"Angst, animosity, and contrarianism"

I'm old enough to remember November 22, 1963. September 11, 2001 was equally horrible, and a lot more people died. I read that 40% of the population has no memory of that day because they were not yet born. That means, among much else, they have no sense of the reaction—how unified the country felt in the immediate aftermath. We have lost that. Erick Erickson today:

We remember the unity that followed, too, but 25 years later, I wonder if we can admit the unity of late September 2001 was cheap. Everyone was frightened at the same time and grateful at the same time. Standing together when a building has just fallen on your neighbors requires no virtue at all. The unity worth something is the kind that survives disagreement, that holds when nothing is burning and we still can’t stand each other’s politics. We have always struggled with that one, and 25 years later we are further from it than we were on September 10th.

Unfortunately, we now have an algorithm in our lives and a class of people across party lines who make their living widening the gap between us because the algorithm rewards the clicks generated by angst, animosity, and contrarianism. You can find these malcontented souls driven by algorithmic profit in both parties, and inside every faction of both, and the only thing they reliably have in common is that peace between us would put them out of work. Every one of them is asking you to sort yourself into a smaller tribe, and then into a faction inside that tribe. ....

Erick Erickson, "Climbing the Stairs," Sept. 11, 2026.

Labor Day

On Labor Day, I return to Gene Edward Veith's post about "vocation" (the link to his blog post no longer works):

.... The word is simply the Latinate term for “calling.” Perhaps the best summation of the concept is in 1 Corinthians 7:17: “Only let each person lead the life that the Lord has assigned to him, and to which God has called him.”

God “assigns” different kinds and places of service for each Christian and then “calls” each Christian to that assignment. The Reformation theologians fleshed out this concept with other biblical teachings about God’s workings in society and the Christian’s life in the world (e.g., Ephesians 5:6, Romans 12:13).

The great theologian of vocation was Martin Luther, who developed the teaching in his battles with monasticism—the view that the spiritual life requires withdrawal from secular life—and in defining “the priesthood of all believers.”

For Luther, vocation, like justification, is ultimately God’s work. God gives us our daily bread through the vocations of the farmer, the miller, and the baker. God creates new human beings through the vocations of fathers and mothers. God protects us through lawful magistrates.

Vocation is, first of all, about how God works through human beings. In His providential care and governing of His creation, God chooses to distribute His gifts by means of ordinary people exercising their talents, which themselves are gifts of God.

Thus, God heals by means of doctors, nurses, and other medical vocations. He makes our lives easier by means of inventors, scientists, and engineers. He creates beauty by means of artists, authors, and musicians. He gives us clothing, shelter, and other things we need by means of factory workers, construction contractors, and others who work with their hands. He cleans up after us by means of janitors and garbage collectors.

God thus looms behind everyone who provides us with the goods or services that we need. In one of Luther’s many memorable lines, God milks the cows through the hands of the milkmaid. This means that all work and all workers deserve honor. Whereas the world might look down on milkmaids and garbage collectors, they actually bear the sacred presence of God, who works in and through them.

God created us to be dependent on others—meat processors, manufacturers, journalists, lawyers, bankers, teachers, parents—and, through them, we are ultimately dependent upon God Himself.

Just as God is working through the vocation of others to bless us, He is working through us to bless others. In our vocations, we work side-by-side with God, as it were, taking part in His ceaseless creative activity and laboring with Him as He providentially cares for His creation. ....

“I die the King’s good servant, but God’s first”

Last night a friend and I re-watched A Man for All Seasons (1966). It's a great film with important lessons, whether or not its portrayal of Thomas More accurately reflects the real man. Today I read a review of Studies in Machiavellian Political Philosophy by Michael Anton. The reviewer doesn't agree with Anton's strategy for reversing Machiavelli's influence on modernity and contrasts it with More's principles. Choose More, not Machiavelli:

Anton argues not only that the Italian presaged post-religious modernity, but that his ideas, especially in their cynical, adversarial relationship to Christianity, are vital to understanding our contemporary sociopolitical distemper.

“Machiavelli intimates that Christianity’s promises are worse than false,” writes Anton. “Those fooled by Christianity do not receive what they are promised and end up worse off than when they started.” The Christian faith, the Italian believed, engenders weakness by persuading men to rely not on themselves but on outside forces.

Moreover, Machiavelli sees Christianity as deceiving the masses into believing that they can attain a transcendent peace and personal success that the ancients believed was reserved only for a glorious few. Anton explains:

Worst of all, Christianity promises all believers a serenity of mind or superiority to fortune that classical philosophers considered the possession of only the best of men, acquired through much effort.... Christianity attempts to make a simplified version of this state of mind available to all, arguably without any effort. After all, how hard is it to die when you are promised an eternity in Paradise?

For Machiavelli, this simplification not only dilutes “true” philosophy, but strips it of its potency, sophistication, and nobility. Christianity makes men complacent, resigned to a humble life, disinterested in human glory. It promotes “ambitious idleness” (Machiavelli’s words), in which men do little more than pray. And, in a “pious cruelty,” it tyrannizes people into belief via threat of eternal damnation. ....

Thomas More, perhaps Machiavelli’s greatest humanist contemporary, offers an illuminating foil. More also penned an influential treatise in the early sixteenth century, Utopia, which, while critiquing a corrupted Christendom, also provoked much debate, given that many of his suggestions—such as easy divorce, euthanasia, and married priests—contradicted the Catholic teaching he held dear (and, indeed, died for). Regardless of whether Utopia is a satire of humanist political theorizing, More is antithetical to Machiavelli....

More’s is the nobler path. Men may recognize the this-worldly success of the statesman who schemes and exploits to achieve his ambitions, but he is typically hated rather than loved, his glories tarred by a destructive legacy. More’s light still shines bright, however: Not only was he principled and courageous, but he was also prudent, performing his state duties, honoring his king, and selling his property to provide for his family. His declaration from the scaffold in 1535 continues to inspire: “I die the King’s good servant, but God’s first.”

Modeling Machiavelli may achieve political objectives that are (ironically) anti-Machiavellian. Doing so, however, risks further undermining whatever virtue remains in contemporary public service. And if we are concerned about the welfare not only of the polis but of our souls, More is our man. (more)

Casey Chalk, "Unmaking Machiavelli’s Modernity," First Things, Sept. 4, 2026.

Ordinary evangelicals

Many of us who have long identified as evangelicals now avoid the label because it has become understood as a political, i.e., Trumpian, rather than a theological stance. "The Monstering of Evangelicalism," by Bonnie Kristian, an editor at Christianity Today, argues that the "monstering" of evangelicals is unfair to most of them:

.... Then came Trump. Like many educated evangelicals, especially in the media, I was immediately put off by him at every level: morally, theologically, politically, aesthetically. I never considered voting for Hillary Clinton (or, later, Joe Biden or Kamala Harris), but I was dismayed at Trump’s clumsy pandering to evangelical voters and even more dismayed when it worked. That year and in the years to come, I wrote often about Trump and evangelicals, thinking through how it could be that we were so linked to him in the public mind.

I’m still dismayed, to be honest. Though I’ve come to hold that dismay in tension with the reality that many evangelicals have defensible, understandable reasons for their Trump votes, this isn’t a story about how I learned to stop worrying and love the Donald. ....

...[C]riticism of evangelicals has undeniably intensified since around 2015, during a decade when the rise of Trump coincided with the exvangelical phenomenon, including widespread public renunciations of evangelicalism; with rapid changes in American norms and laws around sex and gender; with a string of high-profile evangelical scandals; and with rising ignorance of religion in general. ....

Like any movement on this scale, evangelicalism has its freaks and fringes. There are any number of prominent figures, people with big churches (or at least big beards and big podcasts) with downright abhorrent beliefs and behavior. It’s not hard to find these folks, nor is it wrong to want to avoid any association with them.

I’m not talking about them, though. I’m talking about the millions of people who make up ordinary American evangelicalism, people who are overwhelmingly kind and faithful, with normal (which is to say: low) levels of political engagement and expertise. They don’t want their church or their identity to be focused on politics; they want both to be focused on Christ.

They’re sincerely trying to bring their faith to bear in a fast-moving, polarized, two-party system with no good options. It doesn’t always go so well. But they are trying to follow Jesus, and they are trying to do the right thing. They do not merit contempt. (more)

Bonnie Kristian, "The Monstering of Evangelicalism," First Things, Sept 2, 2026.