Nuns strong-armed into aiding assisted suicide? Just another battle in New York's war on religious freedom



New York has long styled itself as a national champion of tolerance and individual freedom. Yet when it comes to one of the oldest civil liberties in American life — the freedom to live according to one's conscience — the Empire State is moving in the opposite direction.

The 2026 Religious Liberty in the States index, a data-driven investigation published by the Center for Religion, Culture & Democracy, measures how hard state governments work to protect the basic right of conscience. New York, it seems, works overtime to achieve the exact opposite.

A genuinely civilized society accommodates honest differences rather than requiring total ideological agreement.

Dead last

The index measures the everyday points where state power clashes with religious conviction. Can a nurse refuse to assist in genetic counseling that conflicts with her faith? Can a Seventh-day Adventist opt out of mandatory union dues that finance causes he considers morally objectionable? Are citizens safe from religious bias at their local bank, state university, or public school board?

On those fundamental questions, New York performs worse than every other state in the nation. The latest edition places New York dead last — 50th out of 50.

The ranking reflects a governing philosophy that rejects religious liberty whenever it conflicts with progressive policy goals. Rather than treating conscience protections as a cornerstone of a pluralistic society, state leaders regard them as obstacles to be managed or even eliminated. With Zohran Mamdani and his political allies continuing to push an aggressive far-left agenda, protections for religious beliefs are increasingly treated as hazardous waste requiring active containment.

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Death drive

The ranking isn't merely academic. On the very day the report was released, four orders of Catholic nuns and several Catholic health care ministries were back in federal court challenging New York's assisted-suicide law, arguing that it would force them to violate their religious convictions by participating in the process of ending patients' lives.

Backed by the religious liberty legal group Becket, the plaintiffs in Carmelite Sisters for the Aged and Infirm v. James had asked the court to block the law before it takes effect on Aug. 5. On Friday, they won an important early victory when New York agreed not to enforce the law against the ministries while the case proceeds. Without that protection, the plaintiffs argued, religious health care providers who refused to facilitate assisted suicide could face steep financial penalties, the loss of professional licenses, and even criminal prosecution.

At the same time the RLS rankings were published, four orders of Catholic nuns and several Catholic health care ministries filed a federal lawsuit challenging New York's newest assisted-suicide law. Their complaint centers on being forced to participate in ending human life in violation of their faith.

The most vulnerable

For generations, Catholic ministries throughout New York have cared for the most vulnerable. The Carmelite Sisters for the Aged and Infirm, the Dominican Sisters of Hawthorne, the Missionary Sisters of St. Benedict, and the Little Sisters of the Poor have devoted decades to serving the sick, the elderly, and the dying. They believe that every human life has inherent dignity and requires loving care until the very end.

The state's legal arm operates with total disregard for that history. When the New York Court of Appeals decided Catholic Charities of the Diocese of Albany v. Serio in 2006, forcing religious employers to pay for prescription contraceptive coverage in their health plans, the court established a precedent that statutory mandates routinely override religious objections. The current assisted-suicide mandate pushes that line of warped logic into literal life-and-death territory.

The First Amendment exists precisely because early Americans recognized that government inevitably abuses power when it forces citizens to violate their deepest beliefs as the price of participating in public life. In 1786, Thomas Jefferson drafted the Virginia Statute for Religious Freedom, declaring that "to compel a man to furnish contributions of money for the propagation of opinions which he disbelieves and abhors, is sinful and tyrannical." That principle laid the foundation for the American constitutional order.

Existential fight

That standard served the country remarkably well for over two centuries. Religious hospitals, schools, charities, adoption agencies, and social service organizations routinely fill massive gaps that state agencies lack the administrative capacity to manage. These groups strengthen their communities precisely because they stay true to their values. Forcing them to compromise those values undermines their work and ultimately leaves the most vulnerable with nowhere else to turn.

Supporters of New York's policies claim that eliminating religious exemptions promotes equality. But that is utter nonsense. Equality achieved through state coercion inevitably creates an oppressive, standardized public square. A genuinely civilized society accommodates honest differences rather than requiring total ideological agreement.

The assisted-suicide litigation now before the federal courts represents the latest collision in this existential fight. Government forces operating with zero regulatory pushback tend to expand their reach until an independent judiciary steps in to draw a hard line.

The expansion of state power at the expense of individual conscience should alarm every reader. Today's regulatory target is a collection of Catholic nuns running eldercare facilities. Tomorrow, the same administrative apparatus could target another faith community, another profession, or another belief system that conflicts with the prevailing political orthodoxy.

Religious liberty serves an essential purpose in the United States. It prevents state power from controlling what you think and how you live. Let's hope these sisters win their legal challenge. Because a win for them is a win for the everyday, decent American.

How a psychic, New Age hippie led me to Catholicism



In 1993, I moved to an industrial city north of Prague, about 30 miles from the Czech/German border. Usti nad Labem had been around for almost a thousand years, but after half a century of socialist dictatorship, anything old had been replaced with hideous prefab housing estates and pollution-spewing chemical plants. It did have an old church from the 14th century, but I never went inside. It was just a relic of a time when being stupid and superstitious was the only option.

I had gotten a job teaching English to engineers at a local natural gas distribution company. I was a 22-year-old Ivy League liberal arts graduate. I had no experience or knowledge worth sharing, of course, and my students were older, with careers and families, and they treated me with deference anyway, as well as with kindness and hospitality. In return, I pitied them as hopelessly trapped in their small lives. I was meant for something bigger. I had no idea what, but I figured it would announce itself eventually.

Within seconds of meeting a girl at a party, he realized they had been lovers in prerevolutionary France, until he was garroted for trying to rescue her from prostitution.

East of Eden

I fell in with the small community of foreigners in town — about 10 Americans along with a few Brits and Canadians — but kept my distance. They weren’t the kind of friends I had in mind for myself — they were too provincial and unsophisticated.

Especially strange to me was a hulking gentle giant from Los Angeles named Chad. He was pushing 30 and lived off savings he had accumulated from a series of showbiz-adjacent jobs, including sales for a porn video distributer and caretaking an old Beverly Hills mansion now used for film shoots.

The mansion had been the site of a lurid, high-society murder-suicide in the '20s and was haunted. He told us of strange encounters he’d had there alone late at night, the distant sound of piano music, which abruptly stopped as he moved toward it; a heavy, nauseating feeling of malice that descended upon him in certain rooms, the eerie sensation of being shoved.

These stories held our attention, but they didn’t seem like a big deal to him. He had always been particularly sensitive to the supernatural, he said, and he had an endless supply of anecdotes bearing this out.

'Star 80'

There was overwhelming mutual attraction he shared with a girl within seconds of meeting her a party, only to realize they had been lovers in prerevolutionary France, until he was garroted for trying to rescue her from prostitution. He had vivid explorations of the lost city of Atlantis in lucid dreams, leaving him with an aching sense of being in exile. He was a connoisseur of 1970s femininity and could talk at length about the unearthly beauty and spiritual depth of murdered Playboy Playmate Dorothy Stratten, whose distinct presence he could often feel, no matter where he was in the world.

I found all this unforgivably hokey. And I felt it reflected badly on me and my future. But I had to admit he was funny and intelligent. We became friends, even though I secretly regarded him with detached, ironic amusement. I enjoyed the matter-of-fact, unpretentious way he delivered even his boldest claims. Once, in one of my regular hungover tailspins of anxiety, I asked him if he wasn’t afraid of nuclear war. He sighed with slight exasperation and explained that obviously the higher beings protecting Earth would never allow it.

This idea didn’t reassure me, but his relaxed, confident demeanor did. And I began to realize that maybe thinking crystals were nonsense didn’t make me a better person. Even if Chad weren’t the conduit to the spirit world he claimed to be, he was uncommonly empathetic and perceptive when it came to other people, which is why we all liked to be around him. Whereas my constantly shifting sense of who I was and what it all meant kept me in a state of agitated self-obsession.

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Under the bridge

I was too educated to believe that evil left some kind of spiritual mark on a place, but just 50 years ago, this city I used as the backdrop for my inner drama had been ceded to Hitler. Then, it was bombed by Americans. And just after the war, it was the site of a brutal massacre, in which a mob of Czechs attacked their ethnic German neighbors, shooting and stabbing some 100 men, women, and children and throwing them off the town bridge. Maybe Chad was a kook, but at least he made me consider that there might be something at stake in this world. That it mattered what we did and even what we thought. That transcendent good and evil were real and could touch us.

These abstract musings lost their appeal when Chad moved back to California and I moved to Prague. I was finally where the action was. Here the visionaries weren’t so gauche as to talk about communing with the dead or the melancholy of old souls lost in the slipstream of time. They were there to summon the coming techno utopia, which required optimism and an eagerness to let go of the past.

I was on board, but I was also undisciplined and easily discouraged. Everywhere I looked I saw monuments to martyrs: the heretic priest burned at the stake, the ordinary civilians killed in the doomed uprising against the Nazis, the young medical student who set himself on fire to protest the Soviet occupation. Their resolve, like my frantic strivings, seemed meaningless in the face of oblivion.

Settling down

The obvious cure for this self-indulgent, existential dread was to move to New York City and get serious about my life. I temped and lived in cramped apartments in cool neighborhoods and got a low-paying but status-signaling media job. I ran into an old college girlfriend with a sensible career and many of the same friends I’d had. We got married and had children, and we relocated to her hometown of L.A., which I’d heard so much about from Chad.

Chad had moved to a small town outside Sacramento with a wife and son. My wife and I were still in the thick of it, upwardly mobile and cultured, with high expectations for ourselves and our kids. It went without saying that we were good, tolerant people. Church was an occasional, unobtrusive reminder to be grateful and give back. We didn’t have any commitments that might make things awkward with our friends or put us at odds with our community.

I was comfortably settled but still imagined myself as on the verge of transformative, clarifying success. Until one day I didn’t. I wasn’t special, my kids would soon abandon me, and I was going to die. I tried to ease the panic with therapy, running, and Ram Dass videos on YouTube.

Auto-da-Facebook

A goth girl I did plays with in high school re-emerged on Facebook as a devout Catholic stay-at-home mom and pro-life activist. After a few pointless arguments, I calmed down and started reading everything she posted without comment. It was fascinating to imagine being so gullible and narrow-minded. I watched videos she linked to and read books she mentioned. I embedded myself in this bizarre, backwards culture.

A few months later, I was sitting in my car, saying the rosary for the first time, just to see what would happen. I guess I showed her.

I entered the Catholic Church about a year later. Just before the COVID lockdowns, I got a call that Chad had had a massive stroke. We hadn’t been in touch for years. I gave money to his recovery fund and got added to a text group of friends and family who unselfconsciously offered their prayers and invoked the healing power of God’s mercy. I was surprised at how natural I felt doing the same. And how praying actually felt like doing something helpful. I still include him in my daily rosary.

Maybe it’s just guilt that I haven’t written or called, but I like to think he can pick up on it somehow. If so, I hope he humors me, like I humored him 30 years ago.

Stop ‘owning the libs’ and start owning institutions



Liberals increasingly treat politics as religion. They may have abandoned traditional faith, but they have not abandoned devotion. They possess saints, heretics, rituals, taboos, pilgrimages, and a vision of salvation. That political faith has given progressives the commitment required to capture institutions, build machines, and shape the future.

Conservatives often respond with mockery.

The people you mock are organizing the world your grandchildren will inherit. Build something capable of stopping them.

We’ve all laughed at the childless, blue-haired activists lauding socialism behind their COVID masks. We point at and mock the unemployed polycule, the emotional instability, the theatrical rage, and the childish demands to abolish police, erase borders, and destroy capitalism.

The mockery is usually deserved. The dismissal is not.

Those ridiculous people keep showing up. They organize. They make art. They join committees. They staff bureaucracies. They run nonprofits. They enter classrooms. They write rules. They decide what your children learn, what your employees may say, and what your business must obey.

The joke is on conservatives who laugh while losing.

Conservatives build businesses, raise families, and grow churches. These are real achievements. They are more honorable than spending one’s life screaming slogans outside a courthouse or enforcing ideology from a human resources department.

But honorable work can become an excuse for political and cultural surrender.

Many conservatives tell themselves that activism is merely a symptom of liberal dysfunction. They imagine their own reluctance to organize proves superior health. Politics has become religion for the left, they say, while conservatives seek salvation elsewhere.

All true. None of it excuses the shocking lack of action.

Alexis de Tocqueville identified the American habit that once prevented private life from collapsing into selfish isolation. In “Democracy in America,” he praised Americans for their nearly compulsive desire to form associations.

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They founded churches, schools, hospitals, libraries, fraternities, unions, charities, and local organizations with their own money and labor. These institutions created a dense web of civic life. They restrained individualism, solved local problems, and reduced the need for distant government.

Americans did not retreat from public life because they had families and businesses. They entered public life through their families, businesses, churches, lodges, and communities. That habit has largely fallen by the wayside.

Just a few decades ago, the average right-leaning businessman might also belong to the Elks Lodge, the American Legion, the Rotary Club, or a local church committee. These associations provided mutual aid, mentored young men, supported local institutions, and connected families across generations.

They were also political and cultural centers.

Men decided there to support a friend for city council. Couples organized fundraisers for the orchestra, hospital, or school. Veterans discussed local problems over beer. Business owners pooled money and influence. Neighbors formed habits of trust before a crisis demanded them.

Almost every great political and cultural movement began with passionate, like-minded people bonding over a drink.

The left’s version is uglier because the left is uglier. Progressive organizations often produce coercion, resentment, and ideological fanaticism. Conservatives are right to reject their ends.

But rejecting progressive ends does not justify abandoning organization itself.

If left-wing activists are so absurd, why do they keep winning? Why do they control education, entertainment, philanthropy, corporate bureaucracies, and much of government?

They win because they show up.

Conservative mockery has become a coping mechanism. It allows the right to transform defeat into evidence of superiority. The progressive may control the school board, but at least the conservative has a successful landscaping company and grills excellent barbecue.

The man with the barbecue may be happier and saner. The school board still controls his children’s curriculum.

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Birth rates provide another excuse.

Conservatives correctly note that they are having more children than liberals. They assume demography will eventually deliver political victory. But children do not inherit politics like eye color.

Two obstacles destroy the fantasy of automatic triumph.

First, Democrats import loyal new voters faster than Republicans can raise children, and many immigrant populations have higher birth rates than native-born conservatives.

Second, the left controls the institutions that shape those children. Schools, universities, entertainment, music, social media, and corporate culture bombard young people with progressive assumptions all day.

A weekly church service and a few family dinners cannot compete with 16 hours of ideological formation unless parents build stronger institutions around their children.

Conservatives can fill houses with children and still lose every one of them politically.

I know stalwart conservative parents with five children who all became progressives. Their parents provided food, shelter, discipline, and love. The culture supplied the worldview.

Having children is not a political strategy. Raising them inside a durable culture is.

The same principle applies to business. Building a successful dealership, construction company, or restaurant is admirable. Building a fourth company while ignoring the city council, school board, local arts institutions, and state legislature is strategic negligence.

Politics will eventually enter the business whether the owner enters politics or not.

The left understands this. It does not separate cultural production, political organization, and economic power. It coordinates them.

Conservatives must recover the same seriousness without adopting the left’s fanaticism.

That means forming associations, funding artists, supporting schools, mentoring young people, running for local office, attending meetings, building media, and creating networks that survive one election cycle.

Not everyone must become a full-time activist. Everyone with something to conserve must contribute to the work of conservation. The task is difficult, time-consuming, and often thankless. It will interfere with leisure. It may cost money that could have purchased another boat, vacation, or business expansion.

Progressives understand that power shapes the conditions under which private life unfolds. Conservatives keep hoping private success will somehow neutralize public defeat. It will not.

The people you mock are organizing the world your grandchildren will inherit. Build something capable of stopping them.

Man whose premature birth was declared a 'miracle' by Pope Leo is now wanted by police over double shooting



Tyquan Johnson stopped breathing when he was born prematurely in 2007 and was dead for 65 minutes before a physician's prayer miraculously led to the baby regaining a heartbeat, according to the Catholic Church.

Nineteen years later, police are searching for Johnson under an arrest warrant listing felony assault with a firearm and firing in a compact area.

'If God didn't want me in this world, He would just let me die on that table. But he wanted to give me a second chance.'

The revival of Johnson as a baby was considered a miracle because the attending physician had invoked the aid of Father Salvador Valera Parra in prayer immediately before Johnson came back to life.

The Catholic Church investigated the incident for years before Pope Leo XIV officially recognized it as a miracle in 2025.

Johnson is being sought over a double shooting in Newport, Rhode Island, on July 19, along with another man who is being sought for questioning.

Police said they found two victims, ages 22 and 25, who had been shot. They were transported to a hospital for treatment of gunshot injuries that were not life-threatening.

Detectives said they believe the shooting was targeted.

Johnson and the other man sought are believed to be armed and dangerous, according to a police Facebook post.

Johnson's mother told WPRI-TV that she had not talked to him for several days.

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Johnson was interviewed in 2025 after his revivification was declared a miracle.

"I feel normal. ... I can do everything a normal person would do. It definitely has changed my faith a lot because I'm destined to be in this world," he told WAVY-TV.

"If God didn't want me in this world, He would just let me die on that table. But he wanted to give me a second chance," he added.

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Pope Leo assigns conservative archbishop who denied Pelosi the Eucharist to key Vatican role



Pope Leo XIV has overseen a shakeup at the Vatican sure to vex progressives: assigning an American conservative who has fought against the LGBT agenda and abortion activism to the Catholic Church's highest court.

Weeks after excommunicating all members of the Society of St. Pius X and declaring it a schismatic sect, the Vatican announced a number of resignations and appointments.

'It is a position of great prestige and trust within the Catholic Church.'

While declining to renew the term of Cardinal Joseph Tobin of Newark — a progressive cleric who has tipped his biretta to the LGBT community and championed migrant causes — Pope Leo XIV appointed on July 25 seven new members to the Supreme Tribunal of the Apostolic Signatura.

Among the new members are a pair of American bishops — San Francisco Archbishop Salvatore Cordileone and Bishop Edward Lohse of Kalamazoo — and two Spanish canon lawyers who belong to Opus Dei, a conservative Catholic institution.

These appointments do not require a relocation to Rome.

Maggie Gallagher, executive director of the Cordileone-founded Benedict XVI Institute for Sacred Music and Divine Worship, told Blaze News that "the Apostolic Signatura is essentially the Supreme Court of the Catholic Church (except that the Pope may intervene and overturn a court ruling)."

"It doesn't issue rulings on Catholic teachings, but on cases against individuals including for example judgements of nullity for marriages, and charges against other judges, etc," continued Gallagher. "It is a position of great prestige and trust within the Catholic Church and the appointment of Archbishop Cordileone is clear indication that Pope Leo appreciates his competence and his leadership."

Gallagher added that Archbishop Cordileone's appointment "does not mean of course that the Pope agrees with all the positions he has taken, but he is clearly signaling that these views do not put you on the outs with Rome, and that is a great relief to many Catholics in the United States, especially for Catholics attached to the traditional Latin Mass."

Cordileone, the San Diego native whom President Donald Trump appointed last year to serve on the advisory board of the White House's Religious Liberty Commission, is the archbishop who was harassed by California radicals for denying communion to Rep. Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.), a professed Catholic within the Archdiocese of San Francisco.

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In May 2022, Archbishop Cordileone — who has referred to abortion in America as a "genocide on life in the womb" — provided Pelosi with a refresher on the Church's moral teaching that abortion is a "grave moral evil," and stressed that there can be no more extreme example of "throwaway culture" than "when direct attacks on human life are enshrined in a nation’s law, celebrated by society, and even paid for by the government."

Citing canon law — which states that those "obstinately persevering in manifest grave sin are not to be admitted to Holy Communion" — as well as the instruction of Pope Benedict XVI, the American archbishop said it was his responsibility to bar the Democrat from what the Catechism of the Catholic Church calls the "source and summit of the Christian life":

After numerous attempts to speak with her to help her understand the grave evil she is perpetrating, the scandal she is causing, and the danger to her own soul she is risking, I have determined that the point has come in which I must make a public declaration that she is not to be admitted to Holy Communion unless and until she publicly repudiate her support for abortion ''rights” and confess and receive absolution for her cooperation in this evil in the sacrament of Penance.

Pelosi remained unrepentant and attacked Archbishop Cordileone on the network then known as MSNBC, complaining, "Our archbishop has been vehemently against LGBTQ rights too."

Archbishop Cordileone is on the radar of GLAAD and other non-straight activist organizations, not only for his defense of the Catholic teaching that "all sexual acts outside of a marriage between one man and one woman are morally wrong and do not serve the good of the person or society," but for his rejection of gender ideology, long-standing defense of the institution of marriage, and advocacy for protecting the First Amendment freedoms of those opposed to the LGBT agenda.

In addition to holding fast to the teachings of the Church, Archbishop Cordileone has called — especially in the wake of the SSPX schism — for greater Catholic access to the traditional Latin Mass.

Archbishop Cordileone said in a statement on Saturday, "I am deeply grateful to the Holy Father, Pope Leo XIV, for this appointment as a member of the Supreme Apostolic Signatura. I receive this responsibility with a profound sense of stewardship, recognizing that every office in the Church is entrusted for the service of Christ, His people, and the mission of the Gospel."

"The Supreme Apostolic Signatura assists the Holy Father in safeguarding the proper administration of justice within the life of the Church," continued the archbishop. "Justice in the Church is never merely legal; it is ordered toward the salvation of souls, the protection of the rights of the faithful, and the strengthening of ecclesial communion. I am honored to contribute to that important mission."

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America needs heroes who do not apologize for being heroes



Hollywood can erase Achilles, redefine manhood, and make the hero apologize. It still cannot escape Homer’s warning: Civilization dies when men reject sacred duties. Christopher Nolan’s “The Odyssey” opened to more than $120 million at the domestic box office. Millions will see it, and for many, Nolan’s version will become the only “Odyssey” they know. The fight over this film is therefore a fight over who gets to explain Western civilization to the next generation.

Christopher Nolan may change Homer’s story, but he cannot change the truth beneath it. Hollywood can rewrite the hero. It cannot rewrite the law above him.

Hollywood wants Homer’s name. It wants his monsters, battles, kings, ships, blood, and glory. It simply does not want Homer’s moral world.

The clearest example comes in the land of the dead. In Homer’s telling, Odysseus meets Achilles, the greatest champion of the Greeks. Nolan removes Achilles and substitutes Sinon, a figure absent from Homer’s poem and known chiefly from Virgil’s later “Aeneid.” The film recasts Sinon as an innocent sacrifice and moral conscience, and Odysseus calls him the greatest soldier he ever knew.

“Elliot” Page plays Sinon. This is not an argument about Page’s dignity or talent. Every person bears the image of God. It is an argument about symbolism. Movies communicate through casting as surely as through dialogue. One of Western civilization’s defining male warriors disappears. A newly elevated character replaces him, becomes the moral center, and receives the story’s highest praise for soldierly greatness.

Whatever Nolan intended, the cultural message is hard to miss: The old hero must be displaced, the old understanding of manhood rewritten, and the victorious Western warrior made to apologize for winning.

Homer never presents Odysseus as flawless. He is proud, deceptive, and reckless. His cunning saves lives; his arrogance costs them. Those flaws do not erase his heroism. They make him human. The Western tradition has always understood that a great man can also be a gravely flawed man. The Old Testament’s King David proves the point.

Modern culture increasingly treats male imperfection as proof that male greatness itself is suspect. Nolan therefore turns Odysseus into another Robert Oppenheimer: a brilliant man psychologically crushed by what his brilliance accomplished. The Trojan horse becomes less a triumph of courage and cunning than an original sin haunting its inventor. Victory becomes guilt. Authority becomes a burden. Odysseus returns home only to surrender the throne to Telemachus and leave Ithaca with Penelope. A king becomes an exile.

That is a moral inversion of Homer.

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Homer did not need to weaken men to honor women. Penelope is already one of the strongest women in Western literature. For 20 years, she protects her household, preserves her son’s inheritance, resists the suitors, and outwits the men trying to seize her husband’s kingdom.

When Odysseus returns, Penelope tests him by ordering their marriage bed moved. He knows it cannot be moved because he built it around the living trunk of an olive tree. Homer gives us a courageous husband and an intelligent wife. Their strengths differ, but their dignity does not.

Modern ideology often imagines equality only as interchangeability, as though men and women must become the same or one must dominate the other. Homer offers something richer. Masculine courage does not diminish women. Feminine fidelity does not diminish men. Odysseus and Penelope are great together because their distinct strengths serve the same home.

Why, then, do the secular elite keep returning to the Western classics only to dismantle them?

Because the classics teach that we are not self-created. We inherit a family, a history, a nation, a body, and obligations that precede our desires. That lesson is intolerable to an ideology built on radical autonomy.

A young man who admires Odysseus may conclude that courage, loyalty, fatherhood, and duty are good. A young woman who admires Penelope may discover that faithfulness, wisdom, and defending a household are forms of strength. A child who learns that even kings answer to the divine may ask whether presidents, professors, and politicians answer to an authority above themselves.

That is why the hero must apologize, the father must abdicate, the home must become a prison, and the divine must become a psychological projection. The secular elite do not merely dislike Western civilization. They need Westerners to lose confidence in it.

Yet Nolan’s film accidentally preserves one of Homer’s central truths. Characters repeatedly invoke “Zeus’ law,” which Nolan presents as a version of the Golden Rule. The Greeks called it xenia: the sacred duties binding host and guest. Hospitality demanded generosity from the host and restraint from the guest.

Penelope’s suitors are therefore more than rude houseguests. They are enemies of civilization. They occupy Odysseus’ home, consume his wealth, pursue his wife, and plot to murder his son. They exploit an inheritance they did not build while rejecting every duty that inheritance imposes.

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Our universities, museums, entertainment companies, foundations, and public institutions were built through generations of sacrifice, learning, faith, and trust. Today’s cultural elite inherited them and now use them to teach that Western civilization is uniquely wicked, Christianity oppressive, fathers tyrants, heroes frauds, and the family an instrument of domination. They are Homer’s suitors with graduate degrees. They feast inside the house while condemning the people who built it.

What Nolan calls Zeus’ law points toward a higher law. Christians do not worship Zeus. Homer’s gods are false and morally compromised. Yet even the Greeks understood a truth our enlightened age often forgets: Civilization depends on a moral law higher than human appetite.

Christ reveals that law perfectly: “Whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them.” Paul goes farther: “In humility count others more significant than yourselves.

Christianity gives sacred obligation its true foundation. We honor the stranger because he bears God’s image. We honor marriage, family, country, and neighbor because every human relationship answers ultimately to God.

Without God, the Golden Rule becomes a fragile suggestion. Why should the powerful restrain themselves? Why sacrifice for future generations? Why preserve an inheritance instead of consuming it? A civilization cannot live forever on moral habits inherited from a religion it has abandoned.

America needs families who read the Bible, schools that teach the classics without apologizing for them, and churches that form courageous Christians rather than timid spectators.

Christopher Nolan may change Homer’s story, but he cannot change the truth beneath it. A man still needs a home worth returning to. A family still needs protection. A civilization still needs heroes. A nation still needs a God above itself.

Hollywood can rewrite the hero. It cannot rewrite the law above him.

To raise Christian children who become Christian adults, one simple habit matters most



For decades, a familiar story has shaped Christian family life. It involves Sunday morning in the pews. A week at Bible camp each summer. Wednesday night youth group with pizza and a lesson. Parents pour real love and intention into these routines.

Noble as the effort is, a recent study published in the Journal for the Scientific Study of Religion suggests they are only part of the picture. Researchers analyzed data from more than 16,000 Christians nationwide, comparing childhood religious experiences with adult outcomes. Church attendance mattered. So did stable families. But the strongest predictor of lasting adult faith asked nothing extraordinary of parents.

I walked away from the faith with the kind of cocky certainty God seems to install in everyone between the ages of 13 and 19.

It was simply this: They talked to their children about God.

Homilies at home

That finding immediately took me back to my own childhood.

The first picture that comes to mind isn't a sanctuary or a stained-glass window, but the front seat of the car on the way home from school. The back yard, where my father pulled weeds like the yard had personally offended him. The living room at 10:30 on a school night, all of us long past bedtime and pretending the clock didn't exist. My grandmother, with a cup of tea that was always either too hot or somehow already cold, telling me about the importance of the Bible.

Those conversations are the reason I still believe.

My parents were, and still are, very decent people. For many years, they were overworked and underpaid in the way most ordinary families know all too well. Bills on the counter. Shifts that ran long. Sleep that ran short. Children who treated the front seat like contested real estate.

And yet they always found the energy to talk to me about Christianity — not in a recited, hands-folded-in-our-laps sort of way, but as if God were actually in the room.

We talked about how Christianity shaped the West. The fall of Rome. Forgiveness, suffering, and why Christians built the first hospitals while emperors were busy building coliseums to watch people die in. We talked about why the values modern secular society treats as self-evident — human dignity, charity, and mercy toward strangers — didn't fall from the sky. They grew slowly out of Christian soil, across centuries of tending.

What my parents said at home stayed with me longer than any sermon. Ask around, and plenty of people will say the same.

Half-cocked heretic

I was a rebellious teenager, and I rebelled with real enthusiasm. I walked away from the faith with the kind of cocky certainty God seems to install in everyone between the ages of 13 and 19, presumably as a test of parental patience. Christianity struck me as restrictive and embarrassing. I mistook cynicism for intelligence — a standard rookie mistake among precocious teenagers. I got good grades and assumed an A in English qualified me to dismiss theology, philosophy, and 2,000 years of Christian thought.

And yet, even at my wildest and most stubborn, even when I was giving the New Atheists more attention than they ever deserved, something my parents had planted refused to be dug up.

I expected my mother to lose her mind during a particularly insufferable phase of all this. Instead, she sat me down and spoke to me like an adult. No yelling. No guilt-tripping. No dragging me back to church by the collar or, as Irish mothers sometimes prefer, the ear.

RELATED: The Ireland I grew up in is gone

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Talking it out

Instead, she calmly walked me through the contradictions in the worldview I had been presenting to my friends. She pointed out, without raising her voice, where ego had been doing my thinking for me. And then, with the patience of a woman who had already won the argument before it started, she explained why atheism was a fool's errand.

That was the moment I rediscovered the faith. Fifteen years on, I have never looked back.

That is exactly what the new study captures. Faith transmission is relational before it is institutional. Children remember whether their parents actually believed the things they claimed to believe, or whether church was just another Sunday errand sandwiched between a leisurely breakfast and a last-minute homework check.

A kid can sit in a pew every week of childhood and still walk away convinced that religion is little more than an incredibly polite social club. Conversation breaks that spell. Conversation forces engagement. Questions surface. Doubts get aired. Faith becomes something a young person can actually argue with, wrestle against, and eventually own.

Being Nice Instead Of Godly Is A Theology For Losers

If you’ve ever sat in a pew wondering why your church seems allergic to the culture war, that’s not your imagination. It’s loser theology.

3 reasons liberal podcaster's tired anti-homeschooling rant doesn't make the grade



Jennifer Welch recently unleashed a tirade against Christian homeschooling families, calling homeschooling "trickle-down stupidity" and a "fundamental crazy Christian problem" and calling parents with traditional values "the worst, worst, worst." She even dismissed the decision to homeschool as selfish.

Welch isn't an education researcher or a homeschooling expert. She's a progressive podcaster whose "I've Had It" podcast has built a large audience by channeling liberal anger at conservatives into viral commentary. Her latest target just happened to be Christian homeschool families. But her latest broadside is still worth answering, if only to correct the caricature she presented of millions of families who have chosen a different path.

Welch's comments reveal a deeper, increasingly common assumption: the belief that educational institutions are better equipped than parents to shape children.

As a serious Christian who was homeschooled from kindergarten through 12th grade and intends to homeschool my own two children, I couldn't disagree more. In fact, Welch's contempt for families like mine is a reminder of exactly why I will never hand my children over to what have become taxpayer-funded ideological institutions.

The irony is hard to miss. At a time of collapsing birth rates, declining academic achievement, and a culture struggling to pass on its moral inheritance, America needs more strong families willing to invest their time, resources, and lives in raising the next generation.

Yet instead of encouraging those families, Welch chooses to mock them.

Here are three reasons Welch couldn't be more wrong about families like mine.

1. Homeschoolers outperform their peers in nearly every measure

Study after study has found that homeschoolers outperform their peers across a wide range of academic measures. The facts simply don't support Welch's dismissive caricature of homeschooling or her claim that it produces "trickle-down stupidity." Homeschooled students consistently perform well in standardized testing, reading, language arts, math, science, and social studies. Research has also found that homeschooled adults tend to be highly engaged in their communities and successful in higher education and professional life.

Interestingly enough, there were at least 16 U.S. presidents who received part or all of their education at home through their parents or tutors, which was a more common practice in early America.

Public schooling, by comparison, is a relatively recent invention — and one that is increasingly failing America's students. If we're going to question an educational model, perhaps we should begin with the one producing declining test scores and growing dissatisfaction.

If Welch believes homeschooling produces "trickle-down stupidity," she's overlooking a remarkable list of accomplished homeschool graduates. In addition to presidents, homeschooling has helped produce notable entrepreneurs, athletes, military leaders, and scholars for generations. More recently, figures such as Tim Tebow, Charlie Kirk, Serena Williams, Simone Biles, and Bethany Hamilton demonstrate that an education at home is hardly a barrier to excellence.

RELATED: Education without 'schooling': Why a godly home is the best place for children to learn and thrive

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2. Homeschooling puts our children's needs before our own

Welch calls homeschooling "child abuse" and "selfish," then goes on to admit she cannot imagine spending that much time with her own children: "For me personally, it was that I would have gotten up on my hands and knees and strapped them to my back and crawled to get them to school every day just to get them where I wasn't."

It's difficult to square those remarks with the claim that homeschooling parents are the selfish ones.

Parents who educate their children at home invest thousands of dollars in curriculum, books, and educational resources while often sacrificing an entire income so one parent can teach full-time. They willingly make those financial and personal sacrifices because they believe giving their children a strong education, solid character, and a biblical worldview is worth far more than the cost.

This is exactly why, long before we ever started dating, my husband and I had each independently decided that homeschooling would be non-negotiable for our future family. If we couldn't agree on homeschooling or Christian school for our children, it would have been a deal-breaker. That's how deeply we care about raising children who love God, love their country, think critically, and become exceptionally well educated.

That isn't selfish. It's putting our children's needs ahead of our own.

3. Parents — not the government — should raise children

Welch's comments reveal a deeper, increasingly common assumption: the belief that educational institutions are better equipped than parents to shape children. But our children don't belong to the state, to cultural elites, or to government institutions. Parents bear the primary responsibility for raising them. That isn't simply a Christian conviction; it's one of the foundations of a free society.

The Bible commands parents to teach their children diligently, pass on the faith, and train them in wisdom and truth, especially in a culture that has lost its bearings. Homeschooling is one way families can faithfully live out those convictions. As the late preacher Voddie Baucham famously warned, “If we continue to send our children to Caesar for their education, we need to stop being surprised when they come home as Romans."

Whenever people ask why my husband and I plan to homeschool our children, the conversation almost inevitably ends with the same question: "How will they socialize?" — as though homeschoolers spend their childhood hidden away from society.

My own experience was exactly the opposite. I interacted with people of all ages and walks of life through church, sports, music lessons, homeschool co-ops, volunteer opportunities, and countless experiences outside the walls of a traditional classroom.

I still remember living and working in Washington, D.C., and watching people's jaws drop when I told them I had been homeschooled.

"But you're so normal?"

Exactly.

Homeschooling isn't about hiding children from the world. It's about preparing them to enter it with strong convictions, intellectual curiosity, and a sense of purpose.

Jennifer Welch is free to mock families like mine. We'll keep raising our children according to our convictions — and we'll let the results speak for themselves.

Want to sell your book? Vilify the Christians who raised you.



Last year, here in Portland, I went to an author event at my local bookstore. The book was called "On Fire for God: Fear, Shame, Poverty, and the Making of the Christian Right." It was a memoir by Josiah Hesse.

The event description said the memoir was about Hesse’s “bleak and difficult childhood in a small, rural Evangelical community in Iowa.”

My guess is that his literary agent or his editor understood how hungry mainstream publishers are for books that attack and slander the Christian faith.

Apparently, Hesse suffered mental anguish as a child when he was told by church elders that he was going to be tortured in hell for his sins.

Breaking with his church and family while still in his teens, he struck out on his own, eventually becoming a successful writer and journalist. Now he had written a book exposing the Christian right.

Dissing Christians

Hesse was doing a national book tour. He was traveling the country doing interviews and podcasts. He had just been featured on National Public Radio.

Needless to say, the mainstream media loved this book. A full frontal attack on the Midwestern evangelicals is always welcome in their circles. Especially if the author escaped the oppression of the church and found shelter in the safe spaces of progressive liberalism.

The book event began with Josiah Hesse making a grand entrance into the bookstore’s event area.

I didn’t know what to expect from such an author in terms of appearance, but I was definitely not expecting the rock-star shag haircut, the crisp white shirt, the shimmering black dinner jacket, or the elegant cravat around his neck.

Had this guy come here on his yacht? His face had definitely been moisturized. He looked like he could be in an ABBA tribute band.

Getting to know the author

Hesse took the stage and began his talk. He described growing up as an evangelical Christian.

As a young man, he was sensitive and imaginative and didn’t fit in. His parents, meanwhile, were loyal evangelicals. His dad believed in the “end times” and the eventual rise of the Antichrist.

In his teen years, Hesse’s feelings of alienation from his family and community got progressively worse. It didn’t help matters that he developed a taste for wearing high heels and trying on his mother’s clothes.

Small-town boy

So it turns out that Josiah was gay! Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Eventually, he did what so many young gay people do: When he was old enough, he moved to the nearest big city. In this case, Denver.

There, he scraped by, working odd jobs and picking up writing gigs. Over time, he was able to develop his talent and eventually got a literary agent and published a book called "Runner's High" at a major publishing house.

Watching him talk, he seemed like an upbeat guy. He told funny stories. He didn’t seem traumatized by his Christian upbringing. He was just gay. And now he was a successful writer who was gay.

RELATED: My search for America's last decent public libraries

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Family ties

I also noticed the “breaking with his family” part of the story wasn’t quite as severe as promised. In his talk, he described returning home, hanging out with his dad, meeting up with old friends, reconnecting as best he could.

It was an interesting and relatable story.

So what happened to the evil Christian right? That’s what the book was supposed to be about. Where’s the trauma? Where’s the abuse? Where are the scars?

The Portland audience seemed restless and disappointed. Where was the evil? That’s what they came for. WE WANT OUR CHRISTIAN EVIL!

Not following the script

I haven’t read the book, so I don’t know for sure what’s in it. Hesse did quote some statistics during his talk.

These statistics seemed designed to reassure the anti-Christian audience that he was on their side. Trump is bad. Conservatives are neanderthals. Christians are brainwashed and in some cases predatory.

But I was skeptical. I didn’t believe Hesse was really this simpleminded. He was clearly an intelligent guy. He wasn’t super political. He didn’t hate his family, or his town, or his old friends.

He had moved away from his rural community, as any talented gay person would do. He found his people in Denver. And now he was writing books and living his best life.

Go where the money is

My guess is that his literary agent, or his editor, or maybe Hesse himself understood how hungry mainstream publishers are for books that attack and slander the Christian faith.

They especially love books that confirm the stereotype: “small-town Christians = bigots + racists.”

These memoirs are so popular that there’s a formula:

  • The author is abused and humiliated by the sadistic locals.
  • The author breaks free of their bigotry and finds his way to the “good people,” i.e. college-educated liberals in coastal cities.
  • There, the formerly oppressed author can flourish and be his true self: gay, or nonbinary, or furry, or poly-whatever.
  • Everyone lives happily ever after.

That’s the genre that Josiah Hesse’s "On Fire for God" supposedly belongs to. (See also "Educated" by Tara Westover, another memoir with almost the exact same storyline.)

Did Josiah strictly adhere to that formula? More or less. My main impression of the author: He looked happy. His writing career was going great. He was on a national tour. He was staying in nice hotels. He was wearing a cravat.

And I’m sure his publishers got what they wanted too. Another book that confirms that educated people, good people, moral people are uniformly against the Christian right, which is apparently an ongoing threat to our nation.

The only problem is: Whenever someone writes a book about the “dangerous Christian right,” it turns out he is just describing another small town in Iowa — usually, a town where, if you actually went there, you would find kind, decent people who, when you brought up the “Christian right,” wouldn’t even know what you were talking about.