"To hope for it is to live in the real world," insists Timothy Radcliffe, the former Master of the Dominican Order (1992-2001), who Pope Francis named when he announced the nomination of 21 new cardinals during his Sunday Angelus address October 6. They will be created during a consistory on December 8.

Pope Francis selected the 79-year-old priest and friar to lead a retreat last October for the 363 members of the Synod assembly just before they began deliberating on synodality and the future of the Catholic Church. The theme he chose for that retreat was "Hope against all hope."

In this exclusive interview published by La Croix International January 2, 2024, Fra Timothy, also a best-selling spiritual writer and preacher, explains why — even in our perilous times — there is reason for hope as we begin 2024.

La Croix: How would you define hope?

Timothy Radcliffe: During the general chapters of the Dominican Order to which I belong, we have always noticed a fascinating difference between "Latin" and "Anglo-Saxon" cultures.

Latin cultures generally begin a discussion by defining terms. We Anglo-Saxons find it more fruitful to let the full meaning of words emerge gradually.

So, I am delighted that you are faithful to your French cultural heritage! And, out of courtesy, I must propose something: for a Christian, hope consists of believing that we will attain the fullness of the happiness we aspire to, namely God.

During the retreat you gave last October to the members of the Synod assembly, you meditated on the phrase "Hope against all hope." Isn't that a bit crazy, reckless, and audacious to hope against all hope?

On the contrary, I would say it would be strange - even crazy - NOT to hope for this infinite happiness. Human beings are sometimes touched by the thirst for limitless, unconditional love. If we reject this as an illusion, then we are saying that at the core of our humanity, there is deception.

I believe that this profound human thirst for infinite happiness, which we all feel at times, is the most real thing there is. To hope for it is to live in the real world. Children know this.

I hope that education does not destroy this hope, which is the secret core of our humanity.

The world is currently being shaken by conflicts in Palestine and Ukraine. How can one not be worried and affected by this climate of war? One cannot remain indifferent...

Of course not! It would be scandalous to remain indifferent.

The difficulty is that we so often see violence in the media that it is easy to escape its reality and think that all of this is just a game as if the world's wars were harmless baseball games. If only we could catch a glimpse of the true horror of war, we would weep deeply and strive for peace.

I saw a video of a young Russian soldier being hunted by a drone. He realised it was the end and shot himself in the mouth. I cried for an hour.

The reasons to worry are also related to the climate crisis. Can humanity still save our planet?

That deserves a very long answer! I would simply say that one of the causes of our destructive behavior is the myth that we must pursue endless growth. That is an illusion. We need a new model of a healthy economy.

The second problem is that politics and business focus on the short term - the next elections, the year-end financial report. To get elected, politicians are forced to promise what they cannot deliver. Every politician is therefore a failed messiah.

In Britain, at least, the major political parties always insist that the other party is not trustworthy. So, it's not surprising that we are witnessing the rise of authoritarian regimes. We certainly need a renewal of responsible local democracy, in which we are trained in mutual responsibility.

How do we avoid fear in a world gripped by violence?

It is natural to be afraid in a dangerous world. Courage does not consist of not being afraid but of not being a prisoner of fear. Some of the bravest people I know are those who are afraid but still do what needs to be done.

I think of a Canadian Dominican, Yvon Pomerleau, who dared to return to Rwanda during the genocide at the risk of his life.

The army came to our community to look for him: all the brothers had to lie on the ground, interrogated to reveal his whereabouts. He told me that he was there, trembling with fear, but he did not run away. That is true courage."

The Dominican theologian Herbert McCabe said, "If you love, you will be hurt and even killed. If you don't love, you are already dead."

Yes, we will be hurt, but the risen Lord appeared to the disciples and showed them his wounds. We are the brothers and sisters of our wounded Lord, and our wounds are a sign that we dared to live and share his hope.

How can we trust in the face of an uncertain future?

"Trust" is a beautiful word. It literally means "to believe together" - con-fidens in Latin. We do not hope alone but in the community of faith.

When I have doubts, another person may have the confidence to support me. When they lose hope, I may be able to help them. So, the more perilous the future, the more urgent it is for us to seek the common good together and not to lock ourselves into our own survival.

Is placing one's trust in God a refuge or an escape?

I have had the great privilege of living with people like Blessed Pierre Claverie, who was martyred in Algeria in 1996.

He devoted his life to dialogue with his Muslim friends. He knew he was going to be killed, but he faced the future with confidence in God, and he gave us, his brothers, sisters, and friends, confidence.

I also think of Albert Nolan, a Dominican who courageously fought against apartheid at the risk of his life in South Africa.

It is also so encouraging to live with people who face terrible diseases and ultimately death with courage and joy.

Where can we find hope? From prayer? Meeting others? Reading the Gospel?

Everything can contribute to it! Saint Oscar Romero was afraid of dying, but he was not defeated by that fear because he was a man of deep and silent prayer with the Lord. It was the foundation of his life. Everything he said stemmed from it.

With our closest friends, we can be silent and thus speak more deeply and be led to an even deeper silence. Some of my most precious memories are moments spent with friends in silence, in the presence of beauty, perhaps with a glass in hand!

What are your New Year's resolutions?

I would like to listen to more music. I am convinced that music is essential in our search for peace and harmony. It opens the door to transcendence. My life has often been a frantic race where I tried to do a hundred things. I should devote more time to music.

It is also good preparation for eternity, which is probably not so far away!

• First published in La Croix International
• Christophe Henning is a journalist for La Croix International

Awareness of the contribution that spirituality can make to health has come a long way.

Spiritual care

Aotearoa's healthcare system adopts a holistic approach, often encapsulated in the Maori model of health, te whare tapa wha, and its four interwoven dimensions: physical, mental, family/social and spiritual. The spiritual aspect (taha wairua) is not just an optional extra. It is woven into everything else.

Having a model is one thing. Having policies and delivery plans is another.

A 2022 study by Jacqui Tuffnell revealed that the New Zealand healthcare system's spiritual care delivery was fragmented.

She noted a huge variation in the provision of spiritual care across the country.

Of the 20 former district health boards, eight had no spiritual care policy in place.

For over 50 years, the Interchurch Council for Hospital Chaplaincy (ICHC) has been doing a great job providing hospital chaplains, but they operate in a policy vacuum and a rapidly changing context.

A major bicultural research project led by Associate Profs Richard Egan and Waikaremoana Waitoki has just been launched to examine how spiritual care can be improved across the healthcare sector.

The importance of their mahi is confirmed by a Royal Australian and New Zealand College of Psychiatrists (RANZCP) position statement on the relevance of religion and spirituality to psychiatric practice.

It says that religion/spirituality is crucial to achieving a more holistic understanding of a person's needs and supports.

Link between spirituality and religion

A notable feature of the RANZCP statement is the link that is assumed between spirituality and religion.

It defines religion as an institutional form of spirituality, consisting of the systems and practices of a community in relation to a divine or eternal guiding presence.

This begs a question: if spirituality is regarded as a contributor to health, might the same be said of religion? Or to put it more bluntly, is religion good for one's health?

The link between religious observance and mental health benefits has been demonstrated in numerous academic studies.

These include a sense of meaning and purpose, enhanced social support, effective coping mechanisms and stress reduction. In times of suffering, belief in a higher power can provide comfort and hope.

But care needs to be taken not to overstate the benefits. Religion can also be harmful.

Belief in faith-based healing can lead to a distrust of science, a rejection of conventional medicine, delays in seeking medical care and a refusal of life-saving treatments.

It can also trigger a crisis in faith when divine intervention does not materialise.

Moreover, doctrinal beliefs about divinely ordained conduct may induce feelings of shame in regard to one's sexuality and lifestyle choices, potentially leading to secrecy, risky behaviour and mental health struggles.

Other beliefs about heaven and hell may generate anxiety about being judged and found wanting.

Religious in different ways

In a paper on religion and spirituality in healthcare, a British mental health chaplain, Ruth Bierbaum, says it is important to understand that there are different ways of being religious.

Bierbaum uses the term "quest religiosity" to describe a healthy form of religion that integrates the whole of life, accommodates questions and doubt and allows re-evaluation in the light of experience.

It is faith seeking understanding, not faith locked in a rigid system of belief; faith that engages with evidence-based research in all fields of inquiry, not faith stuck inside an echo chamber; faith driven by curiosity, not blind obedience.

Quest religiosity may involve a revision of beliefs and searching questions, such as, "if God is good and all-powerful, why does God allow suffering? Am I being punished for my sins? Is my suffering a test of faith?"

A role of healthcare chaplains is to help people navigate existential questions and guide them to what Bierbaum calls "transitional spaces", where questioning and reflection are encouraged and images of God and self may be reimagined, opening up the possibility for spiritual growth and strengthening of mental health.

Charting the journey

Renowned New Zealand author Joy Cowley likens spirituality to a journey and religion to a map for the journey.

We receive maps that those who have gone before us have drawn, and as we journey, we make the maps our own.

Some markings are as helpful to us as they were to our forebears, but other markings have become obsolete, and some new and unmarked trails lead to exciting new vistas. We put down new markings.

This is a useful metaphor for quest religiosity. Religion is not static. It is an ever-changing map.

For those who experience it as such, it plays a positive role in their health. Their experience is worthy of respect.

• First published in the ODT
• Graham Redding is the lecturer in chaplaincy studies at Otago University and minister at Knox Church, Dunedin.

I don't think they know much about ideology nor give much time to studying it. But they do know what is humanly best for the poorest.

They do know what God wants and the Gospel calls for, namely ‘love of neighbour'.

They do what Jesus, who once walked this earth in person and now lives on in his risen presence, taught his followers to do.

‘Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the imprisoned, shelter the homeless, look after the weakest, protect Mother Earth, and follow me by taking an option for the poor and the neglected.'

They have accepted that such hospitality and outreach sits at the heart of the gospel for our time.

Ideology

I have spent much of my life studying various ideologies, some a lot closer to the gospel teachings than others. Ideology can often be the fall-back
position of those unwilling to open their hearts to further expansion.

While corporate capitalism (think the US, UK, Australia and NZ) is about as far away from the teachings of Jesus as you can imagine, state socialism
isn't much better.

Just look at Russia and China, to mention only two giant players. Both corporate capitalism and state socialism rely on materialism and its bastard off-spring, consumerism, as their primary goal.

Its siblings are greed and status, their principal driving forces. The more one accumulates the better one is perceived to be. Both systems fail the gospel test - they fail to take account of how greed corrupts the soul and materialism cannot ever fill the heart.

In New Zealand, we see the effects of corporate capitalism every day.

To take one huge example. We hear about the ‘housing crisis' which is very real and has wealthy speculators to thank for much of its development.

Forty years ago there was no ‘housing crisis' per se.

Getting a first home was manageable for most steady workers who were paid enough to get a house and pay a mortgage. Now tens of thousands in this country cannot afford a place to either buy or rent a suitable home.

This has led to a huge growth in poverty levels, inadequate warm and safe homes, growing homelessness and the associated lower standards of
living (food, adequate healthcare, stable education) that accompany rising poverty levels.

A couple of other measuring sticks. There are many houses in affluent suburbs with only one of two occupants bigger than that some medieval
English castles.

We also see on our roads vehicles, nearly all of them bigger by half than the ones our parents drove. One suspects they are seen mostly as signs of status by their owners.

Who cares about the earth warming when we can drive these huge vehicles, block up our highways and look prosperous? Bigger, flasher, more expansive is the name of the corporate capitalist game.

Ideologically bound

The thing about ideology is that it can enslave people within its parameters and not allow them in any way to think ‘outside the square'.

The co-founder of the Catholic Worker, Dorothy Day, saw this through learned and sometimes bitter experience as she moved from dappling with communism, through radical feminism and socialism - and found them all ideologies which short-changed her.

After studying the Gospels through the eyes of the poor and living with them for decades, she came to see that while all ideologies fall short of
delivering on their promises, the practice of personalism - recognising the divine spark of God's presence in everyone and honouring them for that - was closest to the teachings of Jesus.

He did not judge people rather their actions. He had friends among both rich and poor.

Remember, he was buried in the wealthy man Nathanael's tomb. But he mainly identified with the poor whom he saw were closest to God in their living and more open to his message.

Dorothy always sought to blow the embers of those divine sparks into life through friendship and meeting the primary needs of the poor. And through creating small supportive communities among them.

She even argued every parish should have a house of hospitality for the homeless and the needy. And why not is as valid a valid question today as it was in
her time.

Synodality

As the institutional Church in the developed world continues to shrink in both size and influence, we could do well to learn from such experiences as the New Brighton Anglicans (and there are some other parish communities around the country who do similar outreach as well) to help add some vibrancy and life to what appear to many to be tired old Catholic structures.

New Brighton offers a model of what a synodal church might look a bit like - localised but linked to the centre, outreaching, guided but not dominated
by its minister, living a gospel fuelled with compassion, justice, inclusivity, openness and holding a special sensitivity towards the poor, neglected,
isolated and abandoned.

It's not perfect model but it is a good start!

A synodal church will not change doctrines but will broaden our vision as to how we go about our business of witnessing to Christ in our time. And our time may be shorter than we think.

With the world becoming more crowded and forced migration exploding, the planet heating up and more species becoming extinct daily, the so-called free-market economic system betraying the vast majority of the world's peoples, Pope Francis has warned that time may be short to take the radical steps necessary to
prevent a catastrophe of even greater proportion injustice developing inour lifetime.

Conclusion

That should set us all thinking. We all have a part to play in saving our planet for future generations and developing the Church to meet the needs of our time.

If we believe the teachings of Jesus are the way forward as did Dorothy Day in the Great Depression, World War II and the 1960s - 70s, then there is no time to waste in our generation of uncertainty, rising inequality, war and the climate crisis.

As the prophet Emmanual Charle McCarthy teaches, "Christ is Risen does not mean Jesus lives on in history as Lenin lives on in his revolution.

"Jesus does not live on because people have faith in him and proclaim his teaching. The reverse is true.

"People have faith in him and proclaim his teaching because he lives."

If we truly believe Christ is Risen and lives on in our lives, we have no option but to become involved working to improve things on our planet, in our country and our local communities. And that means social justice for all.

• Father Jim Consedine was ordained in 1969. He has been a member of the Catholic Worker in Christchurch for 20 years and writes on peace and justice issues.

"Colours of day dawn into the mind,

The sun has come up, the night is behind,

Go down in the city, into the street,

And let's give the message to the people we meet."

There is almost something post-COVID in that opening verse: the sun has come up, and the night is behind.

In contrast to its gray-toned absence, color is returning to brighten our days, the arrival of expectant hope. Later in the hymn, we are encouraged to:

"Go through the park, on into the town,

The sun still shines on, it never goes down,

The Light of the world is risen again,

The people of darkness are needing a friend."

After a journey through darkness the light of the world has risen again.

Life as a jigsaw

Our lives resemble, in many ways, a jigsaw or the art form known as collage: many small pieces arranged together to create a whole.

In the early '90s, I spent some time working on paper collages, one of which is reproduced in this article.

They were constructed from colored paper taken from magazine illustrations, cut, and arranged in abstract patterns. Some shapes were torn from the original image, leaving a rough, ragged edge before re-assembly.

Similarly, the fragments that form our lives are sometimes shaped by clean-cut lines, at others roughly torn from our experience of the day-to-day bustle of living.

The pieces don't always fit together like a neat jigsaw, each carefully interlocking with another.

No, the rough edges jostle for space, each anxious to assume dominance.

The consequent discomfort is one that we have all experienced as we learn to take the good times and the not-so-good times in equal parts.

Life comes to us multi-shaped, with great joys and small pleasures, enormous hurts, and aggravating niggles. All hit us at one time or another, just as the materials of a collage come together to form one whole design.

We can view the Church as a collage

Many great artists have used the collage technique in their work, creating memorable statements through a simple, tactile form.

The extensive use of this technique by Henri Matisse comes to mind. His spiral arrangement of irregular polygons of colour, entitled The Snail, is well known.

His blue-colored nudes and the rich tones of The Dancers brilliantly demonstrate the artist's skill in this medium.

I had reproductions of both hanging on the wall of my room in school.

The use of found materials, rearranged in a creative manner, can be transformed into something of great simplicity and beauty.

In many ways, we can view the church as a collage, a whole edifice constructed from many fragments, some with neat, clean edges carefully arranged, each in its place.

Others, with roughly torn edges jostling with their neighbor, are anxious for space that their voice might also be heard.

It is often suggested that one of the great difficulties experienced by religious communities is the very fact that a disparate group of men or women live together week after week, putting up with each other's foibles and forgiving each other repeatedly.

In fact, the parish can also be seen as a collage, small pieces of color assembled to form a great whole, each alongside the other, with rough and smooth edges alike.

Prayer

How about our times of prayer? Indeed, there is another example of an aspect of life as a collage.

Our times of prayer are never the same. Sometimes, the edges are smooth, and everything seems to fall into place. On other occasions, the rough edges make for an uncomfortable ride.

We do not choose the time or place; it just happens, and we have to cope with the consequences.

It is just another aspect of life that has to be managed, one step at a time.

If we are sensitive to change, then we can learn from the experience. In making a collage, not every cut or tear or choice of color is right the first time. The rejected pile of materials that grow on the floor around the artist's feet tells the story.

So, too, does the litter pile from our broken attempts at prayer accumulate throughout our lives. The important thing is that we do not become dispirited and that each attempt at prayer is seen as a step on our journey rather than an occasion of failure.

Many books have been written on prayer, offering new insights into well-worn paths. All is well and good, but reading about prayer is no substitute for prayer itself.

In a journal entry in December 1964, Thomas Merton tells us, "In the hermitage, one must pray or go to seed. The pretense of prayer will not suffice. Just sitting will not suffice. It has to be real. Yet, what can one do?

"Solitude puts you with your back to the wall or your face to it, and this is good. So you pray to learn how to pray!"

Honest, direct, and without frills, Merton does not attempt to cover the hardship with well-fashioned phrases or sentiments. He says it as it is and concludes that we might pray to learn how to pray.

Building the collage of prayer is to set out on an arduous journey, one with many points of failure and darkness, occasionally lit with the light of God's presence to encourage our effort.

There is nakedness in our efforts as we struggle to live a life in prayer, as each tentative step brings with it the risk of joy or perceived failure.

And there lies the nub of our problem; what we call failure may not be a failure at all, just as a serious fall does not always follow a small stumble.

So, although our steps falter, the pilgrimage of prayer continues as we return again and again to pick up the pieces, the torn and ragged fragments of the Collage we are trying to form.

Returning to the collage image accompanying these few words, it is formed from many different colored shapes. Moving across the image, there is change, and we respond differently to the dance of its organization and detail.

Dance of prayer

Taken to the edge

we face the emptiness of words

that once had meaning.

There we face the loss of surety

where in the cold stillness

of each dawn hour,

in the breaking light

the echo of words remains

and the dance continues.

Sr. Wendy Beckett wrote in her book Simple Prayer that the essential act of prayer is to stand unprotected before God. What will God do? He will take possession of us.

Have you ever thought to pray for the artist whose work is our inspiration? None are perfect, and despite fine lines and glorious color, each artist has secrets and shame in their hidden lives.

To conclude where we started, the people of darkness need a friend. It is through the prayer collage of our lives that darkness finds light.

• First published in La Croix
• Chris McDonnell is a retired headteacher from England and a regular contributor to La Croix International.

It occupies your home, your car, your workplace, your pocket.

Even your mind.

Every aspect of your daily routine is seamlessly integrated with this sophisticated technology.

It anticipates your needs, completes your thoughts, deciphers your emotions, plays your favorite songs, drafts your emails and even suggests your next meal.

It serves as your personal assistant, confidant, entertainment hub and your lover.

Life becomes smooth, convenient and tailored to your every whim.

Authenticity lacking

But something crucial is missing.

A sense of unease begins to take root.

Interactions feel hollow, conversations lack depth and relationships become superficial and transactional.

The more we rely on AI, the more we find ourselves yearning for something it cannot provide:

Authenticity, meaning and opportunities to connect on a fundamentally human level.

This is where the church re-enters the scene, not as a relic of the past, but as a symbol of the present, a sanctuary of authenticity.

At this tipping point of artificiality and superficiality, people start craving transcendent values that algorithms cannot encode. They seek the warmth of human connection, the comfort of shared beliefs and the solace of timeless rituals.

Spiritual journeying

Imagine a young professional, immersed in the digital hum of a bustling city, surrounded by a sea of screens and synthetic voices. It's not difficult to imagine, of course, that this is the reality for millions of people around the world from New York City to New Delhi.

Despite the convenience of their AI-enhanced lives, they find themselves restless at night, staring at the ceiling (or the phone), pondering the bigger questions:

• Why am I here?
• What is my purpose?
• What does it mean to be truly connected?

These are questions no AI-generated bot can satisfactorily answer. Why? Simply because such questions delve into the depths of the human soul. And AI doesn't have a soul. Not yet, anyway.

Gradually, this professional notices a shift among their peers. A friend mentions attending a Sunday service not for the sermon but for the sense of community, the genuine smiles and the feeling of belonging.

Another friend speaks about the meditative peace they find in the quiet of a church, away from the relentless pace of technology. Intrigued, our professional decides to explore.

Walking into the church, they notice that people are present, genuinely engaged and open-hearted.

There is a tangible sense of something greater than oneself, something that transcends the algorithmic curation they have become accustomed to. The hymns, the prayers, the very atmosphere speak to a part of the human experience that technology cannot touch: the spiritual.

In the dim light of the stained-glass windows, our young professional feels a profound sense of peace. It's not about rejecting technology but about finding balance.They realise that while AI can enhance life, it should not define it.

As more people reach this tipping point, the Church starts to see a resurgence. It becomes a counterbalance to digital dominance, a place where people can reconnect with their humanity.

It's not about nostalgia or clinging to the past; it's about rediscovering the value of the sacred and the communal in a world that increasingly feels like a digital illusion.

A constant need

These scenarios — where AI inadvertently leads people back to religious spaces — are not as far-fetched as they might seem at first glance.

Throughout history, humans have sought meaning, connection, and understanding beyond the immediate physical world.

This quest has been intrinsic to our nature, deeply embedded in our collective psyche since the Middle Paleolithic era. From ancient cave paintings to complex religious systems, this spiritual inclination has been a constant, an ever-present phenomenon throughout our journey.

Religious belief, in its many forms, has always provided answers to the big questions — questions about existence, purpose, morality and the afterlife.

These are not just abstract concepts; they are core to what makes us human.

The rituals, stories and communal gatherings found in religious practice offer a framework for understanding our place in the universe, a sense of belonging, and a connection to something greater than ourselves.

Now, enter the age of AI. Modern technology is rapidly transforming our world. It's infiltrating every aspect of our lives. Algorithms, data analytics and machine learning models dictate what we see, how we interact and even how we think.

While these innovations bring unparalleled levels of convenience and efficiency, they also introduce a sense of literal artificiality. The digital world, no matter how advanced, lacks the nutrients provided by real-life experiences.

In such a context, it is only natural for people to seek balance. When faced with the sterile precision of AI, the messiness of human life — its unpredictability, its emotional depth, its sheer rawness — becomes even more precious.

A God-shaped vacuum

Of course, sports clubs, book clubs and other social gatherings undoubtedly foster community and camaraderie around shared interests. However, they differ significantly from religious institutions like churches, mosques and synagogues in terms of spiritual nourishment.

Religious centers can serve as focal points for believers, nonbelievers and everyone in between — those seeking answers to existential questions and a deeper connection to the divine.

Through rituals, prayers and sacred texts, these institutions provide a framework for understanding life's purpose, morality and the metaphysical, offering a sense of transcendence and spiritual upliftment that secular clubs generally do not replicate.

Moreover, religious communities offer a unique sense of belonging and support that extends well beyond social interaction.

They create sacred spaces conducive to contemplation and meditation, an opportunity for individuals to connect with the divine. Religious institutions also offer a counterbalance to the isolation that can come from over-reliance on technology.

In times of crisis or existential doubt, people have, throughout history, turned to these communities for support, wisdom and solace.

A return to religious spaces should not be considered a step backward. On the contrary, it could help us reclaim a crucial aspect of human life that technology cannot replicate.

In the words of the great philosopher Blaise Pascal, "There is a God-shaped vacuum in the heart of each man, which cannot be satisfied by any created thing but only by God the Creator."

This profound insight speaks to the core of our human experience.

The hunger for something transcendent in nature — an itch that cannot be scratched by AI girlfriends, VR headsets, and promises of the Metaverse — remains ever-present. We are, at our core, God-seeking souls, and no algorithm can fulfill that eternal quest.

• First published in Religion Unplugged
• John Mac Ghlionn is a researcher and essayist focusing on psychology and social relations.

Regional anniversary days or King's birthdays are easy. Many have their own rituals and routines: beach, boat or bach for the weekend is the aspiration for most of us.

In one sense, Matariki is a long-overdue move towards a confident national identity.

Most of our holidays are imports, and many are seasonally out of place or a touch too colonial for the present day.

At the same time, the public ritual of hautapu at Matariki confronts us with another world - the Maori world, which is often invisible to Pakeha consciousness.

It invites us to consider a spiritual side to a holiday that does not fit easily into our dominant national narrative.

Secular culture and karakia

Pakeha New Zealand is one of the most aggressively secular cultures in the world.

And yet, we will soon see the Wellington elite participating in a karakia to atua (divine beings) that many of the attendees do not believe exist — although it would be a naïve or reckless politician who would admit to that view!

I applaud this inclusion of spirituality in the bland intellectual desert of Pakeha secularism.

I also believe there is a reality which the invocations of the whetu (stars) of Matariki engage with.

I am not a sceptical Pakeha politician, virtue-signalling my allegiance to the cultural tide of resurgent Maori identity.

In fact, my view is that the atua being invoked may well decide to engage in human affairs, but I would much rather that they didn't - I doubt their benevolence, not their being.

Despite my qualms, I much prefer a nation where our debate is about the best way to engage with spirituality, rather than whether it has a place at all.

Engaging with the reality of the unseen world allows us to engage in the kind of moral reasoning that can build a flourishing society - one that enables productive political competition instead of a divisive reductionism.

Including Maori rituals and spirituality

The inclusion of Maori rituals and spirituality in public life is in one sense the development of a new civic religion.

Christianity once notionally held that place, but the hypocrisy of the settlers, and their settler churches, led to Christian allegiance being more a matter of public identity signalling than a devout force uniting communal life.

What we are now seeing, in response to the human longing for transcendence, is a re-emergence of one Maori way of being into our public culture.

I welcome that cultural shift.

Rituals, as the English theologian Elizabeth Oldfield recently observed, help us to attend to aspects of reality that we might otherwise not notice.

In a world defined by algorithmic bids for our attention, it is all too easy for us to ignore what ought to be obvious to us.

Maori have never lost attentiveness to those aspects of reality that we call spirituality.

Among Maori, the debate is not whether there is a spiritual dimension to life - that is a given - but about which way of engaging spiritually is good, and has the power to ensure our collective flourishing. Read more

• The Ven Dr Lyndon Drake (Ngati Kuri, Ngai Tuahuriri, Ngai Tahu) is the Archdeacon of Tamaki Makaurau in the Maori Bishopric of Te Tai Tokerau. He holds a DPhil in theology from the University of Oxford.

"At its best, work provides us the ability to support ourselves and our loved ones, and can also provide us with a sense of meaning, opportunities for growth, and community." So says the Surgeon General's Framework for Workplace Mental Health & Well-Being.

As many of us know, however, work often doesn't function "at its best."

Work burnout

According to the World Health Organisation, work burnout is characterised by being depleted or exhausted at work; feeling distant from one's job, including feeling cynical about it; and reduced professional effectiveness.

This appears to be increasingly common. For example, in a recent national survey of American workers, more than half (57 percent) reported they were experiencing at least a moderate amount of work burnout.

Oftentimes, work stress and burnout stem from factors beyond our control. But, is there anything we can do that would help us cope with work-related difficulties? Is there anything we can do to thrive?

Incorporating spirituality

Something many of us haven't really considered is how the spiritual part of our lives might relate to our work lives.

Approximately 86 percent of American adults report being at least somewhat spiritual, and for those who have integrated spirituality into their work, studies suggests significant benefits.

In a recent review of research, for example, workplace spirituality was said to have "significant potential to influence workers and organisations in meaningful ways, fostering integrated (rather than segmented) lives and giving rise to personal and organisational well-being."

Below are four suggestions for how we might meaningfully incorporate spirituality into work. Read more

• Andy Tix, Ph.D., is a professor, writer, and consultant with expertise in the psychology of well-being, religion, and spirituality.

Thomas Schlag is Professor of Practical Theology at the University of Zurich, where he heads the Centre for Church Development, where he conducts research into participation and church development.

In this interview, he talks about the future of global Christianity and how it will change.

Decline of Christianity

Question: Mr Schlag, Christianity around the world is very colourful: in Latin America, for example, indigenous traditions are coming into focus, while small new free churches are sprouting up in South Korea. Can general trends be identified despite this diversity?

Schlag: A general trend is the decline of a certain form of institutional Christianity, with traditional structures in terms of hierarchy and authority.

This also means that this usually somewhat more liberal form of Christianity seems to be becoming a minority position worldwide.

As part of our research, a major study has just been published on the so-called International Christian Fellowship (ICF) an evangelical movement.

It attracts relatively large numbers of younger people, particularly in Switzerland and southern Germany.

It shows a tendency that we discover again and again: it is all about clarity. A demand for clarity and a reduction in complexity.

These movements are currently successful - worldwide.

In the USA, but also in South Africa and South Korea - I have a better understanding of these contexts - we find such movements. And in societies that are explicitly modern and characterised by world experience, modernity, globality and digitality.

In any case, the old thesis that the more modern a society becomes, the more secular it becomes, cannot really be upheld. In fact, I think it is simply wrong.

Faith

Question: So a simple faith is in demand right now, even in modern societies. Is the world becoming too complicated for people and are they looking for simple answers? There is also this thesis with regard to political populism.

Schlag: You can actually get that impression. A world that is constantly accelerating - and then cuts like corona.

Many people want a place where one question is not followed by ten more. Instead, they want clear paths.

This is also evident in our ICF study. I had previously thought that people go to this free church primarily because of the special community.

That was also important, but the sermons were obviously the biggest attraction. Because these are not the classic liberal sermons with a doctrinal character. Rather, they are everyday lectures. The language and metaphors clearly focus on everyday life.

The point is: if you take this or that path, then you are cutting a swathe through the forest of complexity with Jesus Christ.

Community

Question: There are two groups of free churches: Hillsong Church, which originated in Australia, mainly attracts people who have not had much to do with religion before - the sermons are correspondingly simple and superficial.

However, in African countries, for example, many people are turning to the free churches, who certainly have a solid knowledge of religion. How is it that this programme appeals to these two such different groups?

Schlag: For those who have not previously belonged to a church community, the programme is low-threshold. It is an elementary approach, concepts become clear, even for someone who has never heard of it before.

For example, parables or a word of Jesus are presented in such an attractive way, which also has something to do with the rhetorical style.

The aforementioned ICF study also provided exciting insights into those who are already able to speak in church: According to this, a high proportion of highly qualified people are involved there.

In other words, these are people who know how complicated the world is. But they appreciate the fact that the sermons are easy and quick to grasp because the content is clear. So this idea applies to both groups.

There are always one or two small thoughts that you can take with you into everyday life. So this also has great practical relevance. Then of course there is the social network, where personal contacts and recognition await.

In contrast, many popular church institutions have not yet realised that you can't just declare community as an offer, you have to shape it in a targeted way. This mixture of simple messages and the way out of the singularity of the anonymous big city is what makes it so appealing.

Clarity and relevance

Question: Does that mean that even highly educated people want to have something to switch off spiritually once a week without having to think about it?

Schlag: Yes, with all the ambivalences that this also triggers theologically. Because the visitors there also realise that if the world really were that simple, some questions would not arise.

It's more about this experience of clarity and practical relevance.

Evangelicals have repeatedly criticised the established churches for linking faith and intellectuality in an exciting way, but not fulfilling their emotional needs.

Adaptation

Question: Does this also have to do with the sometimes almost civil servant-like nature of the established church hierarchy?

Schlag: I think it's more of a self-imposed attitude: the more complicated life is, the more complicated theology becomes.

It is a problem that the established churches no longer manage to break down this complicated reality and put into simple words what it is actually about. It has to be well thought out and reflected upon - I wouldn't go below that level.

But it has to be generally understandable. Traditional communities have not yet adapted to the changes in society. There is still the image of the service church that is available and waiting for people to need it.

But many people today choose what form of community and education they want - regardless of what their parents' and grandparents' generation does. There is a global trend towards smaller, more manageable community structures where people feel welcome.

This doesn't just apply to the church.

Modern urban planning has also noticed that neighbourhoods in urban areas are becoming more important and people are looking for a way out of urban anonymity.

The established churches urgently need to consider what culture they have to offer. Read more

• Christoph Paul Hartmann is an editor for the Katholicsh.de newsletter

There is an institutional opposition that seeks to maintain the institutional status quo, a theological opposition that's resisting "synodality", the newest phase of the reception of the Second Vatican Council (1962-65), and a political opposition that sees very clearly the pope's attempt to dis-align Catholicism from the various versions of the "America first" worldview.

But the United States is a big country with an ebullient religious and spiritual scene.

Everything here tends to be interpreted in a two-party and almost metaphysical division of everything - "liberals vs. conservatives".

The country split between contrasting views of what it means to be "American", is experiencing an identity crisis. This is a cultural phenomenon that the Catholic Church and the Vatican needs to take seriously.

Looking to satisfy a spiritual hunger

Tara Isabella Burton, an essayist with a PhD in theology from Oxford University, published a very interesting article last year in The New Atlantis. She discusses the rise of a "loose online subculture known as the post-rationalists".

The piece is titled "Rational Magic.

Why a Silicon Valley culture that was once obsessed with reason is going woo".

It examines a new online subculture that has emerged in the last decade in various quarters - online, social media, and the virtual world — where many influential Americans and Anglo-Americans with a spiritual hunger now congregate.

One of the most important places to look, in order to understand what is coming on our screens, in front of our eyes and in our brains, is Silicon Valley.

The people who people live and work there, or are connected with, have immense power to influence our culture in many different ways.

Burton says that a new elite has concluded that "rationality culture's technocratic focus on ameliorating the human condition through hyper-utilitarian goals" has "come at the expense of taking seriously the less quantifiable elements of a well-lived human life".

She points out that was becoming clear already the last decade.

"By the late 2010s, the rationalist landscape had started to shift, becoming increasingly open to investigating, if not necessarily the truth claims of spirituality, religion, and ritual, then at least some of their beneficial effects," Burton writes.

Her essay does not address Catholicism directly, except for this disturbing passage:

There's the rise of what you could call popular neo-Jungianism: figures like Jordan Peterson, who point to the power of myth, ritual, and a relationship to the sacred as a vehicle for combating postmodern alienation — often in uneasy alliance with traditionalist Christians. (A whole article could be written on Peterson's close intellectual relationship with Roman Catholic Bishop Robert Barron.)

There's the progressive-coded version you can find on TikTok, where witchcraft and activism and sage cleansing and "manifesting" co-exist in a miasma of vibes.

There's the openly fascist version lurking at the margins of the New Right, where blood-and-soil nationalists, paleo bodybuilders, Julius Evola-reading Traditionalists like Steve Bannon, and Catholic sedevacantist podcasters make common cause in advocating for the revival of the mores of a mystic and masculinist past, all the better to inject life into the sclerotic modern world.

What transpires from online culture is a phase of disenchantment with progressive faith in technology and with the promises made by the new masters of the universe since computer technology and the internet changed our lives.

This is how Burton describes it:

The chipper, distinctly liberal optimism of rationalist culture that defines so much of Silicon Valley ideology — that intelligent people, using the right epistemic tools, can think better, and save the world by doing so — is giving way, not to pessimism,exactly, but to a kind of techno-apocalypticism.

We've run up against the limits — political, cultural, and social alike — of our civilizational progression; and something newer, weirder, maybe even a little more exciting, has to take its place.Some of what we've lost — a sense of wonder, say, or the transcendent — must be restored.

This particular disillusionment with technocracy and rationalism, and its openness to the transcendent, is not a return to traditional Christianity.

Burton says it is also a refusal of a naïve secularism that is "no less full of unexamined dogma, tinged with moral and intellectual unseriousness".

Core message of Vatican II is non-negotiable

What Tara Isabella Burton writes here is extremely important, not just for the United States and its Catholics, but also for Pope Francis and the Roman Curia.

This is especially true for dealing with sensitive issues, such as the culture of the current generation of young priests and seminarians, the movement for "the reform of the liturgical reform" and the so-called "Traditional Latin Mass".

To be sure, there are hotbeds of an unapologetic anti-Vatican II sentiment spiked with sectarianism and neo-Gnostic vibes to be found in the techno-apocalyptic Catholic right.

As I wrote already at the beginning of 2010, what's at stake are ecclesiological issues on which the teaching of the Church must be firm.

When dealing with the core message of Vatican II, no negotiation is possible.

In the United States, however, the movement to perpetuate the so-called "Traditional Latin Mass" is a rejection of Vatican II.

It is also linked to libertarianism, a key cultural attitude present in much of America, including religious America.

The Old Mass proponents, in fact, in see Vatican II and the current pope as part of a technopower that is oppressing their genuine religious quest.

This attitude looks similar to that which shaped Marcel Lefebvre's traditionalism, but it's not quite the same.

This is why it's a movement that will continue underground, and at the same time to be hosted in rooms close to people in power in the United States.

A "legitimate weird" that can be acceptable

But there is also a post-rationalist hunger for the weird that is not exactly the same as the nostalgia for the "smells and bells" from an over-idealised past most of our contemporaries never knew.

It's something that the institutional Church struggles to discern and distinguish.

On the one side is the "openly fascist version", driven by provocateurs like Archbishop Carlo Maria Viganò and the traditionalist Catholic convert Taylor Marshall.

On the other side are those who embrace a "legitimate weird" for which there must be space in the enlarged tent of a synodal Church.

This post-rationalist disenchantment with secular modernity and re-enchantment with the transcendent is more a Werner Herzog-like fascination with the wild and strange, the numinous and the primal.

It is less about the heresiological view of Christianity à la Cardinal Gerhard Mueller.

It's also very different from the techno-optimism of some post-ecclesial, trans-humanist Catholic theologians.

They are not just in the United States.

If you want to understand the success of the post-rationalist turn, just look at the success of the Italian publishing house Adelphi Edizioni and the titles of its books on religion (one of them, a collection of esoteric essays by the late Cristina Campo, was recently translated into English).

Without a doubt, Catholic theology is also struggling with this new subculture, maybe even more than the institutional Church.

The language of academic theology is deeply shaped (if not dominated) by the social sciences and a religious studies approach.

It is less literate about philosophy and history.

Thus it has become difficult to capture the healthy instincts and even unconscious deep theological insights that come from these apparently marginal, but influential voices.

A more capacious and less polarised Church

The attitude that this post-rationalism charts — a realism laced with reference to the transcendental — takes experience into account and recognizes (in the language of Thomas Aquinas) that grace perfects nature.

It is a useful and serious critique of the wholesale objectification/quantification of everyday experience.

It also converges, not just with Pope Francis' strong critique of the technocratic paradigm, but also with Vatican II theology both in its ressourcement and aggiornamento versions and especially in their interaction with critical theory.

To those who don't know the different faces of the vitality of the Catholic tradition, these woo and weird post-rationalists look like natural candidates to qualify as traditionalists - different and opposed to a dynamic, but Enlightenment-derived idea of the tradition.

But that would be a simplistic answer.

Acknowledging the validity of some points of this contemporary culture "going woo" entails some conversions in how we look at non-conformist Catholic voices, including, for instance, some of seminarians and younger priests.

But Catholic theological academia is not always open to giving a voice and or listening to those who express such "diversity".

The Church needs to be more capacious in its theological culture, lived expressions, and liturgical life. This capaciousness must not be, as often said in academic jargon, "less Catholic".

But just the opposite. It should be more Catholic.

A certain passion for the weird and the woo in Catholicism has never been and never will be everyone's cup of tea. But recognizing that there is also space in the tent for those Catholics from whom it is may be the first and most necessary step towards addressing polarization in the Church.

• Massimo Faggioli is a Church historian, Professor of Theology and Religious Studies at Villanova University (Philadelphia) and a much-published author and commentator. He is a visiting professor in Europe and Australia.
• First published in La-Croix International. Republished with permission.

In her 2020 book Strange Rites, Tara Isabella Burton examined how an "eclectic spiritual hunger" is expressed in American society.

"People are finding the tenets or the building blocks of religious life [by] remixing religion," she said, referring to "the idea that you can get your ritual from Place A and your sense of meaning from Place B, your sense of community from Place C, and you can mix and match a little bit of yoga here, a little of sage cleansing there and still show up to church for Christmas Eve." Read more

That was me at age five realising that my beliefs contradict each other.

Growing up in a Maori Catholic family, I struggled to exist within two worlds. My spirituality has never been here nor there, but a constant blend between both Catholicism and te Ao Maori.

Before primary school, I attended Te Kopae Piripono in Taranaki. At Te Kopae, I was enriched in te Ao Maori.

I always felt loved and protected by God and nga Atua.

But because my family have always been very devout Catholics, instead of attending kura kaupapa, I was sent to a Catholic primary school.

It was a huge culture shock.

When they started teaching about the commandments, I was baffled by the first one: "You shall have no other gods before me".

After that lesson, I stared into space, thinking, "Are Atua gods?

Have I been a bad Catholic?

Does God not love me?

Can I not say karakia anymore?"

In my naive mind, nga Atua and God had all existed in harmony, ensuring all was well in the world, and helping each other out.

I was quickly proved wrong.

At six years old, I watched some girls from class stab pointed sticks into the ground for fun.

In true Kaitiaki nature, I rushed to defend Papatuanuku. I sobbed, "Please stop, you're hurting my Mama!"

They ran away laughing and went to our teacher, supposedly ‘crying'.

Instead of my teacher explaining cultural differences, she yelled at me. I was scolded for spreading lies.

She said that Papatuanuku is just a character from a book—she pointed to the cover of In the Beginning, stating it was just a made-up story.

I was left wondering which creation story was true.

Experiences like this continued throughout the years.

At this point, you would be forgiven for thinking I would relinquish my Catholic faith out of resentment, but spirituality is embedded in me.

My spirituality gives me hope and peace of mind.

Don't get me wrong, I have found great conflict with the Catholic church and the weaponisation of religion—from its role in colonisation to the church's opinion on some topics.

I love my understanding of God, and I'll stand by Him, but my values clash with those of the men that speak on his ‘behalf'.

After years of being told my beliefs are wrong, and embarrassed to be a Maori who is also Catholic, I have come to the decision to bugger everyone who tells me my beliefs are wrong.

I've realised, who knows?

Who are they to tell me what's true and what's false?

At the end of the day, respecting other people's beliefs is all we need to do. We don't all need to believe the exact same thing.

If you're like me, struggling to blend your spirituality smoothie, I can only suggest keeping the blender going. Eventually, it will all smooth out.

• Whakairitaua Rukuwai (Taranaki, Te Atiawa) studies at Te Herenga Waka—Victoria University Wellington.
• First published in Salient. Republished with permission of the author.

Traditionally, spirituality was part of religious practice and the attempt to inhabit the original shape of things or live in the image of God.

In early Christianity, spirituality is related to living a life orientated by the Holy Spirit. This is later complicated with aesthetic practises like self-flagellation that missed the point.

In modern times, spirituality refers to many experiences and practices. Spirituality tends now to be about the individual on their personal quest for meaning.

Today, spirituality doesn't automatically include a religious or communal dimension.

Spirituality generally is about an encounter, whether it is a communal, spiritual, religious or individual experience.

The challenge of spirituality

The challenge with spirituality is to integrate various elements. For Christians, it is the pursuit of an interior life of meaning that is "hidden with God in Christ".

A healthy "daily" spirituality seeks the middle way between the temptation to do nothing on the one hand and to become a religious nutcase on the other.

Healthy daily spirituality is the spirituality of the ordinary, of daily living.

It is the spirituality, for example, of the working person, the grandparent, the beneficiary, the retired and the school pupil.

The person who lives in the real world and strives to hold competing demands in balance needs a spirituality that gives balance and meaning to life.

As we develop an interior spiritual life, we experience tensions and look for a spirit-frame of living to make the spiritual life happen.

The Tensions

The holy place and the ordinary place

Is God most easily found in the church, shrine, monastery, or at home in the kitchen, with the family, in a marriage or even on the sports ground?

Is the tension resolved when we remember that God is both transcendent and the immanent, incarnate God?

Sexuality, sexual passion and religious purity or celibacy

Is God part of your sexuality and sex life or opposed to it? Is your soul fulfilled by eros or awe, and can you have both, or are these mutually exclusive?

If you sublimate your sexuality and its desires, will you be holier or an unhealthy example of a human being?

Community and personal fulfilment

Is the higher call to serve God and others in the community using one's talents or to serve one's freedom?

The Covid experience has brought this question into stark relief. Should individual personal freedom be sacrificed for the common good?

How do we deal positively with the ache for personal love and achievement when acting on this is inappropriate?

This life and the next

Am I living for this life or for the next, and what perspective does this give me? Does the life Jesus promises begin now for me or does it begin at my death?

Is this life a "veil of tears" or the way God leads me to life?

Intellect and will

What rules my life, my heart or my head? Am I ruled by one more than the other and more a prey to one than the other?

Do my thoughts or my feelings reveal God's presence to me?

Personal conscience and Church moral teaching

When there's a conflict between how I need to live my life—to be authentic—how do I 'shape the conversation'? What parameters do I use?

Is a conflict an opportunity for a deeper adult conversation with God and a chance to perhaps better integrate my life as a Christian?

Daily spirituality

Daily spirituality is ‘ordinary life,' blessed by God.

This spirituality gives time to God, the family, the church, society, the soul and the world.

It is aware of colleagues and friends.

It is practical, straightforward, generous, and sensible.

When a person spends all day in front of the tabernacle and forgets to nurture their relationships, feed the hungry, clothe the naked or visit the prisoner, there is a significant problem.

A daily spirituality is not distracted by devotions when there are children to be fed, and marriages don't go bust because too little time has been given to the spouse.

Those that disagree might think they are better fitted for a monastery, but the monastery won't want them because there, too, the rule is Ora et Labora (prayer and work).

Daily spiritual life is not an abdication from living.

Daily spirituality takes time for contemplation, action, socialising and rest. It is a lifetime of gentle fidelity to God and neighbour and a healthy awareness of self.

It is easy for good people to get hooked into religion, private prayer and social service and social justice and forget that they have family members to serve. This is a crucial message of the scriptures. (Luke 1:39-45.)

Life and spirituality are not binary; they aren't intrinsically oppositional.

Ancient wisdom suggests that a healthy spiritual life and living a healthy human life is the key to happiness.

• Joe Grayland is a theologian and a priest of the Diocese of Palmerston North. His latest book is: Liturgical Lockdown. Covid and the Absence of the Laity (Te Hepara Pai, 2020).

Prayer apps are not new.

Silicon Valley startups popularized mindfulness and meditation apps as early as 2010, although many have criticized those apps for being spiritually shallow.

Hallow's young founders - devout lay Catholic millennials - are among those who felt that mindfulness apps did not meet their religious needs and set out to create their own.

Hallow's accessible language introduces different methods of prayer, along with inspiring talks, guides to spiritual practices and notifications to encourage users to set goals and stay on track.

As a priest, I know that helping people develop healthy prayer habits is important.

But both as a scholar of Christian spirituality and as someone who provides spiritual direction to others, I see limitations in what prayer apps can achieve.

Tech and faith

Churches have long adopted communications technology enthusiastically to spread their message.

The Reformation started by Martin Luther and his followers in 16th-century Germany spread rapidly through the use of Gutenberg's printing press.

Currently, Catholic faith-based media include the Eternal Word Television Network, founded by Catholic nun Mother Angelica, which provides news, radio programming, live-streamed services and web-based religious instruction to an estimated viewership of more than 250,000,000 viewers.

Apps serve a purpose as well. As several surveys have shown, active membership in a religious community is declining. Religiously unaffiliated people, who are mostly young, make up about a quarter of the American population.

At the same time, many of them yearn for a sense of religious belonging, and these apps appear to help in creating a faith-based community.

The kind of community that technology fosters is an important spiritual question to consider, however.

Evidence suggests that the unstoppable reach of technology into all aspects of our lives is shaping how people think and relate to one another.

Research has shown that while people have far more access to information, their attention span is less. Since prayer involves both the mind and emotions, this has spiritual implications.

Seeing how addicted people have become to their phones and other devices, I sometimes urge them to regain some spiritual freedom by giving up social media during Lent.

Prayer as community

For many religious communities, prayers are part of a collective identity.

Collective identity is baked into many religious traditions, including Islam and Buddhism.

Commitment to the community also runs deep in the Jewish roots of Christianity. Eastern Orthodox Christianity and Catholicism give particular emphasis to the communal aspect of prayer.

The praying community gathered together is at the heart of their faith and identity.

An embodied community asks people to show up regularly in real-time and gather together with those they may not know well or even like.

The time-consuming inconvenience and lack of choice are in fact spiritual riches because they involve the needs of others.

This kind of sacrifice is not what prayer apps facilitate.

In the Catholic tradition, prayer is not primarily about finding peace, joy or reducing stress.

Those can be achieved, but they aren't always present or necessary.

Deepening one's prayer is often a slow process that involves passing through periods of being bored, distracted or frustrated.

People with excellent intentions can sometimes end up being confused about what they are experiencing in prayer, especially if it is unfamiliar.

As a priest, I tell people a good rule of thumb is that growth in prayer leads to greater kindness to others, and less focus on oneself.

Many religious traditions, within and outside Christianity, insist that healthy spiritual growth can be aided by the personal guidance of people more experienced in prayer.

The "spiritual father" in monasticism is a teacher of prayer.

Within Catholicism, spiritual directors, who can be laypeople or ordained, listen to people talk about their experiences in prayer, helping them relate their prayer to their everyday lives.

While this tradition of spiritual guidance can help provide guidance, each person's prayer is always unique to them.

Even the best-designed algorithms are unlikely to tend to the human soul adequately.

Measuring impact

Hallow's many enthusiastic reviews insist that this prayer app is a force for good. So do the many users of other apps.

From my perspective, the measure of a prayer app's success is not the number of downloads.

Jesus insists on looking at the fruit of good intentions. If any app helps people to be more patient, humble, just, and attentive to the poor, it's a good thing. But being an active member of a real community is likely needed as well.

• Dorian Llywelyn is President, Institute for Advanced Catholic Studies, USC Dornsife College of Letters, Arts and Sciences
• First appeared in The Conversation. Republished with permission.

Half of the more than 10,000 young people surveyed said they don't think religious institutions care as much as they do about issues and movements that matter deeply to them — like Black Lives Matter, gender equity, LGBTQ rights, immigrant rights, reproductive rights, environmental causes, income inequality and gun control — according to a recent study by Springtide Research Institute, a nonpartisan, nonprofit organization.

The survey also found that Gen Zers have felt exceptionally alone dealing with increased isolation during the COVID-19 pandemic, which is still present more than a year after the first lockdowns.

Meanwhile, 23% said they attend weekly religious services — below the 31% average attendance for adults in 2019, according to Pew data.

Also, 78% of young people said they were "spiritual" without identifying with a particular religion.

"At the exact moment when young people were looking around trying to find guidance, they were trying all kinds of rituals and traditions — everything from tarot card readings, prayer, rosaries to crystals," Springtide's Executive Director Josh Packard told ReligionUnplugged.com.

Packard, who holds a doctorate in sociology from Vanderbilt University, believes houses of worship are more diverse than young people realize, but religious leaders often turn off young people with rhetoric that seems disrespectful or not inclusive of diverse social identities.

In the study, 54% of young people expressed frustration that religious communities want to solve their problems instead of "just being there" for them.

"I'm gay," said Ethan, a 21-year-old participant. "And I know that the conservative Christian community doesn't necessarily support people who are LGBTQ+.

And a lot of the beliefs were written by members of the religion who don't necessarily respect these people.

"And so it's made me question to what extent can I really trust that this is what I should believe, that it is ethical or proper. And for that reason, I've kind of lost faith because I just feel like there's not a lot of trust I can place in the religion when there's a lot of hypocrisy and contradictions."

Gen Z's saving grace may have been social media spirituality.

On social media platforms like TikTok, teen uploaders shared their collective fears and existentialist thoughts in unprecedented times. Some users even expressed how the pandemic was a time meant for spiritual awakening.

Some Gen Zers are even creating their own religions through unorthodox combinations of beliefs and practices, Springtide reported.

Teens on the web showed videos of themselves practicing Buddhist meditation with elements of Wiccan nature worship.

"Young people are turning to other people of faith to find out what is worthy and valid out of that tradition," Packard said.

When young people choose spirituality over organized services, they tend to incorporate their values into their practices, Springtide reported.

For example, nearly 4 out of 5 young people indicated concern for environmental issues, and half said that being in nature is very much a spiritual experience for them.

"I like to shut everything off for a moment," said Collette, a 23-year-old participant. "So I'll either meditate, I'll do yoga, I'll listen to music — like self-care, maybe take a bath or just go on a walk, anything to stop thinking about whatever stressed me out. I know that doesn't fix the problem, but it does help momentarily."

Young people who called themselves "very religious" said that they were flourishing significantly more than those who identified as "not religious at all."

On the other hand, Gen Z respondents who said religious leaders and trusted adults from a religious institution reached out to them reported feeling less anxiety.

But only 10% of young people said a religious leader personally reached out to them in the last year.

Twice as many young people said they turned to family and friends in hardships rather than religious leaders, and 16% said they turned to "no one" when they felt overwhelmed this year.

Half of the young people surveyed told Springtide they don't turn to faith communities due to a lack of trust in the people, beliefs and systems of organized religion.

Last year, Springtide's 2020 report found that simply attending religious programs did not increase young people's trust in religious institutions, but its data didn't reveal a loss of interest in the depth of religion or spirituality — only a loss of trust.

Packard said Springtide aims to heal generational gaps so that young people do not feel left alone in their spiritual journey. They say want mentors who practice listening, integrity and transparency instead of judgment.

• Anna Carlson is a student at The King's College in New York.
• First published by Religion Unplugged. Republished with permission.

Early candidates like the temporal or parietal lobes never panned out. And differences in how researchers define spirituality has also complicated things, because different areas of the brain light up when we use moral reasoning vs when we experience awe.

But what has remained clear is more than 80% of humans worldwide report being spiritual or religious.

Now, a group of researchers have used a method known as "lesion network mapping" to find the home of spirituality in the brain.

In their study, published in Biological Psychiatry, the researchers report that they have located a specific brain circuit for spirituality, found in the periaqueductal gray (PAG).

Only time will tell if that finding holds true or goes the way of other potential god spot candidates.

But spirituality, which can be broadly defined as a sense of connection with something greater than the self, is worth studying.

Many of the components associated with spirituality, namely connection, awe, empathy, altruism and compassion, are also solidly associated with happiness in the research.

The brain's spiritual circuit

For this study, the researchers used a technique that has a long history in neuroscience, namely using the location of lesions in the brain to figure out what certain areas do.

Using a previously published dataset that included 88 neurosurgical patients with lesions in a variety of different places in their brains who were going to have the tumours surgically removed.

They compared their results with another dataset of >100 patients who experienced penetrating head trauma from combat during the Vietnam War.

These are two very different datasets, reflecting the challenges of doing this kind of research.

The surgical patients were surveyed about spiritual acceptance as contrasted with religiosity, with questions like "Do you consider yourself a religious person?" before and after their surgeries.

Before and after their neurosurgeries to remove brain tumours, 30 of the 88 patients showed a decrease in self-reported spiritual belief, 29 showed an increase, and 29 showed no change.

The researchers mapped this self-reported spirituality mapped to a particular brain circuit in the PAG. Continue reading

"Recently, Pope Francis took part in an advertising campaign encouraging people to get vaccinated and called the gesture an 'act of love'. Wearing a mask when leaving our homes to use an essential service and exercise is also an act of love," says Dew.

Wearing a mask protects others and ourselves he said.

"I know it can look a little off-putting, but in these circumstances choosing to wear a mask is a visible sign of our love for ourselves and our neighbour," Dew told CathNews.

"We've seen how quickly the Delta can be transmitted.

"Exercise during the lockdown is good for body and soul and particularly so as the pressures of lockdown mount," says Dew.

While encouraging people to exercise, he says it is important to respect others sharing the common space.

Dew's comments come as the number of those infected with COVID is increasing and the Prime Minister warns the number of those infected will get worse before it gets better.

The Ministry of Health is encouraging people to wear a mask whenever they leave home.

"No one intentionally catches COVID, it is not something we can see, but we can protect each other by wearing a mask," he said.

Dew, who in 2010 completed the 900 kilometre "French Camino" and in 2018 completed the "Portuguese Camino," is a daily walker.

"My walk is a time of prayer, and I am grateful for the solitude.

"It helps give me a renewed perspective on life."

While exercising Dew also invites people to use the time to reflect, be thankful, and to pray for those suffering from COVID.

"It's a good time too, to say a prayer for healthcare workers and all those on the front line," said the Cardinal.

The Health Navigator Charitable Trust says that some degree of anxiety is normal during the lockdown and it recommends helping our mental health by attending to our physical wellbeing.

Healthcare data measured by IHME predicts New Zealand's death rate will drop by 600% if masks are used.

The app's popularity skyrocketed during the pandemic, as anxieties ran high and finding peace and quiet proved harder to do.

Calm provides mindfulness meditations, breathing exercises and bedtime stories to encourage users to take some time to chill out.

My screen-time calculator attests that I could afford to do more of nothing.

At an average of five hours per day, by the end of this year I will have spent 76 days on my screen, and not much of that time has gotten me much closer to God.

When I was tasked with identifying the best Catholic prayer apps, I was grateful for the opportunity to turn my screen time into soul time.

I wondered at first, why not just try Calm's non-religious meditations?

A soft voice from a reflection called "Sitting in silence with God" on the Hallow app I had just downloaded answered that question: "The goal of prayer and of any session in Hallow is never to remain in ourselves but always to lift our hearts and minds up to God to talk with him, to listen to him, and to recognize his presence in us."

I was grateful for the opportunity to turn my screen time into soul time.

With that in mind, here are my picks for the top three Catholic prayer apps.

Pray as You Go

If you are prone to indecision like me, the free app Pray As You Go offers a refuge from information overload. It provides one practical prayer session per day and about one fifth of the content of Hallow and Laudate.

Each prayer session includes introductory music, the day's Gospel reading and a reflection. A ministry of the British Jesuits, the prayers are written by Jesuits and others trained in Ignatian spirituality. The 10 to 13 minute audio sessions encourage you to consider moments throughout the day where you found or could look for God's presence, and they fit easily into a daily walk or commute.

Pray as You Go also offers reflections on specific struggles like loneliness and addiction. You can find audio retreats for married couples, health care workers and people spending time in nature and other groups or situations. These series provide space to step out of day-to-day life and into a deeper prayer experience.

And if you are not sold already, the Pray as You Go reflections are read by men and women with soothing British accents. Continue reading

• Amelia Jarecke is an editorial intern at America.

Do you see visions of immaculately arranged Instagram posts of people practicing yoga or calmly sitting with their eyes closed in an upscale loft?

Do you hear the ramblings of someone ‘finding their bliss' or seeking ‘inner peace'?

Do those things seem totally unrelated to the battles you're fighting every day in your life? Do you get turned off by just hearing the word ‘spiritual'?

You're not alone. I too used to routinely dismiss anything labelled ‘spiritual'. The spiritual talk I heard for most of my life seemed to be just another kind of B.S. wrapped up neatly for gullible folks to consume — like any other sketchy product.

But I've come to realize that I was wrong. I was throwing the baby out with the bathwater. And it stifled my growth for a long time.

What I've come to find out is that spirituality isn't something beyond and separate from day to day life. It's right there in front of us.

But it is up to us to embrace it in our own way. And until we do, we end up limiting our personal growth to mostly superficial areas of progress.

Everything is spiritual

There is no separation between the spiritual and everything else. Replying to emails is spiritual. Washing the dishes is spiritual. Changing a dirty diaper is spiritual. Your failure to treat them that way is the only determining factor.

You can do any of the things I mentioned above mindlessly; and we often do. You can also do these things mindfully — in the sense of being aware that you're doing them. But you can also go a bit deeper than that. And that's what I'm talking about.

You can change diapers, reply to emails, and clean the dishes — but do them while acknowledging that they're an expression of you, of your commitments and values. You can do them as a way of connecting more deeply with yourself, and with reality.

The email you're replying to is an act of connecting to someone that you felt it's important enough to connect with. If it's someone you dislike, you're probably walking a fine line your reply to be civil. If it's someone you're trying to help, you're probably digging deep to provide them with that help in the email and lift them up a bit.

The dirty diaper is your child's, who you love in a way you don't love anyone else. Changing it is an act of loving service — despite how badly it smells.

In the cases of the email and the diaper, you're tapping into a deeper part of yourself. It's the part that connects with what matters to you, what moves you, and what colours your life. We all have that part — but we so often neglect it.

It's a deeper part of us — one that picks up on the fact that though we may swim in the shallow end of the pool for most of the hours of our day, there is a deeper end of the pool.

Spirituality is simply the awareness that there is a deep end of the pool, and a willingness to swim in it. Spirituality is the recognition of that part of ourselves that runs deeper than the superficial things in our lives. Actually, it's the recognition that even the seemingly superficial things in our lives can be — if we allow them to be — deeply meaningful.

Just like anything else, spirituality is something we can hone in ourselves — and doing so can enrich our daily lives dramatically. But we have to let go of all the preconceived notions we have about what spirituality is and should be. Spirituality is uniquely individual, and the most effective way to do it is to build your own path. Continue reading

Mass is a performance, it's all rituals, mystery and symbolism. The transubstantiation, wine becomes blood, bread the body.

The church was my first theatre, then the theatre became my church."

Healy first became well-known for her role as nurse Carmen Roberts, in the New Zealand Soap Opera Shortland Street.

Last year she played the part of the Queen in the Auckland Theatre Company's production of The Audience.

At that time Healey told Eleanor Black in an interview on Stuff that she went to Mass on Sundays at the near-by Mary MacKillop Centre.

She said the sisters there are such interesting women: "who came out here from Ireland when they were 18 and they are now 90 and they have got the most wonderful histories.

I just love going and talking to them. They have given up their lives for a belief in something - and we don't believe in much these days. They have become like my little family across the road."

In her 30s, Healy wanted to have children but found it really hard.

"After a couple of devastating miscarriages I went to America to get an agent then, at 37, I found out I was pregnant, so I came home."

"Once I had the two boys, everything changed. Because it was something I'd wanted for such a long time, I put all my energy into them and the school."

Healey is soon to appear in Head High, a six-part drama series about the hopes and dreams of high school rugby players in New Zealand.

Head High premieris on Three, Sunday, June 28 at 8.30 pm.

Source

• nzonscreen.com
• stuff.co.nz
• nzherald.co.nz
• Image: stuff.co.nz