Msgr. Roger J. Landry
National Catholic Register
September 3, 2025
The purpose of raising children is to raise them not to be children but adults. The goal of education is, etymologically, to “lead” children from the darkness of ignorance into the light of knowledge. The aim of formation is, literally, to help “shape” people according to some predetermined figure.
To do this successfully, parents, teachers, coaches, trainers, formators, society and the Church all need a clear and healthy sense of the end to which we’re trying to guide the young. They must also provide the means and methods adequate to inspire, inform and mold them.
The clearer the understanding of what it means to be an adult, learned and mature, the better in general the outcome. The more confused the formators, and the more confusing their messages and materials, the greater the risk for the young. Instead of maturing to full stature and using their gifts for the good of all, they may instead choose to use their life and gifts to their own and others’ detriment and destruction.
That’s one of the pivotal lessons that has emerged from the murders at the opening school Mass at Annunciation Catholic School in Minneapolis on Aug. 27. Two children, Harper Moyski, 10, and Fletcher Merkel, 8, were killed and 18 other children and three adults were injured when Robin, born Robert, Westman opened fire through a stained-glass window during the responsorial Psalm at Mass. The 23-year-old then took one of the three weapons he was carrying and fired the last of 116 bullets at himself, becoming the third person to die that day.
Considerable attention has been given to Westman’s gender confusion as he became the second young person claiming to be “trans” in three years to commit mass atrocities at a Christian school — this despite the very small percentage in society of those who believe they have a different gender than their biological sex.
But there’s a bigger issue. Westman grew up in a practicing Catholic home. He was for a time homeschooled and later attended three Catholic schools: Christ the King in Lexington, Kentucky; Annunciation in Minneapolis; and St. Thomas Academy in Mendota, Minnesota.
We can presume that his parents, older siblings, teachers and administrators all tried hard to do their job to form him well. Despite their collective efforts, however, he ended up confused about his masculinity and identity; sold marijuana for a living and smoked it; gave into racist, anti-Christian and antisemitic hatred; indulged in Satanic worship; and grew to become obsessed with, even idolize, mass murderers, especially those who committed atrocities in schools or in houses of worship.
He seemed at pains to assure his parents and siblings not to conclude they were the cause of his atrocities. In a note to them and his friends, he wrote, “Please do not think you have failed as parents. I was corrupted by this world and have learned to hate what life is.” Life for him, he stated, had become “pain,” the pain of suffering, fighting addictions, constant bills, unpleasant jobs and people, injustices and a fear of cancer. “Only recently have I lost all hope and decided to perform my final action against this world … [which] has been in the back of my head for years.”
What happened on Aug. 27 was the culmination of what he termed a long process of worldly “corruption,” a series of failures to train him how to deal with the confusion and pain that had left him despondent and hateful toward life. That was his unjustifiable justification for succumbing to the desperate, diabolical temptation to take his life — during Mass — and to slaughter as many innocents as possible on his earthly exit.
Some aspects of the “corruption of this world” to which he alluded are not difficult to identify: the depravity that glorifies violence on social media sites and abets it by allowing the mentally ill so easily to gain access to weapons that can be used for mass murder; the degeneracy that affirms one’s gender confusion rather than trying to remedy it; the delinquency that pushes drugs and other forms of escapism and addiction; the decadence that fails to help the young deal with pain and the inevitable sufferings of life, that forgets that the human person has a transcendent nature and, therefore, that someone without a friendship with God is handicapped before the difficulties of life.
Westman was sadly — and calamitously — formed more by the corruptions of this world than he was by the integrity of his Catholic faith, which has profound and compelling answers to the questions that plagued him. As a result, he was left depressed, suicidal and homicidal.
Sadly, we cannot go back and remedy those defects. But we can learn from them and face head-on the question of the formation of our young people so that they will not be similarly corrupted but receive what they need: an integral formation that integrates body and soul, prepares them for life’s challenges, and orients them in the real world created, redeemed and accompanied by God.
Part of that formation involves introducing the young to relatable, inspiring role models. This Sunday, Pope Leo will canonize two of them, Pier Giorgio Frassati (1901-25) and Carlo Acutis (1991-2006). Each of their causes has been pushed primarily by youth across the globe, who find in them precisely the types of young heroes they hope to emulate.
Each has much to offer individually, but those devoted to them recognize that they have in common far more than their age and Italian citizenship. We can focus on a few of the things they teach us that every young person needs in his or her formation.
The first thing is about how to relate maturely to the reality that God is truly with us in the world. Both were committed to prayer, to daily Mass and to Eucharistic adoration. Even amid the brief physical sufferings that would claim their lives, they knew that God was with them. Carlo famously said, “Non io, ma Dio,” focusing not on himself but on God. Pier Giorgio prioritized God over his sleep, often spending nights adoring the Lord. They both lived for God and were formed according to the divine image.
The second thing both teach us is the importance of friendship. Both made friends easily and were great friends to many. They were fun, present and sacrificial. Pier Giorgio used to lead his friends on exhilarating hikes in the Italian Alps, challenge his friends to card games — betting them that if they lost, they’d need to come with him to pray — and otherwise seemed to love the feast of life.
Carlo would play Pokémon, soccer and video games with friends. He’d help his friends with homework and defend them against bullies. Both recognized that God had made them to exist in communion with others, and both, like Christ, prioritized friendship. They show a far different possibility than the isolation that sadly came to define Westman late in life.
Third, they were both young men for others, excelling in charity.
Pier Giorgio belonged to the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, visiting the sick, sacrificing time and resources for them. When he discovered he was dying but didn’t want to distract his family from caring for his sick grandmother, he entrusted to his sister the book listing the many people he was helping so that they wouldn’t be neglected after his death. His funeral a century ago was so full of people he had somewhat secretly helped that his parents couldn’t fathom it.
Carlo used to sacrifice his allowance to care for the poor, bringing them sleeping bags, blankets and thermoses full of warm liquids. He gave his piggy bank to poor classmates and regularly turned down his parents’ offers for new clothes and sneakers, asking that he be permitted to use the money to buy outfits and shoes for others. Against every temptation to objectify or dehumanize others — temptations that can lead to the remorseless destruction of innocent life — they instead saw Christ in others and sought to love and care for him.
As we approach their canonizations this Sunday, the whole Church should seek to make them better known, especially among the young who might not yet be aware of them. Their example not only can mitigate and remedy the “corruption of this world” and show what the goals of Catholic formation ought to be, but their intercession for young people in need might prove to be their most valuable charity of all.
