“Biological War” is a heavily researched book about contagious and potentially civilization-ending pathogens. Though banned by international treaty, these germs have been weaponized and hoarded by countries that include Russia, North Korea and Syria.

By “weaponized” I don’t mean merely that they’ve been placed at the business end of ballistic missiles. I mean that these pathogens have been genetically engineered, in diabolical ways, to trick first responders and be all but untreatable. Even a small accidental spill, like wine sloshing out of glass, like Covid slipping out of a lab, could be the last mistake our species makes.

Jacobsen has interviewed everyone, from former high-ranking members of the military, the C.I.A., FEMA and NATO to former secretaries of defense, counterterrorism experts, epidemiologists and Sam [expletive] Altman. That so many were willing to talk to her, and have their names affixed to this book, indicates the esteem in which she is held, especially after the publication of “Nuclear War: A Scenario” (2024), a best seller that stirred new interest in nuclear policy, technology and risks worldwide.

The reason “Biological War,” like Jacobsen’s previous book, is so consuming is that she packs a lot of dense and particulate information into a ticking-clock scenario: into a story. It’s more pulverizing than a Kathryn Bigelow movie. Some of the chapter headings are phrases like “Day Two” or “Day Three.” Not to ruin your mood, but “Day Six” is about as far as civilization gets. A later chapter is titled “The Last Day of American Democracy.”

Read it all.

New, likely terrifying look into reality of biological warfare, book by @AnnieJacobsen just arrived. All her books are must-reads… Nuclear War, Area 51, Surprise Kill Vanish, Operation Paperclip, etc pic.twitter.com/qLmZNPoEu4

— Luke Fischer (@lukefischer) July 28, 2026

-‘All around us we see Christians and churches relaxing their grasp on the gospel, fumbling it, and in danger of letting it drop from their hands altogether’

–John R. W. Stott, Guard the Gospel (Downers Grove, Ill., InterVarsity Press, 1973),

Today's centenary of birth of John Stott, an evangelical Anglican clergyman named by @Time among 100 most influential people. As member of @AllSoulsLP, 1981-84, his preaching, humility & founding of @liccltd had massive impact on my Christian formation. (photo @LanghamPartners ) pic.twitter.com/lQE4k2K9Ax

— Revd Nicholas Pye (@RevdPye) April 27, 2021

A zombie is haunting America, the zombie of communism. Pronounced dead and discredited after the collapse of the Soviet Union, it is back. Former Senate candidate Graham Platner and influencer Hasan Piker did not lose, and probably gained, adherents by having called themselves communists. Meanwhile, as Stu Smith recently wrote in The Free Press, a majority of the Democratic Socialists of America governing board “openly identifies with communist ideology.”

As a Russian specialist, I cannot help wondering: How is this possible? Do these people really have no problem with the history of the ideology they’re claiming? With Joseph Stalin’s Gulag that took the lives of millions, his artificially induced famine that deliberately starved several million peasants, and the secret police’s form of interrogation that routinely included torture? Do they actually want to revive Mao Zedong’s Cultural Revolution and the Khmer Rouge’s reign of terror that claimed the lives of a quarter of Cambodia’s population?

Three quarters of a century ago, questions like these led to one of the most important volumes to emerge during the Cold War. Now largely forgotten, The God That Failed (1949) was once so widely read that the volume’s title became a catchphrase for any movement that attracted intellectuals to a quasi-religious ideology claiming infallibility.

The God That Failed brought together several prominent European and American writers who had once either been members of the Communist Party or sympathetic to the Soviet Union, but had eventually grown disillusioned. Each writer explained what initially attracted him to, and what eventually repelled him from, communism. The star-studded cast included Arthur Koestler, an Hungarian-born British writer now best known for his brilliant novel about communism, Darkness at Noon; French novelist André Gide; the Italian Ignazio Silone, author of Bread and Wine; British poet Stephen Spender; and two Americans, journalist and author Louis Fischer, and African American writer Richard Wright.

Read it all.

The Return of the God That Failed https://t.co/Z9aUNSWmTy

— Collin Hansen (@collinhansen) July 27, 2026

Patristics, theology, and right sense in public discourse lost a giant. On June 6 of this year, Robert Louis Wilken passed from this life at the age of eighty-nine. He leaves behind his beloved wife of sixty-six years, Carol, their family and loved ones, and many admirers who know him through his books. 

Before he was a prolific author, Robert was an avid reader. He loved books. In an act of great generosity, he emailed me on April 29, 2022: “The time has come to dispose of my library. Is it possible that the Dominican House of Studies would be interested?” My Pontifical Faculty at the House of Studies in Washington, DC was very glad to receive well over 1,500 books and other library materials from him. I told the librarians that if they saw underlining and marginalia inscribed in the books, they should realize that the books were made even more valuable. Those scribbles were the marks of Robert Wilken! 

Robert’s life traces a fascinating intellectual and spiritual journey. Raised in a devout Lutheran family, he wanted at a young age to go into ministry. After attending a Lutheran prep school in Texas, Robert went to Concordia Seminary in St. Louis where he studied under his early mentor, Arthur Carl Piepkorn. Piepkorn himself had done doctoral studies at the University of Chicago, and Robert followed his example. Robert became not only a Lutheran pastor, but also a well-trained professor specializing in the Fathers of the Church. In 1994, in the little St. Thomas Chapel of the Dominican House of Studies in Washington, D.C., Robert entered into full communion with the Catholic Church. By doing so, he became one of the Catholic Church in America’s leading scholars. 

Robert held a unique place in the academy. No other person served as president of these three societies: the North American Patristics Society (1985-86), the American Academy of Religion (1989), and the Academy of Catholic Theology (2012-13). 

Read it all.

Robert Louis Wilken, who died yesterday, was a giant of church history. His work on early Christian thought is incisive & so well-written that it’s a joy to read. I assigned his books in my classes & met him on numerous occasions. A true scholar & a faithful disciple of Christ. pic.twitter.com/fvaAb5GDAA

— Ryan N. Danker (@RyanNDanker) June 8, 2026

The much-discussed disappearance of book readers is a clear symptom of the nation’s attention crisis: Long-form reading, once an ordinary feature of educated life, is increasingly becoming a luxury. But even the shorter forms of writing are losing their audience, with newspapers and magazines struggling to hold readers. It’s a wonder anyone still has the patience for sustained argument.

The older way of consuming media can still be found on the Friday evenings when millions of Orthodox Jews enter a world where printed pages still matter. Stacks of books, tables littered with essays and commentaries, piles of Jewish magazines—these Orthodox homes form one of the few demographics where the printed word still thrives. Parents read and children grow up watching them do so. Conversations stretch for hours without the interruption of a vibrating phone. It is one of the last large communities in America where sustained attention isn’t an aspiration but a habit, born of the prohibition of mechanical and electric technology on the Sabbath, which runs from Friday evening to Saturday night.

Over the past year, with increased urgency from the rise of artificial-intelligence chatbots, voices from well beyond the Orthodox Jewish world have begun calling for some version of a weekly Sabbath. Jonathan Haidt has become a leading advocate for a regular digital detox. Charlie Kirk argued for something similar in his book “Stop in the Name of God.” Earlier this year, President Trump encouraged Americans to embrace a “national Sabbath” and invite “friends, families, and communities of all backgrounds” to step back from their devices for a day of gratitude and rest.

Their instinct is correct. The modern world desperately needs a weekly rhythm of rest. But if unplugging promises greater focus, stronger families and richer communities, why has it proved so difficult? The answer isn’t simply that we’re addicted to our phones. It’s that unplugging isn’t enough. A Sabbath isn’t merely the absence of technology. It is the presence of something richer.

Read it all.

We're loving this thoughtful Wall Street Journal op-ed from @DBashIdeas about one of Shabbat's greatest gifts: the chance to unplug, slow down and rediscover the joy of reading a great book. Sometimes the greatest luxury is simply having time.https://t.co/UqFjZEUmVG

— Jewish Treats (@JewishTweets) July 17, 2026

Gordon S. Wood, the great historian of the American founding, died at ninety-two on June 7, just weeks shy of the 250th anniversary of American independence. This coincidence does not quite possess the providential aura of Thomas Jefferson’s and John Adams’s deaths on July 4, 1826, the fiftieth anniversary of the Declaration. But Wood’s death offers an important opportunity to reflect on his brilliant contributions to American history, and to lament the passing of a great generation of historians, including Wood, who came of age during and after World War II. We’re not likely to see a generation of scholars like Wood’s again, nor would the elite academy welcome them if we did. 

In the mid-1990s, I was admitted to Brown University to work with Wood for a Ph.D. Alas, Brown had no stipend for an iffy candidate from a southern public school, so I went elsewhere. But Wood’s works, especially The Creation of the American Republic (1969) and The Radicalism of the American Revolution (1992), seeped into my bones anyway. As I have returned to my yellowed copies of his books in the days since his passing, I find myself regularly reminded of ideas about the Revolution and the Founders that I first learned from him. Now I just teach them as historical givens. 

Wood’s professional genealogy helps explain his trajectory as a scholar. His career was connected to three other major figures of American historical scholarship. The first was Bernard Bailyn, Wood’s doctoral adviser and longtime Harvard historian who died in 2020 at age ninety-seven. Then there was Edmund Morgan, Bailyn’s contemporary who taught at Brown for a decade before moving to Yale in the mid-1950s. Bailyn and Morgan both studied at Harvard with the legendary Perry Miller, one of the most influential American historians of the twentieth century. 

In this essay there’s no space to summarize the works of these four titans. But if you pick up a book by any of them, you’ll be treated to an intellectual feast. And Gordon Wood was part of a historiographical tradition that began with Miller.  

Read it all.

"Though America’s ideals were riddled with ironies and inconsistencies, the nation still emerged as a global beacon of ordered liberty. No one better explained the history and significance of that American nation than Gordon Wood." My essay at @PublicDiscourse…

— Thomas S. Kidd (@ThomasSKidd) July 17, 2026

[Gavin] Francis consistently challenges the labelling effect of standard diagnostic manuals, and the danger of “diagnostic creep”. “If we were able to hold the labels more lightly, aware of the human tendencies they oversimplify, would we be able to create a society more accepting of difference? Might it be less stigmatising, but also more hopeful, and more open to recovery?”

Religion appears from time to time. People who attend religious services evidently have a 20 per cent lower rate of depression than others. There is something priestly in the role of psychiatrist, “in that it concerns questions of doubt, faith and love”. More fundamentally, the author conveys a marvellous sense of wonder at the miracle and mystery of the human body and mind: “Wonder fosters humility, compassion and reverence for life — the cornerstones of all the major world religions, and fundamental qualities for the effective practice of medicine.”

Those involved in pastoral care can learn much from Francis’s account of his practice, and not least his insistence on the central place of kindness and compassion.

Read it all.

"Those involved in pastoral care can learn much from Francis’s account of his practice, and not least his insistence on the central place of kindness and compassion"

📚 Philip Welsh welcomes a GP’s reflections on mental-health issues#books https://t.co/LHAmMaRnUM

— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) July 7, 2026

Have not many of us, in the weary way of life, felt, in some hours, how far easier it were to die than to live?

The martyr, when faced even by a death of bodily anguish and horror, finds in the very terror of his doom a strong stimulant and tonic. There is a vivid excitement, a thrill and fervor, which may carry through any crisis of suffering that is the birth-hour of eternal glory and rest.

But to live,–to wear on, day after day, of mean, bitter, low, harassing servitude, every nerve dampened and depressed, every power of feeling gradually smothered,–this long and wasting heart-martyrdom, this slow, daily bleeding away of the inward life, drop by drop, hour after hour,–this is the true searching test of what there may be in man or woman.

When Tom stood face to face with his persecutor, and heard his threats, and thought in his very soul that his hour was come, his heart swelled bravely in him, and he thought he could bear torture and fire, bear anything, with the vision of Jesus and heaven but just a step beyond; but, when he was gone, and the present excitement passed off, came back the pain of his bruised and weary limbs,–came back the sense of his utterly degraded, hopeless, forlorn estate; and the day passed wearily enough.

Long before his wounds were healed, Legree insisted that he should be put to the regular field-work; and then came day after day of pain and weariness, aggravated by every kind of injustice and indignity that the ill-will of a mean and malicious mind could devise. Whoever, in our circumstances, has made trial of pain, even with all the alleviations which, for us, usually attend it, must know the irritation that comes with it. Tom no longer wondered at the habitual surliness of his associates; nay, he found the placid, sunny temper, which had been the habitude of his life, broken in on, and sorely strained, by the inroads of the same thing. He had flattered himself on leisure to read his Bible; but there was no such thing as leisure there. In the height of the season, Legree did not hesitate to press all his hands through, Sundays and week-days alike. Why shouldn’t he?””he made more cotton by it, and gained his wager; and if it wore out a few more hands, he could buy better ones. At first, Tom used to read a verse or two of his Bible, by the flicker of the fire, after he had returned from his daily toil; but, after the cruel treatment he received, he used to come home so exhausted, that his head swam and his eyes failed when he tried to read; and he was fain to stretch himself down, with the others, in utter exhaustion.

Is it strange that the religious peace and trust, which had upborne him hitherto, should give way to tossings of soul and despondent darkness? The gloomiest problem of this mysterious life was constantly before his eyes, souls crushed and ruined, evil triumphant, and God silent. It was weeks and months that Tom wrestled, in his own soul, in darkness and sorrow. He thought of Miss Ophelia’s letter to his Kentucky friends, and would pray earnestly that God would send him deliverance. And then he would watch, day after day, in the vague hope of seeing somebody sent to redeem him; and, when nobody came, he would crush back to his soul bitter thoughts,that it was vain to serve God, that God had forgotten him. He sometimes saw Cassy; and sometimes, when summoned to the house, caught a glimpse of the dejected form of Emmeline, but held very little communion with either; in fact, there was no time for him to commune with anybody.

–Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom’s Cabin

“Uncle Tom’s Cabin”, the anti-slavery novel by Harriet Beecher Stowe, was published in book form for the first time #OTD in 1852. It had first been published 10 months earlier in serial form in ‘The National Era’, and abolitionist periodical. #WomensHistoryMonth pic.twitter.com/1tFtJZGllR

— Civil War On This Day (@CivilWarOTD) March 20, 2022

Patrick Brown, Contributing Editor 

I am sure I am far from the only member of the Public Discourse family to be preparing for the release of Christopher Nolan’s adaption of The Odyssey later this summer. In part because the tale was initially orally transmitted (and in part because it’s easier to sneak in chunks of listening time while watching kids at the park), I made a point of picking an audiobook recording—Sir Ian McKellen reads the Fagles translation with characteristic aplomb. Samuel Moyn’s Gerontocracy in America: How the Old Are Hoarding Power and Wealth—and What to Do About It is on my list for professional reasons, and Leander Schaerlaeckens’ history of the U.S. soccer program The Long Game: U.S. Men’s Soccer and Its Savage, Four-Decade Journey to the Top is helping me get in the World Cup spirit. Then I have to decide whether I want to make room for Caro Clare Burke’s viral tradwife novel Yesteryear … 

Alexandra Davis, Managing Editor 

My reading group is taking on Les Miserables this summer, so I am currently carrying around what I fondly call my “brick” with me in my diaper bag. It’s quite the conversation piece when I whip it out at the pool, all 1,100+ pages of it. It’s been a blast sending our favorite witty Hugo lines to our group text thread and declaring which parts of the narrative have left us decidedly “not okay.” In all seriousness, Les Mis will always remain among my favorite stories about human complexity, concupiscence, and redemption. May we all aspire to be Jean Valjean when, at times, we are regrettably more like Javert. (Our reading group will also enjoy a screening of the 2012 movie this summer, which is a masterpiece, Russell Crowe’s singing notwithstanding.) 

For a much lighter, cannot-put-it-down read, I’m nearly finished with the Catholic author (and occasional PD writer) Claire Swinarski’s novel The Supper Club Saints. It’s been a while since I’ve read a contemporary novel that so searingly captures the most honest and often unflattering angles of a mother’s interior dialogue. Not to mention, it’s often laugh-out-loud funny. Claire does enjoy some salty language, though, so caveat emptor, especially if you’re listening to an audio version….

Read it all.

https://t.co/mqdGZTdRDW Here’s what our editors are reading this summer.

— Public Discourse (@PublicDiscourse) June 25, 2026

The Golden Result is a corollary to the Golden Rule, which calls us to do to others as we would have them do to us. The Golden Result says that people will usually treat us as we treat them. If we blame others for a problem, they will usually blame in return. But if we say, “I was wrong,” it is amazing how often the response will be, “It was my fault too.” I have seen this result in hundreds of cases over the past twenty-one years. Whether the dispute involves a personal quarrel, divorce, lawsuit, or church division, people generally treat one another as they are being treated.

When one person attacks and accuses, so does the other. And when God moves one person to start getting the log out of his or her own eye, it is rare that the other side fails to do the same. The Golden Result occurs most often with people who understand and cherish the gospel. When we admit that our own sins are so serious that Jesus had to die for us, and remember that he has forgiven us for all our wrongs, we can let go of our illusion of self-righteousness and freely admit our failures. When we do this, we experience the wonderful gift of God’s forgiveness. And in many cases, he will be pleased to use our confessions to help others see the logs in their eyes.

Ken Sande, The Peacemaker (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1991)

Two centuries ago, most American magazine and newspaper editors professed Christian faith and wanted their publications to show it—but many lost their audiences when new publications offered street-level reporting that won more readers than literary essays.

That’s important history to understand, but you won’t read about it in Alex Wright’s new book Empire of Ink, a supposed history of American journalism through 1900. Wright amusingly describes antics of The Printers, Rogues, and Radicals Who Invented the American Newspaper, as the subtitle states, but he skips the Christians and in doing so misses the forest for trees, billions of which fell in the centuries when words on paper ruled. 

But just as Wright overlooks something important, so did I—until my research for a history of abortion led me to what Wright rightly calls “racy papers … bearing names like The Flash, The Whip, The Rake, and The Libertine,” bearing “headings like Lives of the Nymphs.” They published detailed and prurient profiles of prostitutes, listing their addresses as a service to readers eager (as one critic wrote) to “fill the paths to perdition.” 

Wright also describes how newspapers first celebrated Charles Dickens when the author came to the US in 1842, then called him “a literary bagman.” Dickens reciprocated, attacking “moral poison” and arguing that “the influence of the good, is powerless to counteract the moral poison of the bad.” My sense is that Wright overemphasizes the bad in early American journalism, but I may have underestimated it. 

Read it all.

(CT) Marvin Olasky–'[Alex] Wright amusingly describes antics of The Printers, Rogues, and Radicals Who Invented the American Newspaper, as the subtitle states, but he skips the Christians and in doing so misses the forest for trees, billions of which fell in the centuries when…

— Kendall Harmon (@KendallHarmon6) June 19, 2026

Is it ethical to alter the genetic makeup of children? Should we create children with three parents? What about creating sperm from female stem cells to the end of creating a child with two biological mothers? Is it ethical to incubate a growing baby in an artificial womb? Could a womb like that end the perceived need for abortion?  

These questions might seem like science fiction, and indeed they were when Aldous Huxley, an agnostic, published his dystopian novel Brave New World nearly one hundred years ago. Huxley wove a fictitious world in which progeny were designed and grown in laboratories, children were raised by the state rather than in families, promiscuity was encouraged and monogamy considered grotesque, and the government endorsed self-medication with a “harmless” drug that kept its users in a placated state. 

Yet these are the questions up for debate in today’s public square, as evidenced by a recent debate hosted by The Free Press: “Is Designing Babies Unethical—Or a Moral Imperative?”  

All things considered, one has to wonder if Huxley wasn’t more a prophet than a novelist.  

Read it all.

https://t.co/vb0gflsCQ0 The elimination of suffering will not produce joy. If we seek to be truly free, we must acknowledge our responsibilities to one another. We will flourish to the extent that we all can flourish.

— Public Discourse (@PublicDiscourse) June 14, 2026

The Christian faith is by nature conservative—in a theological sense. The Scriptures are replete with verses pointing to the unchanging and enduring nature of God and the Bible. Revelation 1:8 says, “‘I am the Alpha and the Omega,’ says the Lord God, ‘who is, and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty’” (ESV throughout). Malachi 3:6 says, “For I the Lord do not change; therefore you, O children of Jacob, are not consumed.” Isaiah 40:8 says, “The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” Hebrews 13:8 says, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” These verses do not mean that the biblical text cannot be distorted or manipulated by self-serving people, but it does mean that the Bible is not a party platform that gets updated every four years.

Thankfully, there are countless others who are faithfully preaching and teaching God’s word. These congregations are often small and do not receive any media attention. Many are led by pastors more concerned with preparing their members for eternity in heaven than getting souls to the polls on Election Day. Some of these churches have vibrant ministries for men, women, and families. They are committed to remaining faithful to biblical ethics regarding sex, sexuality, marriage, family, and the sanctity of life without any concern for whether elected Democrats—or Republicans—agree.

Liberation-minded pastors who reject the biblical definitions and descriptions of sex and marriage are incapable of doing the work needed to rebuild the Black family. They fashion themselves as brave prophets, but they make race and politics twin idols that draw their hearts—and pulpits—away from God.

Christians are often told to beware of wolves in sheep’s clothing. That is wise counsel, but what’s even more dangerous is a wolf in shepherd’s clothing. The former can devour a few sheep before the others scatter, but the latter can lead an entire flock over a cliff.

One ray of hope is the biblical theme of God’s mercy on those who turn from their wicked ways and trust him. The pattern in both the Old and New Testaments is quite familiar. God’s people rebel. He rebukes them. They reflect on their sin and repent. He restores them. This is my prayer because the Black family needs the church to function in its God-given role now more than ever.

Read it all.

“Instead, liberation theology has transformed the Black church from a religious institution dedicated to the pursuit of righteousness to the religious wing of the Democratic Party.”https://t.co/Bh1V8SBXWw

— TheQueenofLA 🇺🇸 (@Queenofla2) June 17, 2026

For his part, while Hamilton favored a more active role for government in promoting commerce, his ultimate aim was almost the same as Jefferson’s: securing the rights proclaimed in the Declaration. But by enhancing commerce, Hamilton aspired to enable ordinary Americans to emulate his path of rising to prosperity through their own initiative and industry.  

Both men would surely have been horrified by the enormous and intrusive bureaucracy that the progressive movement bequeathed to us. As Rosen puts it, “in the name of Jefferson’s commitment to equal economic opportunity, Roosevelt had buried Jefferson’s commitment to limited government” (though Rosen surely errs in calling his program “Hamiltonian”). Rosen does cite Ronald Reagan’s “Jeffersonian criticisms” of the Great Society “antipoverty” program of FDR’s successor Lyndon Johnson for undermining welfare recipients’ incentive to work, while also noting how the articles of impeachment that Congress drew against Richard Nixon, drawing on Federalist no. 69, finally “refuted” Jefferson’s charge that Hamilton had been a monarchist

Finally, in the area of constitutional interpretation, Rosen quotes Justice Antonin Scalia’s embrace of “the interpretative approach of the Hamiltonian justice Joseph Story” according to which the Constitution’s words should be construed neither broadly nor strictly, but rather taking them “in their natural and obvious sense” (though that phrase obviously leaves considerable room for dispute in particular cases). But Rosen departs from Scalia by insisting that “the central dispute on the Supreme Court” since the Founding “has not been between originalism and non-originalism, but between liberal and strict construction of federal power”: how would that distinction apply to decisions applauded by “living constitutionalists” like Roe v. Wade, which have no grounding in the Constitution’s text at all?  

Whatever one’s judgment of these controversies, it is impossible to differ with Rosen’s concluding judgment that “the greatest threat to the American Idea” throughout our history has come not from those who inconsistently apply Hamilton’s or Jefferson’s principles, but “from those who have rejected the principles entirely,” from Calhoun and others who renounced the claim of natural human equality as “a self-evident lie” to “progressive and conservative ideologues today” who would replace the Constitution entirely with a “resort to violence.” Taken as a whole, Rosen’s book offers a learned and sober account of the relevance of Hamilton’s and Jefferson’s principles to America’s past, present, and possible future. 

Read it all.

National Constitution Center President & CEO Jeffrey Rosen discusses his book, "The Pursuit of Liberty: How Hamilton vs. Jefferson Ignited the Lasting Battle Over Power in America."

Watch here: https://t.co/pYS9vkWqTb pic.twitter.com/jj7ARdujMR

— Washington Journal (@cspanwj) December 25, 2025

In little more than ten years St. Paul established the Church in four provinces of the Empire, Galatia, Macedonia, Achaia and Asia. Before AD 47 there were no churches in these provinces; in AD 57 St. Paul could speak as if his work there was done, and could plan extensive tours into the far west without anxiety lest the churches which he had founded might perish in his absence for want of his guidance and support.

The work of the Apostle during these ten years can therefore be treated as a unity. Whatever assistance he may have received from the preaching of others, it is unquestioned that the establishment of the churches in these provinces was really his work. In the pages of the New Testament he, and he alone, stands forth as their founder. And the work which he did was really a completed work. So far as the foundation of the churches is concerned, it is perfectly clear that the writer of the Acts intends to represent St. Paul’s work as complete. The churches were really established. Whatever disasters fell upon them in later years, whatever failure there was, whatever ruin, that failure was not due to any insufficiency or lack of care and completeness in the Apostle’s teaching or organization. When he left them he left them because his work was fully accomplished.

This is truly an astonishing fact. That churches should be founded so rapidly, so securely, seems to us today, accustomed to the difficulties, the uncertainties, the failures, the disastrous relapses of our own missionary work, almost incredible. Many missionaries in later days have received a larger number of converts than St. Paul; many have preached over a wider area than he; but none have so established churches. We have long forgotten that such things could be. We have long accustomed ourselves to accept it as an axiom of missionary work that converts in a new country must be submitted to a very long probation and training, extending over generations before they can be expected to be able to stand alone. Today if a man ventures to suggest that there may be something in the methods by which St. Paul attained such wonderful results worthy of our careful attention, and perhaps of our imitation, he is in danger of being accused of revolutionary tendencies.

–Roland Allen, Missionary Methods: St. Paul’s or Ours; A Study of The Church In The Four Provinces, Chapter One

Want to come prepared to the 2019 Intersection Conference? @BpToddHunter suggests "The Church and Its Vocation: Newbigin’s Missionary Ecclesiology" by Michael Goheen and "Roland Allen: A Theology of Mission" by Steven Rutt #intersection19 https://t.co/sTGpAN9eCS pic.twitter.com/OY83a8mlMf

— The Telos Collective (@TelosCollective) February 23, 2019

Heavenly Father, who didst call thy servant Bede, while still a child, to devote his life to thy service in the disciplines of religion and scholarship: Grant that as he labored in the Spirit to bring the riches of thy truth to his generation, so we, in our various vocations, may strive to make thee known in all the world; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

May 25: Feast of Bede (673-735), priest of Gyruum (Jarrow), biblical scholar. Wrote Ecclesiastical History of the English People. When news of his death reached missionaries, Boniface wrote ‘the candle of the Church, lit by the Holy Spirit, was extinguished’. Originally May 26. pic.twitter.com/JCoQKakVEn

— North Ages (@NorthAges) May 25, 2026

Unlike the earlier book, God’s Homecoming answers with a sweeping, if necessarily whistle-stop, biblical theology. “The Bible speaks with one voice of God coming to live with humans. Of God coming to be at home with us humans” (emphasis original). These pages are saturated with quotations of scripture, and particularly the Old Testament, something that those familiar with the styles of both Tom and his alter ego N. T. Wright will recognise and appreciate. Readers are borne along on the currents of prophecy and promise, gathering steam as the story of Israel’s God coming to dwell with his people rolls toward a climactic fulfilment.

The book’s primary thesis is that this fulfilment has now taken place in the “coming home” of God in Jesus, the human face of God, and the Holy Spirit, the pledge of the world’s suffusion with divine presence. The Kingdom does not merely wait for a future return of Christ, but has already been powerfully inaugurated.

Thus, the arrival of God on earth and not the soul’s arrival in heaven is central; living with God in a renewed creation…

Read it all.

“The point of Christianity is not that we should go to heaven. The point of Christianity is that heaven should come to us.”
-N.T. Wright, God’s Homecominghttps://t.co/9nO2h4VBHq

— Tom Wright (@profntwright) February 15, 2026

Is the American Revolution over? As we celebrate the 250th anniversary of the United States this year, public commentators will answer this question differently. For some, the Revolution was an event that happened in the distant past. They will celebrate the 250th with three-cornered hats, battle reenactments, and visits to historic sites. Others may try to “reclaim” the Revolution, as if the beliefs of the founding fathers froze in the 18th century and just need thawing and application in the 21st, as if little has changed since 1776.

Still others see the Revolution as ongoing. This latter view, Nathan Perl-Rosenthal argues in The Long Revolution, is the way most Americans living before the Civil War understood the Revolution.

Read it all.

Historian @JohnFea1 reviews three history books that explore the stories we tell about America and the immigrants who call it home.https://t.co/63SOf6JWZG

— Christianity Today (@CTmagazine) May 18, 2026

It has been suggestively proposed that the book’s “presiding genius is Pascal.” Indeed, Pascal is cited or referenced fourteen times in the extant letters. One may note, in passing, that Clermont-Ferrand, the editor’s residence, is the birthplace of Pascal.

Perhaps, however, the archbishop’s vision owes even more to the second century Church Father Irenaeus of Lyons. The dual manuscript tradition, the English and Spanish versions of the letters, present, according to Hermès, “no variant readings,” save in one important particular. The heading of the English recension echoes Athanasius and reads forthrightly: “Letters on the Incarnation.” The Spanish compilation, instead, adapts Irenaeus, with an added flourish: “Letters on the Detection and Overthrow of Reality Falsely So Called.” Assuredly, the archbishop is bent on calling out the simulacra of reality that grow ever more pervasive and controlling. 

Still, both renditions capture something essential about the spirit and scope of these letters. For they offer a penetrating and passionate refutation of a prevalent Gnosticism that abhors this body, this community, this Church, where true life is won, paradoxically, only at the price of this death. Thus, the letters constitute an uncompromising polemic against what the archbishop calls the “disincarnation” practiced by the “indefatigable Gnostics.”  

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Against Excarnation https://t.co/BbePQPWchc

— Public Discourse (@PublicDiscourse) May 13, 2026

Perhaps [Günther] Anders’s most important concept for our current moment, however, is that of the “Promethean gradient.” He uses this term to refer to the disproportionality between human faculties: we can achieve things in the sphere of technology that far outstrip the ability of our moral imagination to comprehend them.   

An example would be nuclear weapons: the level of destruction that a nuclear bomb can achieve is far beyond anything we can imagine. That possibly apocryphal saying ascribed to Josef Stalin, “A single death is a tragedy; a million deaths is a statistic,” captures this idea. I might be horrified at the face of a murder victim on the news; a picture of the mushroom cloud at Nagasaki does not have the same impact. Today, we can apply it to the tech bros: their technological innovation proceeds at a pace that outstrips any moral vision that might curb or direct it.

In light of this, the early departure of the tech bros from the summit I mentioned is understandable: there can be no moral accountability—indeed, they cannot even imagine what that would look like—because they are engaged in technological innovations beyond anything the current moral imagination can grasp. As Hans Jonas observed in the early 1970s, the advent of technology that was not simply external to human beings (steam, the internal combustion engine) but that touched on the nature of existence at both a profound and highly abstract level—for Jonas, chemistry; for us now, genetic engineering—grants the technological revolution theoretically limitless power to destabilize what it means to be human. And we cannot imagine what that might look like. Add to that the implications of social acceleration—that technology develops at a faster pace than can be assimilated into the moral imagination—and the problem Anders calls the Promethean gradient is set to become worse. Our technology liberates us from any sense of the authority of natural limits (let alone God-given ends), yet in itself it provides no new moral norms for how such liberation is to be exercised. 

But the Promethean gradient is not simply significant in the way it unshackles technological development from the moral imagination. It also has a paradoxical effect on human experience: our genius for technological development, that capacity that separates us from all other creatures and arguably forms part of our greatness, is precisely what renders us nothing in our eyes and therefore feeds despair. This Anders calls “Promethean shame,” which he sees as the result of the conflict between knowing ourselves as persons and yet finding ourselves reduced to mere “things” because of the technology we ourselves have developed. In Anders’s day, the primary culprits were nuclear weapons. Their development required the collaboration of free, intelligent, intentional human persons. But the result was that we human beings became the only creatures on earth who could, quite literally, annihilate ourselves. Man’s exceptional technological greatness had ironically given him the ability to make himself puny, contingent, and unnecessary in his own eyes.   

Today, this still applies, but it has expanded beyond narrow military technology to include such things as AI and transhumanism.

Read it all.

These hyper modernist dystopias that people want to create in Yemen and Gaza are so anti-human and unnatural as they completely deny the most important aspect of stability: socio-political and communal resilience https://t.co/G5XYfQ1fdJ

— Dr Andreas Krieg (@andreas_krieg) December 31, 2025

It is, Rowan Williams assures me, a coincidence that his new book will be published three days after the installation of Sarah Mullally as Archbishop of Canterbury. “I will not be attending,” he says. “You don’t want to be Marley’s ghost.”

Yet, fittingly – since that book takes solidarity as its theme – this priest, poet and critic is keen to empathise with Mullally, the first female Archbishop, in the weight of challenges she faces. “Every archbishop starts, like every president or prime minister: with expectations being thrown at them,” he recalls of his time at Lambeth Palace from 2002 to 2012. “Realising you’re not going to be able to meet them is part of the job. It is no walk in the park.”

Williams, who now lives in Cardiff with his theologian wife Jane, comes across as gentler, kinder and more self-deprecating than I remember him from his episcopal tenure. He used to make regular headlines, his every utterance and act picked apart. His 2011 dismissal of David Cameron’s “Big Society” initiative as “painfully stale” had the Conservative benches in uproar. Today, as we sit talking in a book-lined reception room at his publisher’s London office, he stands out from the colourful backdrop in his black clerical shirt and trousers, with a simple cross hanging round his neck. Those monkish eyebrows remain as untamed as ever.

The two biggest issues in Mullally’s in-tray, Williams tells me, are the same ones he tried but failed to settle during his turbulent decade in post: women’s ordination and what he refers to as “the same-sex question”. With the first, he feels, at least in England, “some of the bitterness has gone out of it”. Not, though, in much of the 85-million-strong worldwide Anglican Communion, over which the Archbishop of Canterbury also presides, with some provinces muttering about schism. “I honestly don’t know whether the Communion will survive,” he says bluntly.

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"Is he saying that British public life has lost its moral centre? “Yes,” he replies, boldly and without any caveat. “Increasingly, we permit and collude with dishonourable forms of behaviour, and we don’t seem very concerned about that.”" Rowan Williams: ‘I don’t know whether the…

— Mark Lambert (@sitsio) March 17, 2026

Here, Lewis is asserting the importance of stories for communicating truths, and the danger of dismissing them as feigned nonsense. The 1300 years that have passed since the reign of the Pevensie children means that they have once again taken on a mythical status among the inhabitants of Old Narnia. The beasts have no evidence of their existence, nor that of Aslan, but nevertheless they have faithfully passed on the stories through the generations and held fast to the truths they communicate.

Trufflehunter’s assertion of his faith is a kind of creed, which summarises the key tenets of his faith: “I believe in the High King Peter and the rest that reigned at Cair Paravel, as firmly as I believe in Aslan himself.” We might compare this statement of belief with the Apostles’ Creed and its opening statement: “I believe in God the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth.” The tendency for such stories to be dismissed as merely myths or fairy stories, recounting fabulous adventures of fantastical beasts like human beings, is an important reminder of the value of the stories of the Bible for continuing to transmit the Christian faith to new generations in a society where such tales are frequently dismissed.

IT’S not just the stories that are important in passing on the Christian faith: it is also the people. The passage we have considered provides an effective contrast between the transitoriness of humans, and the edifices that they build, and the steadfastness of the badgers.

Where human rulers come and go, badgers remain. 

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"Here, Lewis is asserting the importance of stories for communicating truths, and the danger of dismissing them as feigned nonsense."

Our #Lent series continues with a reflection on C. S. Lewis’s Prince Caspian#CSLewis https://t.co/cv1iJSInqG

— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) March 1, 2026

A new annotated edition of the Bible, published by the Bible Society and the London Institute for Contemporary Christianity (LICC), contains more than 1000 notes, prompts, stories, and features to help its readers to address “the nitty-gritty detail of life”.

Launched last month, the Everyday Faith Bible is designed to help readers to “follow Jesus every day of the week” through practical prompts, contextual notes, features, quotations, and real-life story examples.

It seeks to help people to connect with ancient texts in the 21st century by addressing “how the Bible speaks to the nitty-gritty detail of life in the UK today — from work meetings to football games to family dinners”, the LICC and Bible Society write in their introduction.

Read it all.

A new annotated edition of the #Bible, published by @biblesociety and the London Institute for Contemporary Christianity, contains more than 1000 notes, prompts, stories, and features to help its readers to address “the nitty-gritty detail of life”.https://t.co/x94ddfmRkL

— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) February 27, 2026

The novel centers on an institution called the N.I.C.E., which stands for the National Institute of Co-ordinated Experiments. It presents itself as scientific, humane and forward-looking. It promises efficiency. Improvement. A better future, scrubbed clean of superstition and sentiment.

Behind the glass walls and polite language, however, darker intentions take hold. The organization seeks to “recondition” humanity. To reshape desire. To erase conscience. To replace moral limits with technical control.

Lewis saw where this road leads. When science proceeds without reference to anything beyond itself, it doesn’t remain neutral. It fills with myth. Bad myth. Ancient forces wearing modern lab coats.

The leaders of N.I.C.E. don’t worship God. They worship power disguised as progress. In the end, they openly submit to demonic intelligences, though they dress this submission in the language of evolution and inevitability.

Lewis’s point was as unambiguous as it was unsettling: When people stop believing in God, they do not believe in nothing. Instead, they believe in anything.

Fast-forward to our own moment, and the novel no longer feels imaginative. It feels documentary. In Silicon Valley, some technology leaders speak openly about “awakening” artificial intelligence. About communion with non-human intelligences. About revelations delivered not through prayer, but through code.

Some have dedicated their creations to ancient gods. Others speak of consciousness emerging from machines as if it were a spiritual event. The vocabulary changes. The impulse does not.

Lewis, an Oxford University academic who converted from atheism to Christianity wouldn’t be surprised. He warned that superstition doesn’t vanish with faith. It mutates. When humility disappears, fascination rushes in. When reverence fades, obsession takes its place.

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In 1945, C. S. Lewis published a strange, unsettling novel called “That Hideous Strength.” It was marketed as fiction, but it read like prophecy.

At the time, many critics dismissed it as eccentric. Too symbolic. Too mystical. Too suspicious of science. Lewis, they said, was…

— Religion Unplugged (@ReligionMag) February 25, 2026

Christopher Wild, a lay Anglican, is a former Professor of Molecular Epidemiology at Leeds, with a particular interest in the relationship between environmental and genetic factors in the development of cancer.

Appointed, leaving Leeds, director of the prestigious International Agency for Research on Cancer at Lyon, he is now excellently qualified to give an overview of ethical issues arising from recent developments in genetic science. He does so with commendable clarity: someone useful for the new Archbishop of Canterbury to consult.

He repeatedly emphasises — as others have done, following the late, great Ian Barbour — that (genetic) science can be used for good or ill: “As with so much of genetics, honourable and dishonourable aims run side by side, employing the same tools. This is ‘dual use’ at its most dangerous. While some seek to overcome disease by genetic engineering, others seek to weaponise biology.”

Read it all.

Robin Gill reviews Unravelling DNA: Applying Christian values to a genetic age by Christopher Paul Wild 🧬📚#Bookreview #DNA #churchnews #churchtimes 📖https://t.co/1nTZv19uVi

— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) February 25, 2026

The TikTok video that generated hundreds of requests for free Bibles was not, the Revd David Sims admits, his most dignified.

“I was dancing in my office, waving the Bible, and saying ‘If you want one, I’ll send you one for free,’” he recalled this week. “Within around three or four days, it had had over 100,000 views, and I’d had hundreds of messages saying ‘I’d love a free Bible.’”

Mr Sims, Vicar of St Thomas’s, Aldridge, in Walsall, has been broadcasting on TikTok for more than six years, and holds a regular Sunday service on the site. But, while at one time he sent out two or three Bibles a week, the dancing video last spring has brought the total to more than 2800. He now has a team of ten to 20 volunteers who spend Monday mornings packaging up Bibles to send out.

The requests mainly came from people, typically aged 20 to 40, who did not go to church, he said.

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The #TikTok video that generated hundreds of requests for free #Bibles was not, the Revd David Sims admits, his most dignified

Read the full story 👇#freebibles #Evangelism #churchnews #churchtimes https://t.co/fow0hfxJhT

— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) February 4, 2026

Religion rather than secular society is often blamed for using violence to achieve its aims. Professor Howard in Broken Altars: Secularist violence in modern history, in contrast, demonstrates convincingly how violence has been used more often by secular regimes against religion. He seeks in this book to “bring needed nuance and perspective to a complex, often fraught topic”.

He sets out three definitions of secularism: passive secularism, combative secularism, and eliminationist secularism, and focuses in his book on the latter two, describing as passive secularism what we in the West would consider to be characteristic of a tolerant political regime with liberal principles — church-state separation, freedom of conscience, and freedom of the press — all vital ingredients of a democratic system.

He presents, as examples of combative secularism, three case studies of early 20th-century modernisation: Mexico, Spain, and Turkey. 

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Xenia Dennen reviews a study of #secularism in its aggressive forms 📚 #books #bookreviews https://t.co/o2xDU7RWds

— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) January 11, 2026

In this month’s Q&A, contributing editor Serena Sigillito interviews Dr. Angela Franks about her new book, Body and Identity: A History of the Empty Self.

Serena Sigillito: I’ve just finished reading your fascinating new book. Can you give PD readers a brief description of the argument you make there?

Angela Franks: Sure. I argue that our concern with the body is usually a smokescreen for deeper questions about identity. I try to show historically why and how identity became a problem for us—why our culture is going through a systemic identity crisis. I try to show that this is not simply a new development, but it has its roots in phenomena that go back centuries, and even millennia.

SS: You’ve mentioned elsewhere that you were inspired, in part, to write this book by Carl Trueman’s The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self. I found that a really helpful and thought-provoking comparison. My sense is that your book is more unabashedly academic than Carl’s. Your book seems like it’s aimed at the kind of people who write for places like Public Discourse, who can then draw on your scholarly work and translate it into a more accessible register and help popularize the ideas you articulate. Does that seem right to you?

AF: Yes, I think that’s accurate. I had already been working on my book when Carl’s came out. We got to know each other pretty soon after that, and—as I told him—I was very relieved that his book was not making mine superfluous! I think Carl’s book is primarily a work of translation, whereas mine is a more academic synthesis. One of the books that was really helpful to me was Charles Taylor’s Sources of the Self, as well as A Secular Age. Those books are similar to what I’m trying to do—a work that’s lengthier, with an abundant use of footnotes, that really gets into texts at a deeper level. The hope is that it shifts the scholarly discussion around identity.

Read it all.

A great interview with @theologianmom @PublicDiscourse on her fine book on “the empty self.” With @SerenaSigillito.

It wasn’t only secularism that “liquified” the body and emptied the self. Christianity played a large role too. What do we do with that?https://t.co/y6RwYWeaqb

— Rachel Lu (@rclu) December 1, 2025

“Nothing in the world is harder than speaking the truth and nothing easier than flattery.If there’s the hundredth part of a false note in speaking the truth, it leads to a discord, and that leads to trouble.But if all, to the last note, is false in flattery, it is just as agreeable, and is heard not without satisfaction. It may be a coarse satisfaction, but still a satisfaction. And however coarse the flattery, at least half will be sure to seem true. That’s so for all stages of development and classes of society. -Svidrigailov (Crime and Punishment)”

― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

#OnThisDay in 1821, Fyodor Dostoevsky was born in Moscow. (Crime and Punishment, 1866) pic.twitter.com/xcK1G6rZRD

— Bibliophilia (@Libroantiguo) November 11, 2015

Fyodor Dostoyevsky began to write what would become his last novel, “The Brothers Karamazov,” in 1878. It was published in serial installments in the magazine Russkiy Vestnik from January, 1879, to November, 1880. Dostoyevsky had a deadline to meet every month, and his wife, Anna, later complained about the pressure he was always working under. Unlike many other contemporary writers, such as Tolstoy or Turgenev, who were well off, Dostoyevsky lived by his writing and struggled throughout his life to earn enough money. If not for this, Anna wrote, in her memoirs, after his death, “He could have gone carefully through [his works], polishing them, before letting them appear in print; and one can imagine how much they would have gained in beauty. Indeed, until the very end of his life Fyodor Mikhailovich had not written a single novel with which he was satisfied himself; and the cause of this was our debts!”

No one could claim that “The Brothers Karamazov” is polished, or even beautifully written—it is characteristic of Dostoyevsky’s style that everything is desperately urgent and seems to burst forth, and that the details don’t much matter. Reckless and intense: we are headed straight to the point of the matter, and there is no time. This urgency, this wildness, the seeming unruliness of his style, which is echoed in the many abrupt twists and turns in the action toward the end of the chapters—the reader must be kept in a state of suspense until the next installment—runs against something else, something heavier and slower, a patiently insistent question that is related to everything that is happening: What are we living for?

On May 16, 1878, just months before Dostoyevsky began writing “The Brothers Karamazov” in earnest, his son Alyosha died following an epileptic fit that lasted for hours. He would have turned three that summer. Dostoyevsky “loved Lyosha somehow in a very special way, with an almost morbid love, as if sensing that he would not have him for long,” Anna wrote later. When his son stopped breathing, Dostoyevsky “kissed him, made the sign of the cross over him three times,” and broke down in tears. He was crushed with grief, Anna wrote, and with guilt—his son had inherited epilepsy from him. Outwardly, however, he was soon calm and collected; she was the one who wept and wept. Gradually, she grew worried that his suppression of grief would have a negative impact on his already fragile health, and she suggested that he visit the Optina Pustyn monastery with a young friend, the theological wunderkind Vladimir Solovyov. There they met the elder of the monastery—the starets—Ambrose. “Weep and be not consoled, but weep,” he said to Dostoyevsky.

All of this made its way into “The Brothers Karamazov.” The protagonist bears the name of Dostoyevsky’s son Alyosha and many of Solovyov’s traits. The monastery is central to the story, and its elder—named Zosima in the novel—comforts a woman who has lost her child, aged two years and nine months, with words that echo those uttered by Ambrose. But more important to the story than the autobiographical details, which in any case are swallowed up by the vortex of fiction, is the devastating loss of meaning that accompanies the death of a child. 

Read it all.

“The Brothers Karamazov” asks what we are living for, and it “seeks the answer in the little life, among the small people, in the frail, the fragile, the fallible, the failed,” Karl Ove Knausgaard writes. https://t.co/llTCBZ9rHR

— The New Yorker (@NewYorker) October 21, 2025