The psychiatrist and psychoanalyst Carl Jung famously claimed to have seen almost no practicing Catholics in decades of clinical practice.

Others have failed to replicate this result, but the idea that religious practice has some meaningful impact on mental health persists.

For Jung, speaking in 1939, the world could be divided into two categories: those who practiced a religion (which for Europeans of Jung's era primarily included Catholicism, Protestantism, and Judaism) and those who did not. Any serious contemporary consideration of this question, however, would need to introduce a third category.

Many people today reject "organized religion," but do not quite identify as secular either.

They report having a spiritual life while disavowing any particular religious practice. They are, in a phrase, "spiritual but not religious."

This fact introduces a new question for psychology: What are the mental health benefits of this spiritual attitude?

One might reasonably suppose that they are positive.

After all, many people who take this attitude engage in practices that are widely held to be beneficial to mental health, such as meditation, even if they do not accept the background theology of Buddhism or other major religions that encourage meditative practices.

This spiritual orientation is also a part of 12-step programs that encourage individuals to find their own "higher power," outside the bounds of traditional religious belief.

So, one might think that this kind of spiritual orientation to the world is associated with positive mental health.

Mixed research results

The empirical literature on this question, however, is decidedly more mixed.

Consider an important 2013 study in the British Journal of Psychiatry.

The authors consider data from approximately 7,400 individuals in England.

Of these, most identify as either religious or as non-religious and non-spiritual, but about a fifth (19 percent) identify as spiritual but not religious.

The prevalence of mental disorders in the first two groups (the religious and the non-religious non-spiritual) is roughly the same, but the spiritual but not religious are different: Among other things, they are significantly more likely to have phobias, anxiety, and neurotic disorders generally.

In short, being spiritual but not religious is a significant predictor of mental distress, compared to the general population.

This correlation between spirituality without religiosity ought to give us pause, in part because it is confirmed by subsequent studies.

For example, one more recent study (Vittengl, 2018) finds that people who are more spiritual than they are religious are at greater risk for the development of depressive disorders.

As I said, all this is very puzzling.

What explains these somewhat dispiriting findings?

And what lessons should we draw from it?

Three caveats

To begin with, we should note three caveats or complications.

First, as the authors emphasize, these findings say nothing about cause and effect.

It could be that spiritual practices outside of traditional religion are a cause of mental distress.

Or it equally well could be that people in mental distress seek out spiritual but non-religious practices.

Or it could be that these two phenomena—being spiritual but not religious and experiencing mental distress—are common effects of some shared cause.

Second, many people do not seek their spiritual orientation, in the first place, because of its mental health benefits.

People who are drawn to spirituality while rejecting traditional religious frameworks are in the first place pursuing their own spiritual values, rather than seeking mental health.

So these correlations should not, on their own, lead anyone to doubt their own spiritual convictions.

Third, as all of the authors discussed above acknowledge, these correlations remain very poorly understood.

This is partly because we are stuck in a dichotomous way of thinking about spirituality—on which people are religious or not religious—that the introduction of a third category remains something of a novelty.

Furthermore, this third category remains poorly understood, in part because "spirituality" itself admits so many different understandings. Continue reading

• John T. Maier, Ph.D., MSW, received his Ph.D. in Philosophy from Princeton and his MSW from Simmons University. He is a psychotherapist in private practice in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

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.

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

Data shows that many millennials leave the church during their college years, and some never return.

The fastest-growing religious identifier among this generation is "spiritual but not religious."

But as millennials age, get married, and start families, they are no longer the only "young people" that churches must consider.

A new cohort has risen: "Generation Z" or individuals born between the mid-1990s and early 2000s.

Generation Z diverges from millennials in many ways and presents unique challenges and opportunities for churches who hope to capture their attention.

For this reason, I decided to speak with Pastor James Emery White about his new book, "Meet Generation Z: Understanding and Reaching the New Post-Christian World."

Here we discuss what sets these young people apart from their elders and what he believes it means for modern ministry, evangelism, and apologetics.

What do you mean when you say that the church is at the beginning of a 'seventh age?'

White: During my studies at Oxford, I was introduced to the writings of a Catholic historian named Christopher Dawson.

He had an intriguing thesis he introduced just after WWII that I have come to appreciate: that the history of the Christian church can be divided into segments of 300-400 years, and that each of these "ages" began — and then ended — in crisis.

The nature of each crisis was the same: intense attack by new challenges, if not enemies, from within and from without the church.

Apart from new spiritual determination and drive, the church would have lost the day.

Dawson accounted for six such ages at the time of his writing. I believe we are now living at the start of another — a seventh age.

Everyone keeps talking about millennials, but you've chosen to talk about Generation Z. Who are they, and why are they so important?

White: They are the youngest generational cohort on the planet — and the largest.

This means that in the coming years they will not simply influence culture, but be culture.

Added to this is the fact that they are the first post-Christian generation in American history. I would argue that this makes them the most pressing generation to study.

They will be the most influential religious force in the West and the heart of the missional challenge facing the Christian church.

You say that Generation Z is the first truly post-Christian generation. Yet more than 70 percent of Americans are Christian and more than a third of Americans attend church regularly. How are they 'post-Christian?'

White: I would push back a bit on 70 percent being "Christian," at least in light of how the majority of that 70 percent are self-defining and self-designating the term.

If we mean Bible-believing, heaven-and-hell existing, Jesus-resurrecting Christians, the number would drop rather precipitously.

If you are going to contend for 70 percent of the American population being Christian, the majority of that number would be "Christian" in name only.

The latest research shows that for those between the ages of 18-29, 39 percent would actually place themselves in the "nones" or religiously unaffiliated category.

As for a third of Americans attending church regularly, that means that two-thirds (again, a majority) do not.

The word "post" means "past" or "after," so "post-Christian" means "after" the dominance of Christian ideas and influence. To my thinking and observation, this is where we are culturally.

What are the unique concerns and questions Generation Z has about faith?

White: I'll give you three, though there are many more.

First, they have a strong desire to make a difference with their lives and are attracted to what will enable them to make that difference. A faith that is privately engaging, but socially irrelevant, will not attract them.

Second, traditional morality will be a tricky conversation, as they are not only sexually fluid themselves, but consider relational acceptance and lifestyle affirmation to be synonymous. Individual freedom is simply a core value.

Third, a final faith question will revolve around their amazingly deep sense of awe and wonder about the universe. More than any other generation, Generation Z has an openness to spirituality via cosmology.

How well equipped are most churches to meet the needs of Generation Z?

White: Sadly, the majority are not well-positioned at all.

On the most superficial of levels, most churches are divorced from the technological world Generation Z inhabits.

But on the deeper level, they are divorced from the culture itself in such a way as to be unable to build strategic bridges — relationally, intellectually, aesthetically — to reach Generation Z.

The church simply has too many blind spots.

What are the church's biggest blind spots when it comes to Generation Z?

White: The first one that jumps to mind is how truly post-Christian they are.

They really are biblically and spiritually illiterate.

I've often described how most churches have an "Acts 2 mindset," referring to Peter speaking before the God-fearing Jews of Jerusalem, as opposed to an "Acts 17 mindset," which is Paul on Mars Hill.

Two radically different contexts and two radically different approaches.

Unfortunately, we have churches with an Acts 2 approach in an Acts 17 world.

Added to this is the "curse of knowledge": once we know something, we find it hard to imagine what it's like not to know it.

Too many Christians have forgotten what it's like to be apart from Christ. Generation Z needs us to remember.

How will evangelism need to change when it comes to Generation Z?

White: It must move from being event-oriented to being process-and-event-oriented.

For the last several decades, evangelism capitalized on a unique state of affairs.

Namely, a culture filled with people who were relatively advanced in their spiritual knowledge and, as a result, able to quickly and responsibly consider the event of entering into a relationship with Christ as forgiver and leader.

In light of today's realities, there must be fresh attention paid to the process that leads people to the event of salvation.

The goal is not simply knowing how to articulate the means of coming to Christ, but how to facilitate and enable the person to progress to the point where they are even able to consider accepting Christ in a responsible fashion.

RNS: What about apologetics?

White: I often talk of "old-school" apologetics as opposed to "new-school" apologetics.

The old-school apologetics was very evidentialist in mindset.

Think Josh McDowell or Lee Strobel answering Enlightenment-era questions about whether you can believe the Bible or whether God exists.

This is all well and good and still needed, but new-school apologetics answers different questions.

Instead of, "Did Jesus rise from the dead?" the question is now, "So what if he did?"

Instead of asking, "Does God exist?" the question is now, "What kind of God would call for the killing of an entire people group?"

Instead of testimonies about lives changed through Christ, their question would be why lives currently lived by Christians aren't more changed but are instead marked by judgmentalism, hypocrisy, and intolerance.

• Jonathan Merrit
• First published in RNS. Reproduced with permission.
• The views expressed here do not necessarily reflect those of CathNews.

From the very beginning, Christians have gathered to share the Word of God and break bread in confined spaces.

They drank from the same cup and shared a holy kiss. They also cared for the poor and the sick.

All of these Christian practices are now seen as ways that the coronavirus can spread through populations.

That is why the coronavirus is so threatening, not only physically but also spiritually.

In a pre-scientific age, we might carry on and ask God to protect us.

Many saints died caring for plague victims. Aloysius Gonzaga, patron saint of the Jesuit high school where I live, died in 1591 at the age of 23 while caring for victims of the plague in Rome.

Today, public health officials recommend that we put distance between ourselves and others so as not to spread the virus.

At first blush, this "social distancing" sounds un-Christian, but we need to listen to medical experts.

As with doctors, the first rule of a Christian at this time is "Do no harm." That means not doing anything that might spread the virus to others.

In the time before germs and viruses were understood, people blamed strangers, Jews and witches for sickness.

Anyone who was different could be the target of people's fear.

The public was also offered potions that often caused more harm than good. Even today, conspiracy theories abound and fake cures are sold to the gullible.

Again, we need to listen to medical experts and not to conspiracy theorists who use any crisis to make money or stir up hatred and division.

The experts tell us that the best ways to avoid the virus are truly simple:

• Wash your hands. Wash your hands. Wash your hands!
• Don't touch your face. Don't touch your face. Don't touch your face!

Like Naaman, the Aramean general we read about in the Bible's Second Book of Kings, who scoffed when the Prophet Elisha told him to wash seven times in the Jordan to cure his illness, we don't take simple solutions seriously.

But we need to listen to Naaman's servants, who challenged him by saying, "If the prophet told you to do something extraordinary, would you not do it?

All the more since he told you, ‘Wash, and be clean'?"

Since Catholics gather to celebrate the Eucharist every Sunday, they have had to take preventive measures to avoid the spread of the virus.

In China and Italy, services have been cancelled and churches have been closed at the advice of public health officials.

In the United States and elsewhere, Catholics have been strongly urged to receive Communion in the hand and not on the tongue. Every Communion minister knows that it is impossible to distribute Communion on the tongue without touching at least some tongues. Touching a tongue while distributing Communion means the minister must stop and disinfect his or her hands or risk giving the virus to the remaining communicants.

Other measures deployed include

• Only the sacred bread is being distributed at many Catholic Masses, not the cup.
• Priests who concelebrate are receiving though intinction, where the bread is dipped into the cup before reception.
• Priests and Communion ministers are told to disinfect their hands before and after distributing Communion.
• Churchgoers have also been asked not to hold hands during the Lord's Prayer or to shake hands during the kiss of peace.
• People are bowing or flashing each other the peace sign.
• In addition, holy water fonts have been emptied and people have been asked not to kiss church statues or crucifixes during their devotions.

All of these are reasonable precautions to take during this crisis. We will be able to return to normal when the epidemic is over.

But Christians have a responsibility beyond practicing personal hygiene.

We also have a public responsibility to support civic programs to protect the vulnerable and care for the sick.

In the short term, that means supporting health care workers who put themselves at risk caring for those who have fallen ill. It means scrupulously following the instructions of public health officials. It means supporting programs to help those without health insurance, without sick leave, without day care and without paychecks because their employers have laid them off during the health crisis.

Beyond these short-term responses, Christians also must demand that their government be better prepared for such epidemics.

Cutting budgets for research and preparedness is not only shortsighted but dangerous.

In a globalised world, pandemics must be expected and planned for. When this crisis is over, we cannot go back to sleep and ignore the best advice from scientists and experts.

The saints of old risked their lives for those with the plague. We can at least do our civic duty.

• Thomas Reese SJ is a senior analyst at Religion News Service, and a former columnist at National Catholic Reporter, and a former editor-in-chief of the weekly Catholic magazine America. First published in RNS. Republished with permission.