit up, always busy.

Did I plug in the slow cooker?

I wonder how many calories I'll burn if I keep swinging my leg like this. College Dropout was definitely Kanye's best album.

Or maybe it was Graduation.

How long would it take me to learn how to do a backflip if I started today? Am I too old to do a backflip? I want to write a book. I'm going to write a book. I think I'll… oooh gelato.

My attention span is easily seduced by distractions and the internet only exacerbates my mental outbursts of randomness.

I start off checking the weather and end up researching how many times it's snowed in Nigeria. (That's actually a true story.)

So you can understand why prayer has been a challenge, not because I don't want to do it or I don't feel the urge to do it, but because I often struggle to concentrate enough to eek out more than quick, drive-by talks with the Lord.

For a long time, too long actually, I felt guilty because I couldn't submit myself to uninterrupted meditative prayers like I'd seen my grandmother, and other saintly women who'd been my faith-walking role models, do.

But almost 10 years ago, I accidentally discovered that I'm a better pray-er when I'm moving.

I don't remember how it all came together but I noticed that when I'm walking and praying, I can stay present longer, I can get deeper — and sure, I can go off on a tangent, but I still come back and recenter myself more than I ever could if I was sitting or kneeling.

I found out the same was true if I was dancing, painting, driving or journaling, even grocery shopping or house cleaning.

I also learned by accident that this type of movement-intensive invocation actually has a name — kinesthetic prayer.

Bill Tenny-Brittian, pastor of Raytown Christian Church in Raytown, Missouri and author of Prayer for People Who Can't Sit Still, describes it as prayer that uses more than just your mouth or your mind.

It engages your fingers, hands, feet, sometimes your entire body.

"When that happens, the two sides of your brain begin to light up equally. They're working together and you're better able to give your whole being into prayer," he explains.

"It allows you to focus and be well-balanced, and prayer is a natural outflowing of that." Continue reading

Last week in Australia, many churches, mosques and synagogues decided proactively to cancel their normal worship services.

These were not easy decisions for groups for whom being a gathered community is central to their identity and practice.

Australia's largest Uniting Church, Newlife, was one of the first in Australia to move services online following the prime minister's call to cancel gatherings over 500.

Their lead minister, Stu Cameron, addressed the congregation online and called this "the most loving thing to do".

As a church used to multimedia worship, they are well equipped to move online.

Traditional churches such as St John's Anglican Church in Toorak face different challenges.

They have cancelled Sunday services but are keeping the historic church and garden open as long as possible for personal prayer and reflection.

Their priest, Peter French, is more concerned about how they will continue to care for the dead and grieving as St John's often sees over 1,000 people during the week for funeral services.

Weddings can be postponed, but funerals are another matter. French said:

We're working closely with our local funeral directors and are deeply conscious of the need for love and compassion for the grieving even if we can't physically gather together in the traditional way. Funeral services for the foreseeable future will look very different.

Italy has banned funerals of any kind.

Bodies are being buried or cremated with only a priest or celebrant present.

This leaves grieving loved ones in limbo, waiting until they can hold a proper funeral service.

The PM's announcement on Sunday evening now makes clear that Australian church and religious organisations are also prohibited from holding funeral services.

Sitting shiva in the traditional way or gathering in other rituals to mourn the dead will not be possible for the foreseeable future.

Not all faith communities respond in the same way

The coronavirus pandemic has exposed a long-held tension between science and faith for conservative faith communities.

Conservative Christian churches such as Margaret Court's Life Church have said the "blood of Jesus" will protect their communities.

Such claims are rooted in a prosperity theology that naively claims God will protect and bless the faithful (usually financially), coupled with a simultaneous distrust of science.

This distrust is because scientific theories, such as evolution, are mutually exclusive to a literal reading of the creation stories in the Bible, particularly Genesis, and are therefore seen as a threat or in conflict with faith.

At the other end of the ecclesial spectrum, the Greek Orthodox Church has thus far continued to serve communion, claiming that one cannot contract an illness from Holy Communion, because bread and wine are the body and blood of Christ. Scientists might disagree.

Worst of all are those seeking to benefit from the fear that such a pandemic evokes.

Televangelist and Trump adviser Paula White at first dismissed the seriousness of coronavirus and is now opportunistically asking for cash donations for a hospital for the "soul sick".

Citing Psalm 91, a psalm that speaks of God's protection in a time of difficulty, she asks people for donations of $91 as "seed funding" for God's blessing.

Others are promising healing through the television. Preying on people's fears in this way is contrary to Christian tradition and theology.

Christians were famous in antiquity for staying to care for the sick and dying during significant plagues.

After all, to risk one's life for the sake of another is a very Jesus-like thing to do.

Christians are, of course, not alone in these brave acts of service. This kind of self-sacrificial service is central to many of the world's religions.

But the dynamics of the current pandemic are different.

Staying close to others might threaten their life more than one's own. It poses a new kind of problem: how do you "love your neighbour" when you aren't supposed to be near them?

The challenge for all communities is how to foster community and support one another while keeping physical distance.

Many faith communities are live-streaming services or sharing pre-recorded sermons.

Others are encouraging small groups to meet in homes or meeting in real time via software such as Zoom.

Pastoral care is more complicated

Some faith communities have set up a pastoral care roster of weekly phone calls to check on both the physical and spiritual needs of members.

Others are delivering care packages and meals to the doorsteps of elderly members or have a buddy system, asking members to commit to checking in with one another every couple of days or youth to help older folk with technology.

At the heart of any religion is community: people gathering together to worship, pray, caring for one another, and eating together. There is therefore something antithetical about asking members of faith communities to show their love by keeping away from one another.

It is a difficult and counter-cultural thing for many to do.

Yet, it is what most faith leaders in Australia are asking of their communities as they trust the advice of scientists and experts that this is the best way to show care for the most vulnerable in our community.

In this time of great anxiety, leaders of all faiths have both an opportunity and responsibility to step up with words of comfort and compassion, drawing on the depths of their sacred traditions and texts.

The lasting effect of coronavirus on faith communities remains to be seen.

Will people flock back to their synagogues when finally allowed, joyful at being able to be together again?

Or will habits be broken and connections lost as people discover other ways to pray and nourish their spiritual lives outside of Sunday church?

Perhaps the creativity these new circumstances demand will lead to a wider range of faith expressions and fundamentally change the nature of faith communities in the 21st century.

Whatever the future looks like, creative and new forms of care and worship are emerging. It is hard to imagine these won't leave a lasting legacy on faith communities.

• Robyn J. Whitaker is a Senior Lecturer in New Testament, Pilgrim Theological College, University of Divinity

At one point in the film, after finding out Joy's cancer has gone into remission, one of Lewis' friends says to him, "I know how hard you have been praying, and now God is answering your prayer."

Lewis, brilliantly played by Anthony Hopkins, replies, "That's not why I pray, Harry.

"I pray because I can't help myself.

"I pray because I'm helpless.

"I pray because the need flows out of me all the time, waking and sleeping.

"It doesn't change God.

"It changes me."

Lewis is speaking of petitionary prayer, which requests something from God.

He points out that we don't pray to change God's mind.

God doesn't grant prayer because we pray or because of how hard we pray; such a God would be either arbitrary or cruel.

Why would God grant one person's heartfelt prayer and not another's?

Some might answer that question by pointing to God's omniscience.

God knows something we don't know, or God sees a bigger picture.

But I don't find that answer satisfactory; in my experience in ministry and friendship, it is not comforting to those who suffer or who feel their prayer has not been answered.

God does not wave a magic wand and make everything turn out alright.

The person who has cancer still dies. The car accident cannot be undone. The person who breaks your heart doesn't come back.

Prayer is about participating in the relationship God offers us. Continue reading

Image: Loyola University

I've been there, too! Until this past semester, in fact.

Up until then, if I wanted to pray for someone, the best I could do was pray, "God bless so-and-so," "I pray for so-and-so," "I lift up so-and-so," and that was it. I had no idea how else to pray for someone! Granted, I would sometimes "offer up" things for people; I'd offer up a rosary or I'd offer up a sacrifice, but intentionally and deeply praying for someone was something I didn't know how to do.

Then I was given a simple tool that revolutionized my prayer for others. Last summer Joseph Williams shared a reflection he called, "Expanding your prayer vocabulary." It's basically a three-step process, and this is how it works:

1) Identify a need (i.e. my dad who is sick). Write down your basic need on a piece of paper. (Writing it down seriously helps, whether you're just starting or you've been doing this for a while.)

2) Brainstorm specific related needs (i.e. healing, patience, faith, and trust). Your dad's sick, and you want to pray for him, but "God bless dad," won't cut it. What does he truly need? He needs healing. He needs patience. He needs faith. He needs trust, during this difficult time. Write all this down.

3) Pray for each of these needs as simply or as in-depth as desired. In praying for trust, for example, you can pray, "Lord, I pray for trust for my dad," or you can take that further and add, "Teach him to pray: Jesus, I trust in you. Give him the grace to trust you, my God. Let him know that you watch over him and that you protect him always." It's your choice how deep you'd like to go.

Pro-Tip: Before you even begin to pray specifically for someone, you can first 1) turn to God, 2) ask for his help, and 3) praise him. And after you pray, you can spend a moment and 1) listen to God, 2) thank him, and 3) praise him again.

Also, be sure to follow up later with those for whom you pray asking them how that test went or how was their interview. They'll know you thought of them and prayed for them.

If you try this out, I guarantee you that three things will happen when you pray for others:

1) God will change your heart. 2) God will change their lives. 3) God will change your relationship with them.

May God bless you and your prayer for others!

Sources

• Andy Norton in Vassallomalta
• Image: Dr Paul Kingsbury

Andy Norton is serving his third year as a missionary at James Madison University in Harrisonburg, Virginia.

Manfred Lutz, a German scholar who is a member of the Pontifical Council for the Laity and the Pontifical Academy for Life, said he found the retired pontiff "physically weaker and a bit more stooped" than a few months earlier, but still mentally alert and cheerful.

He also said he thoroughly agrees with the theological statements of Pope Francis.

Continue reading

No petitions have been sent heavenward asking for your safekeeping. Not even any candles lit on your behalf.

"In the chapel, the Pope Emeritus offered the place of honour to Pope Francis, but he said: ‘We are brothers', and wanted them to kneel together in the same place," said Vatican spokesman Father Federico Lombardi, SJ.

The first face-to-face meeting of the pair since the papal election on March 13 began with an embrace at the Castel Gandolfo heliport.

Each wore a simple white cassock. Benedict XVI wore a white quilted jacket against the cool mountain air. Francis was dressed in the white sash and cape of the Pontiff.

After their prayer in the chapel, the two retired to the papal library where they spoke together for the better part of an hour. They then ate lunch with their secretaries.

Father Lombardi did not share any of the content of their confidential discussions, but a Vatican Insider report says Benedict had left his successor a 300-page report to consider.

The report quoted 98-year-old Archbishop Loris Capovilla, secretary to Pope John XXIII, as saying, "anyway, and I'm not referring to the Vatileaks dossier, Benedict XVI has left on his successor's desk something like three hundred pages written personally to his attention, that's what they tell me in Rome".

Reporter Marco Tosatti said it was likely that Pope Francis would be devoting more attention to Benedict's report than to the dossier on the Vatileaks scandal compiled by three cardinals.

Tosatti suggested that the Vatileaks dossier appeared to be imbalanced in favour of allegations of corruption made by Archbishop Carlo Maria Vigano, formerly secretary-general of Vatican City State and now apostolic nuncio to the United States.

Sources:

Catholic News Agency

Catholic Herald

Vatican Insider

Image: CTV News

When it comes to teaching children about prayer, I get excited, because if they can grasp this simple truth early enough in life, they will most likely grow up enjoying a fulfilling relationship with God and a satisfying prayer life. Think about it, most kids will talk openly and honestly about almost anything. This is how we can teach them to pray — openly, honestly, about anything that's on their mind.

As a mother and grandmother, I think kids just need to understand the simplicity of prayer. It's asking God for what we need and believing He will do the best thing for us. It's talking to Him about people we care about, asking Him to help them. Prayer is asking God how to handle a problem we have and doing what He puts in our heart to do. They need to know they can tell God anything at all because He loves them no matter what. They need to realize they can talk to God like they would talk to their very best friend.

So much of the time, kids are taught the way to pray and not simply to do it. They may learn to kneel, to bow their heads, or fold their hands. They might learn certain words to say or to recite a special Bible verse. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with any of that. But, while I believe it is very important to teach our children to pray, I think maybe we need to toss out the "rule book" and teach them to do what they do naturally and talk to God.

That's the inspiration for my new children's book, "Every Which Way to Pray." Harley and Hayley Hippo want to pray, but they think prayer is hard work. "There are lots of rules for praying," Harley complains. "You have to do it just right." They even have a rule book that tells them so. But the little hippos learn from a whole zoo-full of their animal friends that they can pray any way they want to. They can kneel or stand to pray. They can say loud or quiet prayers, or they can say long or short prayers. They learn that they can pray any way, anywhere, anytime. Read more

Sources

• Joyce Meyer in Huffington Post
• Image: St John the Evangelist, Clinton Md

Ignio - "ignite" in Latin - is a free app which tracks users' religious activity.

The App tracks everything from reading Scriptures to posting prayers - and reflects it in the flame of a virtual candle on the app that grows larger and brighter with every completed task.

The flame stays lit as long as one participates in a variety of spiritual activities, such as

• posting prayers on Ignio,
• commenting on friends' prayer requests,
• using the app to find a nearby church or
• just to "check-in" to let friends know you are at church or were there that week.

Ignio also keeps track of how often one reads the prescribed daily Scriptures and verses found on the app.

Stray from the path or don't use Ignio once within two-weeks and the flame burns out.

The flame is rekindled if another user physically "bumps" mobile devices with the holder of the extinguished flame.

"We're lighting a candle of hope," said Andres Ruzo, who helped create Ignio.

"It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness," Ruzo said.

"It's so simple," Ruzo said. "The more you pray with others the bigger and brighter your candle glows."

While Facebook users with hundreds of virtual friends appear popular, Ignio intentionally caps the friendship circle to 12 - a limit Ruzo said was inspired by the number of Jesus' disciples.

The foundation has invested close to $60,000 in Ignio and plans to raise another $100,000 to $120,000 to develop the Android version, an Internet site, and support the operations of the Ignio back-bone servers.

Sources

• Boston Herald
• Image: App Store