Alexander Hendra Dwi Asmara, S.J., lives in Indonesia, the world’s most populous Muslim-majority country. But the homogenous society, he said, has bred intolerance, discrimination, and even violence against religious minorities. 

“People are very afraid that there will be war in the name of God. I believe religious education is one way to [defuse situations],” said Father Asmara, who will graduate this year from the Graduate School of Religion and Religious Education with his Ph.D. in religious education. “I want to make a religious education model that unites people from other religions.”

‘Education Is in My Blood’ 

Father Asmara was born and raised in Ambarawa, a small town in Indonesia. His parents, an elementary school teacher and a junior high English teacher, inspired him to pursue a career in higher education. But he also wanted to become a priest, like the ones who led services at the Catholic church beside his childhood home. 

Father Asmara earned his bachelor’s degree in philosophy from the Driyarkara School of Philosophy in Indonesia in 2008. Five years later, he received his master’s degree in theological studies from Ateneo de Manila University in the Philippines. In 2014, he was ordained a priest.  

“As a Jesuit priest, I could fulfill my dream of being a person who works in education,” Father Asmara said. “And education is in my blood.” 

His Jesuit supervisors assigned him to Sanata Dharma University in Yogyakarta, Indonesia, where he taught Catholic religious education for two years. Then they asked him to earn a doctorate in religious education. 

Finding A Fordham ‘Family’ in America 

Father Asmara found Fordham, a Jesuit school that aligned with his values and offered courses in a city unlike any other in Indonesia—the biggest, most diverse city in the world, he said. In 2016, he moved to New York, where he learned about the Black Lives Matter movement and, for the first time in his life, visited neighborhoods that overflowed with diversity. 

“I went to Queens and saw every kind of Asian—Chinese, Korean, Indonesian, Indian … I went to Brooklyn, where there were many different cultures, and the Bronx, with many Latinos,” Father Asmara said. “I was so happy [to be here].”

He lived in Fordham’s Jesuit community at Spellman Hall, where he was welcomed by priests who helped him adjust to life in America.  

“I found a family here,” Father Asmara said. “I made the right choice to come to Fordham.” 

A New Education Model to Address A Nationwide Problem

Over the next four years, he said, his classes taught him how to think critically and analyze situations from multiple perspectives—as a Catholic, as a priest, and as a human being. His professors also helped him develop a dissertation on a topic close to his heart: the deescalation of religious conflict in his native country.

“In the U.S., people are divided by race,” Father Asmara said. “In Indonesia, we are divided by religion.” 

His dissertation, “Educating for Unity in Diversity: Religious Education for Transformation in the Context of Everyday Religious Conflict in Post-Authoritarian Indonesia,” proposes a “live-in” religious education curriculum where students live in a home with people from a religious community different from their own.

“Live-in provides students with an opportunity to have an experience of living in another religious community. It guides students to become deeply rooted in their own religious tradition, while being open to learning from and collaborating with people of other religious traditions,” said Asmara’s dissertation mentor, Harold D. Horell, Ph.D., associate professor of religious education. “Hendra further develops the model of live-in education currently used in some Jesuit schools for young people in his country. The model of interreligious education he has developed could inform religious educational efforts in other contexts about how to address religious conflict by nurturing interreligious understanding and solidarity.” 

Last fall, Father Asmara returned to his job as a lecturer in Catholic religious education at Sanata Dharma University. He said he sees himself serving as a bridge between different faiths for the rest of his life. 

“As a religious teacher, I teach my students to have an inclusive way of thinking through the Catholic tradition,” Father Asmara said, speaking over Zoom from his home in Indonesia. “I want to make sure that my students have an open mind, the spirit of dialogue, and a way of thinking that doesn’t claim one religion is the only right religion.”

“Education was not just a job,” said longtime colleague Kieran Scott, Ed.D. “It was a vocation for him that gave profound meaning to his life.”

He was “one of those rare individuals” who taught in two graduate schools at Fordham—the Graduate School of Religion and Religious Education (GRE) and the Graduate School of Education (GSE)—said Gerald M. Cattaro, Ed.D., executive director of the Center for Catholic School Leadership and Faith-Based Education. 

“He acted as the academic bridge between the two schools,” Cattaro said. “[And] John was a cherished colleague and mentor to me in my early academic career, in addition to being a friend.”

At GSE, he helped establish the Ph.D. program in educational leadership (now known as the Ph.D. in church and non-public school leadership). The program produced alumni who went on to become university presidents, bishops, vicars of education, and congregational and past presidents of high schools worldwide, said Cattaro. 

At GRE, Elias was a professor emeritus who was instrumental in shaping two doctoral programs: the Ph.D. in religious education and the Doctor of Ministry program.  

“He realized that to complement religious education, we needed to be doing a kind of theology that served our students in their professional practice,” said Thomas Beaudoin, Ph.D., professor of religion. “As a result of what he did, we hired more practical theologians, including our current dean.”

But Elias’ 35-year-long relationship with Fordham ran deeper than the programs he developed, said his colleagues. To Elias, Fordham was home. 

“The first phone call I got as the new dean of GRE three summers ago was from John,” said Faustino “Tito” Cruz, S.M., dean of GRE. “He simply wanted to welcome me to Fordham and express his appreciation that I accepted the leadership of the school that he dearly loved.”

‘A Real Gift’  

Elias was born on Dec. 23, 1933, in Asheville, North Carolina, to George and Josephine Elias. His early exposure to scholars in theology and education led him to become “one of the most significant writers in adult religious education of the 20th century,” said an online database of Christian educators of the 20th century. 

His life at Fordham began in 1977 when he started teaching as a visiting professor at GRE. Over the next four decades, he delivered more than 80 scholarly addresses, served on multiple doctoral dissertation committees, and mentored dozens of students. He taught at Fordham until he was 78, said one of his two daughters, Rebecca Elias, FCLC ’96. 

In phone interviews, his Fordham friends and colleagues described him as an affable, curious man who was easy to talk to. He was a “sage” who was politically savvy in academia and university life, said Gloria Durka, Ph.D., a retired GRE faculty member who knew Elias for more than three decades. With his wit and wry sense of humor, he put a twist on serious matters in the classroom. But perhaps above all, he was humble and respectful, said those who knew him. 

“[He was] a true colleague who represents everything that you would hope a colleague to be,” said Durka. “He was my closest colleague, all these years at Fordham. And that’s a real gift—to have someone like that.” 

Harold H. Horell, Ph.D., assistant professor of religious education, remembered Elias as a good listener. When Elias spoke, everyone in the room paid attention, he said. 

“He used to sit with his head cocked to his right side, with a thoughtful look on his face. And then after the discussion was over, he would speak,” recalled Horell, who also directs the Ph.D. in Religious Education program. “His words carried a lot of weight because they often rang true.” 

He was a brilliant scholar whose mind was “like a living card catalog,” said his past student Linda Baratte, GRE ’04.

“He set up the scaffolding, almost, in his coursework, and then invited you to do all the exploration and fill in all the gaps with his amazing research and resources he knew about,” Baratte said. “[But] he never wanted adulation, as much as he was worthy of it.” 

His Namesake: John Elias to Elias Gelpi 

Elias authored more than 15 books and hundreds of articles on religious education and social justice. His teaching, writing, and practices addressed three things: the university, the church, and society, said Kieran Scott, Ed.D., a retired GRE faculty member who co-developed the Ph.D. program in religious education with Elias. His writing gave “a vivid sense of history,” said Scott, and often addressed the life of the church—especially the religious education of adults. 

“He felt that it was critical to raise up a mature, intelligent form of religious life in the church,” Scott said. “[But] at the center of all his education was a concern for justice. He felt that justice was indispensable for a peaceful society.” 

Elias also advised dozens of students, from as far as Ireland, Africa, and South America. He invited them to his home for Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July so they could experience American holidays with an American family, said his daughter Rebecca at his funeral liturgy on Oct. 2. 

One student even named his son after Elias. 

David Gelpi, who earned both a master’s and a Ph.D. in religious education from Fordham, recalled the ways that Elias had shaped his life. In the first year of his Ph.D. program, he said, his older brother was killed in a car accident. Gelpi didn’t know how he could finish his degree. But Elias, in a “gentle” manner, convinced him to stay. 

Today, Gelpi is a religious studies teacher at Fordham Prep. His son Elias—named after his mentor—was born in the early 1990s, when Gelpi was in the midst of his master’s program. Now he is a firefighter in Yonkers, New York, Gelpi said. 

“[My son] quietly tries to put himself at the service of people in Yonkers, and I’d like to think that was something that John Elias helped to sharpen early on,” Gelpi said. 

‘We Will Never Forget the Way He Made Us Feel’

One of Elias’ longest mentees and friends, David L. Coppola, Ph.D., GSE ’98, gave a speech at Elias’ funeral liturgy at St. Vincent Martyr Church, where they had met 25 years ago. Elias had mentored Coppola in the Graduate School of Education, toasted Coppola at his wedding, and commemorated Coppola when he was installed as president of Keystone College in 2014. 

“No more emails, texts, or phone calls; no hand to hold; no warm embrace or spontaneous ‘Hellooohhh!’” Coppola said at the service. “But we will never forget the way he made us feel. And his witness of lifelong learning, embracing paradox, and selfless giving lives on in all of us.” 

Elias is survived by his wife of 47 years, Eleanor J. Flanigan, Ed.D., professor emerita at Montclair State University; two daughters, Rebecca and Rachel; and three grandchildren, Julia, Kayla, and Zachary. 

In lieu of flowers, charitable contributions may be made in John’s memory to the Fordham University Graduate School of Religion and Religious Education, Fordham University, Office of Development, 45 Columbus Avenue, 8th Floor, New York, NY 10023, or to the Sr. Regina Flanigan, IHM Fund at Cristo Rey Philadelphia High School, 1717 W Allegheny Ave, Philadelphia, PA 19132. 

For the youth ministers, religious education directors, and other educators who gathered at Fordham’s Westchester campus on Jan. 18, one question set the tone for the day: Does a generational gap prevent adults who work in youth ministry from truly connecting with adolescents and young adults?

As part of a lecture series sponsored by the Graduate School of Religion and Religious Education (GRE), GRE faculty members Harold “Bud” Horell, Ph.D., and Kieran Scott, Ed.D., took on the topic, “Youth and Young Adult Ministries in a Complex, Global Age.”

According to Horell, an assistant professor of religious education, adults can connect with young people by drawing on their own experiences. Citing Erik Erikson’s epigenetic cycle of development, Horell said that all human beings undergo a similar process of physical, psychological, and social development—as well as the challenges that come with this process.

“On the one hand, we can connect because we’ve been their age. But on the other hand, the world has changed. They face the same issues we did, but they face them in a different way,” he said.

Kieran Scott, Ed.D., associate professor of theology and religious education.
Photo by Joanna Klimaski

Shifting societal norms present new challenges to each generation, making the context in which young people develop radically different from the previous generation’s experience.

As a result, Horell argued, youth ministers need to adopt a balanced, “both/and” approach to their ministry.

“I think we can share the wisdom of our faith traditions with young people today and have confidence that it will have some relevance to their lives,” he said. “But we also need to allow them the space they need to reshape, refashion, and in some cases completely re-envision our faith practices so that they are relevant to their lives and unique concerns.”

But Scott, an associate professor of theology and religious education, took a different approach in his response to Horell’s talk. Changing social norms are the not the only challenges for youth ministers. The tendency of today’s youth—a generation known as millennials—to be anti-institutional and apathetic toward tradition also complicates their relationship with an older generation of youth ministers, Scott said.

“For many millennials, institutional religions are not responding adequately to changes in the world. They’re out of sync with shifting attitudes on sex and marriage, and are perceived as cold, impersonal, and empty structures. Millennials look beyond religion and seek a personal faith, more authentic ways of connecting with God, self, and other,” he said.

However, Scott argued, these structures are necessary to ground faith in real, practiced traditions. Without traditions and the institutions that foster them, vague spiritualities risk floating away into abstraction.

Thus, the primary task of youth ministers is not to bridge the generational gaps, but to pass along traditions that help young people develop their spiritual lives.

“Our culture is overdosing on change—we know very well how to change, but we have lost the art of preservation,” Scott said. “Schools and churches ought to serve as society’s memory bank.”

“All our religious efforts should be directed toward… offering our people an institutional church life worthy of their allegiance, and gifting them with a renewed, reinvented Roman Catholic tradition for their time and for each generation,” Scott continued. “All people—young and old—deserve no less.”

Postmodern society is overflowing with myriad points of view. Thanks to the immediate nature of today’s technology, contradictory ideas are constantly bumping into each other.

One of the results, according to Harold Horell, Ph.D., assistant professor of religious education, is moral anxiety: What is one to believe about right and wrong?

“The postmodern worldview begins with a recognition that there are multiple perspectives,” said Horell, who directs master’s level religious education programs in the Graduate School of Religion and Religious Education. “Today, life is often a booming, buzzing confusion, and there are multiple ways of viewing reality.”

How, then, does a faith community teach its young people morals? These and other questions are the subject of Horell’s forthcoming book, Nurturing Moral Wisdom: Morality and a Christian Moral Education in a Postmodern Age.

Horell outlined the dramatic cultural shift from modernism, based on the Cartesian notion of subjectivity, to a postmodernist deluge of views that has occurred largely over the last 50 years. The transition has been traumatic for all people, he said, but particularly for Catholics.
In the 1960s, as part of the Second Vatican Council, Catholicism set aside a rigid, classical view of the world to make room in its doctrine for modern human experience.

“The modernist world we thought we were welcoming no longer existed,” Horell said. By the time Vatican II was complete, the world was moving toward the postmodernist globalism of today.

“So Catholics experienced a kind of culture shock, going rapidly from a classical worldview into postmodernism. The last 45-plus years have been spent trying to figure out how we as Catholics can make our way in a postmodern culture.”

Under a classical view, teaching morality is simple: there are rights and wrongs, dos and don’ts.

A modernist recognizes how subjective factors such as our nationality, faith convictions and gender influence our outlook on life.

But a postmodern view creates “ambiguity that extends to even fundamental moral concepts, such as justice,” Horell said.

For example: Imagine a group of engineers discussing the potential for the moral and immoral use of a defensive weapons system they have been asked to design. The more perspectives there are among the group members, the more difficult it becomes for the group as a whole to make a moral evaluation.

If only one member is Catholic, and his moral perspective has been deeply shaped by his faith, he faces the added challenge of trying to communicate a moral vision that is grounded in his faith to people who do not share that faith.

While it is easy to teach children the fundamental dos and don’ts needed to co-exist within a contemporary social structure, Horell said it is no longer enough.

“Too often, we teach our faith convictions not as a starting point for dialogue, but as a blueprint for how to figure things out,” he said. “If faith provides a blueprint, then there is no room for dialogue. Yet, in a postmodern world, we need to know how to foster dialogue among people who hold differing moral outlooks.”

Horell advocates teaching religion as a means to root young people in their faith while ensuring they have the social tools to be open to other points of view. The emphasis, then, is not so much on what a moral person should do, but how a person can be of moral character.

In the case of the engineer mentioned above, Horell said he knew such an employee in New Hampshire. When faced with a moral crisis of designing a weapon he could not morally accept, the engineer worked for change. He visited the Department of Defense and engaged in a dialogue with military representatives, until they agreed to redesign the system.

The Pulitzer Prize-winning play Doubt, now an Oscar-nominated movie, evokes a moral ambiguity very much in step with the postmodern ethos of which Horell speaks.

In the story, Sister Aloysius, principal of an elementary school, accuses a priest of having behaved inappropriately with one of his male students, and her certitude is met with the priest’s denial and others’ doubt.

The priest eventually takes a reassignment as headmaster at another school. The audience is left to decide who is right and who is wrong.

“Doubt can be constructive, but it can also be destructive, and in the postmodern culture, there is a lot of destructive doubt,” Horell said. “One way to deal with it is to retreat into a secure worldview and the morality of one’s religion, or of one’s clan, or of one’s family. As long as you stay within a closed little circle, things can be okay.

“But if you have to interact with people who see things differently, you have no basis on which to build that interaction. In a world where we increasingly have to encounter people who are different, insular morality is less and less adequate.”

He noted the importance of providing young Christians with the means to find a middle ground, to seek a point of contact with other religious traditions. The recognition of the right to human dignity, for example, is rooted in Christianity, Judaism, Islam and many other faiths. A tradition like that, Horell said, has “public resonance.”

The next step, Horell said, is to locate those points of public resonance that have classic significance to different faiths. He cites the novel To Kill A Mockingbird as a story that is a classic because it pities the meek and seeks justice for those unfairly treated. These are themes that are global, but that also resonate across the centuries, Horell said.

“By a process of public reflection over time, it is possible to arrive at a morality that is refined, one that moves closer to objective truth and value,” he said.