Guatemala

Plug-In: A $50 million shrine dedicated to honor Catholic farm boy who became a martyr

Plug-In: A $50 million shrine dedicated to honor Catholic farm boy who became a martyr

Most weeks, I send out a “live” version of Weekend Plug-in.

This week, though, I expected to be on an airplane as this e-newsletter began arriving in readers’ inboxes. So if any UFOs got shot out of the sky this weekend, don’t look for the religion angle right here, right now.

But please do enjoy this prescheduled roundup of the best reads and top headlines in the world of faith.

What To Know: The Big Story

Blessed Stanley: A dedication Mass for a $50 million shrine honoring the Catholic Church’s first U.S.-born martyr was held in Oklahoma City. I wrote about the life — and death — of slain missionary Stanley Francis Rother for The Associated Press.

My story notes:

The Spanish colonial-style structure incorporates a 2,000-seat sanctuary as well as a visitor center, gift shop, museum and smaller chapel that will serve as Rother’s final resting place.

The shrine grounds also will feature a re-creation of Tepeyac Hill, the Mexico City site where Catholics believe the Virgin Mary appeared to an Indigenous Mexican man named Juan Diego in 1531. An artist created painted bronze statues of Our Lady of Guadalupe and St. Juan Diego — each weighing thousands of pounds — for the Oklahoma site.

Life and ministry: For the best in-depth coverage of Rother and the shrine, be sure to follow The Oklahoman’s faith editor, Carla Hinton, who has covered this story for years.

Among her features this week: a detailed look at the shrine museum and an exploration of how “Rother’s heart has remained with his beloved Guatemalan parishioners.”

A final shrine note: I first wrote about Rother in 2001 during my time as religion editor for The Oklahoman. In 2017, I did a Religion News Service feature on the love for “Father Stan” in his hometown of Okarche, Oklahoma.


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The passing of a charismatic Episcopal bishop with a big voice and a big extended family

The passing of a charismatic Episcopal bishop with a big voice and a big extended family

Episcopal bishops in the 1980s were already used to urgent calls from journalists seeking comments on issues ranging from gay priests to gun control, from female bishops to immigration laws, from gender-free liturgies to abortion rights.

But the pace quickened for Bishop William C. Frey in 1985 when he was one of four candidates to become presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church. A former radio professional, Frey was known for his bass voice and quick one-liners. His Lutheran counterpart in Colorado once told him: "You look like a movie star, sound like God and wear cowboy boots."

Other Denver religious leaders sometimes asked, with some envy, why Episcopalians got so much ink.

"I can't understand why some people want the kind of media attention we get," he told me, during one media storm. "That's like coveting another man's root canal."

A Texas native, Frey died in San Antonio last Sunday (Oct. 11), after years out of the spotlight. In addition to his Colorado tenure, his ministry included missionary work in Central America during the "death squads" era and leading an alternative Episcopal seminary in a struggling Pennsylvania steel town.

While critics called him the "token evangelical" in the presiding bishop race, Frey was a complex figure during his Colorado tenure, where I covered him for the now-closed Rocky Mountain News. He called himself a "radical moderate," while also attacking "theology by opinion poll."

“We need a church that knows its own identity and proclaims it fearlessly," he said, in his 1990 farewell sermon. "No more stealth religion! … We need a church that knows how to answer the question, 'What think ye of Christ?', without forming a committee to weigh all possible options. We need a church that doesn't cross its fingers when it says the creed."

Nevertheless, a conservative priest called him a "Marxist-inspired heretic" for backing the 1979 Book of Common Prayer and the ordination of women. The bishop opposed capital punishment -- and abortion -- and welcomed stricter gun-control laws. He backed expanded work with the homeless and immigrants. Then gay-rights activists called him a "charismatic fundamentalist" because he opposed the ordination of sexually active gays and lesbians and preached that sex outside of marriage was sin.

Also, before the presiding bishop election, Frey fielded questions -- and heard old whispers -- about the informal charismatic Christian community he led with his wife, Barbara (who died in 2014). At its peak, 21 people lived in the rambling Victorian home in urban Denver. In all, 65 different people lived there over the years, ranging from Emmy winner Ann B. Davis of "The Brady Bunch" to an undocumented family from Mexico. The record breakfast crowd was 76.


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Path to sainthood: Slain Oklahoman could be first U.S.-born priest beatified, paper reports

Sometimes, old news is worth reporting again.

Carla Hinton is the longtime religion editor for The Oklahoman, Oklahoma City's daily newspaper where I worked for nine years. She had a nice story Sunday on Oklahomans traveling to Guatemala to mark the 35th anniversary of a slain priest's death.

Thirty-five years, huh!?

So why is this front-page news all these years later?

I'm not privy to The Oklahoman's news meetings, where editors decide what stories to give the most prominent play, but here's my guess: This is a case that many Oklahomans — particularly the state's religious community — have followed for a long time. The editors know that the story of the upcoming pilgrimage will appeal to those readers.

As for those unfamiliar with the Rev. Stanley Rother's death, Hinton shares the history and the path that has led to this week's anniversary commemoration in an extremely compelling way. It's just an interesting weekend read for those with coffee in one hand and the thick Sunday paper in the other:


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