As the chief exorcist of the Archdiocese of Washington, Rossetti was concerned when he learned that videos with hashtags like "WitchTok" and "Folk Catholicism" had become popular on the TikTok app.

If you scroll through the platform using those hashtags, you'll come across a variety of eyebrow-raising videos claiming to share magic spells and manifestations associated with witchcraft. Most TikTok users across the world are between the ages of 18 and 24, according to data compiled by Statista.

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The group is advocating for demonstrations in front of Supreme Court justices' homes.

Their account was restored with no notice or explanation, a Ruth Sent Us spokesperson says.

The group has been organising demonstrations following indications that the Supreme Court is poised to overturn 50 years of federal abortion protections established by Roe v. Wade.

On Saturday, the group posted from a "back up" TikTok account that it had been permanently banned for violating "community guidelines."

"Individuals are notified of our decisions and can appeal them if they believe no violation has occurred," the guidelines say.

"We will temporarily or permanently ban accounts and/or users that are involved in severe or repeated on-platform violations; we may also consider actions on other platforms and offline behaviour in these decisions."

Prohibited activities include incitement to violence, bullying or sharing personal information such as home addresses.

Ruth Sent Us says many comments and individual posts taken down from TikTok have since been restored apart from one featuring bloody pants.

A video of demonstrators pouring red paint on the crotches of their white pants still appears on the Ruth Sent Us TikTok page, but now comes with a content warning.

Ruth Sent Us, named for former Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, was criticised for "doxxing" (ie releasing private information) after the group posted a map marking the location of the six justices appointed by Republican presidents.

But Ruth Sent Us insists that it never doxxed anyone because the map used geolocation data for the pins, which identified the Virginia and Maryland homes of the six justices.

The "Extremist Justices" map was created by Vigil for Democracy, which is among a constellation of activist groups urging various protests and boycotts in response to the Supreme Court's possible overturn of Roe.

Ruth Sent Us is also urging disruptions of Catholic masses.

After many Washington DC-area churches released statements of concern, Ruth Sent Us responded on Twitter:

"Stuff your rosaries and your weaponised prayer. We will remain outraged after this weekend, so keep praying. We'll be burning the Eucharist to show our disgust for the abuse Catholic churches have condoned for centuries."

Ruth Sent Us demonstrations frequently feature women in red cloaks and white bonnets - identical to those worn by women in "The Handmaid's Tale". Set in a dystopian future in which abortion is illegal, women are treated as sex slaves and forced to marry and bear children against their will.

In the weeks since the draft decision was leaked, numerous protests have begun pushing for abortion rights.

Ruth Sent Us has released a weekly schedule for demonstrating outside the justices' homes.

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• FoxNews

She is frustrated by claims that there is only one way to be a Catholic and that that way possesses the sole grip on truth. Read more

Some say that the practice of speaking in tongues is not an appropriate way of praying on a digital platform. Others think it is acceptable.

"Pentecostal theology is all about being led by the Holy Spirit," said Heidi Campbell, "so the idea of the Holy Spirit moving through the computer or having a spiritual experience through the computer is very acceptable." Read more

The TikTokers — known as creators — within this community come from different religious backgrounds and have different beliefs.

But together, they are dissecting and rethinking the Christian theology they grew up with — a process many progressive Christians and former evangelicals call "deconstruction."

Deconstruction is a big word, and the movement is a big tent.

For some, the goal is to dismantle Christian teachings that are not LGBTQ-affirming, for others it's to challenge racism and colonialism within church structures. For others still, it's about questioning biblical inerrancy, fundamentalism or a punitive image of God. For many, it's all of the above.

But why TikTok? How did these seekers find a home on the video app?

Deconstructing the faith of one's childhood can be a lonely undertaking — often leaving people alienated from friends, family and a church that may have once been the centre of their community.

TikTok, for many of these church exiles, has filled a gap.

Several creators said they didn't even know the term "deconstruction" until they found a community on TikTok of people asking the same questions they were and processing similar experiences.

TikTok's platform is governed by a mysterious algorithm that distributes videos of interest to users regardless of how large or small a creator's account is.

The speed with which small accounts can go viral and garner a large following attracts many to the app.

The plethora of options for interacting with the app's 60-second videos also creates a sense of community.

Users can respond to video comments with an entirely new video, enabling easy dialogue between creators and viewers.

Creators can interact with each other through "Stitching" — attaching their original work to someone else's. "Dueting" a video is similar to retweeting — creators can amplify others' voices, add their own comments or respond in real-time to someone else's video monologue.

Although there's a sense of kinship, there's plenty of ideological diversity on Deconstruction TikTok. Some creators are publicly pastors. Others are proud atheists. Still others don't make their personal beliefs public but let their ideas do the talking.

The connections made on the app have even gone beyond TikTok — many of the creators interviewed are part of weekly calls with one another, where they share ideas, talk about their own faith journeys and build community.

Can an algorithm designed to promote dance memes and internet spats really promote serious religious reflection? These seven members of the TikTok deconstruction community say: yes.

Jesseca Reddell, 32, left the Pentecostal church she grew up in about 10 years ago. As part of her departure, she began researching the belief system she had left behind.

Paul Swearengin, 56, who goes by Pastor Paul on TikTok, said he doesn't consider himself necessarily a deconstructionist, but he's been roped into the fold.

Ricky Brock Jr., 34 , is the father of four children. He joined TikTok last fall to make "stupid videos."

Before he was Jesus with pink eyeshadow and a rainbow scarf, he was a political TikToker pushing out videos during the 2020 election. "People kept telling me, ‘You look just like Jesus, except you're gay," said TikTok creator JeGaysus.

ToryBae, 34, is a creator whose account has one toe in a variety of TikTok communities: sticker TikTok, adoption Tiktok, deconstruction TikTok.

Jeff Baker, 36, was an ordained minister in the Canadian Baptists of Ontario and Quebec for nearly a decade. He kept his queer identity a secret while he was working as a Baptist pastor.

Mya Jo is entering her senior year of high school in the fall. There aren't any religion courses on her roster for this school year, but that hasn't stopped the 17-year-old from embarking on an independent study.

• Renee Roden is a writer at Religion News Service.
• First published in RNS, republished with permission.

A self-described "cradle Catholic" and graphic design student at Liberty University, Schneider, now 21, began using her TikTok as "@the_religious_hippie," a fun moniker her friends gave her.

She was posting casually, but had what she calls a "turning point" in her faith, and began posting openly about her beliefs.

"At first, I felt like I was the only Catholic," said Schneider, who now has nearly 90,000 followers. "But then I discovered people like me, from everywhere, with one thing in common: we all love God."

Even as its future in the U.S. remains unclear, the viral social media app continues to grow, especially among young users.

Over half of TikTok's users are between ages 10 and 29.

The app, first launched in China in 2016 before later merging with Musical.ly, showcases a newsfeed of simple, short-form entertainment videos made by creators themselves.

People can also see algorithm-selected videos in their newsfeed, based on people, trends or hashtags they follow.

For young U.S. Catholics like Schneider, TikTok is more than an app for dances, funny memes and challenges in 60 seconds or less. It's a community dedicated to evangelizing and defending the faith as well as a place for networking and recreation, especially during the coronavirus pandemic, as more young people are seeking connection and answers in a particularly divisive year.

Even religious men and women have gotten in on the trend, using the time in quarantine to start posting more content and engage openly with followers: such as "viral" priests Fr. Frankie Cicero of Life Starts Here Ministries in Arizona and Simon Esshaki, a Chaldean priest in San Diego.

Even the Netherlands-based Carmelite Sisters of the Divine Heart have nearly 243,000 followers; their comment sections are filled with people from other faiths thanking the nuns for their entertaining and wholesome content.

(In a @carmeldjc video from July, when a user asked, "What do you think about the LGBT community?" The nuns' simple reply was, "God loves everybody.")

"Catholic TikTok" is filled with diverse creators; they are mostly teens and young adults posting videos — church teachings and memes, real-life struggles and news takes — often with a filter, set to music or a track. Trending hashtags like #catholic and #catholicsoftiktokhave more than 380 million views.

@faithfullylanahow's self isolation going for y'all? ##fyp ##catholic ##christian ##jesus ##adoration ##eucharist ##veiling ##catholiclife ##rosary ##lovejesuschrist

♬ ricoco bicc aesthetic - Tik Toker

Those hashtags tend to attract TikTokers who identify as "rad-trad" or "traditionally Catholic," said 16-year-old Chris Karroum, who has more than 6,000 followers for his humour. Karroum said he started attending traditional Latin Mass after learning about it on the app. Continue reading