Silicon Valley has a Dostoevsky problem



Earlier this year, something startling happened: Leading technologists at the AI frontier turned fretfully for guidance to a devout Orthodox Christian. A Silicon Valley book club tackled Fyodor Dostoevsky’s notoriously daunting novel “Demons” (also translated as “The Possessed”). Then an anonymous writer published an extraordinarily long essay on the book’s premonitions of what happens when human beings fall into falsely illuminated fanaticism. The author saw in Dostoevsky a warning for the people building artificial intelligence.

Verily, I thought, an enormous can of worms had been opened.

Technique and intelligence, severed from the disciplined heart, become hollow and ultimately self-destructive.

Orthodox Christianity is, in essential ways, the opposite of the power-hungry posthumanism animating so much of tech’s increasingly overt spirituality. The posthumanist dreams of a disembodied intellect mastering existence. Orthodoxy calls us to put our embodied intellect to work cleansing the heart, that the Holy Spirit of the loving Master of existence might dwell there.

The anonymous writer stumbled over the Gospel account of the Gadarene swine. Christ casts out Legion, permitting the demons to enter a herd of pigs that rushes to its destruction. Rather than welcome the man’s deliverance, the townspeople beg Christ to leave as if nothing had ever happened. Yet the essay concludes that “demons are not external enemies but our own capacities turned against us” and that they “must possess us fully” before we can be healed.

Not a great start. The temptation to mislearn even the plainest lesson is strong among people unacquainted with the embodied practices through which Christians slowly and humbly welcome Christ. But self-mastery had become a keyword among tech leaders watching crackpot woo one-shot more employees and founders. Anyone earnestly seeking self-mastery will eventually collide with Christian asceticism. I took stock of the development in “The Dostoevskian Moment.”

Lo and behold, last weekend Patrick Collison, the CEO of Stripe, published a sprawling 24-paragraph meditation on another Dostoevsky novel, “The Brothers Karamazov.” He confessed that he had not loved the book, but ended by asking how analyses of a nation’s soul ought to relate to its major novels and works of art. His post inadvertently exposed the limits of intellectual examination conducted at a distance from the quiet experience of the heart.

Then another tech founder, Delphi’s José Maria Macedo, answered Collison with something beautiful. Father Zosima, he observed, teaches that love dreamed of can indulge fantasies of grandeur, while active love is “harsh and dreadful,” requiring labor and patience. Macedo finds that love in Alyosha, whose goodness persists through ordinary humiliations, cruelty, and grief.

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Collison’s reading, Macedo suggested, resembled Ivan Karamazov’s impulse to put life on trial before the intellect. Alyosha offers another way: a life that cannot be reached through rationality alone. Macedo cannot explain how God allows evil, including the suffering of children. Yet Dostoevsky makes him want to become more like the man who answers suffering with love. That, Macedo wrote, is why “The Brothers Karamazov” is his favorite novel.

Macedo has grasped something his fellow technologists desperately need. Technique and intelligence, severed from the disciplined heart, become hollow and ultimately self-destructive. Like the snake eating its own tail, they cannibalize life rather than return humbly to its inexhaustible wellspring.

At a moment when tech is increasingly transfixed by the desperate quest to “align” AIs with an all-too-human utopian agenda, Dostoevsky’s call to first align our own personal will with God’s grows steadily louder.

Where was God? Frank Turek asks the question after Charlie Kirk



Arizona State University’s Ratio Christi chapter hosted Christian apologist Frank Turek Monday night. The topic especially caught my attention as a philosophy professor: If God exists, why is there evil?

I call this the major objection to belief in God. Atheists may begin elsewhere, but once the other objections are answered, the problem of evil keeps returning. I have found that true whether I am talking with an atheist at a bar watching a ball game or an elite physicist at Cambridge.

What if the very problem of evil that you think disproves God actually points to God?

Turek made the question as pointed as possible. He told the audience that when he and Charlie Kirk were approaching Utah Valley University on September 10, 2025, Kirk asked him to pray. Turek prayed for the event to be effective and safe.

“God said no,” Turek told the audience. About 20 minutes later, Kirk was fatally shot. Turek has asked the same question publicly ever since: Where was God?

To some smug atheists, and a few conspiracy-minded people, the story invites a sneer: If Kirk was such a good Christian, why didn’t his God protect him? Why would anyone want to be a Christian if that is the outcome?

Turek answered with a challenge: What if the very problem of evil that seems to disprove God actually points toward him?

His argument came in two parts.

First, before we can say evil disproves God, we have to know what evil is. And to know what evil is, we need some account of the good. Invoking Augustine, Turek described evil as a corruption or privation of something good. Augustine’s formulation is simple: Evil depends on the good it damages.

Students are often confident that they can define the good until the examples get difficult. Happiness seems like an obvious candidate, but people can be happy about wicked things. Happiness alone therefore cannot tell us what is good.

That is where students often retreat into relativism: What is good for you is good for you, and what is good for me is good for me.

Turek’s answer was that human beings share a common human nature. If something is genuinely good for a human being as such, it cannot become bad merely because another person prefers something else.

Then he pushed the argument into explicitly Christian territory. If Christianity is true, what could be better than knowing God? He cited John 17:3, where eternal life is described as knowing God and Jesus Christ.

That brought him back to Kirk. Kirk’s murder was evil; Turek did not pretend otherwise. But he argued that God can bring good from evil. Turek says he still hears from people who encountered the gospel because of Kirk’s life and death. In his language, the ripple was not merely a ripple but a tsunami.

RELATED: What Chris Hansen knows about sin that modern culture forgets

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That was Turek’s first point: The objection from evil assumes that some things are objectively wrong. His argument is that objective moral law requires a standard beyond individual preference and that the ultimate ground of that standard is God. The problem of evil therefore borrows the very moral categories it tries to use against him.

Turek then moved from philosopher to pastor.

In a philosophy class, people will debate the logical problem of evil. In the middle of intense suffering, nobody wants a philosopher to arrive with a chalkboard and draw syllogisms. They want to know why this happened: Why this child? Why this cancer? Why this death?

Turek answers with what he calls the ripple effect. We know very little of the past, only fragments of the present, and nothing of the future except what has been revealed to us. We cannot trace all the consequences flowing from a single event.

God, in the Christian account, is not only powerful and good but wise. He knows the whole of history and can order events toward ends we cannot see. Turek appealed to Romans 8:28: God works all things together for the good of those who love him.

That reminded me of an old pastoral illustration. A couple had grown cold in their faith. Their child died, and they asked their pastor why. He told them to imagine a shepherd trying to lead two stubborn sheep across a river from danger to safety. They refuse. So the shepherd picks up their lamb and carries it across. The sheep follow.

Was that for their good?

The point is not that suffering itself becomes good. It is that suffering can force us to confront questions comfort lets us avoid. It exposes our finitude and can make us consider our own sin. When we recognize how little we know and how much God would have to know, Paul’s question in Romans 9:20 becomes harder to brush aside: Who are we to correct God?

RELATED: Christians are missing the opportunity next door

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With those two claims — objective goodness and divine wisdom — Turek took questions.

One student asked why God creates people who will be damned to hell. Turek answered that people who finally reject God receive what they insist upon: separation from Him. If that is what they choose, he asked, on what grounds do they complain about receiving it?

Another asked about animal suffering that no human being ever sees. How could that possibly help us?

Turek’s answer was essentially: How do you know it does not? Human knowledge is extraordinarily limited. The fact that we cannot identify a good purpose for some instance of suffering does not prove that no such purpose exists. He also noted that in the Christian account, the whole creation is affected by human sin.

So is Turek right? Does the problem of evil point toward God rather than away from him? Are atheists borrowing from an objective moral framework they cannot ultimately ground without God?

The audience was clearly intrigued. Skeptics had something substantial to push against, and Christians had to think more carefully about what they claim the Bible teaches concerning good, evil, suffering, and God’s wisdom.

As a philosophy professor deep in the heart of Sun Devil territory, I count that as a good thing.

Did these 6 movies about Satan accidentally summon him to their sets?



Horror has always had a respectability problem. But filmmakers eventually discovered a useful trick for getting around it: Make the monster a metaphor.

The creature in "The Babadook" isn't merely a boogeyman under the bed; it's grief and depression. "It Follows" has been read as everything from an allegory for sexually transmitted disease to a story about sexual trauma and mortality. Jordan Peele's "Get Out" turned body-snatching horror into an examination of race and liberal paternalism. Even "Hereditary," which gives us actual demons, comes wrapped in grief, mental illness, and inherited trauma.

Moore was said to have been decapitated, horribly echoing the death Richardson had devised for the movie.

Nothing wrong with that. Horror works best when it gives physical form to intangible fears.

But the metaphor also provides a convenient escape hatch. Whatever battles of principalities and powers we see on screen, we know the real horror lurks in our minds — best addressed with modern, morally neutral techniques like therapy.

Asking us to believe in monsters that stand for nothing more than themselves — real monsters, in other words — takes us uncomfortably close to an idea Christianity has maintained for 2,000 years: Supernatural evil actually exists.

It's no wonder filmmakers who want their commercial success with a side of art-house respectability don't often go there.

But there might be another reason as well. When filmmakers do attempt to depict the devil, he has a curious way of making himself known through strange disruptions to the production: fires, equipment failures, injuries, even death.

Almost as if he would prefer to be dismissed as a fairy tale.

Here are six movies that took supernatural evil seriously — and the strange things that happened while people were making them.

1. 'The Exorcist'

If any movie were ever cursed, surely it was "The Exorcist." William Friedkin's 1973 adaptation of William Peter Blatty's novel has plenty to say about a broken family, psychiatric medicine, and a priest suffering a crisis of faith.

But when Regan MacNeil starts speaking in strange voices and contorting her body, "The Exorcist" is blunt about the cause: demonic possession. Friedkin brings an almost documentary realism to material that might otherwise have been safely dismissed as gothic fantasy. Audiences fainted, vomited, and fled theaters. The movie became a cultural phenomenon.

And if the stories that emerged from the production are to be believed, audiences weren't the only ones disturbed by its unflinching treatment of evil. The trouble started before Friedkin had even begun shooting in Iraq. A statue of Pazuzu, the demon who possesses Regan, had been built in Burbank and shipped to Mosul for the movie's opening sequence. It never arrived.

Somehow, Pazuzu ended up in Denmark. “It was lost,” Friedkin recalled years later. Shooting in Iraq was delayed for weeks while somebody presumably worked out how to get the demon to the right country.

Things got worse back in New York. In the early hours of the morning, a fire tore through the set of the MacNeil house at 20th Century Fox's studio on West 54th Street.

“The production manager called me at 4 a.m. and said, ‘Don't bother to come to work today,’” Friedkin later recalled.

“I said, ‘Why? Am I fired?’”

No. The set had burned to the ground. Well, most of it had. Regan's bedroom — the room where Friedkin was filming the exorcism — survived. Investigators never established what caused the fire. Friedkin later blamed a pigeon that had flown into a light box.

Production shut down for six weeks while the set was rebuilt. Then Ellen Burstyn hurt her back. During the scene in which Regan strikes her mother, a stuntman attached to a wire was supposed to yank Burstyn backward. After several takes, Burstyn told Friedkin that the stuntman was pulling too hard.

“Well, it has to look real,” she remembered him replying.

On the next take, she landed hard on her coccyx and screamed in genuine pain. Friedkin kept the camera rolling. Burstyn later summed up her relationship with the director rather neatly: “He was always great with me. Except when he permanently injured my spine.”

Burstyn went on to do many more films. Others in the cast weren't so lucky. Jack MacGowran, who plays director Burke Dennings — murdered by the possessed Regan in the movie — finished his work and died of influenza at 54. Vasiliki Maliaros, who played Father Karras' mother, also died during production.

In the 1998 BBC documentary "The Fear of God: 25 Years of 'The Exorcist,'" Burstyn remembers others connected with the production dying as well: the newborn child of an assistant cameraman, the man responsible for refrigerating the bedroom set, and a night watchman.

None died in accidents while shooting the movie. But there were enough deaths, injuries, delays, and other mishaps that people began talking about a curse.

The actor playing the conflicted priest and trained psychiatrist who attempts to save Regan got a more explicit warning. In "The Fear of God," Jason Miller recalls eating and studying his lines at the Jesuit residence while filming at Georgetown. One day, an elderly priest handed him a medal of the Blessed Virgin and asked whether Miller had ever heard of “intervention.”

“If you do anything on the devil, anything at all on the devil to reveal him as the trickster that he is,” Miller remembered the priest telling him, “he will seek retribution against you, or he will even try to stop what you're trying to do to unmask him.”

The priest told Miller the medal would protect him.

About three days later, Miller was walking through the Jesuit residence on his way to dinner when something caught his eye in one of the side rooms. He went back and looked, only to see the old priest lying there in a casket.

By 1974, Castle of Frankenstein magazine was running an article with the wonderfully unsubtle headline The Curse That Hangs Over "The Exorcist."

Eventually, Friedkin called the Rev. Thomas Bermingham, the Jesuit priest serving as a technical adviser to the movie.

“Would you come down and exorcise the set?” Bermingham recalled Friedkin asking in "The Fear of God."

Bermingham refused. “I don't want to increase anxiety or anything like that,” he told him. But Bermingham wasn't laughing off the possibility that they had gotten themselves into something strange.

“There was definitely a feeling that it could happen,” he says in the documentary. “We were playing around with something. I even felt it. I felt we were playing around with something I shouldn't be playing around with.”

He blessed the production instead, just in case.

2. 'The Passion of the Christ'

Mel Gibson's 2004 "The Passion of the Christ" isn't a horror movie, although anyone who has sat through the scourging scene might dispute the point.

But neither is it the kind of "faith-based" film that confines the battle between sin and redemption to the dialogue. Gibson keeps the personification of evil in the frame.

Satan stalks Jesus through Gethsemane. He moves through the crowd as Christ suffers. During the scourging, he carries a grotesque child. After Christ's death, Gibson cuts away from Calvary to show Satan defeated. On screen, Satan can only howl in rage. What happened off screen suggests a more active opposition.

Jim Caviezel, the man playing Jesus, was struck by lightning. Producer Steve McEveety recalled seeing the bolt hit him from roughly 100 feet away. Assistant director Jan Michelini was struck too.

Which would already make for a pretty good story, except Michelini had reportedly been struck by lightning once before during the same production.

Caviezel later joked that the strike lit him up “like a Christmas tree.” Contemporary reports said neither man was seriously injured.

Caviezel had previously turned down three opportunities to play Jesus. He accepted Gibson's offer because, he later said, he sensed the director's commitment to telling the Passion story “without restraint.”

Be careful what you pray for.

The lightning strike was far from the only hardship. Caviezel separated his shoulder carrying the cross. He developed hypothermia while hanging nearly naked in bitter winds during the crucifixion scenes, followed by pneumonia and a lung infection. The elaborate makeup left his skin raw. During the scourging, one of the actors missed the protective board behind Caviezel and struck him across the back hard enough to tear the skin.

At one particularly miserable point, hanging on the cross in the cold, Caviezel remembered crying out to God:

“So you don't want this movie to be made?”

Caviezel kept making it anyway; appropriately enough, the suffering itself began to serve the movie. He received Communion daily, prayed the rosary during the long hours in makeup, and went to confession during production.

Caviezel also came to see his suffering as part of what made the performance work. Recreating the crucifixion on a comfortable soundstage, he later said, would have lost some of its “effect and reality.” The cold, the injuries, the exhaustion — things that might have stopped another production — became part of the movie Gibson and Caviezel had set out to make.

3. 'The Omen'

If "The Exorcist" created the cursed-movie template, "The Omen" perfected it.

The 1976 movie is even less interested in metaphor. The little boy at the center of the story really is the Antichrist, and the people who figure this out have a nasty habit of dying before they can do much about it.

Bob Munger, the advertising executive who helped originate the premise, later recalled warning producer Harvey Bernhard about making the movie in the first place.

“If the devil's greatest single weapon is to be invisible,” Munger told him, “and you're going to do something which takes away his invisibility to millions of people, he won't want that to happen.”

Bernhard eventually became convinced Munger was right. “The devil was at work,” he said years later.

The stories began before audiences had even seen the movie. In April 1976, New York magazine was already reporting that Gregory Peck's plane had been struck by lightning while he was traveling to London to make "The Omen." The magazine named screenwriter David Seltzer and director Richard Donner in connection with troubled flights as well. Executive producer Mace Neufeld later recalled a lightning strike on his own flight. The surviving accounts make it difficult to say exactly how many people were struck by lightning, which is not ordinarily a problem a movie production has.

The close calls continued once Neufeld reached London. He later recalled walking out of his London hotel with his wife when a bomb exploded about a block and a half away. The couple also had reservations at Scott's, the Mayfair restaurant bombed by the IRA in November 1975. Both bombings are real; Neufeld recounted his brushes with them in the 2020 documentary series "Cursed Films."

For one of the movie's most memorable scenes, Damien visits a safari park and the baboons go berserk at the sight of him. The sequence was filmed at Windsor Safari Park. During the production period, 22-year-old keeper Sidney Bamford was killed there by a tiger. Later curse accounts claimed the keeper died immediately after the filmmakers shot the sequence. Contemporary reports establish the tiger attack, but not that timing or that Bamford personally worked with the movie.

And then there was the airplane the filmmakers didn't take. Donner later recalled that the production had intended to use an aircraft for aerial filming, only to lose it at the last minute when it was reassigned to Chinese customers. According to the story, the plane subsequently crashed.

There was a remarkably similar accident during production. On November 20, 1975, a Hawker Siddeley executive jet carrying a Chinese delegation took off from Dunsfold Aerodrome in Surrey, flew into a flock of lapwings, lost power in both engines, overran the runway, and struck a passing car.

All nine people aboard the aircraft survived. All six people in the car died.

The timing and the Chinese passengers make it a plausible match for the crash Donner remembered. What the investigation doesn't establish is that "The Omen" crew had ever booked that particular plane.

The strangest story came after "The Omen" was finished.

Special-effects designer John Richardson had helped create one of the movie's most gruesome deaths. Photographer Keith Jennings is standing by the side of a road when a sheet of glass slides from a truck and takes off his head. Richardson's effects team accomplished it with a rigged dummy and replica of actor David Warner's head.

In August 1976, Richardson was in the Netherlands working on "A Bridge Too Far" when he was involved in a car crash. Richardson survived. Sculptor Liz Moore, traveling with him, did not. Biographical accounts date her death to August 13.

Over the years, the accident acquired two details that made it irresistible to anyone writing about the curse of "The Omen." Moore was said to have been decapitated, horribly echoing the death Richardson had devised for the movie. And Richardson was said to have emerged from the wreck near a road sign reading:

Ommen — 66.6 km.

The crash and Moore's death are well attested. Those two grisly details are not. No contemporary report or official record located in our research establishes that Moore was decapitated. Richardson did later recall a roadside marker involving sixes and a road leading toward Ommen, but the famous “Ommen — 66.6 km” sign has never been independently verified.

By then it hardly mattered. "The Omen" had acquired a curse almost as elaborate as its screenplay.

Fox eventually made the legend part of the product. By 2000, the DVD included a featurette called "Curse or Coincidence?"

4. 'The Possession'

The 2012 movie "The Possession" had something most demon movies don't: a supposedly genuine haunted object behind it.

The “dybbuk box” was an old wine cabinet whose strange history had first attracted widespread attention on eBay. Kevin Mannis supplied a terrifying history involving a Holocaust survivor and a malicious Jewish spirit. Owners supposedly experienced nightmares, illnesses, and other misfortunes.

The story spread online, made its way into newspapers, and eventually became the inspiration for a Hollywood movie.

Then odd things started happening on the movie.

Director Ole Bornedal recalled production lights exploding even though they weren't switched on. About a week after filming ended, he said, a warehouse containing props from the movie burned; Bornedal said he never learned what caused the fire.

Years later came a fairly devastating blow to the legend: Mannis admitted that he had invented the box's elaborate backstory. So much for the haunted box.

Except Mannis inventing a story about a wine cabinet doesn't explain why Bornedal said lights exploded. It doesn't explain the warehouse fire either.

Bornedal himself offered the best skeptical argument. “Would we have noticed if this had been a ‘Love Story’? Perhaps not.”

RELATED: Inside the mind of a Catholic exorcist: Fr. Chad Ripperger talks shop with Shawn Ryan

Photo by SIMON WOHLFAHRT/AFP via Getty Images

5. 'The Omen' (2006)

Thirty years after the original "Omen," Fox decided to make it again, if only to take advantage of a uniquely demonic release date: June 6, 2006, or 6/6/06.

Director John Moore had been raised Catholic, and maybe that's why he found the strange happenings that befell him so unnerving.

Two days of footage involving the discovery of Damien's 666 birthmark were destroyed. Moore received an airfare costing exactly $666. And a promotional videotape apparently wound up overwritten with ESPN footage even though, Moore said, the machine wasn't capable of recording.

Moore was disturbed enough to wonder whether making the movie might offend God. Eventually, he reasoned that a movie acknowledging the existence of evil necessarily acknowledged the existence of good.

As for Fox, the curse was great publicity. Although perhaps even the box-office bean counters were a little shaken by the movie's first-day box office:

$12,633,666.

What were the odds? Pretty good, as it turned out. Fox distribution executive Bruce Snyder admitted that the studio had adjusted the reported estimate to give it the demonic final digits.

“We were having a little fun,” he said.

6. 'The Deliverance'

By the time Lee Daniels made "The Deliverance" in 2024, the old stories had become part of Hollywood folklore.

Daniels had read about what supposedly happened during the making of "The Exorcist" and "Poltergeist." His Episcopalian mother warned him about making a movie dealing with demonic evil.

“She was just like, ‘You are a portal. You work from a place of groundedness, and your soul is open, and I don't want anything bad happening to you,’” Daniels recalled.

He took precautions. The production brought in an ordained Christian who conducted deliverances on set. Daniels also instituted daily prayer circles.

“We prayed every day,” he said.

Netflix HR reminded him that Christian prayer couldn't be mandatory. Daniels told anyone who didn't want to participate that they were free to leave.

“There were a few that left, but for the most part, most of them wanted to be covered by the blood of Jesus,” he recalled. “They knew what was up.”

The precautions didn't prevent "The Deliverance" from acquiring a curse story of its own.

Daniels' sister had appeared in every movie he made as his “good luck charm.” For "The Deliverance," she appeared in a scene with Glenn Close involving chemotherapy.

Two days later, Daniels said, his sister was diagnosed with lung cancer.

“My dog died on set,” he added.

Mo'Nique had a more explicable brush with the supposed curse. While filming an outdoor scene involving a demon, Mo'Nique said material being blown around the set made it difficult for her to breathe. Afterward, she was hospitalized with an enlarged thyroid.

“It was a lot of things happening with ‘The Deliverance,’” she recalled.

None of this proves that anything supernatural was happening. Mo'Nique herself described a perfectly physical reason for becoming ill. Cancer diagnoses and dead dogs require no demonic explanation.

But half a century after "The Exorcist," Daniels went into another movie about demonic possession worried enough about the old curse stories to pray over his set every day and bring in someone to perform deliverances.

Then his sister got cancer, his dog died, and one of his stars wound up in the hospital.

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Steve Deace: The TRUTH about why men have become so passive



Men have always found reasons to avoid difficult fights — but today this has gotten worse, and it’s not exactly their fault.

The biggest problem with men these days, Todd Erzen of the “Steve Deace Show” explains, is that “they keep finding reasons not to fight in a culture where there are fights everywhere.”

“You’re not supposed to just randomly do it because it’s your style, your thing. You’re supposed to do it because the Lord identifies good and evil, and you are a servant of the good,” he continues.

“You must, as a man, vanquish evil,” he adds.


However, BlazeTV host Steve Deace points out that even in Genesis 3, “There’s not a whole bunch of guys preemptively looking to take on evil.”

“The opposite is often true. We wait until we’re cornered. We wait until we’ve suffered enough,” he explains.

“So that’s not new. That’s not unique,” he adds.

And even the founding fathers were not prepared to attack the “first time their God-given rights were violated.”

“They spent 10 years thinking about it, talking about it, negotiating it. Then when the redcoats start putting armed soldiers in their homes and calling it the ‘Quartering Act,’ they’re like, ‘You know, guys, we might be at a point of no return here,’” Deace says.

“I promise you, we’re not the first generation of men late to the party. That’s been every generation of men. Every single one,” he continues.

“We’re sinners,” he adds.

What is new, however, Deace explains, are the phones that never leave our hands.

“It’s these phones. We have never had at our instant disposal more opportunities to dissuade us from our priorities than the current technology of this world provides,” he says, adding, “Now that is what is new.”

Want more from Steve Deace?

To enjoy more of Steve's take on national politics, Christian worldview, and principled conservatism with a snarky twist, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution, and live the American dream.

You can’t handle the movies anymore



Americans are breathing a sigh of relief at the apparent end of woke lectures masquerading as movies. The last few that slipped through have been sent to the box office graveyard.

But another problem remains.

What gives a human life ultimate meaning? That is a question woke ideology cannot answer. It is also the question every civilization, and every soul, must face.

As John Wick taught us, bad choices lead to consequences. And after 15-plus years of woke education and pop culture, one consequence may be that American audiences can no longer handle a movie that wrestles seriously with the deepest questions of human life.

Permit me to explain why this trouble looms on the horizon like Kafka’s “Metamorphosis.”

The woke agenda, with its oppression-studies degrees and DEI catechisms, has trained generations of students and audiences to think superficially. They are told suffering comes from “whiteness” and “heteronormativity,” and that if they elect enough democratic socialists, these problems will vanish and free stuff will rain down from heaven.

Spend enough time on a modern university campus, and you will see how often life’s deepest questions are flattened into identity categories.

Why do people suffer? Systems of oppression.

Why does life feel empty? Unjust structures prevent economic flourishing.

The standard DEI professor solves the problems of evil and meaning by reassuring one group of students that their hardships are caused by another group of students, and that each group can be identified by skin color and sexual preference.

The solution is always the same: Become an activist. Advocate for the marginalized. Restructure society. Stop whiteness.

Think of the Ralph Wiggum meme: “I’m helping.”

Movie after movie has thrown these inane answers at American audiences. Marvel has done more than most. It had a chance to get serious when Ultron sought a solution to the problem of evil. Instead, it simply got violent.

What was the franchise’s answer to evil? Some saccharine claim about the innate goodness of human beings when they are “free” under a nanny state of superheroes.

But those supposedly good humans are the same people who committed all the evil Ultron saw when he studied world history.

The Avengers are an existential nightmare, making one wonder whether each member of the team was meant to be a hero of the absurd after all.

RELATED: Give He-Man credit for mocking the unmockable

Screen Archives/Getty Images

These reflections made me wonder whether today’s audiences, ruined by DEI, could watch a movie like “Cool Hand Luke.”

The film would almost certainly never be made today. But even if it were, would anyone make it to the end? Better yet, would anyone understand what the movie asks us to confront?

Luke, played by Paul Newman, returns home from World War II to a life with no obvious purpose. In a drunken act of vandalism, he cuts the heads off parking meters and is sentenced to a southern prison camp.

The crime is almost beside the point. The movie is not really about criminal justice. It is asking an older question: What does a man do when he cannot find meaning?

Luke’s struggle is existential. He first fights the toughest prisoner, and his refusal to stay down becomes a declaration that he will not surrender his humanity. Later, when Luke wins at poker, the men call him “Cool Hand Luke.”

His coolness is defiance against a universe that appears silent. If nothing matters, why get upset?

The prison itself becomes a metaphor for human existence. The laws appear arbitrary. Luke tells another prisoner, “All I see is a lot of guys laying down a lot of rules and regulations.”

Then, Luke’s mother visits one last time as she is dying.

Their final conversation is painfully cold. He calls her “Arletta” rather than “Mother.” Neither expresses love. As she leaves, he simply says, “So long, Arletta. Take care.”

Harry Dean Stanton sings “Just a Closer Walk with Thee” as Luke walks back into the prison. The inability of sentimentalized religion to give Luke meaning becomes the movie’s second theme, after the helplessness of law.

Soon afterward, Luke receives word of his mother’s death. He sings a mocking song about the empty superstition of popular religion:

Get yourself a sweet Madonna
Dressed in rhinestones, sitting on
A pedestal of abalone shell.
Going 90, it ain’t scary,
’Cause I got the Virgin Mary
Assurin’ me that I won’t go to hell.

Popular religion pours opium over the suffering of this life with empty sentimentality and promises of a better afterlife.

Neither law nor sentimental religion can quiet Luke’s soul. So he runs.

Captured once, he hears the famous line from the captain: “What we’ve got here is failure to communicate.”

After another escape attempt, the guards force him into a grotesque cycle of digging and filling the same hole.

“Luke, what’s your dirt doing in the boss’ hole?”

After Luke digs a grave-sized hole, another boss asks, “Luke, what’s your dirt doing on my yard? Put it back in that hole.”

This continues until his spirit finally breaks. He begs them to stop. He promises never to escape or back-sass again.

Yet he escapes once more.

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Silver Screen Collection/Getty Images

His final refuge is an empty church. There, Luke finally speaks honestly. He addresses God simply as, “Hey, Old Man.” He admits that he began strong but has grown tired. He wants answers. He wants someone to respond.

Silence.

“I guess you’re a pretty hard case too,” Luke concludes.

A fellow prisoner is sent in to persuade him to come out peacefully. Luke yells out the window, “What we’ve got here is failure to communicate,” but he is shot and killed before he can finish.

The movie refuses every easy answer. The audience is meant to leave and wrestle with the problem of meaning.

Luke cannot be right about final emptiness. But where can we find meaning if neither law nor superficial popular religion can provide it?

That is precisely the sort of question our culture increasingly avoids.

The last 15 years have been a parade of DEI sermons and ideological mush. The worry is that Americans raised in this, educated in woke K-12 schools, and graduated into oppression-studies assumptions would not know how to contemplate existential meaning in a movie like “Cool Hand Luke.”

They would reduce the story to demographic categories. White prisoner. White guards. Southern prison. Oppression explained. Luke deserves what he got.

As a philosophy professor, I hope Americans have not lost the ability to appreciate stories that force us to confront the deepest questions. I hope they are not merely rejecting the stupidity of DEI but also rejecting superficial answers and longing for something deeper.

What gives a human life ultimate meaning? That is a question woke ideology cannot answer.

It is also the question every civilization, and every soul, must face.

'Pure evil': 16 children rescued from horrific conditions in Ohio home — parents and grandparents arrested



Police said that the parents and grandparents of 16 children subjected them to severe neglect and horrible living conditions described as "pure evil."

Police executed a search warrant on Tuesday at about 10 a.m. at the residence on Ohmer Street in Hamden, according to a press release from Ohio Attorney General Andy Wilson.

'I can tell you this is pure evil. What we saw down here today is pure evil.'

Inside the home they found 16 children living in a 12-by-12-foot space, and they were surrounded by human feces.

The children ranged in age from a 1-year-old to an 18-year-old and included boys and girls. Two of the children were so injured, they were flown to level 1 trauma centers. Others were evaluated and treated at local hospitals.

"Most of the livestock was kept in better condition than the children," Vinton County Sheriff Ryan Cain said.

Police arrested the parents and grandparents, who were identified as Gary Siders Jr., Elizabeth Siders, Gary Siders Sr., and Christina Siders.

"The conditions these children lived in were horrific, and we are sickened by it. Fortunately, this tragic chapter has closed, but their recovery will take time," Cain added. "Our investigators will continue following the evidence wherever it leads."

The four suspects were all charged with 17 counts of endangering children, a second-degree felony.

Wilson said the children were "literally about to fall through the floor" and that many of them were unable to speak. The 18-year-old was unable to spell her name.

"I've been doing these types of cases for a long time. I've spent a big portion of my career dedicated to prosecuting these types of cases, and I can tell you this is pure evil. What we saw down here today is pure evil," Wilson said.

The home was described as having an area of only 1,300 square feet with a total of five rooms, and it was owned by a trust of a deceased women.

Investigators said that the Siders moved between various properties in Ohio since 2008 and avoided establishing government and medical records during that time.

"This case continues to reveal the unimaginable conditions these children were forced to endure," Wilson added Wednesday.

"Our focus remains on protecting these children, supporting their recovery, and ensuring everyone responsible is held fully accountable under Ohio law," he continued.

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Investigators said the case did not appear to involve human trafficking, but was instead one of "prolonged and extreme interfamilial neglect and abuse."

The four suspects pleaded not guilty to the charges during a court hearing Wednesday, where they appeared via Zoom. A judge set cash bail for each at $300,000.

The Vinton County Prosecutor's Office may file further charges after more information is discovered. If convicted, the suspects could face up to 12 years in prison for each count, which would be 204 years.

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Why leftism as a mental illness is a ‘comforting fiction’



As the divide between the right and the left continues to deepen, BlazeTV host Auron MacIntyre explains that Americans are writing off what they don’t understand about each other as a “form of mental illness.”

“This is understandable when it comes to horrific crime. Someone like a serial killer is so violent and twisted that it's hard for us to comprehend their actions, and there is certainly a fair amount of mental illness that plays a factor,” MacIntyre says. “But today people often use this explanation when it comes to political disagreements.”

“Abortion, hatred for Christians and white people, the mutilation of children to turn boys into girls — these beliefs are so horrible that they can only possibly be explained by a malfunctioning brain,” he continues. “Of course, that's not the only explanation.”


“The other option is that some people have a very different set of values that drive them to pursue goals that we view as evil. The average American would like to avoid this truth, because it comes with an unnerving conclusion: Your political enemies aren't crazy; they are sane people who hate you and want to hurt you,” he adds.

MacIntyre explains that believing that a radical leftist who wants to mutilate children is mentally ill “is far easier than addressing the alternative.”

“The idea that half of America is crazy because they don’t share your political views is obviously absurd," he says. "The truth is much darker. We’re at least two societies, with mutually exclusive understandings of morality and purpose, trapped in one country.”

“The theoretical neutrality of the liberal system allowed this drift to occur under the surface, but the differences have become too extreme to ignore. Both sides have their own internally consistent understanding of the world, but they’re entirely incompatible with each other,” he explains.

“One side is going to win and one side is going to lose, and the winning side is going to impose its way of life on the other. There is no way to avoid this reality,” he continues. “And obscuring the truth with comforting fictions about mental illness only ensures that you’ll be on the side that loses.”

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Inside the mind of a Catholic exorcist: Fr. Chad Ripperger talks shop with Shawn Ryan



Former U.S. Navy SEAL Shawn Ryan routinely has warriors on his podcast who have battled men using modern weaponry. Last week, he spoke to a warrior who battles demons using timeless weaponry: Christ's name, prayer, and the authority of his vocation.

Over the course of his four-hour conversation with Ryan, Fr. Chad Ripperger — a Thomistic philosopher, psychologist, and founder of the Doloran Fathers — shared insights drawn from years serving as a Catholic exorcist in the Archdiocese of Denver, as well as from his study of church history and Christian theology.

In addition to discussing potential signs of the Antichrist's imminence and the possibility that extraterrestrials might be the trappings of a demonic psy-op, Fr. Ripperger explained the different types of diabolic influence and described how the Church's major exorcism rite is carried out.

Varieties of diabolic influence

Fr. Ripperger — who stressed that he had "no intention of being an exorcist" and only does it out of obedience — identified several forms of diabolic influence, beginning with infestation, "where they infest houses or locations, inanimate objects, animals."

'The demon's not necessarily in the driver's seat all the time.'

The exorcist priest turned to Scripture for an example of animal infestation, referencing the ruination of pigs by the evil spirits cast out by Christ from the demoniac in Gergesa.

Fr. Ripperger suggested that infestations are often the localized byproduct of sin: "It's because somebody has done something particularly evil in a location and, as a result, the demons have gotten their foot in the door there."

Photo by Fine Art Images/Heritage Images/Getty Images

While occult activity can grease the way for an infestation, the exorcist said the sins demons tend to "gravitate toward the most — because they're easiest to get human beings to fall into — are the sins against the Sixth Commandment like fornication, masturbation, pornography, those types of things."

Another form of diabolic influence — "the primary way" and a universal challenge — is ordinary temptation, where demons plant notions "in our imaginations," skew perspectives, and manipulate emotions. Though relatively subtle, Fr. Ripperger noted that this form of influence can still be destructive, particularly within relationships and families.

Diabolic obsession is another variety in which demons "attack our interior faculties, specifically the imagination and emotions again — but unlike ordinary temptation, this is extraordinary, where it's very powerful and very strong," capturing the victim's attention and imagination and leaving them with a kind of spiritual "tunnel vision."

While someone experiencing diabolic obsession may initially have periods of lucidity, Fr. Ripperger said those moments of reprieve can diminish over time if the influence persists. Eventually the victim may capitulate and commit a grave sin at the demon's urging — or possibly even become possessed.

The priest described two kinds of diabolic possession. The first is "perfect possession, where the person has given themselves over to the demon entirely, and then the demon possesses the whole body, and the demon is manifested all the time."

According to Fr. Ripperger, this condition — outward signs of which include malice, mendacity, animus, and destructiveness — is rare. Individuals in such a state rarely seek out priests, since they are not desirous of liberation.

Partial possession, by contrast, refers to a temporary and localized possession of part of the body where "the demon's not necessarily in the driver's seat all the time."

The exorcism rite

When asked about the process of conducting an exorcism, Fr. Ripperger said the approach is structured, though the particulars vary depending on what is known about the individual, whether they have had prior encounters with dark forces, and what stage of diabolic influence they appear to be in.

"So in many cases, if the person who's possessed can tolerate it, we'll actually offer Mass so that the person can receive Holy Communion, which then weakens the demon significantly," he said, noting that confession is encouraged beforehand.

After Mass but before the exorcism ritual begins in earnest, a series of prayers are recited "to provide everybody protection that's in the room."

"So we do a series of prayers — binding prayers — which bind the demon from being able to do certain things, and then we'll actually start the formal ritual."

The Latin ritual typically begins with the Litany of the Saints. According to Fr. Ripperger, this serves as a kind of diagnostic tool because a demon's reaction to the names of certain saints can reveal clues about "the demon's particular sin" and how best to proceed.

From there, the exorcist alternates between "deprecatory and imprecatory prayer" — the former asking Christ for help and the latter commanding demons directly, ordering the evil spirits to consider specific truths that cause them pain.

The goal, Fr. Ripperger explained, is to allow the demon's pain "to build to where they finally give you what you need to know in order to get them out."

Canon law stipulates that "no one can perform exorcisms legitimately upon the possessed unless he has obtained special and express permission from the local ordinary."

Such permission is granted "only to a presbyter who has piety, knowledge, prudence, and integrity of life."

The Catholic Church also requires that a suspected demoniac undergo "thorough examination including medical, psychological, and psychiatric testing" before being referred to an exorcist.

The Church distinguishes between minor exorcisms — used, for example, in baptismal preparation — and major exorcisms, the rite discussed by Fr. Ripperger, which may only be performed by a bishop or an authorized priest.

Fr. Ripperger told Ryan that "Protestants have a certain degree of efficacy [in exorcisms] by using Christ's name because it has a force of its own."

However, he suggested that certain types of possession require the authority of the Catholic Church and its clergy — authority that traces back to Christ's commissioning of the apostles.

Bad signs and end times

Asked where evil appears to be gaining ground in society, Fr. Ripperger said the forces of darkness have increasingly targeted good families — "families that historically led good lives, were raising their kids properly, very often very religious, doing the things that they're supposed to do."

The priest suggested this "full-blown attack" on previously resilient targets may indicate that demons are emboldened by a worsening moral climate — or that they "know their time is short," possibly because a divine "corrective" is approaching.

'That is not a reference to the Jewish temple.'

Ryan asked whether such developments might signal the approach of the end times.

While acknowledging that "we don't really have any certitude," Fr. Ripperger said several conditions traditionally associated with the Antichrist appear increasingly plausible.

Among them:

  • "A worldwide implosion of people's morality," in which "people just aren't following the laws of God or the natural law in any sense of the term";
  • The emergence of technological and institutional systems — such as unified global financial systems and digital currencies — capable of controlling populations on a mass scale; and
  • Internal crisis within the Catholic Church prior to a future renewal.

Fr. Ripperger also expressed skepticism about the idea that rebuilding a third Jewish temple in Jerusalem is a necessary precursor to the end times. He argued that the Church Fathers consistently held that such a temple would never be rebuilt and that the prophecy often cited in this context has been widely misunderstood.

RELATED: Understanding hell — Part I

Photo by Fine Art Images/Heritage Images/Getty Images

"The difficulty is people tend to misinterpret the Book of Daniel, which says when the abomination of desolation takes its seat in the temple," he said. "What they don't realize is that that is not a reference to the Jewish temple."

Instead, he suggested that the New Covenant superseded the Old Covenant and that the "holy place" referenced in such passages should be understood as the Catholic Church.

'It permanently robbed a person of the possibility of the beatific vision.'

Whatever the signs of the times, Fr. Ripperger emphasized that Christians must remain faithful.

It is critical, he said, that believers "follow Christ regardless of the personal cost."

Demonic psy-op

Former President Barack Obama claimed in an interview last month that aliens are "real."

Although Obama later walked back the remark, President Donald Trump announced he would nevertheless be "directing the Secretary of War, and other relevant Departments and Agencies, to begin the process of identifying and releasing Government files related to alien and extraterrestrial life, unidentified aerial phenomena (UAP), and unidentified flying objects (UFOs)."

Asked about UFOs and extraterrestrials, Fr. Ripperger suggested that some sightings could simply be government experiments — a suspicion reinforced by a 2025 Wall Street Journal report that found the Pentagon had at times disseminated false information about aliens to obscure sensitive weapons programs.

However, he noted that many accounts of alien abductions closely resemble descriptions of demonic encounters.

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Photo by JOSEPH PREZIOSO/AFP via Getty Images

"If you strip the veneer of the alien aspect of it off, then in point of fact what you're dealing with is just — they're just demons," he said.

Fr. Ripperger added that some unidentified anomalous phenomena could also be what he called "diabolic mirage[s]" — supernatural illusions permitted by God in rare circumstances.

Abortion: Demonic empowerment

After Ryan brought up Baphomet — the goat-headed occult figure whose likeness the Satanic Temple adopted as its logo and displayed in a statue in the Iowa Capitol in 2023 — the conversation turned to abortion.

Ryan asked about the demonic interest in child sacrifice.

Fr. Ripperger said demons are empowered by abortion not only because it involves the killing of an innocent but because it denies the child the opportunity for baptism.

"We know of no other means of their salvation other than baptism. ... And so historically, the Church always considered abortion to be such a heinous crime because it permanently robbed a person of the possibility of the beatific vision. This is why the Church considered it so evil," he said.

Obtaining an abortion is an excommunicable offense in the Catholic Church.

The priest argued that demons "are so wed to" the widespread practice of abortion that they will "expend enormous amounts of energy protecting it" in order to prevent children "from ever seeing God."

According to the Guttmacher Institute, an estimated 1,038,000 abortions were executed in states without total bans in 2024. There were nearly 600,000 abortions in the first six months of 2025.

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Jeffrey Epstein’s ‘philosophy’ wasn’t deep — it was dirty



Anyone can search the currently available Epstein files and see what turns up. As a professor at Arizona State University, I searched for my own school. I did not expect to find so much ASU-related material.

One reason: ASU employed Lawrence Krauss, paying him a substantial salary to write books arguing that the universe created itself from nothing.

Epstein’s philosophy collapses under its own weight because it begins with a lie about God.

That claim is its own story. You will object, rightly: “But we can’t get something from nothing.” Krauss replies, “By ‘nothing’ I mean quantum foam.” And you respond, “Then the title misleads. You don’t mean nothing. You mean quantum foam.”

Krauss also became close with Jeffrey Epstein. In one exchange, Krauss wrote: “I really do love you deeply as a friend Jeffrey. I don’t think I know anyone else who so honestly cares about me, and I don’t think I can ever truly express how wonderful that feels. Thank you. The cruise was a great reset.” In other messages, they discuss science and religion.

That is what caught my attention. As I read Epstein’s comments about religion — and listened to his interview with Steve Bannon on similar themes — a picture began to form of how Epstein made sense of the world and, more chillingly, of himself.

How a monster sleeps

A question hangs over every moral horror: How does a moral monster live with himself? Even if we limit ourselves to the explicit immorality in the files — without speculating about coded language or hidden networks — how did he sleep at night? What silenced his conscience?

Several pieces fit together.

In the ASU-related material and in interviews, Epstein does what I have often seen among intellectuals: He retreats into abstraction. He speaks about the history of ideas, mathematics, and cutting-edge research in a way that floats above concrete people and particular moral obligations.

That retreat protects a self-image. He can pose as the enlightened patron of science, funding humanity’s progress. That image sits in grotesque contrast with the cruelty he inflicted on actual human beings.

Abstraction as a moral anesthetic

This pattern tracks with Paul Johnson’s thesis in “Intellectuals”: Intellectuals who talk about serving “humanity” often treat individuals in their orbit badly. Grand claims become a shield. The rhetoric of progress becomes moral insulation.

Think of the professor who preaches liberation while using DEI programs to impose racial essentialism and ideological coercion. He can tell himself he is helping “the marginalized” even as he harms colleagues and students in the real world.

Or consider the pop star who repeats slogans like “no one is illegal on stolen land.” The moral performance happens at the level of abstraction. The carelessness happens at the level of reality.

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Epstein’s ‘unknowable’ God

Epstein goes further by trying to dissolve moral accountability at the metaphysical level.

He argues that physicists once believed reality could be fully captured by mathematics. Now, he claims, we understand reality is irrational. Mathematics can only approximate what he calls “the limit,” but the limit itself remains unknowable. Some call that limit “God.”

But if God is unknowable, then God becomes irrelevant to our calculations about life and moral choice.

At one point, Epstein frames this as a male-female divide. The male mind, he says, runs on logic and mathematics. Reality, however, does not fit that paradigm. Reality is fundamentally irrational and accessed through feminine intuition. Ultimate reality, in his telling, is best understood as the divine female.

Humans, in Epstein’s view, are beasts with frontal lobes sophisticated enough to rationalize their impulses.

He may have believed he was elevating the feminine. The framework reads more like a metaphysical excuse: reason fails, therefore the standard fails.

The tension between reason and intuition is ancient. Epstein narrows “reason” to a single project: reducing the world to material causes through mathematics. When that project does not deliver what he wants, he does not abandon reductionism. He abandons reason.

Francis Schaeffer described this move in godless intellectual life: When autonomous reason cannot sustain itself, the thinker does not repent. He escapes into irrationality. Intuition becomes the alibi. Mystery becomes permission.

Religion as therapy, not truth

In conversation with Krauss, Epstein defends a kind of religion, but not biblical religion.

Krauss, echoing the New Atheists, treats religion as an evolutionary leftover — maybe useful in an earlier age, unnecessary for modern man. After all, modern man allegedly knows universes can create themselves out of nonexistence.

Epstein pushes back, but only to reduce religion to psychological management. Religion concerns the “inner world,” he suggests, while science and mathematics concern the outer world. We cannot ignore the inner world. Its purpose is peace. Anxiety and depression signal inner disorder; religion restores equilibrium. That, for Epstein, becomes religion’s function.

Not worship. Not truth. Not repentance. Peace.

That is New Age self-help with a faux religious vocabulary.

A Nietzschean pattern

Put the pieces together and a Nietzschean outline emerges.

Nietzsche described the dialectic between the Apollonian and the Dionysian. The Apollonian seeks order, reason, structure. Yet it can become sterile and suffocating. The Dionysian seeks raw experience — ecstasy, pleasure, intoxication, release. Dionysian revelry becomes not only indulgence but purgation: a controlled environment where darker impulses can be acted out so a man can return to ordinary life and call himself functional again.

God’s moral law is written on the heart. We are not left with "unknowable limits" as our excuse. We are without excuse.

Humans, on this view, are beasts with frontal lobes sophisticated enough to rationalize their impulses.

That is the worldview of the modern pagan: order and chaos, calculation and intoxication, “science” by day and ritualized transgression by night. Add Epstein’s skepticism about knowable truth and his reduction of religion to inner peace, and the method of self-justification comes into focus.

His reported fascination with longevity technologies and strange diets fits too. Death becomes the great enemy. It must be cheated — through science, mythic elixirs, or Silicon Valley innovation.

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cglade via iStock/Getty Images

Temptation is not his alone

The unsettling part: These temptations are not unique to Epstein.

Many people oscillate between cold rationalism and irrational indulgence. Many treat morality as a social construct and religion as therapy. Many use abstractions to excuse what they would never defend in plain language.

That should drive self-examination, not mere disgust. Are we living inside the Apollonian-Dionysian loop, shifting between self-justifying “reason” and self-excusing “release”?

The lie at the center

Epstein’s philosophy collapses under its own weight because it begins with a lie about God.

God has not hidden Himself. Scripture teaches that His eternal power and divine nature are clearly revealed through creation. His moral law is written on the heart. We are not left with “unknowable limits” as our excuse. We are without excuse.

The claim that reality is fundamentally irrational is not a profound insight. It is an evasion. It is a way to suppress what is plain.

That is why Lawrence Krauss’ self-creating universe and Epstein’s divine female belong in the same category: idols. They exchange the truth for something else — something that grants permission.

Romans 1 describes the pattern of Epstein’s life: the darkened mind, the suppression of truth, the exchange of glory for self-justification, and the descent into sexual corruption. The cure is not oscillation between sterile rationalism and ecstatic purgation. The cure is redemption. The cure is communion with God restored.

We need Christ, who alone frees us from the pagan dialectic — ancient and modern — and grants eternal life, “that they may know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent” (John 17:3).