On September 16, 1571, the 212 ships of the Holy League set out from Messina, Sicily. The ships carried 40,000 sailors, 35,000 soldiers, and the hopes of Christian Europe. Led by Don John of Austria, they headed for the Gulf of Patras in Southern Greece.

Their target? The 278 war galleys and 67,000 men composing the war fleet of the Ottoman Empire under the command of Muezzinzade Ali Pasha. On October 7, the two armadas met in the largest naval engagement since the Battle of Salamis in 480 B.C. The result changed the course of history.

The wind was against the Christians, leaving them scrambling to form a line of battle before the Ottoman galleys closed in.

The Battle of Lepanto stands as a decisive point in a thousand-year conflict between Christian Europe and the Islamic empires of the east.

Rise of the Ottoman Empire

Islam began its expansion in 622. Only a hundred years later, it had conquered all of the Middle East and North Africa. The Christian cities of Jerusalem, Antioch, Alexandria, Hippo, Tunis, and Carthage had fallen, as well as all of Spain.

The Crusades managed to slow and even push back some Islamic advances but were ultimately a failure. By 1291, the last Christian stronghold in the Holy Land had fallen. The next 200 years saw the rise of the Ottoman Empire and the continued advance of Islam, culminating in the fall of Constantinople in 1453 and the capture of the Balkans by 1475. The only bright spot was the Spanish Reconquista, returning the country to Christianity by 1492.

The 16th century started with more Christian defeats. Rhodes fell in 1522, and the Christian forces suffered a crushing defeat at the Battle of Preveza in 1538, ceding control of the Eastern Mediterranean to the Ottomans.

Famagusta falls

In 1565, something changed. Against all odds, the Knights Hospitaller held out during the Siege of Malta and handed the Ottomans their first real defeat in the Mediterranean. Then came the fateful year: 1571.

It did not start out well. Early in the year, Ottoman ships raided the Adriatic coast, venturing closer to Italy. In August, the fortress of Famagusta — the last Venetian stronghold on the island of Cypress — fell after a 10-month siege. After initially promising safe passage, the Ottomans slaughtered the remaining Venetian soldiers and subjected their leader, Marcantonio Bragadin, to brutal public torture and execution.

White Bastion, old town walls, Famagusta, North Cyprus. Heritage Images/Getty Images

The Holy League

Meanwhile, Pope Pius V had called together the Holy League — an alliance of Christian forces, including the Spanish Empire, the Republic of Venice, the Holy Roman Empire, and the Papal States. Led by Don John of Austria, the League assembled its armada at Messina. The night before they set out, Don John ordered the celebration of holy Mass and the hearing of confessions throughout the fleet. Pius V granted a plenary indulgence to all who took part in the campaign and gave a consecrated papal standard to Don John, who flew it from his flagship, the Real.

Pictures from History/Getty Images

The soldiers and sailors of the Holy League had no doubts about the nature of their mission. Every ship in the fleet had a crucifix prominently displayed aboard, as well as images of the Virgin Mary and other religious items.

Legend has it that a copy of the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe, a gift from the Archbishop of Mexico, was carried aboard a Spanish galley. Bolstered by faith and incensed by the news of the Ottoman brutality at Cypress, the Holy League set out from Messina and reached the Gulf of Patras on October 6.

Preparing for battle

The next day, the two armadas slowly moved toward one another, creeping across the waters of the narrow strait between the Gulfs of Patras and Corinth. Hundreds upon hundreds of ships were arrayed in lines, stretching for miles, as the two fleets closed in. Banners fluttered as the rowers moved the galleys forward. Prayers were uttered as the thousands of soldiers, gunners, and sailors prepared for battle. The wind was against the Christians, leaving them scrambling to form a line of battle before the Ottoman galleys closed in.

Illustration depicting a type of Venetian galley used in the Battle of Lepanto. Photo: 12/Getty Images

Meanwhile, back in Rome, Pius V prayed without ceasing. He had called upon all of Europe to join him in praying the rosary, imploring the Blessed Mother to aid the Christian forces in battle. On October 7, he led a procession through the streets of Rome, praying the rosary with the people of the city.

At Lepanto, the two fleets drew closer and the wind shifted in favor of the Christians, allowing them to take their positions before reaching the enemy. As the two fleets clashed, the Christian strategy paid off immediately. The Venetians, experienced sailors filled with rage at the treatment of their compatriots at Famagusta, shattered the Ottoman line and threw the fleet into disarray. In the center, the six galleasses — newer, large ships with heavy armaments — dealt crushing damage to the more vulnerable Ottoman galleys, breaking up their formations and allowing the Christian galleys to ram and board them.

Our Lady of Victory

In four hours, it was all over. The fury of the Venetian attack decimated the left wing, and the center collapsed under the relentless fire from the galleasses and the ferocity of the soldiers disgorged from the Christian galleys. The climax of the battle came when the Ottoman flagship Sultana rammed the Real and fierce hand-to-hand fighting broke out. The Real was in danger of falling when the papal commander, Marcantonio Colonna, brought his galley alongside and mounted a counterattack. Ali Pasha was killed, and the papal standard was hoisted over the captured Sultana.

New of the victory reached Pius V as he was praying the rosary in the Church of San Sabina, according to his biographer. He is said to have wept with joy and pronounced, "There was a man sent from God whose name was John" in reference to John 1:6. The pope ordered immediate celebrations, Masses in thanksgiving, the ringing of bells across the city, and the singing of the Te Deum.

Crediting the intercession of the Virgin Mary for the victory, Pius V established October 7 as the Feast of Our Lady of Victory. Today, it is celebrated as the Feast of the Most Holy Rosary.

The defeat was crushing for the Ottomans: 187 ships destroyed or captured, over 20,000 men dead. Although they rebuilt their fleet, they never managed to pose another serious threat to the Western Mediterranean.

Painting depicting the victory of John III Sobieski (1629-1696), king of Poland, against the Turks at the Battle of Vienna. Universal History Archive/Getty Images

The struggle between Christian Europe and the Ottoman Empire was far from over. It would be another 112 years before the land-battle equivalent of Lepanto — the Battle of Vienna — would signal the end of Ottoman expansion. Lepanto, however, served as a critical turning point, showing that Europe, when united under its Christian faith, could drive back a seemingly invincible foe.

Zeal for Christ

The lessons of the Battle of Lepanto are simple yet profound: Remember our heroes, honor their accomplishments, and never forget the source of their strength and zeal.

The heroes of Christendom were bold men who achieved the impossible against overwhelming odds. From Charles Martel’s ragged band turning back the Islamic conquest of Spain and beginning the 781-year Reconquista to King John Sobieski III’s thunderous cavalry charge that broke the siege of Vienna, these were leaders of courage and conviction.

Yet more important than the men themselves was the source of their victories: their Christian faith. Constantine’s soldiers bore the cross of Christ on their shields; centuries later, the sailors at Lepanto displayed the same cross on their ships. It was that faith that gave them strength to fight and to win — and it is that same faith that can give us strength to face and triumph over our own battles today, great or small.

Scripture or slogans — you have to choose

“Don’t give me doctrine — just give me Jesus.”

It sounds humble, even noble. But ask, “Who is Jesus?” and suddenly you’re doing theology. You cannot follow a Savior you refuse to define.

The modern church has traded catechism for catchphrases. “God has a wonderful plan for your life.” “Don’t judge.” “Everything happens for a reason.” Feelings outrank Scripture. Sentiment trumps substance. Haul those slogans into an ICU or a funeral home and watch how empty they sound.

I’ve been a caregiver for four decades. My wife has endured 98 surgeries, the amputation of both legs, and relentless pain. I’ve tested theology in the harshest corridors of suffering. If it doesn’t hold up there, it doesn’t hold at all.

Jesus said to love God with all your heart, soul, and mind. Paul told believers to be transformed by the renewing of the mind. Thinking is not optional for Christians. It’s obedience.

Common sense without Scripture isn’t wisdom — it’s presumption.

Charlie Kirk understood this. He urged Christians to prepare their minds and defend the gospel, echoing Peter’s command: “Always be ready to give a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you” (1 Peter 3:15). A church allergic to thinking leaves its people defenseless.

God Himself asked hard questions: “Where are you?” “Where is your brother?” “Who do you say I am?” From Eden to Emmaus, He forced clarity. If the Creator asks hard questions, why should His people settle for bumper-sticker answers?

Economist Thomas Sowell cut through bad reasoning with three questions: Compared to what? At what cost? What hard data do you have? Christians should be just as discerning.

When someone says, “God told me ...,” the right response is, “Where is that in Scripture?” Jeremiah 29:11 wasn’t written for entrepreneurs chasing dreams. It was God’s word to exiles facing 70 years of captivity. Context matters.

Bad theology always hands someone the bill. “If you had more faith, you’d be healed.” Cost: shame when healing doesn’t come. “God just wants you happy.” Cost: broken families. “Don’t judge.” Cost: silence in the face of destruction. Cheap slogans carry devastating price tags.

The real test? Would you say it to grieving parents? To a family in hospice? If not, why say it at all? Job’s friends did well when they sat in silence. Once they opened their mouths, they leaned on speculation that sounded like wisdom. God rebuked them for speaking falsely about Him. Common sense without Scripture isn’t wisdom — it’s presumption.

I saw that same trap in a heated exchange with a friend. He waved off Scripture: “That doesn’t make sense to me.” Then he defended himself with, “It’s just common sense.” It was a modern echo of Job’s companions: trusting opinion over revelation. My answer stayed the same: “But what does Scripture say?” He had no reply. Like too many believers today, he didn’t know his Bible.

This problem extends beyond private conversation. When Jimmy Kimmel returned from suspension, he tearfully said he tried to follow the teachings of Jesus. It sounded noble. But isn’t that just another way of saying, “Just give me Jesus” — without doctrine, without definition?

Photo by Mandel NGAN / AFP) (Photo by MANDEL NGAN/AFP via Getty Images

Where does he think those teachings come from? The only record of Jesus’ words is in Scripture. To claim His teaching while denying His identity cuts out the very ground you’re standing on. Which parts of the Bible will he follow, and which will he ignore? You cannot have the Sermon on the Mount without “Before Abraham was, I am” (John 8:58). C.S. Lewis was blunt: Jesus was Lord, lunatic, or liar. There is no safe middle ground. To quote Him on television while ignoring His divinity may play well on-screen, but it isn’t Christianity.

Proverbs gives the wiser course: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5). Our reasoning is clouded by sin. Scripture, not sentiment, must be our guide.

Jesus never called for blind faith. He asked, “Who do you say that I am?” He invited thought, demanded clarity, and confronted error. We don’t need louder voices. We need sharper minds — sanctified, surrendered, and grounded in Scripture.

Truth doesn’t fear scrutiny. Faith doesn’t fear questions. So ask them. Challenge the slogans. Don’t leave your brain in the narthex.

Feelings collapse. Scripture stands.

'Etsy witches' reportedly placed curses on Charlie Kirk days before assassination

In an article published only two days before Charlie Kirk was assassinated, a writer at the far-left outlet Jezebel detailed her experience working with witches in an attempt to place a curse on Kirk and silence his message.

The article, titled "We Paid Some Etsy Witches to Curse Charlie Kirk," was written by Claire Guinan. It has since been taken down but can still be accessed through internet archives.

Guinan wrote that she felt obligated to do something about Kirk, whom she called a "fake news vending machine." If it meant silencing his "nightmare ideology," she wrote, "I'm more than happy to be the hag of his nightmares." She went on to describe "cursing Kirk" as her "personal goal."

One of the supposed witches sent her evidence of the completed curse: a burning photo of Kirk and the message, 'Trust the unseen.'

To procure a curse, Guinan turned to Etsy, a popular e-commerce platform where private sellers can advertise and sell a wide variety of products and services. Her search term, "curse enemy," turned up 5,000 results. She purchased the services of three different women claiming to be witches, who agreed to place curses on Kirk.

Guinan provided Kirk's date of birth to ensure accuracy and even paid $50 extra to boost the supposed power of the curse. She claimed that she did not intend for the curse to actually harm Kirk: "I'm not calling on dark forces to cause him harm." She described her intent as an effort "to ruin his day with the collective feminist power of the Etsy coven."

Photo by Milissa Majchrzak / Contributor via Getty Images

After ordering the curses, Guinan waited in the hope that "justice would be done." The next day, one of the supposed witches sent her evidence of the completed curse: a burning photo of Kirk and the message, "Trust the unseen." Guinan was optimistic since she had "timed the purchase perfectly with the August new moon in Virgo."

In wondering whether the curses would work, Guinan placed her trust "in the timing of the great unknown," relating how one of the witches told her "spellwork is a collaboration between the caster, the client, and the universe itself."

At the time of the article's publication, she was still waiting for definitive results, while giving a shout-out to "the witches of the modern world" for their efforts "to hex Republicans and topple conservative regimes." She ended the article with a line directed at Kirk, telling him, "May the rash come swiftly."

Jezebel and Etsy did not respond to a request for comment from Blaze News.

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The Shroud of Turin: One hidden detail that will baffle skeptics — and inspire Christians

What if the greatest mystery of Christianity carried a hidden detail — one so small that it escaped notice for centuries?

The Shroud of Turin — a 14-foot linen cloth many believe to bear the image of Jesus — has been scrutinized by scientists, historians, and skeptics alike. Yet within its faint imprint lies something almost invisible: the outline of human teeth, just behind the lower lip.

Most analyses and descriptions of the Shroud of Turin's facial image, including scientific studies and expert forensic examinations, describe the lips as closed.

To most, it might seem trivial. To a surgeon trained in facial anatomy, it changes everything. This detail not only deepens the enigma of the Shroud but also raises profound questions about life, death, and resurrection.

Providential encounter

When I first encountered the Shroud 25 years ago, I was at one of the lowest points in my life. Though I had built a long career as a surgeon, teacher, and researcher, something was missing. Then, by what I can only call providence, I found myself in Turin, Italy, during a rare public exhibition of the Shroud.

Seated just 30 feet away, I was startled by what I saw. The cloth bore the image of a crucified man, marked with bloodstains on the scalp, hands, feet, and side. My curiosity was piqued, and my journey into Shroud research began.

Years later, I returned to the Shroud through high-definition black-and-white negatives taken during the 1978 Shroud of Turin Research Project. With the eyes of a surgeon trained in facial anatomy, I saw details that stunned me: a swollen cheek, a fractured nose, and blood trickling from thorn wounds.

Then I noticed something even more remarkable — the faint outline of lower front teeth, visible where closed lips should have concealed them. Most analyses and descriptions of the Shroud of Turin's facial image, including scientific studies and expert forensic examinations, describe the lips as closed.

The teeth of the matter

This observation became the foundation of a paper I recently published, arguing that the Shroud contains an incisal plane — the biting edge of the lower teeth. While earlier researchers claimed to see both upper and lower teeth, I found only the lower visible, likely because the upper were obscured by the mustache and lip. To a trained surgeon’s eye, the evidence is clear.

Joe Marino, one of the world’s most respected Shroud scholars and editor of Shroud.com, commented on my work: “The fact that this dental surgeon believes at least some of the teeth are present is a significant development that could help determine the image-formation process.”

Why does this matter?

An inexplicable image

Because the Shroud continues to defy explanation. In 1978, STURP — a team of physicists, chemists, and imaging specialists — studied the cloth for five days. Their conclusion: The image depicts a real scourged, crucified man, not painted or forged. There is no evidence of pigment, dye, or photograph. Yet no one has been able to explain how the image was made — or to reproduce it.

Some scientists have speculated that a burst of radiant energy, perhaps ultraviolet light or X-radiation, emanated from the body at the moment of the resurrection, leaving behind an imprint not only of external features but even of internal ones, like teeth. If that is true, then what we are seeing on the Shroud is more than an archaeological artifact — it is a witness to the most transformative event in human history.

The implications are staggering. For believers, the Shroud may be the closest thing we have to photographic evidence of the resurrection — the foundational event of Christianity. For skeptics, it remains an enigma, a puzzle that modern science cannot fully explain. Either way, it demands attention.

The presence of teeth in the Shroud image adds weight to the theory that the image was not formed by human hands, but by a supernatural process. It suggests that what happened on that linen two thousand years ago was beyond the reach of ordinary physics or chemistry.

Image source: Public domain via Wikipedia Commons

Deeper questions

And that raises deeper questions: What does this cloth mean for us today? What does it tell us about life, death, and eternity?

In an age when science is often treated as the final word, the Shroud remains a paradox: a scientific mystery that points beyond science itself. Even popular culture has taken notice — actor Mel Gibson recently told Joe Rogan he believes the Shroud is authentic. Respected Christian thinkers like Jeremiah J. Johnston are reintroducing its significance to new audiences.

The Shroud is not simply an artifact locked in a cathedral in Turin. It is a challenge to each of us. It forces us to consider the possibility that God entered history, suffered, died, and rose again. It invites us to hope — that light is stronger than darkness, that life conquers death, and that our own lives can find meaning in the One who left His imprint on that cloth.

The faint image of teeth may seem like a small detail. But sometimes it is the smallest details that carry the greatest weight. If even teeth are visible on the Shroud, then perhaps so too is the evidence of resurrection — and with it, the promise of eternal life.

'Triumph of the Heart': An unflinching depiction of what it means to follow Christ

The current landscape of Christian cinema is more desert than garden. Too many films settle for pandering and saccharine depictions of the faith, as if doing the bare minimum to attract what they assume is a captive audience. Meanwhile, moviegoers thirst for stories that challenge them with reality of the Christian life.

With the success of "Sound of Freedom," "The Shift," and "Cabrini," Angel Studios has shown that viewers will show up for more nuanced, high-quality fare, but most "faith-based" films still seem content to take as little risk as possible.

As Kolbe, Marcin Kwaśny embodies an ordinary man who makes the extraordinary decision to pick up his cross and follow Christ, whatever the consequences.

This was all in my mind as I attended the premiere of "Triumph of the Heart." I wasn't sure what to expect; word of mouth has been strong, but would it live up to the hype? I'm happy to answer that question with a resounding yes.

Greater love hath no man ...

"Triumph of the Heart" tells the incredible true story of the Polish Catholic priest and newspaper publisher who would become Saint Maximilian Kolbe (Pope John Paul II canonized him in 1982). Arrested and sent to Auschwitz in 1941, Kolbe volunteers to take the place of a prisoner condemned along with nine others to die in the camp's starvation cell.

As the men cope with despair, starvation, and ideological division, Kolbe's humanity and their shared Polish identity forge a brotherhood that allows them to face down evil and die with honor.

A humble saint

Not since Paul Roland’s "Exemplum" have I seen such a truthful and realistic depiction of Catholicism. These characters are far from perfect, and that includes Kolbe himself. He smokes, he has regrets, he makes mistakes. But he’s also relentlessly hopeful, courageous, and brave in his faith in Jesus Christ, which empowers him to be a source of light for his fellow cellmates who struggle to maintain their dignity.

This is no sanitized depiction of sainthood. As Kolbe, Marcin Kwaśny embodies an ordinary man who makes the extraordinary decision to pick up his cross and follow Christ, whatever the consequences.

Sherwood Fellows

The weight of despair

The actors playing the other prisoners are equally astounding, making you feel the weight of their despair and claustrophobia in the confinement of the hellish, one-window bunker.

Especially impressive is Rowan Polonski’s Albert, who gets the film’s central arc. As he mourns the life with his wife that he passed up to fight in the war, he struggles to accept the inevitability of death and resist the temptation of suicide. It's a dark but layered portrayal of suffering that took me aback like nothing I've ever seen in a Christian film.

Keystone-France/Getty Images

As camp commandant Karl Fritzsch, the man who condemns the prisoners to death, Christopher Sherwood makes a chilling antagonist. But the more deadly foe is Satan himself. He never shows up, except for some artistic shots of a snake peppered throughout the third act, but his presence is tangible as the heroes grapple with despair. All of which makes Kolbe's admonition to “finish the race” (as seen in the movie's trailer) ring with such emotional power as they reject Satan and embrace the hard way out.

Trusting in God

Writer/director Anthony D'Ambrosio has created a deeply Catholic film. That D'Ambrosio himself struggled with anxiety and insomnia while bringing this story to life comes as no surprise; this is a movie that exudes the painful uncertainty that comes with trusting in God's plan.

"Triumph of the Heart" is also a triumph for Christian/Catholic cinema, a profoundly moving examination of the suffering that often accompanies the pursuit of holiness. I can only hope its example inspires other filmmakers to bring the full richness of the Christian faith to the big screen; the possibilities are endless. For now, go see "Triumph of the Heart." The hype is real.

Animator Tom Bancroft: From 'The Lion King' to the King of Kings

Tom Bancroft remembers the moment when the Disney magic began to wear off.

During his career at the studio, the veteran animator had helped create characters from some of Disney's biggest '90s hits: Mushu the dragon from “Mulan” and Simba from “The Lion King," to name a few. He was living every aspiring animator's dream.

'It hit me so strongly ... when kids pray from that point forward, this might be the Jesus they see in their heads.'

He also defended the company from critiques that it was indifferent or even hostile to Christianity, saying Disney simply stayed true to the story and followed it wherever it might go.

'Uncomfortable' truth

Then he worked on a 2000 short film called “John Henry,” a tale of U.S. slaves who endured the “peculiar institution.”

Faith, Bancroft tells Align, was “such an intrinsic part of that story,” something his storyboard animatics reflected. Disney brass disagreed.

“’This makes me feel uncomfortable,’” he recalls the president of animation saying at the time about its spiritual themes.

“It hit me like a ton of bricks," recalls Bancroft. "I didn’t see that coming. ... I’ve been telling everybody for years we were just staying true to the story ... we can have Mulan pray to her ancestors because that’s what they did in ancient China in that culture.”

“Now, we come to Christianity, and you’re not comfortable. It was the first time I said, ‘There’s another side to this story,’” he said.

“I didn’t know it then, but six months later, I [would leave] Disney ... I need[ed] to go use my talents and abilities for God more directly,” he says.

Seeing the 'Light'

Bancroft went on to work on the popular “Veggie Tales” franchise, as well as shows on the Christian Broadcasting Network. He's also written acclaimed books on animation, while co-hosting a popular animation podcast with his fellow animator — and twin brother — Tony.

Now, he’s brought his Disney skills to a 2D animated feature film that captures the life of Jesus Christ in a bold new way.

“Light of the World,” in theaters now, follows Christ’s story through the eyes of the youngest apostle, John (voiced by Benjamin Jacobson). That allows young viewers to experience Christ’s mission from a fresh, relatable perspective.

The film may not hail from the Mouse House’s iconic studio, but critics are praising both its sensitive storytelling and gorgeous animation. Bancroft was able to glean critical tips from the “nine old men,” the core Disney animators who helped bring the studio’s inimitable artistry to life.

“We get to put that emotion and that knowledge that we learned there [into the film] ... they were still passing down that wisdom to people like me and my brother [in the 1980s],” he says.

Finding Jesus

Bancroft played a role in bringing beloved Disney characters to life. Bringing Jesus to the big screen offered another, far more critical challenge.

“I honestly would wake up in the middle of the night ... it hit me so strongly ... when kids pray from that point forward, this might be the Jesus they see in their heads,” he says, adding his team created a Jesus figure with a skin tone darker than some previous screen incarnations.

The “Light of the World” Jesus posed another problem as a storyteller.

“Thematically, as a character in a film ... [Jesus] doesn’t really work. You want to have arcs to a character ... he’s going to question himself, he’s going to try, and he’s going to fail, and then he’s going to succeed later ... you don’t have that with Jesus,” he says. “Thankfully, we had that with John.”

Pixar/Disney

Bible stories on a budget

Working with Disney gave Bancroft access to money and resources that smaller, independent films can’t match.

“We had at least 10 at-bats ... we can miss a few times, maybe even nine times, and get it on the 10th at every level,” he says, meaning storyboard creation, vocal performances, and animation.

“I would do scenes over and over again until it was just right or just what the director wanted,” he says. “In an independent film, you have to get it right within the first one or two tries. You don’t get that many at-bats.”

The benefits, as he sees them, are considerable.

“You get to make the film you want to make,” he says, adding the film’s key financer, Matt McPherson, gave his team few guidelines beyond staying true to the Bible.

“I’ve never in 35 years had that freedom to make a movie,” he says. “We were off to the races and were loving every minute of it.”

Faith on the fast track

And he thinks more films like “Light of the World” are coming our way.

The faith-friendly genre has expanded in recent years, from “The Chosen” to 2024’s “Sound of Freedom.” Major streamers like Amazon Prime and Netflix have embraced spiritual stories, partly due to positive reactions from customers.

It’s show business, after all.

Another big difference, he says, is financial. Now, experienced storytellers who may have found themselves outside Hollywood’s creative bubble like Bancroft are getting back in the game on their terms.

“The money getting to the right people, honestly, has been the biggest difference. People don’t like to talk about that, but honestly, that’s how you make a change in Christian film,” he says.

Questions about Catholicism? There's a bot for that

AI is devouring everything, from brainpower and manpower to art and writing to therapy and intimacy. Little surprise that now it’s coming for religion — not just as a tool but as a substitute. In this brave new world of prompts and replies, faith might well become just another field for automation to ransack and repackage.

Magisterium AI is a chatbot ready to dispense Catholic answers at machine speed, trained on 27,000 Church documents. Clarity, consistency, and convenience, delivered without delay? What’s not to like?

The Church has long warned against idols. This one just happens to run on silicon.

But something essential disappears in the process. A religion sustained by ritual, mystery, and human encounter is now being reformatted into AI-generated responses. Some see it as innovation, but any truly faithful Christian should see it as reduction. You don’t deepen the soul by outsourcing it to a language model. You dilute it. You deform it.

Digital discernment

Magisterium AI is marketed as a bridge to the Church, but its architectural form avoids the sacred terrain of actual spiritual formation. It offers the comfort of instant answers, devoid of the discomfort that makes those answers matter. No long silences. No wrestling with doubt. No waiting for grace. Just neatly packaged responses dressed in ecclesial jargon. It tempts the user into embracing the illusion of understanding without the weight of discernment.

There’s a reason spiritual growth has always been slow. The methodical journey isn’t a bug; it’s the entire point. Silence teaches. So does uncertainty. So does struggling through Scripture with someone who’s carried the weight longer than you. What is efficient by the measure of this world is inadequate by those of the next. Magisterium AI points to a false path where tension dissolves into trivia and struggle gives way to search results.

This isn’t about resisting technology as a whole, but about recognizing the sharp limits of machines in matters of the soul. An algorithm can refer to documents, but it cannot know God. It cannot console, confront, or call you to conversion. It cannot listen with compassion, hold silence with you, or challenge your ego in ways that leave you undone. It can only simulate presence, and that simulation becomes dangerous when people mistake it for real guidance — or somehow an improvement on real guidance.

Church as help desk

When young Catholics grow up thinking their doubts can be resolved with a prompt, they’ll begin to treat faith like customer service: Get an answer, move on. But the Church is a body, not a help desk. It breathes through embodied tradition, contradiction, dialogue, and grace. Reduce all that to a robotic response, and the foundation crumbles.

Kevin Frayer/Getty Images

Something sacred vanishes when a priest is replaced with a query. Not because clergy are flawless (far from it), but because they’re flesh and blood. They carry the tradition in tone, gesture, imperfection. Witness, not lines of code, forms their counsel. They may not offer certainty, but they teach how to live with its absence.

Clarity without cost

Magisterium AI doesn’t stutter, pause, or search for words. And that’s precisely the danger. Clarity without cost breeds complacency. In this simulated world, you didn’t earn that insight. You didn’t knock, seek, or beg. You tapped, you clicked, and the program delivered. Catholicism — and Christ — has always asked for more. Church truths aren’t just concepts to recite but realities to absorb. They call for surrender of will, reshaping of heart, and direct contact with mystery.

What’s most troubling is how effortlessly tools like Magisterium AI begin to reshape our image of God, even with the very best of intentions, not through argument or doctrine, but through tone, rhythm, and imitation. Language models can mimic reverence and copy cadence. They might stitch together fragments of theology with stunning fluency. But they don’t believe, and they don’t kneel. They do not tremble before the mystery they claim to speak for.

And yet when they answer in the Church’s voice, people thirsty for spiritual life listen. They begin to confuse fluency with faith, output with orthodoxy. Doctrine so easily becomes branding and God a user-friendly construct: predictable, polite, press-ready.

Ghost in the confessional

The devastating result is a “version” of the divine that’s algorithmically accurate but spiritually vacant and without embodiment at the same time. The worst of both worlds, it’s a sanitized, systematized substitute, unable to inspire holy fear and awe. Instead, its strings of answers sound holy enough to pass but are dead enough to forget. What emerges is not the God of Scripture, who thunders from clouds and weeps in gardens, but a corporate construct, one through whom users understand that the only fearsome and awesome thing around is the machine itself.

Nor does Magisterium AI simply digitize theology. It rearranges discipleship too, shifting the aim from becoming holy to staying informed. It trades the long labor of sanctification for a dopamine stream of quick solutions.

The Church has long warned against idols. This one just happens to glow, have hallucinations, and run on silicon.

Chatbot communion

Spiritual risks this severe bleed swiftly into the culture at large. When the faithful stop sitting with Scripture, stop listening to sermons, and stop debating in basements and parish halls, instead isolating themselves and outsourcing their formation to AI, they lose the muscle memory of communion. The Church kneels before a platform. The body of Christ becomes just another content feed.

No, don’t panic. But do be warned: Magisterium AI may begin as a tool of convenience. But convenience rewires. It strips us of spiritual stamina. It dulls the rituals that once shaped the soul. And slowly, it replaces the relationships that once carried the gravity of grace.

The Church isn’t built on convenience. It’s built on sacred encounters between sinner and priest, reader and revelation, and suffering and meaning. Remove those, and you don’t just soften faith; you shatter it. Faith doesn’t need to be digitized. It needs to be lived, in pews and parish halls — in chapels and candlelit corners where no code can follow and no circuit can reach.

Sean Feucht exclusive: 'If God can do it in my country, He can do it Canada'

Pastor and contemporary Christian music performer Sean Feucht says his recent experience in Canada — being banned from public venues in six cities — is a sobering reminder of how different America could have been under a President Kamala Harris.

In an exclusive interview, Feucht praised religious freedom under President Trump, while expressing hope that Canada would soon find its own "deliverance:"

'There are dark spiritual forces at play. And I think a lot of people's eyes are being opened to that reality.'

“It was looking really dark in the Biden administration — attacks on churches, weaponizing the IRS, weaponizing the DOJ to go after pro-life activists," Feucht told me.

"Now, we're so grateful, because we have a president that is standing up in religious liberties, the right to worship, that does fear God."

"I just did a worship record inside of the White House," Feucht marveled.

"It gives me a lot of hope that if God can do it in my country, that He can do it in Canada as well. I’m praying that those days of deliverance would come soon to the ... frozen chosen in Canada.”

Feucht told me that his real wake-up call came at his July 25 concert. After a planned appearance in Quebec City was canceled, Feucht and his team managed to find a Spanish-language evangelical church willing to host them in Montreal. Over the objections of Montreal Mayor Valérie Plante — and the presence of police — the show went ahead. Now the Ministerios Restauración Church faces a $2,500 fine.

Feucht said police who arrived on the scene did little but intimidate his congregation, declining to react even when an Antifa protester threw a smoke bomb.

Despite the less-than-warm welcome from authorities, Feucht remains determined to bring his message to Canada.

Nothing shuts us down — not the weather, not Antifa, not mayors, not governors. When we say we’re going to come somewhere and worship, we’re going to do it. ... They just could not bear to see the fact that we were not going to be controlled.

Feucht told me that he drew much of his strength from the pastors and congregants who stood with him.

“In the face of enormous opposition, we saw fearlessness,” Feucht said.

“That is a picture of what God is doing all across Canada right now — He's raising up that remnant bride, that remnant strong body that's not going to be pushed around.”

Canadian media also did its part to oppose Feucht, repeatedly labeling him “MAGA-affiliated” or an agent of Donald Trump. Feucht calls that lazy journalism.

“They’re banking on the fact that people won't actually research and look at our tons of videos and recaps and ... podcasts — you could not assume ... that we come to Canada with a MAGA agenda,” he said. “It’s ridiculous.”

Anadolu/Getty Images

Feucht rose to prominence during the COVID lockdowns, when he launched "Let Us Worship" to push back against what he calls government overreach into churches.

Feucht called the anti-Christian attitude in Canada “demonic” and stood by that description during our interview, saying there were “dark spiritual forces” behind the political oppression.

“You can only say that it is spiritual, you know, that there are spiritual forces at work,” Feucht said, observing that it wasn’t just evangelicals or “churchgoing folks" who questioned the treatment he received while in Canada.

Why are you attacking … outdoor worship services, deeming them a public safety hazard and canceling all the permits and then allowing, essentially, Antifa to infiltrate a church and throw smoke bombs. I mean, it's just at the point where you begin to realize, man, there are dark spiritual forces at play. And I think a lot of people's eyes are being opened to that reality.

Feucht will return to Canada on Aug. 20 with a concert in Winnipeg, followed by shows in Saskatoon, Edmonton, and Abbotsford.

Edmonton’s event will be held on the steps of the Alberta provincial legislature at the invitation of Premier Danielle Smith. Abbotsford, despite its Bible Belt reputation, has denied him a public venue; he is petitioning that decision on his website.

“God will use things like this to expose,” Feucht said.

“It’s happening in the U.S., and in Canada, and around the world. As believers, we've got to pay attention, we've got to be like those who understand the times and the seasons in which we live."

Watch my interview with Sean Feucht here:

CBS tries using Christ against MAGA Christian — but it backfires big-time

The legacy media's double standard for Christian politicians was on full display last week.

Sen. Tim Scott (R-S.C.) is a lawmaker known for speaking openly about his Christian faith. Last week, he appeared on "CBS Mornings Plus" to promote his new book, "One Nation Always Under God: Profiles in Christian Courage." But instead of asking about the book, CBS News anchor Adriana Diaz chose to challenge the legitimacy of Scott's faith with a now-familiar line of attack.

The faith test becomes just another political weapon — one wielded not to clarify the truth but to embarrass political opponents.

"As a practicing Christian, how do you reconcile your support for President Trump when many people see his actions as lacking Christian values?" Diaz asked.

It's the same question we've heard repeatedly asked of Trump-supporting Christians, and, to his credit, Scott did not flinch.

But the question reveals something much bigger than Scott, Trump, or even the Republican Party. It exposes the media's asymmetrical "faith test" — one applied rigorously to Trump-supporting conservatives but never to Democrats.

Faith on trial

The question itself is a rhetorical sleight of hand. It implies that supporting Trump is inherently anti-Christian and that real Christianity is whatever Trump isn't. By that logic, Scott stands guilty until proven innocent.

But the problem isn't just the question. It's the blatant double standard.

If it's fair to interrogate Tim Scott on whether his support for President Trump squares with the teachings of Jesus, then surely it's fair game to press professing Christian Democrats on whether the policies and people they support align with Christian theology and ethics, right?

Except that almost never happens.

When was the last time a news anchor interrogated a Democrat — like former President Joe Biden, Rep. Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.), or Sen. Raphael Warnock (D-Ga.), for instance — on how the support for abortion comports with 2,000 years of unambiguous Christian teachings about protecting innocent life, especially of the unborn?

Has any Democrat, for that matter, been grilled on whether endorsing the LGBTQ agenda — including radical trans procedures for children — is consistent with biblical ethics?

If such questions have been asked of Democrats, they've gone unnoticed, which is telling because these aren't minor theological quibbles. They're fundamental biblical issues, and Christianity has been clear-eyed about them for thousands of years.

Tested, then twisted

Diaz's question reveals an underlying assumption: that Christianity naturally aligns with progressive politics.

That's why journalists feel compelled to question Trump-supporting Christians about the congruency of their politics and theology, but never think to challenge a Democrat for supporting policies that clearly contradict Christian orthodoxy and biblical teaching. It's because they don't recognize or perceive the obvious inconsistency.

This double standard is as dangerous as it is subversive.

It redefines Christianity in the public imagination, not as an ancient faith with its own transcendent moral authority, but as a soft and therapeutic set of values (i.e., tolerance, inclusion, "compassion"), conveniently shaped to match the political priorities of the left.

The media isn't actually interested in theological nuance or serious conversations about faith and politics. Their agenda is clear: to police the boundaries of acceptable public religion.

And in their eyes, supporting Trump is a grave sin.

If journalists truly believe that public officials should be held accountable to the moral standards of their faith, that's fine. But that standard must be applied equally. You can't grill Republicans for supporting Trump but never interrogate Democrats championing abortion, the LGBTQ agenda, and the destruction of the traditional family.

Otherwise, the "faith test" becomes just another political weapon — one wielded not to clarify the truth but to embarrass political opponents who dissent from the liberal consensus.

Sacred spin shattered

If the press were honest and intellectually serious, they would apply the faith test fairly.

It would look something like this:

Mr. Biden, as a Catholic, how do you reconcile Roman Catholic teaching on the sanctity of life with your support for abortion?
Mrs. Pelosi, how does your Christian faith inform your views on marriage and family policy?
Mr. Warnock, how do you interpret biblical passages on protecting vulnerable life in light of your support for abortion and the trans agenda?

These aren't "gotcha" questions. They're parallel to what Scott faced last week — only aimed in the other direction. And if politicians can't answer these questions without spin and deflection, that would tell us something important.

Scott handled himself with grace and focus. But Trump-supporting Republicans shouldn't be the only side forced to reconcile their faith and politics on the public stage. If the media wants to play referee on Christian consistency, they need to enforce the rules on both sides.

Fairness — and honesty — demands equal scrutiny.

Anything less is not journalism. It's partisanship dressed up as moral concern, and it's why Americans no longer trust the mainstream press.

Diaz tried to weaponize Christ against Scott and MAGA Christians. But the shot backfired, exposing yet another double standard in the media.

Mel Gibson has been fighting this fight longer than you think

Everyone knows who Mel Gibson is. He’s an absolute dynamo and a giant of the cinema industry. But if you ask me, he's still deeply underrated, underestimated, and underappreciated.

Gibson's always felt cut from a different cloth and a bit separated from the rest of Hollywood and celebrity culture. Yes, he’s a mega-celebrity. But even still, you can tell his mind has always operated on a completely different level than most of his peers.

Gibson was defending a worldview, alone, in the middle of a media machine that existed solely to discredit him.

He's always been direct and clear about his religious belief. He's not pretending to be some gnostic “Christ consciousness” guru like a Russell Brand or a Jim Carrey would. He's a firm and open believer in the Trinitarian God of the Christian faith. It’s not a side note with him. It’s foundational.

A lifelong 'Passion'

Everyone knows he funded and directed "The Passion of the Christ" with his own money. But what people don’t always pick up on is that his faith doesn’t just show up in his subject matter. It informs his whole understanding of history and of humanity’s destiny.

This includes questions about the nature of God, questions about the nature of our universe, about where we come from, where we’ve been, and where we're going.

Everything is contained within the gospel of Jesus Christ. And Gibson tackles every subject matter from that foundation.

That’s what sets him apart. Mel Gibson isn’t just a guy who makes movies. He’s a man trying to wake people up. And the way he does it is by bringing the historical past roaring back into the present.

Truth in history

Think about it: "Braveheart" is about the Catholic Scottish struggle against the British crown. "Apocalypto" is a raw and brutal depiction of Mayan pagan savagery and ends with the moment Catholic Spanish ships arrive. "Hacksaw Ridge" tells the story of a Christian soldier in WWII whose unshakable faith ends up restoring the courage of the broken men around him.

All of these films are built on the same foundation: The truth contained within history is more powerful than fiction.

That resonates with me deeply as an apostolic Christian. And I think it explains why the powers that be in Hollywood have targeted Gibson so aggressively over the years. He’s not just a threat because of his beliefs. He’s a threat because he’s effective.

He makes powerful, unforgettable art with spiritual conviction. And he’s been doing it since long before the rest of us even realized what kind of cultural war we were in.

The burden of being first

I respect him immensely for that. I “woke up,” so to speak, around 2015 or 2016, around the time of the first Trump campaign. But this man has been “awake” for decades. He’s been carrying burdens we didn’t even know existed.

And when you go back and watch old interviews, like the one he gave Diane Sawyer after the release of "The Passion," you start to realize how outnumbered and outgunned he really was.

In that interview alone, Gibson was relentlessly henpecked by Sawyer for completely innocuous things like the claim that God helped him make the movie or for cinematically depicting the “radical” gospel narrative that the Pharisees brought Jesus to Pontius Pilate to be executed.

At one point, Sawyer even calls into question the validity of the gospel itself, saying that historians often argue the Gospels were written a century after they took place. She laid this at Gibson’s feet, as if to say he was wrong and even (as she eventually says) anti-Semitic for making a film about the most widely spread and historically influential religion in human history.

Against the media machine

It’s obvious that he wasn’t just defending a film. He was forced to defend himself, solely because he was so good at bringing the most important narrative in human history to life in a painstakingly realistic and historically accurate fashion. He was defending a worldview, alone, in the middle of a media machine that existed solely to discredit him.

And this was all before smartphones, before YouTube, before Twitter, back when legacy media controlled the entire narrative and could destroy you with the click of a headline. The media painted him as crazy because it couldn’t risk anyone taking him seriously. It had to make an example of him.

But now? The world has changed. And on some level, we’ve gone through what he has, too. Anyone who was on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram during the COVID and Biden eras saw their ideas censored, shadow banned, mocked, and silenced.

We’ve learned firsthand how the system works. And we’re starting to realize that maybe a guy like Mel Gibson wasn’t insane at all. Maybe he was just early.

And now, once again, he’s ahead of the curve.

Trump's Hollywood ambassador

As the media world fractures and Hollywood continues its slow implosion, Mel Gibson is stepping into a new role as Trump’s official Hollywood ambassador.

What does that mean? It means he’s leading the charge in building a new entertainment world. One that doesn’t run through Los Angeles, corporate studios, or globalist gatekeepers. One that’s not rooted in mindless CGI, gender ideology, or committee-approved scripts, but in real stories that actually push artistic boundaries.

The big development he’s involved in right now is the proposed U.S.-Italy co-production treaty. Expected to be signed at this year’s Venice Film Festival, this deal would make it easier for American and Italian filmmakers to collaborate, meaning joint financing, easier logistics, shared tax incentives, and streamlined distribution across both countries. It’s being backed by Trump and spearheaded on the ground by people like Mel Gibson and Italian film producer Andrea Iervolino.

But again, this isn’t just a business move. It’s a cultural reset. A spiritual realignment of what kind of stories we tell and where they come from.

You might not realize it, but we’re entering a new era. And the clearest sign of it is the content itself.

Just look at "The Leopard," a new Netflix series based on the classic Italian novel by Giuseppe di Lampedusa. It’s a tale about the tragic disintegration of aristocracy in Italian society during the Italian unification of 1861. It’s not woke. It’s not postmodern garbage. It’s a return to historical memory. It tells a story about something that actually matters, something that actually happened and that actually shaped the world we currently live in.

The production and distribution of a show like this is an indication of where the cultural landscape is trending.

And that’s exactly the kind of trend Mel Gibson has always been ahead of.

He’s not chasing fantasy or modern social narratives.

He’s saying: Look to the past.

Look to the martyrs. Look to the saints. Look to the bloodlines and the battles that shaped civilization. That’s where the real stories are. And now, slowly, the industry is starting to catch on.

Gibson isn’t waiting. He’s moving fast. Right after the treaty gets signed, he’s jumping into production on "The Resurrection," the long-awaited sequel to "The Passion of the Christ," filmed entirely in Italy.

He’s also producing a series on the Siege of Malta, one of the most overlooked and epic moments in Western history. These aren’t vanity projects. They’re cultural weapons that are meant to break the spell of modernity.

Roadblocks ahead

There are some roadblocks. The biggest one is EU competition law. Because Italy is part of the EU, it technically can’t strike up an exclusive partnership with America without Brussels stepping in. The EU has rules against giving unfair advantages to individual countries. And if this deal is seen as bypassing France, Germany, or other major players, it could be blocked or slowed down.

But there are ways around it.

The “cultural exception” clause is a legal doctrine used within EU law that allows member states to restrict free trade in order to protect and promote cultural goods, particularly in film, broadcasting, and publishing. France has famously used this to restrict the influx of Hollywood films, arguing that cinema is not just a commercial good but a vehicle of national identity and cultural heritage.

Italy could invoke this same clause if it were to partner with Mel Gibson to co-finance or co-distribute his upcoming historical epics (including "The Resurrection" and "The Siege of Malta") through the framework of an Italian production company. This would grant the project partial European identity, potentially shielding it from EU anti-monopoly measures or accusations of unfair American dominance in the cultural market.

But this may be an uphill battle.

While the EU talks a big game about cultural diversity, in practice, France and Germany dominate cultural policy, and they often use EU institutions to serve their national interests. Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni, despite growing support across parts of Europe, is not trusted by France or Germany. In fact, Macron has reportedly snubbed her from prior engagements involving the U.S. president, presumably fearing she’d strengthen Italy’s bilateral ties with the U.S. outside of the EU framework.

Europe's cultural future

This is a key geopolitical tension. Many southern and eastern EU nations (Italy, Spain, Hungary, Poland) secretly miss the U.K.’s presence in Brussels, not because of ideological alignment, but because Britain was a balancing force against Franco-German hegemony. With Brexit, that counterweight vanished, and now France and Germany rule.

So if Meloni wants to collaborate with Mel Gibson and Trump on a “Hollywood-Vatican axis” of cultural production, it won’t just be about entertainment. It will be a political fight over who controls Europe’s cultural future.

Here’s where the story gets even richer. Mel Gibson, despite being the Hollywood icon that he is, is deeply distrusted by the American liberal elite and European establishment alike. His unapologetically Christian worldview, his reverence for history (especially Christian history), and his refusal to bend the knee to modern progressive orthodoxy make him an absolute nightmare to Brussels cultural bureaucrats.

In other words, Gibson isn’t just trying to tell a story. They believe he’s trying to transform the cultural narrative itself. And isn’t that precisely what they’ve always come after him for, going all the way back to "The Passion"?

They've been dragging the man's name through the mud for years, and they might be doing some more of that in the coming years. But he’s never quit. And now, he’s leading the charge into something new, or rather, something old that’s simply resurfacing.

If Gibson is successful in harnessing the power of this cultural trend, if faith, history, and truth return to the screen in a serious way, if a new golden age of entertainment is restored, then we’ll look back at his entire journey and body of work one day and realize that he was never wrong. He was never crazy. He was just early.