Tuesday, April 22, 2025

something to Know - 22 April

The Stock Market is showing signs that compare to 1932.   The Department of Defense's stability and integrity is in serious question.  Our relationship to other countries who are considered our allies and friends are unsure of our reliability or have already flown the coop.   Tourism to the United States is falling and people are not sure they want to come and visit us.   The assaults on our institutions of higher learning are crippling our intellectual strength and research.   The fear of dark cars and masked operatives whisking people off the streets and into obscurity.   Our information technology and sensitive data systems are being co-opted and violated.  The government services that millions rely upon are being destroyed or trampled.    America is under attack; and we now know it.   Where to next?

Heather Cox Richardson from Letters from an American heathercoxrichardson@substack.com 

12:47 AM (6 hours ago)
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Yesterday, on Easter Sunday, Pope Francis performed his final public act when he waved to worshippers in St. Peter's Square. He died today at 88. Born in Argentina, he was the first Pope to come from the Americas. He was also the first Jesuit to serve as Pope, bringing new perspectives to the Catholic Church and hoping to focus the church on the poor.

The stock market plunged again today after President Donald J. Trump continued to harass Federal Reserve chair Jerome Powell. The threat of instability if Trump tries to fire Powell, added to the instability already created by Trump's tariff policies, saw the Dow Jones Industrial Average fall 971.82 points, or 2.48%; the S&P 500 dropped 2.36%, and the Nasdaq Composite fell 2.55%. The dollar hit a three-year low, while the value of gold soared. Journalist Brian Tyler Cohen noted that since Trump took office, the Dow has fallen 13.8%, the S&P 500 is down 15.5%, and the Nasdaq is down 20.5%.

Hannah Erin Lang of the Wall Street Journal reported that "[t]he Trump rout is taking on historic dimensions." She noted that the Dow Jones Industrial Average "is headed for its worst April performance since 1932," when the country was in the midst of the Great Depression. Scott Ladner, chief investment officer at Horizon Investments, told Lang: "It's impossible to commit capital to an economy that is unstable and unknowable because of policy structure."

The Trump administration announced on April 11 that it would withhold from Harvard University $2.2 billion in grants already awarded and a $60 million contract unless Harvard permitted the federal government to control the university's admissions and intellectual content. Today, Harvard sued the government for violating the First Amendment and overstepping its legal authority under the guise of addressing antisemitism.

The complaint notes the "arbitrary and capricious nature" of the government's demands, and says, "The government has not—and cannot—identify any rational connection between antisemitism concerns and the medical, scientific, technological, and other research it has frozen that aims to save American lives, foster American success, preserve American security, and maintain America's position as a global leader in innovation."

University president Alan Garber explained that the freeze would jeopardize research on "how cancer spreads throughout the body, to predict the spread of infectious disease outbreaks, and to ease the pain of soldiers wounded on the battlefield." He continued: "As opportunities to reduce the risk of multiple sclerosis, Alzheimer's disease, and Parkinson's disease are on the horizon, the government is slamming on the brakes. The victims will be future patients and their loved ones who will suffer the heartbreak of illnesses that might have been prevented or treated more effectively. Indiscriminately slashing medical, scientific, and technological research undermines the nation's ability to save American lives, foster American success, and maintain America's position as a global leader in innovation."

Harvard is suing the departments of Health and Human Services, Justice, Education, Energy, and Defense, the General Services Administration (GSA), the National Institutes of Health, National Science Foundation, NASA, and the leaders of those agencies.

After news broke yesterday that Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth had disclosed classified information on a second unsecure Signal chat—this one on on his unsecure personal cell phone—and his former spokesperson told Politico the Pentagon was in "total chaos," and he fired three of his top aides, media articles today wrote that officials were looking for a new Secretary of Defense.

But Hegseth blamed the media for the exposure of his Signal chats, and Trump stood by Hegseth. According to Dasha Burns, Eli Stokols, and Jake Traylor of Politico, the president doesn't want to validate the stories about disarray at the Pentagon by firing Hegseth. "He's doing a great job," the president told reporters. "It's just fake news."

While the visible side of the administration appears to be floundering, new stories suggest that the less visible side—the "Department of Government Efficiency"—has dug into U.S. data in alarming ways.

On April 15, Jenna McLaughlin of NPR reported on an official whistleblower disclosure that as soon as members of the "Department of Government Efficiency" (DOGE) arrived at the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB), they appeared to be hacking into secure data. While they claimed to be looking for places to cut costs, the behavior of the DOGE team suggested something else was going on. They demanded the highest level of access, tried to hide their activities in the system, turned off monitoring tools, and then manually deleted the record of their tracks, all behaviors that cybersecurity experts told McLaughlin sounded like "what criminal or state-sponsored hackers might do."

Staffers noticed that an IP address in Russia was trying to log in to the system using a newly created DOGE account with correct username and password, and later saw that a large amount of sensitive data was leaving the agency. Cybersecurity experts identified that spike as a sign of a breach in the system, creating the potential for that data to be sold, stolen, or used to hurt companies, while the head of DOGE himself could use the information for his own businesses. "All of this is alarming," Russ Handorf, who worked in cybersecurity for the FBI, told McLaughlin. "If this was a publicly traded company, I would have to report this [breach] to the Securities and Exchange Commission." When the whistleblower brought his concerns to someone at NLRB, he received threats.

"If he didn't know the backstory, any [chief information security officer] worth his salt would look at network activity like this and assume it's a nation-state attack from China or Russia," Jake Braun, former acting principal deputy national cyber director at the White House, told McLaughlin.

McLaughlin noted that the story of what happened at the NLRB is not uncommon. When challenged by judges, DOGE has offered conflicting and vague answers to the question of why it needs access to sensitive information, and has dismissed concerns about cybersecurity and privacy. The administration has slashed through the agencies that protect systems from attack and Trump has signed an executive order urging government departments to "eliminate…information silos" and to share their information.

Sharon Block, the executive director of Harvard Law School's Center for Labor and a Just Economy and a former NLRB board member, told McLaughlin: "There is nothing that I can see about what DOGE is doing that follows any of the standard procedures for how you do an audit that has integrity and that's meaningful and will actually produce results that serve the normal auditing function, which is to look for fraud, waste and abuse…. The mismatch between what they're doing and the established, professional way to do what they say they're doing...that just kind of gives away the store, that they are not actually about finding more efficient ways for the government to operate."

On April 18, Makena Kelly and Vittoria Elliott of Wired reported that DOGE is building a master database that knits together information from U.S. Customs and Immigration Services, the Internal Revenue Service (IRS), the Social Security Administration, and voting data from Pennsylvania and Florida. This appears to be designed to find and pressure undocumented immigrants, Kelly and Elliott reported, but the effects of the consolidation of data are not limited to them.

On April 15 the top Democrat on the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform, Gerald Connolly of Virginia, asked the acting inspector general at the Department of Labor and the inspector general at the NLRB to investigate "any and all attempts to exfiltrate data and any attempts to cover up their activities." Two days later, he made a similar request to the acting inspector general for the Social Security Administration.

Connolly wrote: "I am concerned that DOGE is moving personal information across agencies without the notification required under the Privacy Act or related laws, such that the American people are wholly unaware their data is being manipulated in this way."

On April 17, Christopher Bing and Avi Asher-Schapiro of ProPublica reported that the administration is looking to replace the federal government's $700 billion internal expense card program, known as SmartPay, with a contract awarded to the private company Ramp. Ramp is backed by investment firms tied to Trump and Musk.

While administration officials insist that SmartPay is wasteful, both Republican and Democratic budget experts say that's wrong, according to Bing and Asher-Schapiro. "SmartPay is the lifeblood of the government," former General Services Administration commissioner Sonny Hashmi told the reporters. "It's a well-run program that solves real world problems…with exceptional levels of oversight and fraud prevention already baked in."

"There's a lot of money to be made by a new company coming in here," said Hashmi. "But you have to ask: What is the problem that's being solved?"


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Juan Matute
The Harold Wilke House 
Claremont, California

Who is Asset Kraznov?
(we know where he is)


Monday, April 21, 2025

Something to Know - 21 April

In honor of a great man who did much to improve the world.  He left this world much better than when he entered:


Timothy Snyder from "Thinking about..." snyder@substack.com 

6:02 AM (18 minutes ago)
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Humble Francis

A memory of transcendent humanity in Rome

Apr 21
 
READ IN APP
 

The one time I was to meet Pope Francis, I had to wait. Others, more knowledgeable than me, will write memorials today. I want to share a single detail from one day in Rome, in January 2018.

The site was a Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church, St. Sophia; the occasion was the conferring of the honors of the Blessed Martyr Omelian Kovch.

The namesake of this distinction was a Greek Catholic priest who rescued Jews during the German occupation, and who himself died inside the Majdanek concentration camp. While in Majdanek, Kovch wrote that he did not wish for anyone to intervene on his behalf, since he wished to minister to the needs of the dying: "They die in different ways, and I help them cross this bridge into eternity. Is this not a blessing? Is this not the most splendid crown that God could place on my head? Precisely so. I thank God a thousand times each day that He sent me here. I ask nothing more of Him. Do not be troubled, and do not lose faith on my part. Instead, rejoice with me. Pray for those who created this concentration camp and this system. They are the only ones that need prayers."

The award was for courage in ecumenical understanding, and it was a great honor to be among a small group of distinguished east Europeans that day, Ukrainians and a Pole. I was moved by the golden beauty of the interior of St. Sophia, and overwhelmed by the occasion. Perhaps naturally, I was thinking of myself, of what I would say to the pope when he arrived. Our common language was Spanish, which I speak very poorly, and I was rehearsing in my mind what I wanted to say, which was to thank him for recent statements about ecology, and to describe the little book I wanted to give to him. As I understood over the course of the morning, everyone wants to give something to the pope.

Awaiting Francis, I was sitting with the other honorees in a pew towards the front and on the left. The church was very full of people, sitting and standing. I noticed, though, that the people with disabilities were led carefully to the first pew on the right. In this setting, I was reminded of the practices of the Ukrainian Catholic University in Lviv, which is dedicated to the "martyrs and the marginalized," including the service of the disabled. I do not know whether Francis would have expected this particular arrangement when he entered the church. I can only report on what he did.

Francis was led down the aisle, resplendent in white, very erect, walking slowly and greeting people along the way. Just before he reached the sanctuary, he halted suddenly and turned to his right, noticing that pew. Then, as the rest of us waited, he walked to its far end, and bent himself to speak. He greeted each person in turn, touching them. As the people with whom he was conversing could not rise, he had to lower himself. So, over and over, Francis knelt down to look someone in the eye and to hold both of their hands in his. This took about fifteen minutes. It was a moment to think about others, and in that sense, for me, a liberation, from my own anxiety and selfishness.

Many words and much grandeur followed. But that moment is what I remember. None of us is perfect. Even Father Omelian Kovch was not perfect. Pope Francis was not perfect. The institution they represented has much to answer for. But imperfection can represent itself as service, in the acknowledgement that we can transcend ourselves when we see others first.

"Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." When Francis made the rest of us wait so that he could greet the less fortunate, of course he was doing something symbolic. But such symbols matter, because in them we can glimpse something higher through something human, something that remains even as the memory of white garments and golden artifice fades.



--
****
Juan Matute
The Harold Wilke House 
Claremont, California

Who is Asset Kraznov?
(we know where he is)


Sunday, April 20, 2025

Something to Know - 20 April

There is an interesting article in today's New York Times.   It concerns religion and secularization as it winds its way through our society and our culture.  The writer is a former member of the Mormon Church as she has experienced her life as a young girl through adulthood, and how she has made adjustments and value judgements in her journey.  You may find this reading of interest as you reflect on your experiences.   I would think that an adult would have had the learning experience in growing up and how one feels about their own personal beliefs in theology, while a young person has yet found the need to deeply understand  what religious beliefs mean.   I pass this article on to you not to make any judgement on whether God exists or not, or in what form a "higher power" may be, but to offer a perspective by one individual on a basic question that we all have had answer in form or other in our life:

Believing

Americans Haven't Found a Satisfying Alternative to Religion

Is it any wonder the country is revisiting faith?

  • April 18, 2025


On Sundays, I used to stand in front of my Mormon congregation and declare that it all was true.

I'd climb the stairs to the pulpit and smooth my long skirt. I'd smile and share my "testimony," as the church calls it. I'd say I knew God, Jesus Christ, the Holy Ghost, prayer, spirits and miracles were all real. I'd express gratitude for my family and for my ancestors who had left lives in Britain, the Netherlands, New Zealand and Norway to pull wagons across America and build a Zion on the plains. When I had finished, I'd bask in the affirmation of the congregation's "amen."

In that small chapel by a freeway in Arkansas, I knew the potency of believing, really believing, that I had a certain place in the cosmos. That I was eternally loved. That life made sense. Or that it would, one day, for sure.

I had that, and I left it all.

I never really wanted to leave my faith. I wasn't interested in exile — familial, cultural or spiritual. But my curiosity pulled me away from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and toward a secular university. There, I tried to be both religious and cool, believing but discerning. I didn't see any incompatibility between those things. But America's intense ideological polarity made me feel as if I had to pick.

My story maps onto America's relationship to religion over the last 30 years. I was born in the mid-1990s, the moment that researchers say the country began a mass exodus from Christianity. Around 40 million Americans have left churches over the last few decades, and about 30 percent of the population now identifies as having no religion. People worked to build rich, fulfilling lives outside of faith.



That's what I did, too. I spent my 20s worshiping at the altar of work and, in my free time, testing secular ideas for how to live well. I built a community. I volunteered. I cared for my nieces and nephews. I pursued wellness. I paid for workout classes on Sunday mornings, practiced mindfulness, went to therapy, visited saunas and subscribed to meditation apps. I tried book clubs and running clubs. I cobbled together moral instruction from books on philosophy and whatever happened to move me on Instagram. Nothing has felt quite like that chapel in Arkansas.


America's secularization was an immense social transformation. Has it left us better off? People are unhappier than they've ever been and the country is in an epidemic of loneliness. It's not just secularism that's to blame, but those without religious affiliation in particular rank lower on key metrics of well-being. They feel less connected to others, less spiritually at peace and they experience less awe and gratitude regularly.

Now, the country seems to be revisiting the role of religion. Secularization is on pause in America, a study from Pew found this year. This is a major, generational shift. People are no longer leaving Christianity; other major religions are growing. Almost all Americans — 92 percent of adults, both inside and outside of religion — say they hold some form of spiritual belief, in a god, human souls or spirits, an afterlife or something "beyond the natural world." The future, of course, is still uncertain: The number of nonreligious Americans will probably continue to rise as today's young people enter adulthood and have their own children. But for now, secularism has not yet triumphed over religion. Instead, its limits in America may be exposed.

In Washington, religious conservatives are ascendant. President Trump claims God saved him from a bullet so he could make America great again. The Supreme Court has the most pro-religion justices since at least the 1950s. Nearly half of Americans believe the United States should be a Christian nation. In Silicon Valley, tech bros have found God. Downtown hipsters have embraced Catholicism. And the singer Grimes recently said "I think killing God was a mistake."



Even in the institutions where conservatives are sure that elite liberals are indoctrinating youth with godlessness, something is changing. "I have served as a chaplain at Harvard for 25 years, and the interest in and openness to religion and spirituality has never been higher on campus," said Tammy McLeod, the president of the Harvard Chaplains.

I have spent the last year reporting on belief, interviewing hundreds of people. I've visited dozens of houses of worship, spiritual retreats and wellness centers. I also heard from more than 4,000 Times readers who responded to a survey. Many of the demographers, psychologists, sociologists and statisticians I spoke to offered the same explanation: Americans simply haven't found a satisfying alternative to religion.

For all the real attractions of a life outside of institutional faith — autonomy, time back, a choose-your-own-adventure adulthood — there are important benefits that have been lost.

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The Rise of the 'Nones'

I remember the first time I saw Richard Dawkins's book "The God Delusion." I was in middle school, at a Barnes & Noble in a strip mall down the street from my church. I think I was there to buy the latest Harry Potter. I stopped in front of the shelves, confronted with an astonishing possibility: It was an option not to believe.

Mr. Dawkins, an evolutionary biologist, intended to provoke. He was one of the patriarchs of New Atheism, a movement that began around the turn of the century. Disruptive forces — technological change, globalization and the attacks of Sept. 11 — invited people to question both their relationship to faith and the role of religion in society. The New Atheists' ideas, spread in best-selling books and viral videos on a young YouTube, helped make that interrogation permissible.


Religion was no longer sacrosanct, but potentially suspect. By 2021, about 30 percent of America identified as "nones" — people who have no religious affiliation.


Scholars like the sociologist Steve Bruce said the United States, long an exception among Western countries, finally seemed to support the "secularization thesis," the idea initially posited by Max Weber, which holds that a society's modernization and economic development leads to the decline of religion. The Brookings Institution said churches were in "their twilight hour." The Washington Post speculated about when Protestant churches would be empty.

But even as people left religion, mysticism persisted. More people began identifying as "spiritual but not religious." In 2015, researchers at Harvard began studying where these Americans were turning to express their spirituality. Reporters did, too. The answers included: yoga, CrossFit, SoulCycle, supper clubs and meditation. Oprah tried sound baths. Gwyneth Paltrow advertised energy healing. More than a third of American women under 30 have downloaded the personal astrology app Co-Star, according to the company.


"Secularization in the West was not about the segregation of belief from the world, but the promiscuous opening of belief to the world," said Ethan H. Shagan, a historian of religion at the University of California, Berkeley.

Some religious groups saw this as a call to redefine — or, depending on how you look at it, dilute — their offerings: They focused more on an inclusive spirituality and less on divisive or polarizing doctrine. Some congregations went "god-optional." Other groups, like "Nuns and Nones," developed creative ways to bring young people back to a faith community.


Secular organizations tried to provide the same benefits of religion, but without any theology. A few years ago, I biked on a warm summer morning to the meeting of one such organization, Sunday Assembly. I sat in the back and watched people sing pop songs by Miley Cyrus and Adele instead of hymns and give talks about morality. Afterward, I ate cookies and chatted with other attendees. They had all left religion in some form and were looking for another community, a new space to access and express their spirituality. I kept in touch with a few of them. None of us became regulars.

Happier, Healthier, More Fulfilled


Religion provides what sociologists call the "three B's": belief, belonging and behaviors. It offers beliefs that supply answers to the tough questions of life. It gives people a place they feel they belong, a community where they are known. And it tells them how to behave, or at least what tenets should guide their action. Religious institutions have spent millenniums getting really good at offering these benefits to people.

For the last few decades, much of the world has tried to go without God, a departure from most of recorded history. More than a billion people globally and about a third of Americans have tried to live without religion. Studies in recent years have offered insights into how that is going. The data doesn't look good.

"There is overwhelming empirical support for the value of being at a house of worship on a regular basis on all kinds of metrics — mental health, physical health, having more friends, being less lonely," said Ryan Burge, a former pastor and a leading researcher on religious trends.

Pew's findings corroborate that idea: Actively religious people tend to report they are happier than people who don't practice religion. Religious Americans are healthier, too. They are significantly less likely to be depressed or to die by suicide, alcoholism, cancer, cardiovascular illness or other causes. In a long-term study, doctors at Harvard found that women who attended religious services once a week were 33 percent less likely to die prematurely than women who never attended. That's because, said Tyler J. VanderWeele, an author on the Harvard study, "they had higher levels of social support, better health behaviors and greater optimism about the future."


Religiously affiliated Americans are more likely to feel gratitude (by 23 percentage points), spiritual peace (by 27 points) and "a deep sense of connection with humanity" (by 15 points) regularly than people without a religious affiliation, researchers found this year. The latter is particularly important: Positive relationships are the single most important predictor of well-being, according to the longest-running study on human happiness in the world.


This isn't true for everyone, of course. About a third of Americans who have left religion appear to be doing just fine, according to a new study from Burge, the former pastor and researcher. Many are civically engaged, find joy in nature and spend time with their friends and families. But in aggregate, the data shows that people without religion are faring worse than those who practice one.

The pandemic, with its doomscrolling and isolation, seemed to awaken many Americans to their dissatisfaction. That is what I heard, again and again, in my reporting: Dana Bocus, a 38-year-old living in Ashton, Md., was raised Catholic but stopped attending church in adulthood. "Then the pandemic happened and I had two children and the weight of the world felt too heavy to carry alone," she said. "I was starved for community, so I gave an international Christian church a try."

Jessica Moyer, a 41-year-old mother in South Hadley, Mass., said: "During that year of exhaustion and constraint, I would daily find myself simply collapsing to my knees in the kitchen, or walking back and forth in the back yard, praying or singing a hymn."

Church attendance rates have been slipping for decades. But since the pandemic began, the number of people attending religious services — either in person or virtually — has remained consistent at about 40 percent. About a quarter of Americans told Pew that the pandemic had strengthened their existing faith. "Covid may have cemented or reinforced the importance of religion to people who were already religious," said Alan Cooperman, an author of the Pew report.

The political scientists Ronald Inglehart and Pippa Norris have a theory to explain this: Religion flourishes in times of "existential insecurity," they say, and withers in times of peace and bounty. Other scholars say this may be particularly true in the United States compared with other wealthy countries with stronger social safety nets.


There is plenty of evidence, though, that people aren't just religious because of insecurity or instability. Highly educated people are more likely than people who attended only high school to go to religious services weekly. Additionally, Hindus, Jews, Mainline Protestants and Muslims are all more likely than religiously unaffiliated people to have at least a college degree. These are people who tend to have good jobs, higher incomes and private health care. They are going to religious services because they are getting something they value out of it.


A few weeks ago, I called Mr. Dawkins, the famous atheist whose book had so shaken me all those years ago. I wanted to know what he made of the fact that America's secularization had stagnated.

He remained hopeful that secularism can replace religion. "It seems to me, should be reasonably easy to sort out," he said. For ethics, he encouraged people to take civics classes and host a weekly discussion club. For community? "Play golf."

He said he understood that churches in particular could provide moral instruction (and he said he valued the ethical teachings of Jesus as a man). But he insisted people should be able to fulfill their spiritual desires outside of faith: "It should be quite easy to show documentary films: David Attenborough films, Carl Sagan films, Neil deGrasse Tyson. There are lots of substitutes to spirituality that those can provide."

But many of the people I have spoken to say those kinds of alternatives aren't enough.

In a country where most people are pessimistic about the future and don't trust the government, where hope is hard to come by, people are longing to believe in something. Religion can offer beliefs, belonging and behaviors all in one place; it can enchant life; most importantly, it tells people that their lives have a purpose.

People also want to belong to richer, more robust communities, ones that wrestle with hard questions about how to live. They're looking to heady concepts — confession, atonement, forgiveness, grace and redemption — for answers.


Erin Germaine Mahoney, a 37-year-old in New York City, was an evangelical Christian for most of her life. She left her church in part because she disagreed with its views on women but said she has struggled to find something to fill the void. She wants a place to express her spirituality that aligns with her values.

She hesitated before saying, "I haven't found satisfaction."

"That scares me," she added, "because I don't want that to be true."

Religion, she said, offered her a way to contend with the complexity of life, in all of its mystery and possibility, and she hasn't found that in her pursuit of wellness.

"Nones" like Ms. Mahoney aren't necessarily going back, en masse, to their previous faiths. Many say they left religion because they moved to places, like major cities, where people were more hostile to it. They felt uncomfortable or embarrassed about that part of themselves. Others cite a misalignment of values: They had left religion because they disagreed with something in it politically or socially. They said they still felt that way. And in today's political climate, it can be difficult to be part of a group that doesn't align precisely with your personal preferences or the identity you've created for yourself. That can make the kind of obligation — and faith — that religion so often requires feel especially difficult.

But many of these "nones" have had a dawning recognition that they had thrown "the baby out with the baptismal water," as my colleague Michelle Cottle said.

"I would love to find a way to have what I had then without compromising who I feel I am now," Ms. Mahoney told me.


Like Ms. Mahoney and many other "nones," I too feel stuck. I miss what I had. In leaving the church, I lost access to a community that cut across age and class. I lost opportunities to support that community in ways that are inconvenient and extraordinary — when the baby arrives, the moving truck comes or grief overwhelms. I lost answers about planets, galaxies, eternity. I still find it odd to move through the world, going to the gym and sending Slack messages, with these questions threatening to overtake me. Shouldn't I be dumbstruck, constantly? Shouldn't we all?


But I don't feel I can go back. My life has changed: I enjoy the small vices (tea, wine, buying flowers on the sabbath) that were once off limits to me. Most importantly, though, my beliefs have changed. I've been steeped in secularism for a decade, and I can no longer access the propulsive, uncritical belief I once felt. I also see too clearly the constraints and even dangers of religion. I have written about Latter-day Saints who were excommunicated for criticizing sexual abuse, about the struggles faced by gay people who want to stay in the church.

I recognize, though, that my spiritual longing persists — and it hasn't been sated by secularism. I want a god. I live an ocean away from that small Arkansas chapel, but I still remember the bliss of finding the sublime in the mundane. I still want it all to be true: miracles, souls, some sort of cosmic alchemy that makes sense of the chaos.

For years, I haven't been able to say that publicly. But it feels like something is changing. That maybe the culture is shifting. That maybe we're starting to recognize that it's possible to be both believing and discerning after all.





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Juan Matute
The Harold Wilke House 
Claremont, California

Who is Asset Kraznov?
(we know where he is)