Every so often, an academic wrapped in the robes of theory decides to rewrite history — not to correct it, but to commandeer it.

The latest example comes from the Conversation, in which a University of Iowa scholar, Sarah Barringer, claims that Christianity has a “transgender” heritage. You heard that right: Saints who renounced the world to live in chastity and devotion are now being posthumously enlisted in a modern identity crusade they never chose.

The modern obsession with identity — splintering the self into ever-narrower categories — is antithetical to the Christian ethos.

Let's acknowledge the truth up front: There is no such thing as a “transgender saint.” There are saints who disguised themselves, fled arranged marriages, and shaved their heads and donned robes to live among men in monasteries because that was the only place they could escape danger, obligation, or temptation.

But calling this “transness” is like calling Joan of Arc gender-fluid because she wore armor. It’s historical trespassing and spiritual identity theft dressed up as scholarship.

Faith, not fluidity

Consider St. Eugenia, St. Euphrosyne, and St. Marinos.

They weren’t confused teenagers raised on TikTok and identity slogans but were devout individuals who, in a brutal and hierarchical world, did what they had to do to escape danger, avoid forced marriage, or pursue a life of monastic devotion. Dressing as a man wasn’t some statement about “true gender” or an inner identity waiting to be expressed. Rather, it was strategy and self-preservation.

More than anything, they chose the path of intense spiritual focus in a world that gave women few choices.

They weren’t rewriting Genesis or making statements about biology. They were rejecting the noise of their time — power, status, family expectations — to live lives of sacrifice and submission to God.

These saints didn’t “identify” as anything — but only with Christ.

Leftists can't comprehend it

To retrofit their stories into modern trans narratives isn’t just ahistorical — it’s grotesque. It’s a desecration of the very virtues they lived for: humility, chastity, obedience, and detachment from self. They weren’t looking inward to define themselves. They were looking upward to lose themselves.

That is the difference. That is what today’s leftist ideologues can’t comprehend, and it's why they have no right to co-opt these lives for their own agendas.

The argument hinges on a dishonest conflation. Barringer admits these stories were “morality tales,” symbolic journeys about rejecting the world and embracing God. Yet somehow rejecting arranged marriage becomes an early form of identity politics and running from Roman militarism becomes evidence of internalized gender non-conformity.

It’s the theological equivalent of reading "The Iliad" and diagnosing Achilles with toxic masculinity.

The saints in question lived in monastic communities that demanded celibacy and asceticism. They weren’t changing genders; they were erasing self — not affirming identity, but crucifying it. Their bodies were temples, not canvases for self-expression.

To call this "transgender" is to confuse spiritual transformation with a social rebrand. One seeks union with God, but the other seeks alignment with self.

Desecrating the dead

Therein lies the real tension. Christianity, at its core, is not about affirming the self. It’s about dying to it.

“I no longer live, but Christ lives in me,” the apostle Paul wrote (Galatians 2:20) — not “I live my truth.”

But the modern obsession with identity — splintering the self into ever-narrower categories — is antithetical to the Christian ethos. You are not your urges. You are not your emotions. You are a soul, and you are called to holiness like Jesus Christ.

The irony is laughable. The same scholars who sneer at scripture’s authority now claim ownership of its saints. They reject Christianity as bigoted and outdated, yet raid its tombs for ideological mascots. It's not a demonstration of reverence for Christianity's ancient saints, but an attempt to rewrite the past to control the present.

Let the saints rest

We can't pretend this is harmless. Redefining religious tradition to fit modern ideologies amounts to spiritual counterfeiting. It muddies doctrine, breeds confusion among believers, and turns the sacred into just another stage for performance politics.

If you want to find affirmation for trans identity, look to modern movements. Don’t twist the lives of ancient saints who had no concept of gender theory and would likely be horrified by what’s being done in their names.

Christianity welcomes the broken, the wounded, the uncertain — but not by sanctifying confusion.

So no, Christianity does not have a transgender heritage. It has a long and rich tradition of souls rejecting worldly labels to pursue something higher than themselves. That’s not a forerunner to modern identity politics. It’s the antidote to it.

Let the saints rest. Let the church speak. And let the past remain sacred.

Tariffs vs. free trade: Which is BETTER for the American auto industry?

When it comes to tariffs on foreign cars, President Trump seems to have a simple philosophy: “The higher you go, the more likely it is they build a plant here."

This bold strategy is already showing results, with foreign automakers investing billions of dollars in American production. But it's also raising costs for automakers and consumers.

When automakers build plants in the US, they create jobs not only in manufacturing but also in related industries like steel, logistics, and technology.

So what does this mean for the cars we drive, the jobs we create, and the prices we pay? Let’s dive into the details and unpack why this story matters to every American — and why you’ll want to understand the full impact.

Tariffs as a catalyst for US investment

Trump’s tariff strategy is straightforward: Make it more expensive to import vehicles, and automakers will have no choice but to build factories in the United States.

It’s a high-stakes chess move, and early signs suggest it’s working. General Motors recently announced a $4 billion investment in three U.S. plants, including a shift of some SUV production from Mexico to American soil.

Hyundai, too, made headlines in March with a $21 billion commitment, which includes a new U.S. steel plant. Trump didn’t mince words when he credited these moves to his tariff policies. “They wouldn’t have invested 10 cents if we didn’t have tariffs,” he said, pointing to the ripple effect on industries like American steel, which is seeing a resurgence.

Tomohiro Ohsumi/Getty Images

These investments are more than just numbers — they translate into jobs, economic growth, and a renewed sense of pride in American manufacturing. For communities hit hard by decades of outsourcing, the prospect of new factories is a beacon of hope. But the story isn’t all rosy. Automakers are feeling the pinch, and some of those costs are trickling down to consumers. The question is: Will the long-term gains outweigh the short-term pain?

The auto industry’s pushback

Not everyone is cheering Trump’s tariff plans. General Motors, Ford, and Stellantis have been vocal about their concerns, urging the White House to roll back the 25% tariffs imposed on imported autos. They argue that these tariffs drive up costs, making it harder to compete in a global market.

Adding fuel to the fire, automakers are frustrated by a recent deal that reduces tariffs on British car imports but leaves Canadian and Mexican production facing the full 25% levy. This discrepancy has created tension, as North American supply chains are deeply integrated, with parts and vehicles crossing borders multiple times before reaching showrooms.

Mexico, however, has secured a partial reprieve. Cars assembled in Mexico and exported to the U.S. will face an average tariff of 15%, thanks to reductions tied to the value of U.S. content in those vehicles. This compromise shows the complexity of Trump’s tariff strategy — it’s not a one-size-fits-all approach, and automakers are navigating a maze of regulations to keep costs down. Still, the pressure is on, and companies are being forced to rethink their global production strategies.

The cost of tariffs: Who pays the price?

Tariffs are a double-edged sword. On one hand, they’re spurring investment in U.S. factories; on the other, they’re driving up costs for automakers and, ultimately, consumers.

Ford Motor recently raised prices on some models, citing tariff-related costs that are expected to shave $1.5 billion off its adjusted earnings.

General Motors is grappling with an even bigger hit, estimating its tariff exposure at $4 billion to $5 billion, with roughly $2 billion tied to affordable Chevrolet and Buick models imported from South Korea.

Subaru of America has also hiked prices, a move that reflects the broader industry trend.

For car buyers, this could mean sticker shock at dealerships. Higher production costs often lead to pricier vehicles, especially for entry-level models that rely on imported components.

The average American family shopping for a reliable sedan or SUV might feel the squeeze, particularly as inflation and supply-chain challenges already strain household budgets.

But there’s a silver lining: As automakers shift production to the U.S., new jobs and economic opportunities could offset some of these costs over time. The trade-off is real, and it’s worth exploring how this balance will play out.

It’s also important to note that there are over 2.5 million cars that are ready to sell that are pre-tariffed. So there are some deals out there if you shop around.

Why tariffs matter to you

You might be wondering: Why should I care about tariffs if I’m not in the auto industry?

The answer lies in the broader impact. Tariffs don’t just affect car prices — they shape the economy, influence job creation, and even touch on national pride. When automakers build plants in the U.S., they create jobs not only in manufacturing but also in related industries like steel, logistics, and technology. These are the kinds of jobs that sustain communities, from small towns in the Midwest to bustling industrial hubs.

Moreover, Trump’s tariff push is part of a larger conversation about America’s place in the global economy. By incentivizing domestic production, the administration aims to reduce reliance on foreign manufacturing, a move that resonates with many Americans who want to see “Made in the USA” mean something again.

But it’s not without risks. Higher tariffs could strain trade relationships with allies like Canada and Mexico, and they might invite retaliatory tariffs on American exports. The stakes are high, and the outcome will shape the auto industry — and the economy — for years to come.

The road ahead: What to watch for

As Trump hints at raising tariffs soon, all eyes are on how automakers will respond.

Will they increase U.S. investments, as GM and Hyundai have done, or will they find ways to absorb or pass on the costs? The Detroit Big Three are already under pressure to compete with foreign automakers, which may have more flexibility in navigating global supply chains. Meanwhile, consumers will be watching their wallets, weighing the benefits of American-made vehicles against the reality of higher prices.

Another key factor is the global response. Countries like Mexico and Canada, integral to the North American auto industry, may push back against U.S. tariffs, potentially escalating trade tensions.

At the same time, the steel industry, a beneficiary of Trump’s policies, could see further growth as demand for American-made materials rises. It’s a complex web of cause and effect, and the next few months will be critical in determining whether Trump’s gamble pays off.

Why you should share this story

This isn’t just an auto industry story — it’s an American story. Whether you’re a car enthusiast, a worker in a manufacturing town, or just someone who cares about the economy, Trump’s tariff strategy affects you. It’s about jobs, innovation, and the future of American industry. Stay informed about policies that could reshape the way we buy and drive cars.

So what’s the bottom line? Trump’s tariff push is a bold move to bring manufacturing back to the U.S., and it’s already yielding results with billions in new investments. But it comes with challenges — higher costs for automakers and consumers, trade tensions, and an uncertain road ahead. By reading this far, you’ve gotten a front-row seat to one of the most consequential economic debates of our time.

So let's keep the conversation going. What do you think about Trump’s tariff strategy? Will it drive American innovation, or is it a risky bet? The answers are still unfolding, and you won’t want to miss what happens next.

How Tucker Carlson vs. Ted Cruz exposed a critical biblical question on Israel

Beneath the sparks of Tucker Carlson's debate with Sen. Ted Cruz (R) about a possible war with Iran lies a far more important — and ancient — question.

One of the most revealing moments of the interview came about halfway through, when Cruz explained why he wants to be the "leading defender of Israel."

If we reduce scripture to foreign policy talking points, we risk baptizing political agendas in the name of God while justifying more war.

His reason? "As a Christian, growing up in Sunday school, I was taught from the Bible, 'Those who bless Israel will be blessed, and those who curse Israel will be cursed.'"

When Carlson pressed Cruz on whether that means Christians must support the modern nation-state of Israel, Cruz replied, "Biblically, we are commanded to support Israel."

That response failed to satisfy Carlson.

"But hold on — define Israel," Carlson responded.

More specifically, Carlson asked Cruz if he believes Genesis is referring to the modern nation-state of Israel as it currently exists as a political entity, with its current leadership and borders.

"Yes," Cruz responded.

Carlson's interjection — "define Israel" — gets at the heart of an important question, a theological fault line in American Christianity: What is Israel, and is there a difference between the modern nation-state of Israel and biblical Israel?

The answer is often treated as self-evident. But the assumption that the modern nation-state of Israel is identical to biblical Israel is not just a matter of political opinion. It's a theological claim, and it deserves biblical scrutiny.

What is (biblical) Israel?

The verse that Cruz cites comes from one of the most important passages in the entire Bible. In Genesis 12, God calls Abraham to leave his family and homeland and go to a new land that he will show Abraham.

Then, God tells Abraham (Genesis 12:2-3):

I will make you into a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all peoples on earth will be blessed through you.

Notice that God did not say that "Israel will be blessed." Rather, the subject of God's blessing is "you." God tells Abraham that he will be blessed. How will Abraham be blessed? Through his descendants, who will become a "great nation" and a people through whom the entire earth is blessed.

The Hebrew word "Israel," in fact, doesn't appear in the Old Testament until Genesis 32:28. It's first used to explain why Abraham's grandson Jacob is called "Israel." Throughout the rest of the Torah, Israel exclusively refers to a people group: The descendants of Jacob, who are the 12 tribes of Israel.

And Israel, indeed, is unique and set apart.

After God rescues his people from the hand of Pharaoh and brings them to Mount Sinai, God enters into a covenant with Israel and reveals their vocation.

Exodus 19:3-6:

Then Moses went up to God, and the Lord called to him from the mountain and said, “This is what you are to say to the descendants of Jacob and what you are to tell the people of Israel: ‘You yourselves have seen what I did to Egypt, and how I carried you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself. Now if you obey me fully and keep my covenant, then out of all nations you will be my treasured possession. Although the whole earth is mine, you will be for me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.’ These are the words you are to speak to the Israelites."

Israel is God's "special possession" (if its people obey him and keep God's covenant). But for what purpose? To be a "kingdom of priests" and a "holy nation."

What this means is that God established Israel as a unique and set-apart nation for the purpose of mediating God — which is the job of a priest — to the nations. Israel received special honor not for an ambiguous reason, but because God had enacted a cosmic redemption mission since the fall in Genesis 3. And central to God's redemption plan was a priestly people through whom God could be mediated and, therefore, reconciled to his people.

But as the biblical story unfolds, Israel fails its mission. Israel breaks the covenant, pursues other gods, and becomes like the other nations, ultimately abdicating the priestly vocation. Blessing, the prophets warn, is not tied to ethnicity or geography — but faithfulness to God.

Because of the people's unfaithfulness, curse comes to Israel, and God allows Israel to be exiled. In the 8th century B.C., the Assyrian Empire conquers the Northern Kingdom of Israel and takes the people into exile. Those 10 tribes of Israel are mostly lost to history because of their horrendous failures.

Yet God is faithful. He continues to work through the Southern Kingdom of Judea (comprised of the tribes of Judah and Benjamin), but they, too, fail, and are exiled to Babylon in the 6th century B.C.

Fortunately, the story doesn't end there. God preserves a remnant from the seed of David, and Israel's mission is ultimately fulfilled by a Jewish man from a backwater town in Galilee: Jesus of Nazareth. He is the true and faithful Israelite who perfectly fulfills Israel's vocation and perfectly keeps the covenant. Jesus is the great high priest, the anointed one, and the prophet of prophets.

Through Jesus' life, death, and resurrection, God is mediated to all people. The blessings that God promised Abraham are finally realized.

"If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise," the apostle Paul writes in Galatians 3:29.

In other words, the true Israel — the true children of Abraham — is not defined by ethnicity, politics, or national barriers. It is defined by faith in Jesus. Gentiles are grafted into the family of God through Christ (Romans 9-11).

This is the fulfillment of Israel's mission, the Old Testament promises, and God's redemption plan.

Why this matters

How you define "Israel" carries tremendous theological and political weight. If we conflate the ancient covenant people of God with the modern nation-state, we risk distorting the gospel and global politics.

The modern state of Israel is not the covenant people of God. It is a secular nation with borders, politicians, and politics that serve its interests — just like every other nation. It did not exist until 1948, and, in fact, there was a campaign to name the new nation "Judea," a nod to the fact that Jews were settling there. But David Ben-Gurion chose the name "Israel" for reasons of political, symbolic, and geographic pragmatism.

This doesn't mean that Christians shouldn't care about Israel or support its right to exist. Christians should pray for Israel and for peace in the Holy Land.

But our view of Israel must not be rooted in misreadings and misunderstandings of the Bible. If we reduce scripture to foreign policy talking points, we risk baptizing political agendas in the name of God while justifying more war.

In biblical interpretation, context is king.

The true "Israel of God," according to the apostle Paul, is the church (Galatians 6:16). To "bless Israel," therefore, does not mean offering unconditional support to a foreign country that shares a name with the biblical "Israel." It means honoring the covenant fulfilled in Christ and recognizing that the mission of Israel is being carried forward by faithful Christians, Jew and Gentile alike.

Does the Bible command Christians to support the modern nation-state of Israel? No.

If Christians want to be faithful to God and wise in matters of global affairs, we should begin by answering with biblical clarity the theological question that Carlson implicitly raised: What is (biblical) Israel?

Israel is the people of God, shaped by covenant and defined by hope — and ultimately revealed in Jesus Christ. Those who belong to him are the children of Abraham, heirs according to the promise.

Fatherhood has ruined peace and quiet for me

I’ve been in Italy for the past 10 days, and I’m bored.

Yes, I’m bored, but not in the way you may think, and not for the reasons you may suspect. I haven’t been bored my entire time here.

My tolerance for input has increased since becoming a father, and now anything less than chaos is kind of a boring breeze.

The first week was packed to the gills. I was co-hosting a retreat centered around Josef Pieper’s "Leisure: The Basis of Culture." The days were full of stimulating, productive discussion with like spirits. Great food, great cigars, great beer, great sights, great minds, great insights, great developments. It was a busy week, a fruitful week.

But the retreat is over, and now I’m bored.

Missing the bickering

Why am I bored?

Because I am dull and just want to sit inside and watch television all day? No. I don’t like TV. Because I can’t entertain myself? No. I’m pretty creative. Because I don’t have a job or any obligations and thusly suffer from a kind of postmodern ennui? No. I have a job, that’s what I am doing here. Just yesterday, I drove eight hours south and will be here for the week taking photos for a photo book, writing, and working. I’ve been working ever since I landed.

So then, why am I bored?

Because I’m alone. My wife and kids are at home. All the yelling and screaming that I have become so used to over the past few years are on the other side of the world. The bickering over who stole whose toy first is still happening I am sure, but it’s out of earshot.

The endless questions about cars, trees and if we are going to get ice cream later have been paused. The nagging feeling about safety — that feeling that wears you down over the course of the day — is absent from my quiet mind.

Off-duty dad

I would think I would love this trip all alone: the chance to be free of fatherly responsibilities for a couple of weeks; the opportunity to focus on work without distraction; the chance to be by myself again. But I don’t love it. It was fine for a couple days, novel in a way, but now it’s just kind of boring.

My tolerance for input has increased since becoming a father, and now anything less than chaos is kind of a boring breeze. My love has expanded in a way that isn’t so easy to explain. It might be summed up by that feeling you get at the end of the day. You can’t wait for your kids to go to bed because you are exhausted and fed up, yet 25 minutes after they are sleeping, you feel the need to go into their room again and give them a kiss because you miss them.

What the hell is that? One of the strange feelings that only parents know.

Been there, done that

I’ve seen all this stuff before. I’ve been to Italy. I’ve already taken in all the vistas I’m taking photos of today. I’ve already experienced all this, and it doesn’t really interest me doing it alone. When I was 25 and single, sure. When I’m 38 with a wife and kids, not really. I’ve seen enough; I would rather show them.

Some guys have a fear of settling down and starting a family. They are afraid of getting trapped or stuck with no way out. In a sense, they are right. When you have children, you are trapping yourself. You are forced together as a man and a woman. You are stuck forever as a father. You cannot go back. Your life is no longer only yours. You will never be as free as you were once before.

Stretching the soul

It’s true in all the shallow, obvious ways. But it’s true in a deeper, stranger, more emotional way, as well. My soul has been expanded outward. It's broader than it was when I was just me. Yet, somehow, it didn’t become more shallow in the process. It’s actually grown deeper at the same time. It's one of the mysteries of love. It grows.

I am no longer contained in a tight little shell that follows me wherever I go. I want to bring my kids with me, not out of duty — though duty is, of course, important — but because I am kind of bored without them. Because I want to share my world with them. It's not because I love them — though I very much do — but because I like them.

From island to archipelago

I know that as soon as I get home, the chaos will hit me like a two-by-four right in the face. I will be forced to dole out instructions and mediate arguments. I will be exhausted by the time 8 p.m. rolls around. I will snap my fingers once and sternly tell them to stop whatever it is that they are doing. But in all of that, I will be whole as I know myself to be at this stage in my life.

Having a family means you are no longer only you. Your children are also you. Your sense of wholeness is deeper, yet more terrifyingly fragile at the same time. You are no longer protected and self-contained. You stop being an island and grow into an archipelago. What it means to be you means more than merely you.

That’s why I am bored here in Italy. I’m here, but it’s only one part, and I miss the whole thing.

Yes, Ken Burns, the Founding Fathers believed in God — and His 'divine Providence'

Ken Burns has built his career as America's memory keeper. For decades, he's positioned himself as the guardian against historical revisionism, the man who rescues truth from the dustbin of academic fashion. His camera doesn't just record past events — it sanctifies them.

For nearly five decades, Burns has reminded Americans that memory matters and that history shapes how a nation sees itself.

Jefferson's 'Nature’s God' wasn’t a placeholder. It was a real presence. He sliced up the Gospels but still bowed to the idea of eternal moral law.

Which makes his recent performance on Joe Rogan's podcast all the more stunning in its brazen historical malpractice.

At the 1-hour, 17-minute mark, Burns delivered his verdict on the Founding Fathers with the confidence of a man who's never been wrong about anything.

They were deists, he declared. Believers in a distant, disinterested God, a cosmic clockmaker who wound up the universe and wandered off to tend other galaxies. Cold, clinical, and entirely absent from human affairs.

It's a tidy narrative. One small problem: It's so very wrong.

The irony cuts so deep it draws blood. The man who made his reputation fighting historical revisionism has become its most prominent practitioner. Burns, the supposed guardian of American memory, has developed a curious case of selective amnesia, and Americans are supposed to pretend not to notice.

The deist delusion

Now, some might ask: Who cares? What difference does it make whether Washington believed in an active God or a divine absentee landlord? The answer is everything, and the fact that it's Burns making this claim makes it infinitely worse.

This isn't some graduate student getting his dissertation wrong. This is America's most trusted historical documentarian, the man whose work shapes how millions understand their past. When Burns speaks, the nation listens.

When he gets it wrong, the mistake seeps like an oil spill across the national story, quietly coating textbooks, classrooms, and documentaries for decades.

Burns is often treated as an apolitical narrator of history, but there’s a soft ideological current running through much of his work: reverence for progressive causes, selective moral framing, and a tendency to recast American complexity through a modern liberal lens.

Burns isn't stupid. One assumes he knows exactly what he's saying. If he doesn't — if his remarks on Rogan's podcast represent genuine ignorance rather than deliberate distortion — then we have serious questions about the depth of his actual knowledge. How does someone spend decades documenting American history while missing something this fundamental?

The truth is that Americans have been lied to about the Founders' faith for so long that Burns' deist mythology sounds plausible. The secular academy has been rewriting these men for decades, stripping away their religious convictions, sanding down their theological edges, making them safe for modern consumption. Burns isn't breaking new ground. He's perpetuating a familiar falsehood.

Taking a knee

Let's start with George Washington, the supposed deist in chief. Burns would have us believe the general bowed not to God, but to a kind of cosmic CEO who delegated all earthly duties to middle management. But at least one contemporary account attests that Washington knelt in the snow at Valley Forge — not once, but repeatedly.

He called for the national day of "prayer and thanksgiving" that eventually became the November federal holiday we know today. He invoked divine Providence so frequently you’d think he was writing sermons, not military orders.

His Farewell Address reads more like a theological tract than a retirement speech, warning that “religion and morality are indispensable supports” of political prosperity. Does that sound like a man who thought God had checked out?

John Adams, another Founder often branded a deist, wrote bluntly that “our Constitution was made only for a moral and religious people.”

Adams saw the American Revolution as the outgrowth of divine intervention. As he wrote to Thomas Jefferson in 1813, “The general principles on which the fathers achieved independence were ... the general principles of Christianity.”

And what of Jefferson? By far the most heterodox, even he never denied divine order. His “Nature’s God” wasn’t a placeholder. It was a real presence. He sliced up the Gospels but still bowed to the idea of eternal moral law. Whatever his quarrels with organized religion, he did not believe in a silent universe.

Some of these men were, philosophically at least, frustrated Catholics. They couldn’t fully accept Protestantism, but they had no access to the Church’s intellectual infrastructure. The natural law reasoning that permeates their political thought — Jefferson’s “self-evident truths,” Madison’s checks and balances born of man’s fallen nature — comes straight from Aquinas, filtered through Locke, Montesquieu, and centuries of Christian jurisprudence.

The Founders weren’t Enlightenment nihilists. They weren’t secular technocrats. And they certainly weren’t deists. They were men steeped in a moral framework older than the American experiment itself.

Burns, for all his sepia-toned genius, has a blind spot you could drive a colonial wagon through. His documentaries glow with progressive reverence — plenty of civil rights and moral reckoning, but the Almighty gets the silent treatment. God may have guided the Founders, but in Ken’s cut, he barely makes the final edit.

The sacred and the sanitized

I mentioned irony at the start, but it deserves more than a passing nod. That's because the septuagenarian's own cinematic legacy contradicts the very theology he now peddles on podcasts.

His brilliant nine-part series "The Civil War" captured the moral agony of a nation tearing itself apart, and it did so in unmistakably religious terms. Here Burns treats Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address — haunted, prophetic, bathed in biblical cadence — with reverence, not revisionism.

The series understood something essential: Americans have always been a biblical people. They see their history not just in terms of dates and treaties, but in terms of sin, sacrifice, and redemption. Sacred story, divine purpose — this was the language of American reckoning.

The Founders weren’t saints, and they weren’t simple. They read Greek, spoke Latin, studied Scripture, and debated philosophy with a seriousness that puts modern politicians to shame. But they weren’t spiritual agnostics, either.

They were men of imperfect but active faith, shaped by the Bible, steeped in Christian moral tradition, and convinced that human rights came not from government but from God.

They didn’t build a republic of personal preference. They built one grounded in enduring truths that predated the Constitution, anchored to the idea that law and liberty meant nothing without a higher law above them.

Burns may deal in memory, but his treatment of religion reveals something else entirely. He doesn’t misremember. He reorders. He filters faith through a modern lens until it becomes unrecognizable.

Memory isn’t just about what’s preserved — it’s about what’s permitted. And when the sacred gets cast aside, what’s left isn’t history. It’s propaganda with better lighting.

No apologies: A Christian case for America before Israel

On June 15, Christian author Owen Strachan tweeted, “As an evangelical Christian, I stand with Israel without shame or apology.” This is, of course, an expression of support for the nation of Israel in its current conflict with Iran. Since Strachan tied his support of Israel to his identity as an “evangelical Christian,” he apparently sees a theological connection between Christianity and support for Israel (though he did not explain his reasoning here).

I quoted Strachan’s statement with my own tweet, which read, “As an American Christian, I stand with America.”

Christians should desire (and pray for) the good of all nations, especially their own. They should seek the good of their people.

I intended this statement to distance myself from support for Israel. But I did not mean that I support Iran. Rather, I meant that I do not desire to publicly stand for a foreign nation, and I do not want my home nation getting involved in unnecessary international conflicts.

I especially do not want Americans fighting in more wars.

As a Presbyterian minister, I affirm a doctrine known as the spirituality of the church. This means that the church’s mission is primarily spiritual. It follows that the church as an institution should not make political statements, except on occasions when the church is asked by the civil magistrate or when the church petitions the magistrate in extraordinary cases (see Westminster Confession of Faith 31.4).

I also seek to avoid preaching politics from the pulpit, unless by that we mean preaching Christian duties relating to the civil government. Though I am a minister (serving in the Presbyterian Church in America), I speak to this issue as a citizen and not from my office as a pastor.

However, my theological knowledge informs my opinion on this matter, and I hope it is helpful for guiding other Christians.

Israel and the Bible

There are two theological issues that arise from the question of support for the nation of Israel. The first is the relationship of Israel to the Bible.

Since I hold to Reformed theology, I understand the church to be “the Israel of God” (Galatians 6:16). It is not that the church replaced Israel, but that the church is the new Israel. Those who believe in Jesus Christ are the true spiritual sons of Abraham.

As the apostle Paul wrote, “If you are of Christ, then you are the seed of Abraham, heirs according to the promise” (Galatians 3:29, my translation). As such, Christians inherit all the promises made to Abraham in the Old Testament.

Jews who have rejected Christ have been cut off from the covenant with God, and Gentiles (non-Jews) who have believed in Christ have been “grafted in” to God’s “olive tree,” which is His covenant (Romans 11:17). There is debate even among Reformed Christians as to the future of the Jews (Romans 11:25-26).

Regardless, I believe the modern nation of Israel will bow before King Jesus as part of His inheriting all nations (Psalm 2:8).

Reformed theology differs from the popular “dispensationalist” theology, which affirms that there are two peoples of God and that the promises in the Old Testament are for ethnic Israel (a view most famous for the pre-tribulation rapture).

While there are many variations of dispensationalism today, all proponents see strong discontinuity between the Old and New Testaments and thus discontinuity between Old Testament Israel and the church. As such, they believe that many of the promises in the Old Testament, including the land promise (e.g., Genesis 15:18-21), continue for modern Jews.

This explains why dispensationalists often express widespread support for modern Israel.

On the contrary, Reformed theology understands the land promise to be spiritually fulfilled in Christ, who has dominion over all nations (Matthew 28:18-20). This is how Paul understood the land promise, as he spoke of “the promise to Abraham [and] to his seed that he would be heir of the world” (Romans 4:13, my translation).

All of that is to say that as a Christian, I have no special relationship to the modern nation-state of Israel. I do not wish Israelis harm but hope they become Christian, which is my hope and prayer for all nations. That is also my prayer for all of Israel’s enemies.

Christians and America

This raises a second theological issue arising from the question of support for Israel, which is how Christians should relate to their own country.

I see a lot of errors on this topic, exemplified by many comments on my tweet that basically communicated, “As a Christian, I stand with Christ and no earthly nation.” But I believe this is a completely unbiblical approach to the subject.

It is not that a Christian should endorse everything his or her nation’s government does. Of course not. But we should support our nation.

It is true, as Paul says, that as Christians “our citizenship is in heaven” (Philippians 3:20). But that is not our only citizenship. While believers are united to Christ, who reigns in heaven — and that is our destination upon death — we are still earthly citizens while we remain in the body. This is why Paul also commands us to “be subject” to our civil authorities (Romans 13:1; cf. 1 Peter 2:13).

God instituted civil government for our good. If a nation’s government is following God’s design, it will also protect the church and uphold righteousness in the nation. So Christians should have a healthy loyalty to their earthly nations, especially if that nation has a rich Christian history (as America does).

Ordo amoris applied

Christians are dual citizens, and their earthly citizenship is good. This is part of the Reformed doctrine of the two kingdoms. We must not over-spiritualize this world by rejecting the goodness of God’s creation, including nations.

Nations and civil government are good, although corrupted by sin.

Yet even though nations are corrupted, Christians should still support their earthly nations. Christians should desire (and pray for) the good of all nations, especially their own. They should seek the good of their people. As an American, this is why I support America first and foremost. My loyalty is not to Israel or Iran or any other foreign nation. My earthly loyalty is to the United States of America. And as long as that does not conflict with my ultimate loyalty to Jesus Christ, then I will support America.

This is part of the Christian tradition’s teaching on the ordo amoris, cited recently by Vice President JD Vance. There is an order of love that starts with one’s own family, and it prioritizes one’s nation before that of other nations. This is part of how Christians fulfill our Lord’s teaching to “love your neighbor” (Matthew 22:39).

America’s first and greatest president, George Washington, warned against entangling “alliances” in his 1796 farewell address. Yet too often America has been dragged into foreign wars because we did not listen to the father of our nation.

Our people pay taxes and die for the interests of other nations, including Israel.

I say no more. I wish Israel and Iran well, and I pray for peace between them. But I want what’s best for my people. And involvement in foreign wars is bad for my fellow Americans.

Here's to 'Bosch' — the best TV show of the last 10 years

Late last April, one of the most consistently excellent and criminally underrated series on television ended its 11-year run.

In a sea of prestige dramas trying to out-slick each other with flashy cinematography and convoluted twists, "Bosch" and its immediate sequel, "Bosch: Legacy," stood apart — grounded, methodical, and unflinchingly real. The two shows were not only crime procedurals; they formed an ode to justice, to the city of Los Angeles, and to the people who live in its shadows.

In a world of shrinking attention spans and algorithm-driven content, "Bosch" is refreshingly analog. It trusts the viewer.

Moral gravity

At the heart of both shows is Titus Welliver’s performance as LAPD Detective Hieronymus "Harry" Bosch. Welliver doesn't just play Bosch, he inhabits him, bringing a weary moral gravity to a character guided by the principle that “everybody counts or nobody counts.”

It’s rare to see a protagonist stay so consistently true to his code without veering into caricature. In Welliver’s hands, Bosch is not a superhero — he is a deeply principled man operating in a world that has long since stopped rewarding principles.

What elevates "Bosch" even farther is its ensemble cast — seasoned, nuanced, and richly interconnected. And for fans of "The Wire," "Bosch" is like a reunion tour of greatness.

Through the 'Wire'

Jamie Hector, unforgettable on the legendary HBO series as ruthless, up-and-coming drug kingpin Marlo Stanfield, plays Bosch’s partner Jerry Edgar with quiet complexity and an evolving conscience. He brings a calm, inward energy that balances Welliver’s intensity.

The late Lance Reddick, always regal and sharp, reprises another authority figure as Chief Irving, a political operator whose arc turns increasingly poignant as the show progresses.

Even the great Chris Bauer (who anchored season two of "The Wire" as tragic union leader Frank Sobotka) is a key figure in the final case of the final season, delivering yet another command performance.

NBC/Getty Images

These appearances aren’t just fan service — they reinforce the show's commitment to realism. These are actors who know how to play the long, quiet game of institutional drama, bringing an authenticity forged in the crucible of David Simon’s Baltimore to Michael Connelly’s Los Angeles.

The soul of the show

As both executive producer and the author of the "Bosch" novels (read them!), Connelly is the soul of the show, ensuring that it never loses the vivid and precise understanding of L.A.’s criminal ecosystem — from the politics of the LAPD to the ghosts of the Hollywood Hills — so evident in the books.

"Bosch" is also paced like a novel: patient, rich in detail, and unconcerned with the need to manufacture drama. Instead, tension arises naturally from the characters' decisions, regrets, and stubborn decency.

Unlike much of contemporary television, which seems obsessed with style over substance, "Bosch" is anti-glamour. Its color palette is sun-bleached and realistic, its villains often mundane and terrifyingly human. Its cops aren’t action heroes, but working-stiff detectives who make phone calls, pore over reports, and follow leads with grit and intelligence. There are no melodramatic shoot-outs without consequence — just slow justice, often paid in pain.

An 'earned' sequel

After "Bosch" ended after seven seasons in 2021, Welliver reprised the character in the 2022 sequel "Bosch: Legacy." Now retired from the LAPD, Bosch is a private investigator who often finds himself working with his one-time professional nemesis, defense attorney Honey "Money" Chandler (Mimi Rogers).

"Bosch: Legacy" avoids the common pitfalls of spin-offs. Its elevation of Bosch's daughter Maddie Bosch (Madison Lintz) to a central figure is earned rather than forced. The show evolves naturally, expanding the "Bosch" world without abandoning its roots. Connelly and his team know their audience isn’t looking for reinvention but rather continuity, truth, and character. And they deliver.

Refreshingly analog

In a world of shrinking attention spans and algorithm-driven content, "Bosch" is refreshingly analog. It trusts the viewer. It tells hard stories about justice, loss, race, and power in L.A. without shouting. It makes you care, then makes you wait. And when it finally hits its emotional beats, it hits like a freight train.

So here’s to "Bosch" — a show that never chased trends, never insulted its audience, and never wavered in its dedication to storytelling.

With a dream cast that bridged generations of great television ("The Wire" alumni among them) and the steady hand of Michael Connelly guiding the ship, "Bosch" was the best show on TV for a decade.

"Bosch" will live on, of course, available on the usual sites to be revisited by longtime fans and discovered by new ones. As "Bosch" inevitably cedes its place in the culture to newer, shinier entertainments, we can appraise its achievement as a whole and call it something else: a classic.

Ferris Bueller's surprisingly traditional 'Day Off'

Forty years ago this month — June 5, 1985, to be exact — a high school senior named Ferris Bueller decided not to go to school.

Instead, he took his girlfriend, Sloane, his best friend, Cameron, and a 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California Spyder (“borrowed” from Cameron’s dad) on an adventure-packed odyssey through Chicago, during which they lunched at a hoity-toity French restaurant, took in a Cubs game, and participated in the Von Steuben Day parade, all while engaging in an epic race against time, parents, and Vice Principal Edward R. Rooney.

Ironically, it’s Ferris who exhibits the very leadership qualities Vice Principal Rooney lacks.

Spoiler alert: He gets away with it.

"Ferris Bueller’s Day Off" is a teenage rebellion fantasy, but of a very different sort from the type Hollywood cranks out today.

For conservative pundit and former Nixon speechwriter Ben Stein, who had a small but indelible role as a droning economics teacher, the movie is a glorious product of the Reagan era. Noting that Hughes “was an ardent Republican” who “believed Reagan could transform all of us into Ferris Buellers,” Stein celebrates Ferris as “an unregulated high school kid in an unregulated world.”

Dia Dipasupil/Getty Images

But Ferris is no libertarian. "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" celebrates loyalty, courage, and even justice. It encourages us to love our families, to stand up for our friends, and to be grateful for the time we’re given on Earth.

Yes, Ferris breaks the rules, but his mischief — unlike that of the 1960s radicals who came before him (or, for that matter, the leftists currently wreaking havoc on our streets) — is creative rather than destructive.

In fact, take a closer look at his itinerary, and you see that Ferris follows a strict moral code of his own.

Real friendship is sacrificial

Ferris’ name may be in the title, but this is Cameron’s story. Ferris is the same carefree, popular guy at the end of the movie as he is at the beginning.

Cameron complains about being roped into his best friend’s “stupid crap,” but eventually we understand that all of Ferris’ elaborate planning — not to mention the risk he assumes — is for Cameron’s benefit. It’s Cameron, not Ferris, who really needs this day off. As a true friend, Ferris realizes that the only way to break Cameron out of his shell is to make him face his deepest fears — even if Cameron ends up hating him for it.

Family bonds are important, no matter how fraught

Ferris lies to his parents, but there’s no contempt beneath his deception. He truly loves them as much as they love him.

Cameron is not so fortunate. His strict home life — ruled by an emotionally absent, domineering father — has paralyzed him with anxiety and fear. When Cameron finally confronts this truth, he resolves not to reject his dad so he can heal his “trauma” (as he might be encouraged to do today) but to stand up to him — a healthy sign that the father-son relationship is worth saving.

Kevin Winter/ACMA2014/Getty Images for ACM

Even Ferris and his seething, judgmental sister Jeanie repair their rift by the end of the film. Jeanie lets go of her resentment and helps her brother when he needs it most, while Ferris learns the humbling lesson that even he can’t always go it alone.

Authority deserves respect — but only when it’s earned

Vice Principal Rooney embodies overreaching authority — petty, ineffective, and consumed by the need for control. In the end, Rooney’s childish obsession with “beating” Ferris undoes him as much as any stunt his quarry pulls. Ironically, it’s Ferris who exhibits the leadership qualities Rooney lacks. With his natural charisma and willingness to take calculated, strategic, and effective action for himself and for others, Ferris can’t help but draw people to him.

We should be grateful for the present moment

“Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." Ferris’ deceptively simple motto expresses deep, timeless wisdom.

All that he and friends gain by hoodwinking the adults are a few precious hours to appreciate the city of Chicago and each other’s company. And that's enough.

They don’t waste their time while playing hooky; instead they spend it truly alive to the joy of existence. And while church isn’t one of their stops, the reverent gratitude they display brings to mind Psalm 118:24: "This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."

Cardinal Burke calls for an end to 'persecution from within the Church'

The change in popes earlier this year has enlivened the international debate about the Catholic liturgy and tradition, especially about the traditional Latin mass. With Vatican deadlines approaching later this year, everyone is anxious to see what Pope Leo XIV's legacy will be.

Cardinal Leo Burke recently announced his hope that the new pope would "reconsider" the recent teachings of Pope Francis, which led to "persecution from within the Church" regarding the discontinuation of the Latin mass.

'Unfortunately, the current restrictions put in place by the recently deceased Pope Francis have caused confusion and hurt to the faithful who are seeking to worship the holy Trinity with the ancient liturgy and rituals.'

During a conference with the Latin Mass Society, Cardinal Burke was asked what he hopes the new pope, Leo XIV, will do regarding the late Pope Francis' restrictions on the Latin Mass.

"It is my hope that he will put an end to the persecution of the faithful in the Church who desire to worship God according to the more ancient usage of the Roman right," Burke, over video, told the conference.

Cardinal Burke signaled that he had already expressed his hopes for the future of the Latin Mass to Pope Leo XIV: "I certainly have already had occasion to express that to the Holy Father. ... It is my hope that he will restore the situation as it was after 'Summorum Pontificum' and even to continue to develop what Pope Benedict had so wisely and lovingly legislated for the Church."

"Summorum Pontificum" (2007) was Pope Benedict XVI's affirmation of the traditional celebration of the holy Mass in Latin. It was later restricted by Pope Francis' own motu proprio, "Traditionis Custodes" (2021).

Benedict's letter emphasized that the traditional Latin Mass and Novus Ordo were a "twofold use of one and the same rite," while Francis called for liturgical unity, limiting the extent to which the Latin Mass could be used.

Pope Francis' restrictions on the Latin Mass have been met with a great deal of resistance from the faithful, yet some dioceses have insisted on obedience to this order.

Many Catholics have argued against the legitimacy of "Traditionis Custodes," including liturgical scholar Dr. Peter Kwasniewski, who said in a 2021 speech at a Catholic Identity Conference, "The traditional Mass belongs to the most intimate part of the common good in the Church. Restricting it, pushing it into ghettos, and ultimately planning its demise can have no legitimacy. This law is not a law of the Church because, as St. Thomas Aquinas says, a law against the common good is no valid law."

Charlotte, North Carolina, however, has become a focal point in this controversy because Bishop Michael Martin recently announced that he would expedite the change in his diocese.

On May 23, Bishop Martin announced that the Latin Mass would cease to be offered by the four parishes in his diocese that celebrate it. He said the transition would be completed by the deadline of July 8, 2025.

That deadline, however, is three months ahead of an existing October 2025 deadline for the transition.

But in an unlikely turn of events, Bishop Martin announced on June 3 that he would push back the deadline to the Vatican's original October deadline. He cited pastoral concerns, both from parishioners and priests.

“It made sense to start these changes in July when dozens of our priests will be moving to their new parishes and other assignments,” Bishop Martin told local Catholic News Herald. “That said, I want to listen to the concerns of these parishioners and their priests, and I am willing to give them more time to absorb these changes.”

Photo by Grzegorz Galazka/Mondadori Portfolio via Getty Images

“I support the letter of His Eminence, Cardinal Burke, and his attempt to bring about Catholic unity under the peaceful provisions established by Pope Benedict XVI for the traditional Latin Mass. Unfortunately, the current restrictions put in place by the recently deceased Pope Francis have caused confusion and hurt to the faithful who are seeking to worship the holy Trinity with the ancient liturgy and rituals,” Dr. Taylor R. Marshall, president of the New Saint Thomas Institute, told Blaze News.

“I recently met with another cardinal in Rome who agrees with Cardinal Burke. We hope that the new pontiff, Pope Leo XIV, restores the generosity of Pope Benedict XVI by allowing the traditional Latin Mass to Catholics,” Dr. Marshall continued.

Bishop Martin also told the local outlet that the diocese would abide by any formal instruction from the Vatican in the interim.

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Canada's solution to reliance on US? Increasing commitments in Europe

If Donald Trump's "51st state" cracks have gotten under Mark Carney's skin, he wasn't showing it when he kicked off the G7 summit Monday.

Sitting next to the American president, Canada's prime minister played the consummate host, with conciliatory remarks stressing how much the participant nations have in common.

'We are actively seeking to strengthen transatlantic security, particularly by becoming a participant in rearming Europe.'

"All of us around this table are reinforcing our militaries and security services for the new world," he said. "But we all know that there can be no security without economic prosperity, and no prosperity without resilience. And ... that resilience comes from cooperation, cooperation that starts around this table."

Two-percenter

Still, Carney has lately made it clear that he'd like to place some distance between him and his tablemate. Last week, he pledged that the country would boost defense spending to the tune of an additional $9.3 billion this year in order to be less "reliant" on the protection of its big brother to the south.

Carney's increase would bring Canada's defense spending in line with NATO's benchmark of 2% of GDP for the first time since NATO established the benchmark in 2006. In the last two decades, Canada has rarely exceeded 1.5% and has usually hovered around 1%.

The last time Canada's defense spending met the 2% threshold was in 1987, when former Prime Minister Brian Mulroney sought to rebuild Canada’s military. At the height of the Cold War in the 1950s and 1960s, Canada was spending well over 4% of its GDP on national defense.

But will Canadians actually benefit from Carney’s spending spree?

Lillian Suwanrumpha/Dave Chan/Toronto Star/NurPhoto/Bloomberg/André Ringuette/Douglas Elbinger/Getty Images

'Deep decline'

In his announcement last Monday, Carney was typically vague about where the money will go, while hinting that Canada is on the market for new military allies and relationships:

Canada can work towards a new international set of partnerships that are more secure, prosperous, just, and free. We can pursue deeper alliances with stable democracies who share our interests, values, principles, and history, and we can help create a new era of integration between like-minded partners that maximizes mutual support over mutual dependency.

On one point, Carney was blunt: The Canadian Armed Forces are a military in deep decline. "Our military infrastructure and equipment have aged, hindering our military preparedness,” he said. “I'll give an example or two: Only one of our four submarines is seaworthy. Less than half our maritime fleet and land vehicles are operational."

Continental affair

So where are these "like-minded partners" who will help Canada get back into fighting shape? Not on this side of the Atlantic. Carney has openly mused about Canada becoming a member of the European Union and contributing to its defense force, and this looks like a big step in that direction.

Does this mean that Carney will join European leaders like U.K. Prime Minister Keir Starmer and French President Emmanuel Macron in providing missiles to Ukraine for its war with Russia? Is that how he plans to spend Canadian tax dollars? It might not seem like a good deal to Canadians.

Last month, however, Carney expressed his intention for Canada to join ReArm Europe, a major European defense buildup. He has also continued his predecessor Justin Trudeau's policy of sending billions of dollars in military and civil aid to Ukraine, even though the country is on the brink of defeat.

Carney said:

We are actively seeking to strengthen transatlantic security, particularly by becoming a participant in ReArm Europe. This will help diversify our military suppliers with reliable European partners and integrate the Canadian defense industry as full participants in 150 billion euros of Europe's rearmament program.

To these ends, the Canada EU summit later this month will be more important than ever, and Canada will arrive at this summit with a plan to lead with new investments to build our strength in service of our values. This will include our support for new NATO defense industrial pledge, which will be negotiated at the NATO summit.

'Blank check' from Pierre

At a news conference on Monday, Conservative Party leader Pierre Poilievre essentially gave Carney a blank check and promised his support to help the liberals achieve the military spending target.

“After a decade of liberal cuts, mismanagement, and back-office bureaucracy of boondoggles and wasted money on bungled projects, our military has never been weaker," said Poilievre.

"Now, more than ever, we need a strong military that will reassert our sovereignty in the north, take back control of our Arctic waters," Poilevre added, noting that he wanted to fight the increasingly woke policies that have infected Canada’s military and bring back the “warrior culture.”

But he stood shoulder to shoulder with Carney on spending. “We support getting back to the 2% target as soon as possible, and we will support additional money for our military,” Poilievre said, even as he promised to ferret out “waste in bureaucracy, consultants, foreign aid, corporate welfare, and other areas.”

Despite his tough talk, Poilievre admitted he had yet to see the Liberal government's budget for the increased spending.