Letter from the Editors: The breadth of religion at DePaul
DePaul University describes itself as an inclusive, multifaith and Catholic institution.
Rather than centering on religious doctrine, its identity is rooted in the values of St. Vincent de Paul — values like service, human dignity and community.
Unlike many Catholic universities, DePaul takes a distinctive approach: there are no crucifixes in classrooms, no mandatory Mass and religious coursework is limited to a “religious dimensions” requirement, which can span a range of belief systems and ethical frameworks.
As the largest Catholic university in the country, DePaul offers a unique lens
through which to examine how faith is expressed, encountered and questioned in a diverse academic setting. This issue explores what religion looks like on campus today — and what it means for a Catholic institution to evolve with its student body.
In news, we examine how Chicago’s archbishop is responding to the political climate of a second Trump administration, particularly through efforts to protect migrants. We also look at ongoing concerns about the campus climate for Jewish students: What does safety and belonging look like in a time of rising tensions?
In opinions, students share how religion has shaped — or complicated —
their lives. From the value of faith-based community to the mental strain of Lenten tradition, these stories reflect the range of perspectives within DePaul’s broader conversation on belief.
By examining the breadth of religion at DePaul, we aim to understand better how students relate to a Catholic institution — and how that relationship continues to change. The DePaulia once went by the slogan a “Catholic Student Newspaper,” but now we hope to share faith based experiences that are as varied as DePaul’s student body.
BOSMIYA
REDES SOCIALES | LAURA VÁZQUEZ DAVID
EDITORA DE NOTICIAS | SOFIA JOSEPH
ASESORA | Laura Rodriguez Presa larodriguez@chicagotribune.com
The DePaulia is the official student-run newspaper of DePaul University and may not necessarily reflect the views of college administrators, faculty or staff.
DePaul's 'Faith Unfiltered' event explores the intersection of faith, literature and personal belief with professor Paula McQuade
By K aridja Monjolo Contributing Writer
Paula McQuade, an English Renaissance literature and early modern women writers professor at DePaul, spoke candidly about her own faith journey, addressing questions of doubt, resilience and the role of spirituality in everyday life at “Faith Unfiltered: Why I Still Believe in God,” an event hosted by DePaul University Catholic Ministry on April 15.
McQuade’s story resonated with the audience, underscoring the tension between the beauty of faith and the difficult questions that arise in times of personal loss. McQuade explained how, for her, these moments of doubt were not signs of weakness, but of growth. They prompted her to revisit and reaffirm the core aspects of her faith, grounding her beliefs in something deeper than simply tradition.
“Faith Unfiltered” is part of an ongoing series at DePaul aimed at fostering open dialogue around religion and spirituality. The event was held on campus and invited students and faculty to engage with personal stories of belief in a space free from judgment or pressure.
In addition to sharing personal reflections, McQuade incorporated insights from her academic expertise, drawing connections between her faith and the works of iconic writers such as Shakespeare and Milton. These early authors often dealt with themes of divine justice, the struggle with doubt and the search for redemption, topics that deeply resonate with McQuade's own spiritual journey.
These literary influences provided a rich backdrop for McQuade’s reflections on the intersection of faith, literature and the ongoing search for meaning in the modern world.
“It’s good to have conversations like this because some students aren’t always having deep conversations like this,” Michelle Province, student assistant at the Catholic studies department said. "It's great because some people might not know too much about God so events like this really give people perspective.”
Throughout the evening, McQuade shared personal reflections on the complexities of maintaining faith, particularly in moments of hardship. She discussed the way in which she maintained her faith through moments of hardship emphasizing that questioning can of-
ten strengthen, rather than weaken, faith.
“While I’d love for people to become believers, that’s not really what this is, I’d just like to give students a place to have these conversations,” McQuade said.
McQuade spoke about how experiences of doubt and hardship have influenced her faith, explaining that even during painful and uncertain times, asking difficult questions helped her form a deeper connection to her beliefs. She specifically remembered a moment when her mother, while in hospice care, turned to her and asked what happens after death, seeking reassurance and understanding.
“That moment — it was terrifying, … and somehow, I answered. I don’t know how I did it, but I said, ‘No, Mom. There is something.’ And then I quoted Paul: ‘For now, we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully,” McQuade said.
As the evening drew to a close, attendees were invited to reflect on their own beliefs and engage in discussions about the role of faith in their lives. “Faith Unfiltered: Why I Still Believe in God” provided an opportunity to discuss spirituality
I’m not sure if I still believe in God, but I think talking and having discussions like this will help me strengthen my faith,”
Khushi Agrawal DePaul junior
in a modern context, encouraging everyone to embrace their doubts, reflect on their experiences, and find strength in their journey of faith.
“I’m not sure if I still believe in God, but I think talking and having discussions like this will help me strengthen my faith,” DePaul junior Khushi Agrawal , who attended the event, said.
AUBREONA CHAMBERLAIN | THE DEPAULIA
Paula McQuade sits back after presenting “Faith Unfiltered: Why I Still Believe in God” on Tuesday, April 15, 2025, in the Levan Center. McQuade is a professor in DePaul’s English and Catholic studies departments.
Do Jewish students feel safe at DePaul, one year following the divestment encampment?
By lucia Preziosi Editor-in-Chief
Jewish students at DePaul, divided between Zionist and anti-Zionist beliefs, say they have both experienced antisemitism on DePaul’s campus, but in different ways.
The Anti-Defamation League (ADL), a Pro-Israel antihate organization created to combat antisemitism, extremism and bigotry, also has given DePaul an “F” grade on its campus antisemitism report card.
DePaul’s rating comes in the light of the approaching first anniversary of the protest encampment along with the recent attack of two Jewish students on campus which has been classified as a hate crime by the Chicago Police Department. The two victims, Max Long and Michael Kaminsky have filed a lawsuit against DePaul, and an alleged perpetrator of the attack has been arrested and charged.
The organization alleges that DePaul is at high concern for increased antisemitic and anti-Zionist incidents on campus. In comparison, Ivy League schools that have been in the spotlight under the Trump administration for various reasons, such as Harvard, have received a “C”’ grade on their report card; with University of Chicago and Columbia University receiving a “D.”
Craig Klugman, DePaul professor of bioethics and health humanities, serves as the faculty advisor for DePaul’s Students in Support of Israel chapter and is one of the founding members of the university’s Jewish Faculty Staff Alliance.
Klugman has committed 12 years teaching to DePaul. In the first 10 years of teaching, he said he “didn’t notice a lot (of antisemitism),” and what he did see, he believed “stemmed from ignorance.”
He described not getting time off for important holy holidays, which was met with a “lack of understanding and empathy” on part of the university community.
But after October 7, 2023, Klugman identified a “definite shift on campus.”
Klugman described being followed on the Quad, being threatened through anti-Zionist chants by fellow colleagues participating in the encampment and seeing Jewish students being “doxxed, yelled at” and given death threats.
“It changed. It became threatening,” Klugman said.
Owen Howard, biology graduate student and one of the founding members of Jews4Justice (J4J), identified specific encounters he’s had with antisemitism on campus.
Howard characterized J4J as an organization that allows Jewish students “to have a space that is very strictly anti-Zionist … and provide community for each other.”
Howard said he experienced professors handing out readings which described “Jews and Muslim as being demonic.” Another professor taught about cultural Marxism, which is “an antisemitic conspiracy theory that says that Jews are subverted to Western culture,” Howard said. Howard was also singled out in a study abroad group because of his Jewish identity, where he recalled being pointed at and met with comments like “look, there’s the Jew.”
Teddie Waxler, a sophomore and DePaul Hillel student president, is calling upon DePaul and the Chicago Police
to “do more to protect the campus.”
“We are disappointed by the ADL’s assessment,” DePaul said in a statement.
“At DePaul University, we condemn antisemitism in all its forms and will continue to stand firm in doing so, in line with our values.” DePaul continues to urge students to visit their “Confronting Antisemitism” page.
“DePaul is working with partners within the Jewish community to take stock and make improvements to our campus climate,” university communications continued in a statement to The DePaulia.
“No student should be beat up on campus property, for any reason,” Waxler said, referring to the assault of Long and Kaminski.
Waxler saw a similar shift as Klugman after Oct. 7 and the encampment that followed in the spring. For Waxler, the encampment was a time of isolation, fear and loneliness. She described late nights living in the dorms and “hearing chants until one or two in the morning … telling me to go back to Poland … or
for the erasure of all Jews.”
Waxler boiled down her freshman year to be “honestly a nightmare,” where she felt like she was personally attacked.
For Waxler, her Zionism is a large part of her Jewish identity. Klugman believes that “Israel is our spiritual homeland.”
For other Jewish DePaul students, the intersection between being Zionist and being Jewish poses as a more difficult crossroads when analyzing their Jewish identity and comfortability on campus.
In six years at DePaul, Howard, the J4J president, was eager to join Jewish life on campus, and became a member of DePaul Hillel.
But after member Ethan Schatz was removed by Metro Hillel Chicago from his board position in 2023, Schatz, along with Howard and senior Ezra Adamski founded J4J. Following the “intensification of violence in Palestine in 2023,” the founders felt motivated to form an anti-Zionist group.
Howard said the organization aims
ROSE O'KEEFFE | THE DEPAULIA
File- CPD separates counter-protestors from DePaul’s Quad, on May 5, 2024. Pro-Israel protestors gathered outside the Quad during the encampment.
I don’t wear a kippah everyday, but when I do, I’ve had people point at me and scream, ‘free Israel.’”
Owen Howard Founder, Jews4Justice
to counter the narrative that “every Jew is a Zionist.”
While Adamski and Howard say they’ve found community in J4J, Klugman and Waxler have also found solace in their respective Jewish life organizations.
“(Hillel and Chabad) were the ones that were there for us every single day, being a shoulder to cry on, or providing us meals because it was too hard for us to think about going to the dining hall,” Waxler said.
Pew Research found that “eight-inten U.S. Jews say caring about Israel is
an essential or important part of what being Jewish means to them,” in their May 2021 study. Klugman identified those protesting against Israel in the spring to be a “small number.”
But Adamski said Zionism is what contributes to his feelings about Jewish student safety on campus.
“I will say that the most antisemitism I’ve personally experienced is from Zionist students,” Adamski said. “I don’t wear a kippah everyday, but when I do, I’ve had people point at me and scream, ‘Free Israel.’”
Howard added he has been stalked and harassed because of his anti-Zionist beliefs.
“Targeting a Jewish organization because they don’t support Israel, that’s antisemitism,” Howard said.
During the encampment, which caused both Klugman and Waxler to fear for their safety, Howard described the environment to be taking an “nonaggressive kind of statement,” where students of many identities, including Jewish students, participated.
The crisis in Gaza has become a personal one for Howard. He said he speaks to his friends in Gaza daily, sometimes waking up to messages “being like my little brother got hit in the face with shrapnel, my mom has a thyroid condition and she can’t survive it.”
“I think any conversation about Jew-
File- Chicago Police talk to each other while they hold the line
ment and counterprotestors on Sunday, May 5,
their support.
ish safety should be relative to the genocide in Gaza. This is all relative to actual suffering,” Howard said.
The death toll in Gaza has risen above 50,000 as violence continues. Over 1,700 Israeli and foreign nationals have been killed in attacks in or originating from Gaza, according to the latest report from December.
As the debate over Zionism and Judaism continues on DePaul’s campus
and the humanitarian crisis in Gaza continues to intensify, Jewish community members have faced antisemitism and threats to safety from multiple facets.
“I am so impressed with the Jewish students at DePaul,” Klugman said. “They stand up. They speak. They gather.”
JEREMY BATTLE | THE DEPAULIA
between DePaul University’s encamp-
2024. Lincoln Park community members also showed
‘A nation of immigrants’: Cardinal Cupich challenges Trump-era deportations
By rose o'K eeffe Content Managing Editor
Matthew 25:40 instructs: “Whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.”
According to this verse, it is not how powerful you are or what you believe that guarantees salvation. Rather, the Kingdom of Heaven is unlocked through how you treat people, especially those most in need.
Cardinal Blase Cupich, the Archbishop of Chicago and member of the College of Cardinals in Rome, said he employs similar values of justice and mercy when confronting U.S. immigration policy.
Cupich is prominent among U.S. Catholic leaders speaking out about immigration issues in the context of the second Trump administration. On January 19, just a day before Trump was inaugurated, Cupich made a statement at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church in Mexico City defending immigrant rights.
“If the indiscriminate mass deportation being reported were to be carried out,” Cupich announced to the congregation, “This would be an affront to the dignity of all people and communities, and deny the legacy of what it means to be an American.”
Nearly 100 days after Cupich expressed this sentiment, the Trump administration said they have deported nearly 100,000 people, though immigration data has been harder to track since Trump took office.
Now, the White House and Justice Department are defying a 9-0 supreme court order to return Salvadoran immigrant Kilmar Abrego Garcia to the U.S. after wrongfully deporting him to a notoriously dangerous prison in El Salvador.
Cupich told The DePaulia, if he had a face-to-face meeting with Trump and border czar Tom Homan, he would remind them that America is a nation of immigrants who are not to blame for the nation’s “broken immigration system
that elected officials have ignored fixing for generations.”
“A large share of the undocumented are contributing to the economy of our country taking on jobs that others refuse to take,” he continued. “It is a violation of human dignity to use disparaging language when describing undocumented immigrants, which every American who recites the pledge of allegiance should condemn.”
Though Cupich is unafraid to proclaim the disconnect between Trump’s immigration policies and Catholic ethics, DePaul professor of Catholic studies William Cavanaugh wishes the church at large would be more vocal about immigration as a key life issue.
The Catholic Church is officially nonpartisan, but Cavanaugh said there’s an inevitable overlap between a “moral principle and a political stance.”
“The Church doesn't always succeed in avoiding the appearance of partisanism,” according to Cavanaugh.
He said this is reflected in the way U.S. bishops show varying passion related to different life issues.
“I think (American bishops) could be a lot more vocal about what's going on under the second Trump administration, that they could be more vocal about the treatment of immigrants and the erosion of democratic norms,” Cavanaugh said.
During the Obama administration, the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops actively opposed a provision in the Affordable Care Act that covered birth control.
“They're capable of making a lot of noise, and I wish they would make more noise now, " Cavanaugh said. “It seems like the stakes now are much higher than they were over this issue of contraceptive coverage under Obamacare.”
But clergy and church hierarchy is not necessarily reflective of the whole Catholic Church, Cavanaugh added. Cupich points to Catholic social teaching as the basis of how the church officially stands on immigration.
Catholic social teaching (CST) is a guiding principle of the Catholic faith that informs the Church’s commitment to social justice and “life” issues.
“CST is rooted in the principles of the advancement of the common good, the respect for and defense of human dignity and the promotion of integral human development,” Cupich told The DePaulia.
He said the Catholic Church acknowledges nations’ rights to regulate their borders, but insisted this should not give politicians free reign to act against human dignity.
“Economic, political and social decisions should not be decided out of shortsighted self-interest, but with regard for the common good,” Cupich said. “Thus, nations in keeping with Catholic social teaching are called to regulate their borders with justice and mercy.”
While nations carry this responsibility on a broad scale, local organizations like the Migrant Ministry of the Catholic Community of Oak Park are also delivering on God’s call to treat all with justice, mercy and care.
This ministry, led by Margie Rudnik, Celine Woznica and a team of volunteers, provides food, clothing and showers for the migrant community in Chicago.
“The migrants we serve are amazingly resilient, creative, innovative and focused,” Woznica said. “They get things done. They make things work.”
The bedrock of Catholic social teaching, as practiced by organizations like the migrant ministry, is the dignity
of all people.
Karina Chavez, DePaul junior psychology major and member of DePaul Catholic Campus Ministry, can speak to the need for dignity and compassion as a first-generation college student. Her parents immigrated from Mexico.
“It really, truly was for a better life,” she said.
Chavez takes great comfort in her faith, saying she prays about how to navigate America’s fraught political climate.
She often turns to Leviticus 19:34 to ground her prayer: "You shall treat the stranger who resides with you no differently than the natives born among you, have the same love for him as for yourself,” it reads.
“The verse has always been really close with me, especially in terms of emphasizing the need for compassion and justice for all humans,” Chavez said.
Cavanaugh, the Catholic studies professor, indicated a strong tradition of compassion for migrants in the Bible. He said Vice President J.D. Vance — a recent convert to Catholicism — would do right to “read the Bible.”
“Abraham is a migrant.” Cavanaigh said. “Jesus and his family are refugees from Herod and go to Egypt. They take Jesus to Egypt as a baby to kind of get away from political oppression and violence.”
Pope Francis admonished Vance as a Catholic and the Trump administration over its immigration policies that he said damage human dignity.
Despite ongoing affronts to what Catholics believe is inherent, God-given dignity of all people, Cupich expressed optimism.
“I have faith in the American people to remain true to the ideals on which this nation is founded — and that the truth always wins out,” Cupich said.
AMANDA STEVENSON | THE DEPAULIA
Cardinal Blase Cupich discusses Catholic Social Teaching values at Holy Name Cathedral on Monday, April 14, 2025. Cupich has been archbishop of Chicago since 2014.
How a season of fasting turned into a lifestyle of restriction
By rose o'K eeffe Content Managing Editor
I did ballet my whole childhood. I was used to wearing leotards, staring at myself in towering 7-foot mirrors, comparing myself to other girls, striving for perfection. But I could always eat. Ballet was my passion, not my psychological downfall. Believe it or not, it was the lead-up to the Passion of Christ that did me in. That’s right, my eating disorder started one fateful Lent about six years ago.
If you’re unfamiliar, Lent is a 40-day season of fasting, prayer and almsgiving celebrated in the lead-up to Easter, or what Christians believe to be the Resurrection of Christ. It’s customary for observers of Lent to give something up to be one with Jesus’ suffering. Often children are encouraged to give up sweets, some adults opt to forgo swearing and others choose to give up their morning coffee.
My freshman year of high school in 2019, my mom announced that she and my dad were going to give up “carbs.” It sounds pathetic thinking about it now, but at the time I was enticed. Perhaps I could lead a healthier life, maybe lose a few pounds. Little did I know what this seemingly harmless form of “religious” fasting would trigger.
I soon restricted myself to lunches consisting of a few cherry tomatoes,
perhaps a carrot or two. Oh, maybe some almonds! I was so exhausted and so irritable, but I couldn’t stop. As I physically got smaller, so did the world around me. I started isolating myself for fear of going out to eat. The only people I really ate around were my parents, so they wouldn’t catch on that anything was amiss.
certainly no son of God. It was for me. But after a while, it was outside of me. It was my mind, my illness telling me what to do, what to eat, how many sit-ups to do, how much I should eat before “excusing myself” to get rid of it.
There is limited research regarding a specific link between religious fasts and
"The fact was, this restriction was not in the name of Jesus. I was not trying to be in solidarity with anyone living or dead, certainly no son of God. It was for me. But after a while, it was outside of me."
disordered eating.
Though I was eating less, my mind was consumed with food. I did not think about God or about this so-called sacrifice I was making. I thought about the food I couldn’t have, I thought about my body, I thought about my sick desire to lose just a few more pounds. Not for God, not for me. No, this desire was so deep within me, it felt like it was outside of me.
I felt so alone. So frail. So tired.
The fact was, this restriction was not in the name of Jesus. I was not trying to be in solidarity with anyone living or dead,
However, the Journal of Eating Disorders conducted a 2022 study examining the “interconnectedness of religiosity and gender” on disordered eating patterns.
“Religious participants who indicated changing their eating habits for religious purposes experienced greater disordered eating and appearance-related pressures than theists who reported no change in their diet and non-religious respondents,” the study concluded.
Speaking from experience, it can be a very natural progression from simple
fasting and restriction to long-lasting, dangerous lifestyle changes.
According to the National Eating Disorder Association, 62.3% of teenage girls and 28.8% of teenage boys report trying to lose weight and 58.6% of girls and 28.2% of boys are actively dieting.
In my case, it was the dedicated fasting and restriction that spurred me to feel the need to lose more and more weight. It was intoxicating. Addicting. Consuming.
But the thing is, in retrospect, I don’t think I would even classify my Lenten fast as a religious devotion. Yes, I believe in God and was raised Catholic. Yes, I respect all forms of religious fast and admire the selfless devotion religious fasts require. But I think my fast too quickly turned into a disorder. Something not even God could help me reconnect with.
Nevertheless, it seems God — or perhaps organized religion — planted the mustard seed of my eating disorder.
Maybe the neverending mind games are just my cross to bear. The restriction, binges and body dysmorphia are my father, son and holy ghost.
At least I am no longer an unholy ghost, a mere shadow of myself, no matter how much the sick part of my brain still longs to be. I guess you could say I rose from the dead.
VANDANA RAM | THE DEPAULIA
What my grandparents’ church taught me about community
By ja K e cox Digital Managing Editor
Since I was a little kid, on Easter, Christmas, for funerals and the occasional random Sunday, my family would pile into the car and head to my grandparents’ church. The small sanctuary, tucked into a corner of the University of Illinois campus, takes me back to simpler days — sitting in pews, drinking hot chocolate with my cousins, trying not to doze off during the sermon. I can’t step into an old church building without being reminded of the smell — some blend of mildew and fresh coffee — warm and inviting, more nostalgic than words can describe.
It took me years to understand what this congregation truly was to my family: an anchor. The other parishioners weren’t just fellow churchgoers — they were like aunts and uncles to my mom and her sisters. I’d see them at family parties or just around town, their presence so familiar I never thought to question it.
I won’t rattle off every hard thing my family has endured, but through it all — the grief, the sickness, the stress — there was my grandparents’ church family. They showed up with meals, with prayers, with quiet, unwavering care. This is community in its purest form — what I believe is the antidote to the toxic individualism unraveling our social fabric. No man is an island, and he shouldn’t have to be.
When my grandfather died, I didn’t expect to feel so much reverence — not just
for him, but for the community that had formed around him and my grandmother over the last forty years. Before that, maybe because of the naïveté of adolescence, I didn’t understand the depth of that kind of bond. But in a world of fraying safety nets and shrinking public space, this kind of connection isn’t a luxury — it’s a necessity.
"My
grandparents — and now my grandma — are some of the most well-supported people I know. And it’s not just because they went to church; it’s because they belonged to one"
My grandparents — and now my grandma — are some of the most well-supported people I know. And it’s not just because they went to church; it’s because they belonged to one. They served on committees, baked casseroles, showed up week after week. I’ve seen churches where faith feels hollow — where the rhetoric is righteous but the actions are absent. All talk, none of the teachings Jesus actually lived.
Howard Thurman, a theologian who deeply influenced Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., warned of this dissonance in his 1949 book “Jesus and the Disinherited.”
“It cannot be denied that too often the weight of the Christian movement has been on the side of the strong and the powerful
and against the weak and oppressed — this, despite the gospel,” Thurman writes. What I saw in that small sanctuary, though, was something closer to the gospel in action.
While I wasn’t raised Catholic, I somehow ended up at the largest Catholic university in the country. When I arrived at DePaul, I recognized a familiar spirit in the way Mission and Ministry, the university division tasked with DePaul’s interfaith identity, operates — rooted in faith, yes, but focused more on action and care than on proselytizing. The Vincentian creeds might sound corny to students who’ve heard them repeated or repurposed a hundred times, but I’ll say them again: What are you doing for justice? What must be done? They’re the questions I try to ask myself every day I
walk onto campus.
I doubt those questions would have resonated so deeply with me if I hadn’t grown up in a church culture that valued action — one that believed showing up for your community was the highest calling. And while it’s undeniable that religion has caused real harm to many, I also believe it can offer a path back to a more empathetic, community-minded culture. You won’t get along with every member of your congregation — and that’s the point. Church shouldn’t be monolithic. Your pastoral family should reflect the messy, diverse community we’re all trying to build. What matters is this: when the time comes, you show up for each other. No questions asked.
PROVIDED BY JAKE COX
Jake Cox’s great-grandfather, great-aunt and uncles, and grandmother (second from left) gather at First Mennonite Church of Urbana on Dec. 1, 2013. His family has attended the church for more than 40 years.
PRECIOSA RIOS | THE DEPAULIA
Your faith is valid with or without religion
By sana H ajida Mji Opinion Beat Writer
When asked if I’m religious, I struggle to answer. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. Growing up, I was constantly involved with my religious community. I attended religious classes, prayed with my community every Friday and celebrated every holiday. It wasn’t just about religion; this community was and still is a part of my identity.
I identify as a Shia Ismaili Muslim and I believe in several aspects of Islam, yet there are parts of Islam I question or simply don’t connect with. That doesn’t mean I don’t believe in those teachings — I do, but not everything I believe comes from my religion.
I still have a strong faith in God, but over time, I’ve also found myself drawn to ideas from other religions and even some beliefs that aren’t religious at all. It’s as if I’ve picked up fragments from different belief systems that simply resonate with me based on my worldview. I’ve come to understand that there is a line between religion and faith, and that one’s identity is often shaped by both.
Religion and faith may sound similar, but they feel different. These two terms are used interchangeably but don’t always mean the same thing. DePaul religious instructor and member of the Congregation of the Mission Christopher Robinson explained it like this:
“Religions are cultural constructs that can be proved. For example, religions have produced literature, structures, rituals, etc. Faith is believing in something that might be logical and reasonable and is also unprovable,” Robinson said. “There is no one definition of what is beautiful or what is love but we know it when we experience it. Faith is similar.”
Faith is defined by being personal, unprovable, unstructured, illogical. Yet, despite their differences, can religion exist without faith? I’d argue it’s no longer religion in its truest form. To me, religion without faith resembles performative behavior. It’s just going through the motions. Religion is about more than just rituals and traditions; it’s about connecting to something greater. Whether it’s about God, the universe or the community, it’s incomplete without faith. At the same time, religion can be personal for some individuals and cul -
tural for others. People may participate in religious rituals because it’s a part of their upbringing, something they’ve grown up with. But it’s not necessary that they will relate to every belief behind them. Religion comes with rituals, rules and expectations. For some, that structure is comforting and gives them a sense of direction. For others, it can feel overwhelming, like there’s a pressure to follow a certain path, even if your heart’s not really in it.
When that happens, religion can start to feel like a script. When people follow practices just because they feel they have to, rather than because they truly believe, it loses purpose. Faith is what breathes life into those rituals.
Mehvish Naqvi, a junior majoring in criminology, put it this way: “You don’t need to be religious to have faith, faith is more about hope and believing things are going to work out, even if you don’t have all the answers. Some people follow a religion but still lose that sense of trust when life gets hard, so religion and faith aren’t always the same thing.”
Making faith personal to you can be as simple as listening to a line in a song that you needed to hear or seeing a cloud formation in the sky that replicates your most recent thought. Faith isn’t tied to rules or rituals, it’s tied to you — to your intuition, your experiences, the way you choose to see the world. Faith is something you find, not something you’re handed, and that’s what sets religion apart.
“Finding your faith has a lot to do with your own personal life and what you do with your time,” said James Endter, a DePaul freshman majoring in film and television. “I personally found spirituality through things like theatre, but other people might find it through sports, writing, etc. Being taught religion
is more like a catch-all for people, but finding your faith is very specific to you.”
Identifying with a religion is claiming a part of your identity.It can provide a sense of belonging and purpose, helping you align with a community that shares similar values and beliefs. It’s about knowing who you are and where you fit in the world.
However, labels can be daunting because they often come with a set of assumptions about who you are, what you stand for and how you should behave. The moment you label yourself as part of a specific religion, others start to form their own ideas of what that label means, and those ideas don’t always align with your personal experiences or interpretations of that faith.
While labels can create clarity and help others understand where you’re coming from, they can also confine you to a box of stereotypes. But what happens when you feel like the label doesn’t define who you are? This is where faith comes in. The beauty of faith is that it allows you to believe in something greater without the constraints of a label. It’s about believing in something that resonates with you, without being boxed into one category or definition.
This is how Audrey Hamilton, a freshman journalism major, describes the way she chooses to practice faith:
“I would tell people I don’t have a religion, and they’d be like, ‘Oh, so you’re atheist or agnostic,’ and I’d say, ‘No, I do have my beliefs, I just don’t identify under a certain religion.’”
Hamilton’s experience reflects how labels can be limiting, especially when it comes to something as personal as religion. It’s tough to navigate faith when you're constantly measured against how it’s “supposed” to look. When you're
unsure about where you stand with religion or faith, it’s natural to start questioning. But is doubt a sign of weakness, or does it actually strengthen belief?
Humans are naturally curious, and without proof, we tend to doubt. It’s in our nature to question.
“A healthy faith demands that religions be questioned ... doubt is not the opposite of faith. The opposite of faith is certitude,” Robinson, the C.M., said.
In other words, doubt doesn’t weaken faith, it strengthens it. If we're questioning, it means we care enough to challenge, explore and understand these concepts. We're actively participating in our faith, making it more meaningful and personal to our lives.
Faith is easy when things are going well. It’s always easier to believe in something when life is stable and unfolding in a way that’s working out. But when a crisis hits, and things fall apart, that’s when faith stops being just a concept and becomes something you have to hold onto.
It’s the act of assigning meaning to a moment, believing that something is guiding you or that there’s purpose in what you’re experiencing: that’s faith. It’s not always organized or explainable, but it’s real, or at least it feels real. And in times of crisis, that feeling is enough to keep you standing when everything else is falling apart.
VANDANA RAM | THE DEPAULIA
La DePaulia
‘La verdadera iglesia es una familia’: el Vía Crucis de Pilsen une a la comunidad en una tradición de más de 48 años
Por Nupur Bosmiya Editora Gerente
Miembros de la comunidad que practican la procesión siguen a Eduardo “Eddie” Bahena mientras carga la gran cruz dentro del sótano de la Iglesia de San Pío el 11 de abril de 2025. El día del Vía Crucis, la procesión recorrerá la calle 18 hasta llegar al Parque Harrison. Este será el 48.º año del Vía Crucis de Pilsen, que comenzó en 1977.
En el sótano de la Iglesia San Pío, en el barrio de Pilsen, preparan una mesa con 13 sillas. Los participantes designados entran en fila, llevando una copa y un plato con pan. Algunas personas se colocan fuera de las columnas que marcan los límites del escenario, repasando sus líneas y aprendiendo a manejar algunos accesorios. A medida que el bullicio se apacigua, la voz de un narrador resuena, presentando la Última Cena de Jesucristo en español.
Este año, el Viernes Santo cae el 18 de abril, fecha en la que los miembros de la comunidad de Pilsen organizarán la representación de los momentos finales de la vida de Jesucristo, conocida como el Vía Crucis de Pilsen. Esta tradición lleva realizándose desde hace 48 años en el vecindario. Los participantes se visten con túnicas, armaduras y calzado acorde a la época, y lideran una procesión por la Calle 18, cargando una gran cruz rumbo a la Iglesia San Pío.
Con escenas emblemáticas del evangelio, esta representación es uno de los eventos más importantes del año para Nellie Quintana, coordinadora principal de la obra. Ella lo llama su “Super Bowl”. El equipo está en sus últimos días de práctica. Quintana, quien ha estado a cargo de este evento por los últimos 11 años, dice que están en una rutina “de
mucha presión”.
“Ahora mismo estamos en modo de acción”, dijo Quintana. “Estamos sacando los comunicados de prensa, poniendo carteles en la comunidad, hablando con los comerciantes para avisarles que vamos a cerrar la calle, hablando con los participantes, los vestuarios, los accesorios, asegurándonos de que todos conozcan su papel”.
A los diez años, Quintana acompañaba a su madre —también coordinadora— a las prácticas del Vía Crucis, observando cómo ella y otros organizaban la representación.
“Veía a los coordinadores y lo que hacían. Entonces dije: ‘Yo quiero ayudar. Déjenme, enséñenme’. Y así comenzaron a enseñarme”, recordó Quintana, quien ahora tiene 46 años.
Cuando el antiguo director, Jorge Nieto, falleció en 2014, su familia pidió que Quintana asumiera la responsabilidad de montar la representación.
“Con todos esos años de curiosidad… Lo tomé y lo llevé hasta lo que es hoy, junto con el equipo de coordinadores y todos los participantes”, dijo Quintana.
El espíritu comunitario es lo que hace que los participantes regresen cada año, según Quintana. Aunque asisten a diferentes iglesias en todo Chicago, vuelven al Vía Crucis —o el Camino de la Cruz—
cada año.
“Somos una iglesia… la verdadera iglesia es una familia, una comunidad que se apoya mutuamente”, dijo. “Les damos ese sentido de comunidad y la importancia que merecen, porque sin ellos, el Vía Crucis de Pilsen no estaría vivo hoy”.
Quintana mencionó que algunas personas han asistido al Vía Crucis y a sus prácticas por muchos años, incluso desde antes de nacer, cuando aún estaban en el vientre de sus madres.
Aunque Isaac Barrera no asistió desde el vientre de su madre, fue un espectador del Vía Crucis desde que tenía diez años. Sin embargo, pasaron más de 20 años hasta que participó por primera vez en la procesión, en 2014.
Interpretó a Jesús en solo su segundo año como participante. Hoy, es el director de la obra, y dice que fue una experiencia que lo “conmovió”.
“Estaba en shock, y también un poco frustrado, debo decir, porque… ¿dónde estuve todo este tiempo? ¿Por qué no me tomé el tiempo de hacerlo antes”? dijo Barrera.
Ahora dirige la representación y ayuda a otros hombres de la comunidad a interpretar a Jesús.
Dado que solo se permite representar a Cristo una vez, Barrera ha visto muchas versiones distintas del personaje bíblico. Dice que su objetivo es “mostrarle a la gente que Jesús está en todos”.
“Cada persona aporta algo diferente, y también puedes verte reflejado (en Jesucristo)”, dijo. “Un hombre mayor tiene
una perspectiva diferente de Jesús; un hombre joven también”.
Para Barrera, Jesús puede ser “un hombre común”, alguien con quien cualquiera pueda identificarse.
Como el Jesús de este año, Eduard “Eddie” Bahena, quien trabaja como ajustador público ayudando a personas a negociar sus reclamos de seguros. Creció siendo católico y ha asistido al Vía Crucis desde que tiene memoria.
Bahena ve su papel como Jesús como una manera de servir un “propósito más grande” y de “vivir la vida como Jesús habría querido que la viviera”.
“Soy un gran defensor de la comunidad y de la iglesia también”, dijo Bahena. “Si puedo hacer algo para ayudar a alguien, o simplemente estar presente para asistir en lo que sea, lo haré”.
Este es su primer año participando en el Vía Crucis. Aunque memorizar los guiones le ha provocado nervios, dice que ha sido un “viaje personal”.
“Quiero ser una mejor persona, no solo para mí, sino para todos los que me rodean”, dijo Bahena.
Todos los que interpretan a Jesús tienen una experiencia personal al hacerlo, dijo Quintana. Algunos ni siquiera pueden definir o expresar en palabras lo que sienten.
Otras personas que participan en la representación vienen de vecindarios más allá de Pilsen, algunos tomando autobuses o trenes para llegar a tiempo a las prácticas, contó.
Este será el año número 48 del Vía Crucis de Pilsen. Quintana dice que tras cada recorrido emocional de preparar la obra, todo culmina en un alivio físico y “espiritual”.
“El Viernes Santo, cuando ves a la multitud orando en silencio juntos, hace que todo valga la pena, porque somos una sola comunidad”, dijo Quintana. “No es solo Pilsen. Va más allá de las fronteras de Pilsen”.
Caesar Estrada, quien interpreta al Verdugo o el “azotador”, arrastra a Eduardo “Eddie” Bahena, quien representa a Jesús, hacia el tocón de árbol para azotarlo en el sótano de la Iglesia de San Pío el 11 de abril de 2025. Estrada ha interpretado este papel durante 12 años, ya que muchos se sienten reacios a representar a alguien que hiere a Jesús.
NUPUR BOSMIYA | LA DEPAULIA
NUPUR BOSMIYA | LA DEPAULIA
Cardenal Blase Cupich: ‘Somos una nación de inmigrantes y deberíamos estar orgullosos de ello’
Por Rose O’Keeffe
Editora General de Contenidos inmigrantes indocumentados, lo cual todo estadounidense que recita el juramento a la bandera debería condenar”.
Mateo 25:40 instruye: “De cierto os digo que en cuanto lo hicisteis a uno de estos, mis hermanos más pequeños, a mí lo hicisteis”.
Según este versículo, no es el poder que alguien tenga ni las creencias que profese lo que garantiza la salvación. Más bien, el Reino de los Cielos se abre según cómo tratan a las personas, especialmente a aquellas más necesitadas.
El cardenal Blase Cupich, arzobispo de Chicago y miembro del Colegio de Cardenales en Roma, dijo que aplica valores similares de justicia y misericordia al enfrentar la política migratoria de los Estados Unidos.
Cupich es una figura destacada entre los líderes católicos estadounidenses que alza la voz sobre los problemas migratorios de la segunda administración Trump. El 19 de enero, justo un día antes de la toma de posesión de Trump, Cupich dio una declaración en la iglesia Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe en la Ciudad de México, en defensa de los derechos de los inmigrantes.
“Si se llevaran a cabo las deportaciones masivas indiscriminadas de las que se informa, esto sería un ataque a la dignidad de todas las personas y comunidades, y negaría el legado de lo que significa ser estadounidense”, dijo Cupich a la congregación.
Casi 100 días después de expresar el sentimiento, la administración Trump dijo haber deportado a casi 100,000 personas, aunque los datos migratorios han sido más difíciles de rastrear desde que Trump asumió el cargo.
Actualmente, la Casa Blanca y el Departamento de Justicia están desobedeciendo una orden unánime de la Corte Suprema (9-0) que exige el retorno del inmigrante salvadoreño Kilmar Abrego García a los Estados Unidos, tras haber sido deportado erróneamente a una prisión notoriamente peligrosa en El Salvador.
Cupich dijo a The DePaulia que, si tuviera una reunión cara a cara con Trump y el zar de la frontera Tom Homan, les recordaría que Estados Unidos es una nación de inmigrantes, “quienes no tienen la culpa del sistema migratorio roto que los funcionarios electos han ignorado arreglar por generaciones”.
“Una gran parte de los indocumentados contribuyen a la economía de nuestro país tomando empleos que otros se niegan a aceptar”, continuó. “Es una violación de la dignidad humana utilizar lenguaje despreciativo al describir a los
Aunque Cupich abiertamente proclama la desconexión entre las políticas migratorias de Trump y la ética católica, el profesor de estudios católicos de DePaul, William Cavanaugh, dice que desearía que la Iglesia en general fuera más vocal sobre la inmigración como un tema esencial de vida.
La Iglesia Católica es oficialmente no partidista, pero Cavanaugh dijo que existe una superposición inevitable entre un “principio moral y una postura política.”
“La Iglesia no siempre logra evitar la apariencia de partidismo”, según Cavanaugh.
Dijo que esto se refleja en la manera en que los obispos estadounidenses muestran diferentes grados de interés a distintos temas sociales.
“Creo que (los obispos estadounidenses) podrían ser mucho más vocales sobre lo que está ocurriendo bajo la segunda administración Trump, que podrían hablar más sobre el trato a los inmigrantes y la eliminación de las normas democráticas”, dijo Cavanaugh.
Durante la administración Obama, la Conferencia de Obispos Católicos de los Estados Unidos se opuso activamente a una disposición de la Ley de Cuidado de Salud Asequible que cubría anticonceptivos.
“Son capaces de hacer mucho ruido, y me gustaría que hicieran más ruido ahora”, dijo Cavanaugh. “Parece que los riesgos ahora son mucho mayores que los que existían sobre el tema de la cobertura anticonceptiva bajo el Obamacare”,
Pero el clero y la jerarquía eclesiástica no reflejan necesariamente a toda la Iglesia Católica, agregó Cavanaugh.
Cupich señala la doctrina social católica como la base de la postura oficial de la Iglesia sobre la inmigración.
Catholic Social Teaching (CST) es un principio rector de la fe católica que informa el compromiso de la Iglesia con la justicia social y los temas de “vida”.
El “CST” se basa en los principios del bien común, el respeto y la defensa de la dignidad humana y la promoción del desarrollo humano integral”, dijo Cupich a The DePaulia.
Afirmó que la Iglesia Católica reconoce el derecho de las naciones a regular sus fronteras, pero insistió en que esto no debería otorgar a los políticos libertad para actuar en contra de la dignidad
El cardenal Blase Cupich dice que los gobiernos y lideres deben tratar a todas las personas con dignidad y valor. Se sento con The DePaulia despues de misa en la catedral de Holy Name el 14 de abril de 2025.
humana.
“Las decisiones económicas, políticas y sociales no deben tomarse por un interés propio miope, sino con consideración por el bien común”, dijo Cupich. “Por lo tanto, las naciones, conforme a la doctrina social católica, están llamadas a regular sus fronteras con justicia y misericordia”.
Organizaciones locales como el Migrant Ministry of the Catholic Community de Oak Park también están respondiendo al llamado de Dios de tratar a todos con justicia, misericordia y cuidado, de acuerdo a la enseñanza católica
Este ministerio, liderado por Margie Rudnik, Celine Woznica y un equipo de voluntarios, proporciona alimentos, ropa y duchas a la comunidad migrante en Chicago.
“Los migrantes a quienes servimos son increíblemente resilientes, creativos, innovadores y enfocados”, dijo Woznica. “Logran sus objetivos. Hacen que las cosas funcionen”.
La base fundamental de la doctrina social católica, tal como la practican organizaciones como el Migrant Ministry, es la dignidad de todas las personas.
Para Karina Chavez, estudiante de tercer año de psicología en DePaul y miembro del Campus Catholic Ministry de DePaul, la necesidad de dignidad y compasión es importante como estudiante universitaria de primera generación. Sus padres emigraron de México a Chicago.
“Realmente, fue por una vida mejor”, dijo Chavez.
Chavez encuentra gran consuelo en su fe. Dice que reza para saber cómo navegar el complejo clima político de Estados Unidos.
A menudo recurre a Levítico 19:34 para guiar su oración: “Al forastero que habita con vosotros lo trataréis como a uno nacido entre vosotros, y lo amarás como a ti mismo”, dice el versículo.
“El versículo siempre ha estado muy cerca de mí, especialmente en términos de enfatizar la necesidad de compasión y justicia para todos los seres humanos”, dijo Chavez.
Cavanaugh, el profesor de estudios
“Abraham es un migrante. Jesús y su familia son refugiados que huyen de Herodes y van a Egipto. Llevan a Jesús a Egipto siendo un bebé para escapar de la
Los migrantes a quienes servimos son increíblemente resilientes, creativos, innovadores y enfocados...Logran sus objetivos. Hacen que las cosas funcionen”.
Celine Woznica
Directora de Migrant Ministry of the Catholic Community de Oak Park católicos, indicó que existe una fuerte tradición de compasión hacia los migrantes en la Biblia. Dijo que el vicepresidente J.D. Vance —recién convertido al catolicismo— “haría bien en leer la Biblia”.
opresión política y la violencia”, dijo Cavanaugh.
El Papa Francisco reprendió a Vance como católico, así como a la administración Trump, por sus políticas migratorias que, según él, dañan la dignidad humana.
A pesar de los continuos ataques a la comunidad migrante que los católicos consideran es una dignidad inherente y dada por Dios a todas las personas, Cupich expresó optimismo.
“Tengo fe en que el pueblo estadounidense permanecerá fiel a los ideales sobre los que se fundó esta nación —y que la verdad siempre prevalece”, dijo Cupich.
AMANDA STEVENSON | THE DEPAULIA
Arts & Life
Chicago’s Iraqi novelist: The life and legacy of Mahmoud Saeed
By Grace Logan Arts & LIfe Editor
In her 2011 article, “The Iraqi novelist on the second floor,” former Chicago Tribune columnist Mary Schmich described Mahmoud Saeed’s apartment as having “just enough space” for his essentials with his desk positioned by the window, overlooking Belmont Avenue.
That was where he preferred to write — looking through the trees and down toward Clark Street.
Saeed, an acclaimed Iraqi novelist and former DePaul professor, held orange prayer beads in hand during his interview with Schmich. Scattered around him were books, some in Arabic and some in English. Friend and transcript translator, Allen Salter, sat at his side. Schmich wrote:
“I like Americans very much,” (Saeed) says. “I like Clark Street very much. Friday, Saturday night, it is very vivid?”
He looks toward his friend Allen Salter. “Lively,” says Salter.
Salter first met Saeed at the turn of the century. A friend had emailed him about an Iraqi novelist who was looking for someone that could translate his writing from Arabic to English. Back in Iraq, Saeed was no stranger to censor-
ship. Authorities had banned publication of his novels from 1963 to 2008. He was arrested and imprisoned six times under Saddam Hussein’s Ba’athist regime. To escape persecution, Saeed and his family immigrated to the United Arab Emirates, then back to Iraq and landed in Dubai.
Saeed immigrated to Chicago in 1999. He dreamt of finding success as a novelist in the United States. His family was left behind in the Middle East. Throughout the years, Salter and Saeed sat side by side many times. They would review transcripts, drink coffee, discuss politics, tell jokes and laugh together.
It has been almost 14 years since Salter sat beside Saeed during that interview. And, on Jan. 20, 2025, Salter sat beside Saeed yet again as he drove him from O’Hare International Airport to Illinois Masonic Medical Center’s emergency room. The car ride was mostly silent, with the exception of Saeed mumbling to Salter. “I’m really happy to be back in Chicago. I love Chicago,” Salter remembers his friend saying.
A week later, at age 89, Saeed died in the hospital with the friend he called his “American daughter,” Jackie Spinner, beside him.
Saeed was a man who fled his country out of necessity — a man who had to
fight every step of the way to advocate for his writing at the sacrifice of his family. Spinner provided him a second chance to be a father, grandfather and writer.
Back in 2011, Spinner had just finished her work as a Fulbright Scholar in Oman where she covered the Arab Spring as a freelance journalist. She was struggling with the idea of living in the United States once again. But, she had to come home to Chicago. The first of her three adopted sons from Morocco would soon arrive. Her village — her primary support system — was here. To calm her restlessness, Spinner looked for ways to connect with what she missed most about Iraq. In the process, she stumbled upon the story about Saeed in the Tribune.
“I was fascinated,” said Spinner, now a journalism professor at Columbia College Chicago. “I knew I had to meet him.”
The two first met at a Starbucks in the Wrigleyville neighborhood. During the following years, Spinner and Saeed continued to meet, almost weekly, at that very same spot.
“We spoke in Arabic. … He corrected my Arabic,” Spinner said with a chuckle. “He told me these fabulous stories about Iraq and Iraqi history and Arab history and novels and literature and politics. It was in that Starbucks that he became my
mentor and teacher.”
It wasn’t until her first son arrived from Morocco, Spinner said, that Saeed really became part of her family.
“My dad died when I was younger,” Spinner said. “Mahmoud became my son’s grandfather and, by extension, I became his American daughter.”
Often, Spinner would come home from work and find Saeed cooking as he held one of her sons at his hip.
Saeed let himself in through the back door whenever he pleased. He would play with the kids. He would give Spinner unsolicited parenting advice. And he was almost always there to celebrate holidays with the family.
Spinner taught her sons to call Saeed “jiddo,” meaning “grandfather” in Arabic. In 2016, Spinner, Saeed and her sons were at the Lincoln Park Zoo admiring the holiday lights. Saeed was pushing the stroller when he collapsed.
“I got him up,” Spinner said. “I got him in the car. I got the kids in the car. That’s when he told me he had leukemia.”
He was facing his mortality, Spinner said. Only once Saeed expressed to Spinner that his “bucket-list wish” was to write a novel from Iraq.
Mahmoud Saeed stands for a photo outside his longtime Wrigleyville apartment for a ride to a doctor’s appointment on June 2, 2022. Saeed had a nearly fatal case of Covid-19 in 2021 before his leukemia returned shortly after.
JACKIE SPINNER | PROVIDED
‘Sinners’ review: A tried and true vampire story with a blast of personality
By April Klein Asst. Arts & Life Editor
While the idea of the vampire has been an omnipresent cultural fascination since Bram Stoker’s “Dracula” debuted in 1897, there’s been a noted fixation on the monster in recent years. Long gone are the days of the “Twilight” series’ codifying of the vampire as a sexless Mormon twinkle in the sun.
Robert Eggers’ new take on the classic “Nosferatu,” the unabashedly queer “Interview with the Vampire” TV series, Ariane Louis-Seize’s underrated indie “Humanist Vampire Seeking Consenting Suicidal Person,” Pablo Larraín’s satire on fascism in “El Conde” — the vampire is a malleable creature, with countless artists imposing their own perspective on it as it takes on new forms.
Ryan Coogler was next up to bat. In the “Black Panther” director’s first original film since his 2013 drama “Fruitvale Station,” Coogler was eager to take a swing at the material from a Black perspective. In an interview with LeBron James, he spoke about the origin point for this new venture.
“For me, the movie started with my relationship with my uncle who is from Mississippi,” Coogler said. “I had already made a film about the Bay with ‘Fruitvale,’ I was making a movie about Philly, I made a couple of movies about Wakanda, and now I’m coming back home in a different way. I’m looking at the American South, which is, outside of the continent of Africa, where Black people call home.”
The final result of that ideation, “Sinners,” is a total blast. A Depression-era period film sweating blood in the deep South, Coogler’s
mixture of classic vampire mythology with African myth and the mystical power of music gives the audiences something to snack on. While occasionally stumbling over the scale of the story it’s aiming for, the film delivers on a “From Dusk Till Dawn”-esque action-horror filled with moments that will make you scream and shiver.
Taking place over the course of a hot summer day in 1937 Mississippi, twin brothers Smoke and Stack (both Michael B. Jordan) return to their rural hometown to start a club after a job gone wrong in Chicago. Reuniting to throw a party with their musical prodigy cousin, Sammie (newcomer Miles Caton), Smoke and Stack’s respective old flames Mary (Hailee Steinfeld) and Annie (Wunmi Mosaku), and drunkard blues musician Delta Slim (Delroy Lindo). When set upon by a trio of Klan-affiliated vampires led by the chaotic Remmick (Jack O’Connell), the group must learn to survive as their enemy grows stronger and resources run thin.
Coogler’s script is as much about music and culture as it is about blood suckers. Aside from Chicago blues’ legend Buddy Guy’s cameo later on in the film, there are two major musical sequences in the film. The first, headed by Caton’s banjo and heavenly voice, captures the evolution of Black music throughout history as the club bounces to anachronistic depictions of ancient African drum players alongside modern DJs scrubbing discs. The second is headed by O’Connell as he leads a swath of vampires in an Irish riverdance to taunt our remaining leads into conforming to a culture
that is not their own.
The two sequences remain entertaining (Coogler pulls out IMAX cameras to capture Aakomon Jones’ incredible choreography) while telling the troubling story of the American immigrant. One can choose to subsume themselves fully into a homogenous culture, therefore sacrificing some sense of cultural identity for ease of movement in a hostile environment, or they can refuse, struggling against a system that would prefer to see them
dead than different.
A strong thematic throughline like that and a cast of committed performances, especially with Jordan dripping charisma through both of his dual roles, makeup for some underdeveloped side plots that end somewhat anticlimactically. If you want something to make you scream in the moment while giving you material to chew on for days afterwards, “Sinners” is the picture for you.
Director Ryan Coogler speaks with actors Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo on the set of “Sinners.” The film, an action-horror story set in the Depression-era south, was shot on 70mm IMAX film cameras, allowing for a more open frame.
WARNER BROTHERS | AP PHOTO
“Spinning
St.Vincent’s
D e JAMZ
freSh beatS Since 1581”
By Grace Logan Arts & Life Editor
Do you know how many DeJamz the DePaulia has published over the years?
210. That’s 210 unique playlists to compete with.
Yikes! And this week is our religion issue. Anyone who knows me well is aware of my not-so-great feelings about religion.
I grew up Southern Baptist and one of the few things I liked about Sunday morning church was the 20-minute car ride before church, when my folks would let me play 94.9 KCMO, “Kansas City’s Greatest Hits.” The Clash, AC/DC, Styx, David Bowie, Van Halen, Jimi Hendrix — 94.9 provided a break from Christian-rock worship music.
As bitter as I am about Christian rock, churches get it right with worshipping through music. Admittedly, a part of that has stuck with me in adulthood.
I don’t go to church anymore and I definitely don’t listen to worship music anymore, but some artists have provided me with sanctuary.
In honor of the religion issue, enjoy
reading about the pop (not always pop) girls that I “worship” instead of church on Sundays:
“The Giver”- Chappell Roan
“All you country boys think you know how to treat a woman right? Well, only a woman knows how to treat a woman right.” What can I say about Chappell that hasn’t already been said? She’s an icon; our generation’s Lady Gaga; she’s the actual creator of “gay pop.”
She speaks to my Kansas roots and, actually, grew up sorta-kinda near where I did. Chappell is and always will be my chapel. She defined the Midwestern experience for girls like me. If you aren’t already a Chappell fan, it’s about time you join the congregation. Your favorite artist’s favorite artist.
“Sad Girl” - Lana Del Rey
Lana Del Rey has seen me through the best of times and the worst of times. What else is there to say? She gets it. She gets me. She understands my white trash upbringing. She understands making the best and worst of your situation.
Anyone who says they don’t like Lana
Crossword
hasn’t really listened to her music. She is an incredible artist and a person for the people.
“He Can Only Hold Her” - Amy Winehouse
Amy Winehouse is our Camden queen. Her music, like Lana’s, feels grimy in such a phenomenal way. Amy knows what it’s like to live day-to-day. Her songs are unapologetic and unreliant on toxic positivity. Just like Lana, the person for the people. Wish I could’ve shared a pint with you in Camden, Amy. Miss you, beautiful!
“The Fame” - Lady Gaga LADY GAGA! God. Love her more than words can describe. If you haven’t listened to her album “The Fame,” listen immediately. “The Fame” on “The Fame” is
ACROSS
1) “X” may mark it
5) Food quality
10) Haifa fl. oz.
14) Three Bears patriarch
15) Ninth rock from the sun, once
16) Like word-ofmouth
17) Significant periods of history
18) Spritely tunes
19) Long skirt
20) Easygoing attribute
23) Female family nickname
24) Silly goose
25) 15-Across, once 28) Like a shepherd’s staff
30) Indian dress
31) Immature egg
33) Barnyard bellow
36) Longtime beau
40) Some submerged leaves
41) Train lines?
42) Chanel of fashion
43) Far from bored
44) Adolph Coors, famously
46) Not on the level
49) Infant’s abdominal woe
51) Nonmoving picture
57) The Hawkeye State 58) Major blood line
59) Mark’s replacement 60) “That’s an order!” 61) Piece for nine 62) Bone-dry 63) “What_ can I say?”
64) San Antonio hoopsters
65) Fancy wheels
f----ing incredible. What I wouldn’t give to go clubbing when her music was topping the charts. She’s on shuffle Sunday through Sunday, each week, every week.
“She Bop” - Cyndi Lauper Cyndi Lauper was my first introduction to “rebellion” music, if you can even call it that — you really can’t. But “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” was frequently on repeat throughout my childhood. I forgot about Cyndi until this year and then listened to her album, “She’s So Unusual.”
You know you’ve matured when you go from listening to individual songs to full albums. Anyway, “She Bop” is my absolute favorite song from “She’s So Unusual.” It gets me out of bed in the mornings.
DOWN
1) On_ (with an eye toward selling)
2) “Legal” prefix
3) Gemstone for many Libras
4) Island off Australia
5) Fracture immobilizer
6) Choice invitees
7) Like dime novels and some orange JUlCe
8) “Beetle Bailey” dog
9) One of the “Friends”
10) Small songbird
11) You can’t join Mensa without one 12) Anglo-__
13) The Elder or Younger of Roman history
21) Expected in 22) Word with “strength” or “city”
25) Quiet “Check this out!”
26) Fit for night owls
27) Length x width, for a rectangle
28) Accepts as true
29) Lego las of Middle Earth, e.g.
31) Final notice?
32) Remote control abbr.
33) Siamese-speak
34) More than never
35) Nose wrinkler
37) Trait of a Southerner’s speech
38) Big, fat mouth
39) Common dessert
43) Empathize
44) Swells out of proportion
45) Convoy member
46) “All kidding _ ... “
47) Bar fixture
48) Fuzzy fruits
49) Hom-shaped thing
50) Freshwater carnivorous mammal
52) Some kitchen utensils
53) Target for Carmelo
54) Psychic’s read, supposedly
55) Bluenose
56) Mortar troughs
COURTESY OF WIKIPEDIA
Sports Major League Soccer on the rise: Chicago Fire fills Soldier Field with big names and local talent
By Izzy Siemaszko Contributing Writer
A roar of drums and chants echoed throughout Soldier Field with 62,358 spectators piled into the stadium during a recent weekend game, breaking an attendance record for the cities’ Major League Soccer team.
Supporters eagerly stoked the Chicago Fire on as they played a star-studded Inter Miami CF.
This increased turnout isn’t unique to Chicago. Major League Soccer (MLS) has generally seen an influx of spectators over the past couple of years with a record-breaking 10,900,804 attendees showing up in 2024.
“I’ve never seen so many people here before,” Elliott Flores, a fan in attendance, said. “I’ve been to Bears games and Fire too, and this was the most packed it’s been.”
With World Cup champion Lionel Messi playing the full 90 minutes — and
the Fire managing to keep a clean sheet against their fourth placed opponents — fans got the iconic matchup they wanted at the April 13 game.
“The atmosphere was electric. … It was an incredible game to witness in person,” longtime Fire fan Zbigniew Mludzik said.
He admitted that while he was rooting for his Chicago team, his eyes couldn’t help but wander towards the Argentinian. “It’s hard not to be a little starstruck. He’s a legendary athlete. The best of the best.”
Messi did not make an appearance the last two times Miami came to the city, yet attendance figures still skyrocketed as the slightest possibility of him being present sent fans into a frenzy.
The Fire returned to Soldier Field in 2020 after calling SeatGeek Stadium in Bridgeview home for 14 years. The move aimed to make the team more visible, and that — coupled with increased attention from big-name players — seems
to be working.
Recent reports indicate that the Fire are looking to sign their own star with talks to acquire Kevin De Bruyne, Belgian player and current Manchester City midfielder in the works.
Dan Moriarty, the Fire’s chief marketing officer, said that in addition to bringing in well-known players, “the demographics of the city and of the soccer fandom” being “perfectly aligned” are a big reason why the team has gained momentum.
With these changes, it is clear the city is trying to make room for the sport in between an already vibrant and crowded athletic scene. This summer, Soldier Field is to host high-profile teams, including Manchester United and Everton, as part of the Premier League Summer Series.
Juan Mendez, senior instructor in DePaul’s School of Hospitality and Sports Business, feels that hosting these types of games can have a lot of benefits for the city, including revenue generation and job creation.
“Any time we can have something that draws in individuals into our economic engine, that’s really important for us,” Mendez said, referring to downtown Chicago.
This notion sparked controversy recently, as former Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel opted to remove the city from contention of being a venue for the 2026 World Cup. The competition is set to take place in various cities around the United States, Mexico and Canada.
Daniel Azzaro, a faculty member in sports communication at DePaul, thinks the former mayor should have put up the money to support the tournament.
“With Chicago’s Polish and Mexican immigrants, you’ve got ground zero for
While having these massive events, clubs and names is vital, Moriarty said “blending stars from overseas with homegrown players” is still a focus for MLS teams, especially for a passionate sports town like Chicago.
Moriarty said that Joe Mansueto, the Chicago Fire’s owner, “wants the Fire to always have a strong homegrown core.”
Fire goalkeeper Chris Brady is evidence of this. Born in suburban Naperville, Illinois, Brady played a key role in the Fire’s draw against Miami and made three crucial saves.
“He’s an outstanding goalie, and he keeps getting better. He makes the saves we need him to make,” Fire head coach Gregg Berhalter said during the postmatch press conference.
The way the seasons are shaping up — and with Messi mania in full force — it is likely that the still emerging MLS will continue to grow both in national and international standing.
Moriarty sees it as a collective effort between the Fire and other clubs.
“It’s the responsibility of all 30 MLS teams to make sure that they’re doing right by their local markets, fans and communities to find ways to get soccer to be in the conversation as one of the biggest sports in the U.S.,” Moriarty said.
Speaking to what the team can do to grow its fanbase, Berhalter added, “We just need to win more.”
“If we create a culture of winning, Chicago will get behind the team.”
American soccer at Soldier Field,” Azzaro said.
GIACOMO CAIN | THE DEPAULIA
Lionel Messi chases after the ball against the Chicago Fire on Sunday, April 13, 2025, at Soldier Field. This was Messi’s first time playing at Soldier Field.
A Chicago Fire fan holds a sign expressing their loyalty to Lionel Messi on Sunday, April 13, 2025, at Soldier Field. Messi fans outnumbered Fire fans in attendance.
Jonathan Bamba dribbles around an opponent on Sunday, April 13, 2025, at Soldier Field. Bamba started the game and played the full 90 minutes.
GIACOMO CAIN | THE DEPAULIA
GIACOMO CAIN | THE DEPAULIA
'There is representation everywhere': Four years after Illinois’ 'Inclusive Athletic Attire Act'
By Peyton Hopp and LiLi Jarvenpa Asst. Sports Editor & News Editor
Muslim women wear hijabs as a symbol of modesty and faith. They wear hijabs in their everyday life — even in sports. But in order to wear a hijab, Muslim girls have to sign a waiver to participate in sports; however, that has changed in Illinois.
A hijab means a plethora of things to different people — it symbolizes various social and political ideas, and sometimes it’s a marker of class or personal beliefs. Overall, it’s “a practice rooted in modesty, as outlined in the Quran for both men and women,” the Muslim Women’s Coalition says on their website. Hafsa Faiz, a senior at DePaul, says that when she wears a hijab, she feels “empowered” because she can choose how she is seen.
“I recognize every other woman who wears it and who’s representing something greater than herself; that in itself to me is empowerment,” Faiz said.
Illinois passed the “Inclusive Athletic Attire Act” in September 2021. This “allows student-athletes in Illinois to modify their uniform to match any cultural, religious or personal preferences they may have without facing any penalties or disqualifications during competitions, like wearing longer sleeves, full-length pants or playing in hijab.”
The executive director of the Illinois High School Association (IHSA), Craig Anderson, said that before the act came into effect, each school would send a letter to the IHSA and request an exception to that sport’s playing rules for a student’s attire.
“Our office would send a letter back affirming that the student was permitted to participate with the exception,” Anderson said. “This letter was taken by the coach of that school to each game in case there was a question by officials.”
Now things have changed — Illinois was the first state to pass an act like this, followed by Ohio’s Noor Act in February 2022 and Maryland’s Inclusive Athletic Attire Act in April 2022.
Maaria Mozaffar, the legislative attorney who drafted the Illinois bill, said sports are a way that students feel like they are part of a community, and it is important to make them feel like they belong.
“The Inclusive Athletic Attire (Act) is written to include anyone who wants to play and compete without having the restriction of uniform policies that don’t have any correlation with how good of an athlete you are,” Mozaffar said.
Mozaffar said the bill sends the message that a student’s athletic ability is more important than what they are wear-
ing. If a uniform makes them uncomfortable, they should be able to wear attire that helps them compete even if that includes wearing more modest clothing, according to Mozaffar.Athletic wear companies are also making more inclusive clothing as well. Nike started selling their Pro Hijab line in 2017 and a swim hijab in 2020. Lululemon started selling hijabs in 2022.
The New York Times shared that Kiandra Browne, a senior Duquesne women’s basketball player, started her own small business that sells affordable modest athletic wear; she gets the activewear from a small family in Pakistan. While there has been positive progress, there are also setbacks. In 2009, Bilqis Abdul-Qaadir was the first ever NCAA Division I student athlete to wear a hijab. When she played basketball in high school, she would get made fun of.
“The fans would laugh and point at me,” Abdul-Qaadir told Mass Live. “There was one game … when this kid said I look like Osama bin Laden’s niece. The gym was quiet and it was embarrassing, scary and it (sucked).”
Because of moments like these, there has been more progression on Muslim women who wear hijabs in sports. Mozaffar said the feedback since the Act was passed has been positive and many young Muslim women who have tried out for sports have become part of teams at their school.
“The IHSA has been so supportive,” Mozaffar said. “So it’s opened up a door. It’s opened up a new way of experiencing their talent. It’s been fantastic.”
Faiz says that just because she “follows her religion in a certain way,” it doesn’t mean she can’t accomplish the things she wants.
“The fact that another young girl can see a hijabi basketball player, a hijabi ballet dancer, a hijabi swimmer; I think that in itself speaks its own volumes and it shows that there is representation everywhere,” Faiz said. “Just because you look different, it does not take away from your abilities and your capabilities.”
Faiz said she met U.S. Olympian Ibtihaj Muhammad, who was the first American to wear a hijab in the Olympics. Muhammad was a fencer in the 2016 Rio Olympics — she won a bronze medal with the women’s sabre team.
“Seeing these women playing sports and being on the big screens, I really have a big hope that it’s going to change the narrative and change what’s normal,” Faiz said.
VINCENT THIAN | AP PHOTO
Ibtihaj Muhammad of the United States poses with her bronze medal on the podium after the women's team sabre fencing event at the 2016 Summer Olympics in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, Saturday, Aug. 13, 2016.
