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Ancient monks for a modern problem
Ancient monks for a modern problem
Caleb A. Gerber
4/23/2026
Review of The Benedict Option
Review of The Benedict Option
Book Author: Rod Dreher
Book Author: Rod Dreher
tags: politics, Christian, culture, leadership
Is the answer retreat? Is today’s modern liberal culture too far gone to save? Have we invested “our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor” in a project that is not worth the former two, much less the first? Perhaps this is not the exact, word-for-word argument that columnist Rod Dreher makes, but it certainly appears to be something close to it. In The Benedict Option, Dreher takes us back in time to examine the life and example of St. Benedict and his band of reclusive followers, arguing that the community they formed is exactly the kind of community in which we should participate—and the kind of life for which we should be willing to die.
Dreher begins his argument with intellectual history, describing the twin forces of reason and faith—represented by Athens and Jerusalem—as guiding the Church and society through the Middle Ages. It is within this context that the life of Benedict and his monks, living for Christ as a community rather than merely as individuals, takes place. Dreher continues his intellectual chronology with the thought and life of St. Thomas Aquinas. Coming from a Protestant background, I am compelled to concede the greatness and intellectual seriousness of the man who is likely the premier theologian and philosopher not only of his period but extending into the present day. One of Dreher’s most important strengths is his ability to appeal to authorities such as Aquinas when making the case for Christian philosophical realism. Nor does Dreher resort to blaming the typical villain of anti-Enlightenment Christian critiques, René Descartes. Although he mentions Descartes, Dreher critiques not his methodology but the thinkers who followed him. Rather than blaming Enlightenment figures directly for current skepticism, Dreher instead points to William of Ockham, the father of nominalism, as the source of the problem. Let me explain.
Dreher posits that two rival worldviews were at work during the High Middle Ages, which have since split philosophical discourse into two nearly unbridgeable camps. The first, Christian realism, is associated with Thomas Aquinas and, earlier, Aristotle. This view holds that real, discoverable truths exist and are grounded in God. In other words, a tree is genuinely real, present, and accessible to the senses, but ultimately ordered within a meaningful and purposeful reality. This was the dominant view for centuries following Aquinas’s death. In contrast, William of Ockham proposed nominalism—the view that things do not possess inherent reality, causality, or necessity. Reality becomes fragmented into isolated parts, and meaning is no longer embedded in the world but is instead fluid. While nominalism leaves room for God, it undermines the idea of God’s unchanging nature. For Ockham and his intellectual descendants, the qualities of nature are not necessary but contingent. God could have just as easily commanded Moses, “Thou shalt kill,” if He had so chosen. The key difference lies in the nature of meaning: for realists, meaning exists independently and is discovered; for nominalists, meaning is constructed. Dreher sees this shift as the catalyst for the modern struggle between objective meaning and subjective self. His argument is that once society rejected realism and embraced nominalism, the checks and balances that governed both society and meaning itself began to unravel, piece by piece.
The solution, Dreher proposes, is not political engagement. He argues that such efforts have failed. In a sense, he calls for retreat—perhaps into local communities, perhaps even into something resembling monastic life. However it is framed, engagement with an increasingly counter-Christian culture is not, in his view, the answer. The problem with this is that Christians are called to be the “salt and the light” of the earth. Classical teachings hold that Christians remain in the world as a counterbalance to evil. It is through engagement with a fallen world that redemption is pursued. Dreher overlooks this in his advocacy for intentional Christian communities. While such communities are not inherently wrong, his emphasis neglects a significant part of the broader picture.
Secondly, Dreher significantly overestimates the ability of community to preserve truth. While he is correct to reject the nominalism of William of Ockham, he veers toward the opposite extreme, failing to adequately account for the free will of individuals to accept or reject biblical mandates. Community, though valuable, cannot guarantee faithfulness. Because of human fallenness, no structure—no matter how well-ordered—can serve as a safeguard against error. Dreher himself concedes that community is not salvific. Yet by placing such weight on retreat and communal life, he effectively elevates it beyond its proper role, risking a subtle shift away from personal responsibility and active witness in the world.
The final problem with Dreher’s argument is that, although he is overly optimistic about humanity’s ability to achieve harmony within community, he simultaneously underestimates humanity’s capacity to act in accordance with natural law—especially when the survival of culture itself is at stake. His claim that the answer no longer lies in voting for political candidates risks creating a false dichotomy. The truth is that the answer never lay solely in political engagement. Both Christian theologians and the American founders understood that political involvement, while necessary, is not sufficient. We can agree with Dreher that “politics is not the solution,” but we must also insist that “retreat into community is not the solution either.” In avoiding one ditch, Dreher has driven into another. There have always been those who spread fear and predict impending collapse. Perhaps such collapse is near. But even if our systems are irredeemable, our institutions corrupt, and our world deeply fallen, the answer is not withdrawal. It is to stand and act—even if such action appears futile—so that we cannot be said to have remained silent.
It is important to avoid misrepresenting Dreher’s argument. He does not advocate burying our heads in the sand or withdrawing entirely from political life. In fact, he encourages continued support for causes such as the right to life, traditional marriage, and core tenets of Christian conservatism. Dreher is not unpatriotic, despite how his argument may sound. He clearly loves America and its people; more broadly, he values Western civilization and seeks to protect it from forces he believes are eroding it from within. The issue lies less in what Dreher explicitly argues and more in how his argument may be interpreted. He is correct to point out that many of our current solutions are ineffective. However, where he errs is not in diagnosing the problem, but in his response. Like others in the post-liberal movement, he risks rejecting the very system that allowed the problem to emerge—and that may still contain the means for its resolution. The problem is not classical liberalism or our system of government. Nor is it that we mistakenly believe politics alone is the solution. Rather, the problem lies in expecting too much from imperfect systems and people. It lies in demanding perfection from a fallen world and then abandoning it when that expectation is not met.
What, then, is the verdict? Is The Benedict Option worth reading? Yes—with important caveats. The book succeeds not so much in accomplishing its stated aim, where it ultimately falls short, but in establishing the necessary groundwork for a broader discussion. Dreher’s real contribution is that he forces readers to confront where things may have gone wrong and to consider possible solutions together. This conversation, as Dreher himself suggests, should take place within communities—but without idolizing community, dismissing political structures, or denying individual responsibility. The Church was not called to survive history by retreating from it, but by confronting it—generation after generation—not with certainty of victory, but with certainty of truth. That is where we must stand.
Keepers of the Flame
Keepers of the Flame
Caleb A. Gerber
4/21/2026
Review of Founder's Fire: From 1776 to the Age of Trump
Review of Founder's Fire: From 1776 to the Age of Trump
Book Author: Arthur Herman
Book Author: Arthur Herman
tags: history
They go by many names: entrepreneurs, leaders, thinkers, politicians, business moguls, or military commanders; their names litter our history books, their accomplishments are taught in every classroom that still values the true history of the American experiment. Is it possible that there is a thread connecting them all, one which can explain why those who failed failed, and why those who succeeded were able to succeed? Was success inherent to the leaders’ view of the world, in the case of those whom we now view favorably, and failure inherent in the view taken by those whom our modern eyes regard with scorn? Arthur Herman, noted historian and Pulitzer finalist, believes so.
Herman’s style is easy to engage with and understand. In other books, and in this one as well, he neither inundates the reader with facts nor devotes the entire conversation to abstract lessons, but, through a masterful combination of both, succeeds in doing that which a historian, if he is a good one, must always do: make history come alive to the reader. His sources are mostly well-documented, though there are a few errors which tend to distract from the overall experience and reduce the aesthetics of the narrative. That said, Herman has a clear thesis, which he does not change throughout the book. Sometimes, I must admit, it is difficult to understand the relevance of a certain fact to the overall thesis; perhaps it is there by design, to give a more balanced view, or perhaps it is simply there to add narrative depth, but it distracts and dilates the actual theme in a way which can become, at times, annoying.
The central claim of the book is that, in American history, those lives which are remembered for greatness are remembered precisely because of what Herman calls the “founder’s fire.” This is certainly not a political label, nor one meant to divide down party lines or even socioeconomic spectrums. In contrast to those who have a creative genius—a fire that pushes them to break the status quo, to strive for greater, newer horizons—is the managerial class; those who take over in the absence of the founder’s fire. Indeed, Herman’s claim revolves around the fact that the one leads to the other; a founder who has a vision then begins a company, or a party, or a form of government which breaks all expectations; those who come after him—or her—become preoccupied not with finding a new vision to attain, but rather with conserving the older vision. There is nothing inherently wrong with conserving the old, and this highlights a potential crisis point for Herman’s thesis, for he is a classical conservative who distrusts the progressive elite. Yet the problem, according to the author, is not in attempting to conserve the old for the sake of the old, but in attempting to conserve the old for the sake of conserving the old; in other words, the vehicle for success becomes the measure thereof, ending in a vicious cycle which can only, and has only, been broken by a new type of founder.
Herman has strong words for leaders of both parties, and leaders in all areas: economic, political, and military. Robert McNamara, Secretary of Defense under President Kennedy, who supervised the Vietnam War, comes under scrutiny, with Herman claiming that McNamara, despite his expertise in the industrial field, was too focused on numbers and figures and neglected the duty of the creative founder in boldly asserting his vision and mission to the task at hand. Also receiving much criticism is the erratic but still enormously successful businessman Henry Ford, whose anti-Semitic views likely precipitated the decline of his standing in the world of both business and geopolitics.
On the other hand, the story which he tells is the prototypical American story, beginning with the founders of the new nation and including oft-overlooked moments of American history which were both uncommon and determinative, such as the Patent Act. Herman then moves on to argue that the failure of the pre-Civil War leadership was in forgetting the actual vision of the American founding. It was Lincoln, with his founder’s fire, who reignited that fire and drove America to surpass previously unsurpassable limits. The story then continues with the managerial class taking over from Lincoln, embroiled in corruption and mired in economic decline; the answer was found in the captains of industry, who were at once hailed as philanthropic messiahs and Gilded Age villains. People such as Carnegie, Rockefeller, and Vanderbilt figure prominently in the narrative, as do Thomas Edison, George Westinghouse, and later, Henry Ford.
Herman does not conclude with the period at which most historians will typically end, that is, with the end of the Cold War. He seems not to care that the current political and economic arena is fraught with controversy, arguing that it has always been so and always will be; indeed, he uses modern proofs, such as the pro-tariff and, according to his own political views, pro-American administration of Donald Trump, as well as the remarkable progress made by people like Elon Musk in getting America closer to a landing on Mars, something unthinkable only a generation ago. Perhaps the weakest point in his narrative is the fact that he uses modern examples to prove the thesis, rather than the thesis to prove the examples. In the earlier periods of American history, this is good—admirable even—but once we enter a more controversial era, it can seem, at times, as if Herman is inviting patriotic fervor or political alliances rather than well-reasoned argumentation.
At a deeper philosophical level, one of the areas in which I see potential harm from Herman’s thesis is that he fails to distinguish between different types of progress, even while critiquing progressive politics. As an example, to prove his thesis, he uses competing personalities with competing agendas and competing worldviews to prove one central point: Elon Musk and Jack Dorsey, or Mark Zuckerberg and Donald Trump; they are all on the side of America because they are pushing America forward. Herman fails to convincingly answer the question: is forward the way we want to go?
The author concludes the narrative with the inspiring example of Charlie Kirk; perhaps this too may be controversial, yet his tragic death at the hand of an assassin’s bullet is clearly something that has caused many people to reconsider Kirk’s mission and lasting impact, and something which, regardless of political persuasion, we can all unequivocally condemn and wholeheartedly recognize Kirk as an extraordinary American. This is Herman at his best: calling the nation to a brighter future, a better tomorrow, a tomorrow where the founder’s torch, the fire of our heroes, lights the path ahead.
Review Written by C. A. Gerber
March 21st, 2026
If Everything Is Spiritual, Is Anything True?
If Everything Is Spiritual, Is Anything True?
Caleb A. Gerber
4/15/2026
Review of Believe: Why Everyone Should Be Religious
Review of Believe: Why Everyone Should Be Religious
Book Author: Ross Douthat
Book Author: Ross Douthat
tags: culture
Believing is now fashionable for many of those in the cultural elite. In his most recent book, New York Times Opinions writer Ross Douthat makes the case for why this cultural trend should move out of the cultural elite and into the societal mainstream. This is the case for belief, belief, as it were, in the supernatural.
It is necessary at the outset for me to admit that I have enjoyed reading Douthat’s articles and have found many of his works insightful in the past. It is also quite easy to admire the purpose for which he wrote this book, namely to bring religious belief back into the public arena, not as a choice, but as a necessity. Douthat is a Catholic, and not only this, but he is quite orthodox, something which I appreciate as a conservative Protestant. Yet the problem with this book is that Douthat’s appeal is pitched too broadly.
As a book dealing with evidence of the supernatural, this one excels. Douthat takes real-life testimonies from many people, coming from all walks of life and all religious backgrounds. Taking stories of supernatural encounters from atheists as well as orthodox Christians and Catholics who have supposedly received some gift through a supernatural experience, Douthat certainly makes his point broadly and could likely convince any honest reader of the presence of the supernatural realm in everyday life. This, for the moment, leaves aside the fact that the differentiation between the natural and the supernatural realm is quite unbiblical, something which I will come to later.
In being indiscriminate in the stories which he chooses, Douthat unfortunately loses much of the moral and theological force which he would otherwise have. These are not angelic experiences alone but also include stories of electrical impulses and demonic apparitions. Douthat defines the supernatural broadly as anything which cannot be explained or explained away. Although this is a good secular definition of the word, it is not exactly one that can bear any level of Christian significance, certainly not when it is made to include experiences that border on hallucinations rather than reality. This is not to discount the reality of the spiritual realm, for Douthat does admirably in proving that such a realm must be accepted as a precondition of religious belief.
Moving on, it is necessary to touch on one important point, namely that the distinction between the natural and the supernatural is a recent one, one that would have been denied for millennia by Christian theologians and philosophers. To make that which we cannot immediately explain by the rules of nature—to be clear, reason can account for them, though the natural laws of physics cannot—unnatural, or supernatural, is to make its originator unnatural. Yet we know from the biblical account that everything that we can classify as natural proceeds from thence. Thus, even when trying to prove the existence of demonic and angelic forces, of experiences that defy explanation, and of those which cannot be accounted for except by the divine, we must be careful not to associate them with the supernatural, or the unreal. In reality, the realm of spirit is as real and as natural as the realm of matter.
Ultimately, the problem with Douthat’s explanation of the supernatural centers not on using the wrong word, a word which has by now been engraved on the social imaginary, but on treating religious experiences as universally valid. Obviously, his purpose in writing the book is not to promote a partisan religiosity, although he makes clear his own Catholic beliefs, but rather to draw everyone nearer to belief in some sort of deity. Therein lies the problem, for Douthat does not recognize, at least in this work, the fact that some belief is divine and some is deceptive. Truth gets mixed with error, the God of the Bible with the God of the mystics. Although Douthat proves that something is out there, he does not give an answer as to what is out there beyond a testimony of his personal belief.
As a book which will certainly be sold in nonreligious bookstores and will likely form a significant part of the cultural conversation for quite some time, this book is both useful and necessary to properly understand the movement toward belief in the divine. For those who are agnostic, atheist, or simply uninterested in religious experience, this should be a book that remains on their bookshelves. However, if you are searching for a book that offers not only a case for religion, but a case for the Religion, then this, unfortunately, is not it. Although perhaps a useful tool, one that indeed should be used, this book is limited in scope to the realm of inclusivity. By broadening the audience, Douthat has, alas, narrowed its sharpness as a weapon to cut down the lies of the enemy, although he has certainly provided a bulwark from which we may now launch our arrows of truth.
Review Written by C. A. Gerber
March 15th, 2026
Heaven Is Not the Point
Heaven Is Not the Point
Gabriel Herrmann
4/15/2026
Review of Surprised by Hope
Review of Surprised by Hope
Book Author: N. T. Wright
Book Author: N. T. Wright
tags: Christian
Wright's Surprised by Hope is one of the most clarifying and theologically bracing books a Christian can read on the subjects of resurrection, eschatology, and the Christian life. Wright, the Bishop of Durham turned prolific New Testament scholar, dismantles centuries of accumulated Platonic distortion and replaces it with a robustly biblical vision. Frankly, it is more surprising and more exciting than the thin gruel of “going to heaven when you die” that passes for Christian hope in most pews.
The heart of the book is a recovery of what Wright calls “life after life after death.” The intermediate state of the soul with God between death and resurrection is real, but it is emphatically not the destination. The destination is bodily resurrection into the new creation, the renewal and transformation of the present cosmos, not its abandonment. Wright marshals the New Testament with characteristic precision: Paul in 1 Corinthians 15, the resurrection appearances in the Gospels, the “new heavens and new earth” language of Revelation and Isaiah—all of it points to a God who redeems and transforms rather than discards.
This is positive eschatology in the truest sense. Creation is not a holding pen for souls waiting to escape; it is the theater of God’s redemptive purposes, groaning toward glorification. The resurrection of Jesus is not a proof-of-afterlife miracle standing alone; it is the first installment of the new creation breaking into the old. Christian hope, then, is not evacuation; it is the anticipation of a world made right.
This eschatological reframe has direct ethical consequences, and Wright presses them hard. If God is going to renew creation rather than incinerate it, then what Christians do in and with the physical world now genuinely matters. Work, art, justice, care for the poor, beauty—these are not distractions from the “real” spiritual business of soul-saving. They are acts of anticipation, small foretastes of the coming kingdom, contributions to what God will ultimately complete.
Wright is careful not to collapse into a social gospel; he insists the resurrection is the foundation, not political activism. But the directional thrust is clear and salutary: a Christianity that ignores the body, scorns creation, and retreats from culture has been infected by Gnosticism, not formed by the New Testament. The Christian vocation is to be “resurrection people” who live in the present order as though the future has already broken in because, in Christ, it has.
Wright's treatment of the sacraments flows naturally from his broader argument. Baptism and the Eucharist are not merely memorial ceremonies or spiritual hygiene; they are enacted declarations of the new creation. Baptism signifies dying and rising with Christ, a bodily, material act that marks the participant as belonging to the age to come. The Lord’s Supper is the place where the church meets the risen Lord in the breaking of bread, a meal that is simultaneously backward-looking (to the cross), present-tense (communion with the risen Christ), and forward-looking (the marriage supper of the Lamb).
Wright resists both bare memorialism and a rigid scholastic transubstantiation, landing in a sacramental realism that trusts the physical elements to bear genuine spiritual weight without requiring a particular philosophical mechanism to explain how. His approach is characteristically Anglican in the best sense: grounded, liturgically serious, open-handed on metaphysics, and deeply christological.
Surprised by Hope is, at its core, an argument that Christians have been telling themselves a diminished story. Wright’s corrective is not innovation but excavation, digging back to the first century to recover what the apostles actually meant when they said “Jesus is risen.” The result is a vision of hope that is larger, earthier, and more demanding than anything that fits on a bumper sticker.
Review Written by Gabriel Herrmann
March 15th, 2026
Beyond Green Pastures
Beyond Green Pastures
Caleb A. Gerber
4/11/2026
Review of The Shepherd
Review of The Shepherd
Book Author: James Collins
Book Author: James Collins
tags: Christian
Why is it that today’s shepherds know little about sheep?
In this book, pastor and author James Collins takes our contemporary interpretations of Psalm 23 and sweeps them into the dustbin, then carefully crafts a new, and I would argue more radical, approach to how we should truly approach such a significant biblical passage.
Setting it in its context within the book of the Psalms, Collins reminds us that it is placed between two Messianic psalms. Certainly, David did not know who he was writing of when he spoke of the Shepherd, for it was indeed the Lord—but it was a specific Lord: the Lord Jesus, who had not yet been revealed in full when David wrote the now-famous words.
Moving beyond mere platitudes, Collins’ genius lies in his ability to combine deep theological lessons with Southern wit and personal experiences, without getting the reader lost either in the theological definitions of so many other works on theological matters or in making light of the things of God. In reality, when you read this book, a theological treatise is exactly what you are reading, yet you may well deny it, for it feels more like you are reading the reminiscences of a Southern preacher—which, in a way, you are.
Not only does Collins include everyday experiences and stories that impart rich practical meaning, but he also includes many symbolic details of which Christians today are woefully ignorant. It is easy to conclude, from reading this, that the author did massive research into the symbology behind the Lord as a shepherd, and he writes in this book of the many parallels between the needs of sheep and the tasks of the shepherd, in contrast to the needs of humans as sheep who need a master, and the tasks performed by the Shepherd and Master. Remarkably, the symbolism is neither stretched nor overdone, and the images portrayed do not go further than an explicitly biblical and orthodox interpretation.
That said, at times the book can feel overly simplified. This is by no means a fatal flaw, nor even an unexpected one given Collins’ pastoral aim. While the avoidance of dense theological terminology makes the work accessible, there are moments when the reader may wish for a more rigorous engagement with the underlying doctrinal issues that the text inevitably invites. Thus, my recommendation is simple: if you wish to move beyond the platitudes of normality, then this is the ideal book. If you wish to move into the profundity of theology, then this is not it. The purpose of this book is not to educate the educated, but, as I perceive it, to call the uneducated to a fuller and more accurate understanding of the truth claims of Christianity.
Collins does not offer a theological tower, but he reminds us of the base upon which such a tower must inevitably be built. It is a call for each of us to remember that only when we recognize that we are sheep can we recognize who our Shepherd is.
Review Written by C. A. Gerber
March 12th, 2026
Do We Still Believe the Declaration?
Do We Still Believe the Declaration?
Caleb A. Gerber
4/11/2026
Review of National Treasure
Review of National Treasure
Book Author: Michael Auslin
Book Author: Michael Auslin
tags: history, philosophy, politics
The history of the Declaration is not simply the history of a revolution, but rather, the revolution of history. Tracing the ideological antecedents and consequents of the Jeffersonian ideals of constitutional republicanism is by no means an easy task, yet, in an admirable way, the author succeeds in doing so.
Moving quickly through the founding era, the author does stop long enough to give a proper evaluation of just where the ideas embodied in this radical document proceeded from. Looking briefly at the history of Enlightenment thought, as well as the Judeo-Christian and Greco-Roman principles which would have been known and shared by the founders, Auslin moves forward, uncovering little-known details, such as the location of this document during the War of 1812, when the British sacked Washington. Feared lost, this founding document was moved, removed, and then moved again throughout our nation’s history, and the parallels between the unmooring of the physical location of the document and the unmooring of the ideas which it embodies form a striking theme of this book. While bureaucrats and politicians in Washington fought over the location of the document, ideologues from both North and South fought over the meaning of this document. Was freedom real? And if so, did it apply to all, or only to an elite few, or those pertaining to a certain racial group? Indeed, when analyzed literally, Auslin decides, the Declaration itself gives us the answer. Perhaps Jefferson and other founders failed to live up to the high ideals proclaimed in 1776, yet that fact alone does not negate the principles themselves. If anyone wants to deny that all men are created equal, Auslin concludes, it is far easier to deny that the Declaration is valid than it is to deny that the Declaration’s writers meant what they said. The answer, then, could not be more obvious: the question is not over differing interpretations of the Declaration, but over the Declaration or no declaration at all.
He then moves on to the next two hundred and fifty years of the document’s existence, documenting both the history and conservation efforts of the actual document—a portion of the book which I honestly found to be dry and overly repetitive—and, simultaneously, how the Lockean ideals of the Declaration were either kept or abandoned by the figures of main importance in our nation’s long, bloody, but ultimately redeeming history.
The chronological order is, at times, confusing, with the author jumping back and forth in time, and it is easy for the reader to become lost with regard to the place of a certain narrative in the overall thesis of the book. Yet the message presented herein is a unified one overall, with a clear, defensible thesis. Something to admire is the fact that Auslin does not seek to hide the explicitly Christian origins of the Declaration, while also giving a fair, balanced look at the other side. This is the part of the book which the reader will most appreciate; indeed, for the reader’s sake, it is easy to wish that Auslin had focused more on the ideological side and less on the physical proportions of the symbolic parchment. Yet, for literary purposes, this is not so, and I can understand that the author intended to weave together both the tangible and the transcendent.
An idea as revolutionary as the declaration that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, and that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness (or property, depending on whether you ask Jefferson or Locke), does not stay in one time period. The idea continues to evolve, never losing its original force or moral clarity. Instead, it becomes a living standard by which successive generations have measured themselves, sometimes faithfully, sometimes selectively, and often uncomfortably. Auslin traces how this idea was invoked by abolitionists, expanded by Lincoln, appealed to by suffragists, and later reinterpreted by civil rights leaders, judges, and politicians, all of whom claimed the Declaration as their own inheritance. In doing so, he demonstrates that the Declaration has functioned less as a relic encased in glass and more as a moral compass, one that has repeatedly drawn Americans back to first principles even when the nation strayed far from them. For all of those who have not yet encountered Michael Auslin, this is my exhortation: your ignorance of such a principled and thought-provoking historian should come to an end. When you conclude the reading of this book, you will emerge substantially wiser, substantially stronger in your principles, and substantially more prepared to render persuasive arguments for just why our nation is so abnormal and exceptional.
Review Written by C. A. Gerber
April 11th, 2026
Murdered Twice?
Murdered Twice?
Caleb A. Gerber
4/8/2026
Review of Destiny of the Republic
Review of Destiny of the Republic
Book Author: Candice Millard
Book Author: Candice Millard
tags: history
A man condemned to die by the bullet of an assassin—or by the scalpel of a doctor. Such is the question posed in this new, groundbreaking work on one of the lesser-known tragedies in American history, one which, nonetheless, had a profound influence on the direction which the nation would take. It is easy for us to remember the stories of John Wilkes Booth at Ford’s Theatre at the end of the Civil War, for we grew up hearing the tragic story of Lincoln’s assassination. The assassination of John F. Kennedy, the first Catholic president and the youngest to be elected, also very much remains with us, for there are many individuals who can still remember the terrible scene from Dallas. Even the assassination of William McKinley, shot down at a Buffalo exposition by an anarchist, an event which enabled McKinley’s forty-two-year-old Vice President, Theodore Roosevelt, to ascend to the presidency, is part of the social imaginary, certainly more than the story which author and historian Candice Millard undertakes to tell: that of the assassination of James A. Garfield, killed less than twenty years after Lincoln and almost twenty years to the date before McKinley.
First, let me say that I had previously watched the documentary Murder of a President, which is loosely based on this book. Thus, the details herein were by no means shocking to me, as they may be to someone who is unfamiliar with the story of Garfield and his assassin. Yet that is not to imply that I was well acquainted with the more obscure details of this drama, details which Millard captures with near perfection in their historical context, while not forgetting the larger picture. For me, then, this book may have been a bit redundant; yet, remarkably, it was not, and that is something which I am obliged to recognize as the author’s unique talent.
Millard understands that, to understand the fullness of the tragedy, it is also necessary to understand the character of the man who was murdered. James Garfield was not your typical politician. He was a self-made man, a man who had taken job after job to achieve his dream of going to college. He was a hero in the military as well, having served in the Civil War. Finally, he was both a family man and a man of a deep and abiding faith in God. Having gone to the 1880 Republican Convention in order to nominate Senator John Sherman, Garfield, following a deadlocked race between James G. Blaine and former President Ulysses S. Grant—Sherman was not even a notable contender—rose to give a speech on behalf of his fellow Ohioan, and instead found himself being nominated as the dark horse compromise candidate between the Stalwart Grant supporters and the more reform-minded Blaine advocates.
This unlikely story had an unlikely and tragic ending, as the title of the book well shows; yet Millard also goes on to illustrate how, in his few months in office, James Garfield was far from mediocre. Rather, as a talented individual who loved his country and desired to do everything in his power to help her, it would be this determination to remain, as always, an honest man—a man of the people—which would incite the horrific act of violence that would end with his death.
Through these pages, Millard brings to life the character and personality of Garfield, as well as of other principal players: James G. Blaine, the main contender for the presidency in 1880, appointed by Garfield as Secretary of State, still has his eyes on the presidency, and yet is increasingly loyal to Garfield. Roscoe Conkling, the New York Senator renowned for his womanizing and corrupt backroom deals, is determined to bring Blaine down and is willing to do anything in his power, including political suicide, to do so. Finally, the deranged lunatic Charles J. Guiteau, having lived his entire life convinced that he was created by God for a higher purpose, and believing, incorrectly, that his purpose was to secure the election of James Garfield, soon came to believe that he had been denied his just reward for the part he played in the election.
As chilling as it is absurd, this is the story of how Charles J. Guiteau, who had spent years in the cultish orbit of the Oneida Community, came to believe that his mission to assassinate the President of the United States was not only necessary but divinely commanded. Thus, on a summer morning in 1881, at the junction of the Baltimore and Potomac Railroads, the bullets which were fired would bring the nation to a standstill.
Even so, it was not these bullets which would spell doom for the injured President. This, and not the moments leading to the assassination, is where the drama truly begins to unfold, as Alexander Graham Bell, the world-renowned inventor of the telephone, struggles feverishly to invent a metal detector capable of finding the bullet inside Garfield’s system. Charles J. Guiteau, still deranged, is captured, yet unrepentant, and believes that he will soon be hailed as the hero, just as Booth did with Lincoln. Chester A. Arthur, the puppet of Conkling selected by the Republican Party as Garfield’s Vice President, is terrified that Garfield will die and send him to the pinnacle of power, and is torn between his allegiance to Conkling and his conscience. Finally, Doctor Willard Bliss, the doctor who attended Lincoln and who has now decided that he, and he alone, will save the new President’s life, yet still refuses to believe the scientific discovery of colleague Joseph Lister, which has the potential to save Garfield’s life.
The genius of the story is in making the characters come to life and then killing them. The personalities, the thoughts, and the actions are meticulously explained without losing sight of the larger picture. Millard does an expert job in weaving it all together into one central narrative thrust, all the while conserving the separate plot lines without confusing the reader. Easy to read, easy to enjoy, this is one of the greatest modern works in the field of American history, and certainly, it is the authoritative account on the life and the death of this unknown American hero.
Straight Talk as the Cure for Dumb Politics
Straight Talk as the Cure for Dumb Politics
Caleb A. Gerber
4/7/2026
Review of How To Test Negative for Stupid
Review of How To Test Negative for Stupid
Book Author: John Kennedy
Book Author: John Kennedy
tags: politics
A defense of candor as a political weapon against obfuscation—or, to say it in plain English, say what you want to say and don’t give a rip about what anyone else thinks.
From the very title, John Kennedy makes it clear right away what his intention with this book is, and what it is not. Unlike many other biographies, he is not trying to give an exhaustive autobiography or an analysis of every policy choice he has made in nearly a decade serving in the United States Senate. It is more of a comedy book, though certainly one tinged with personal bias: at once charmingly blunt and incredibly provocative, it is a collection of anecdotes, observations, and lessons from a lifetime of public service, combined with searing one-liners designed to expose the absurdities of modern political life.
If you have heard Senator Kennedy speak, you are unlikely ever to forget him; that said, speech alone does not make a great senator, or even a decent man. Although this book is more concerned with landing a punch or producing a laugh than with creating a unified and sustainable political argument, perhaps that is good; perhaps that is what is needed in a Washington, D.C., clogged with career politicians.
In a sense, this reads like any other political autobiography: the senator is immensely self-serving and will rarely admit his own failures unless it suits the purpose of comedy. He is also determined not to criticize those in authority over him at this particular time, though that does not mean he refrains from poking fun at them. The senator’s style is blunt and sometimes coarse, as all will acknowledge. The language in this book is not the language used by a fifth-grade Sunday school teacher—though Kennedy himself is a Sunday school teacher, a devout Christian, and a man who founded a local Presbyterian church.
It is also hard to pin down Kennedy’s exact philosophy in the political realm. He seems to be a jack-of-all-trades in this regard: some populism, some traditional conservatism, and certainly some more libertarian arguments. Neither does he fit neatly into the isolationist or interventionist camps, and he has strong words for both Rand Paul, the contemporary isolationist in the U.S. Senate, and his friend Senator Lindsey Graham, who, Kennedy states, has resolved not to be part of the problem, but rather “to be all of the problem.” It is quotes like these that make this a memorable book, quite aside from the possibility that it may serve as a steppingstone for announcing his candidacy for some future office. “The brain is a remarkable organ,” he believes. “It lasts a man from the moment of conception until the moment he is elected to the U.S. Senate.”
By the former paragraph, I do not mean to give the impression that Kennedy is unphilosophical or inconsistent in his presuppositions. On the contrary, while discussing his opportunity to study at Oxford, Kennedy states that he has been profoundly shaped by the philosophy and theology of C. S. Lewis, whom he quotes several times throughout. He also makes arguments using terms drawn from Martin Heidegger, Jean-Paul Sartre, and, certainly, many of the Founders.
Yet this raises a deeper question: is candor, by itself, virtuous? Certainly, the ability to cut through nonsense and convoluted politics is admirable, but when the nonsense is stripped away, what then remains? Bluntness without depth can become its own kind of error, replacing careful reasoning with applause lines. I am not certain that this is the effect of Kennedy’s words; that may not be known for some time. Yet, when reading this book—as all those invested in the political process should—it is vital to remember this point: that wisdom is better than jewels, and depth better than satire.
Review Written by C. A. Gerber
April 8th, 2026
Is the Path Forward for the Church Actually a Path Back?
Is the Path Forward for the Church Actually a Path Back?
Gabriel Herrmann
3/25/2026
Review of Masculine Christianity
Review of Masculine Christianity
Book Author: Zachary M. Garris
Book Author: Zachary M. Garris
There is a crisis in the Western church, and Zachary M. Garris is not interested in beating around the bush. In Masculine Christianity, Garris makes the case that the church's slow accommodation to feminist ideology has not been a neutral cultural adjustment; it has been a theological surrender, one with consequences that ripple outward from the pulpit into the home and society at large. It is a bold argument, and one that deserves to be taken seriously.
Garris’s central contention is straightforward: God has not left men and women without direction. Scripture speaks clearly about the distinct roles, responsibilities, and authorities given to each sex, and the church’s drift away from these teachings has not made it more loving or more relevant; it has made it weaker. Masculine Christianity is, at its core, a call to recover what was never supposed to be lost.
What makes this book worth reading is that Garris does not treat masculinity as a cultural preference or a personality type. He roots it in theology. The authority a husband exercises in his home, the leadership a man provides in his church, and the responsibility he bears in society—these are not artifacts of a bygone era to be quietly retired. They are divinely ordained structures, and abandoning them has costs. Garris is right to press this point, and he does so with clarity and conviction rather than apology.
The book is also refreshingly honest about the scope of the problem. This is not merely a matter of a few liberal congregations going astray. Garris identifies the embrace of feminist assumptions as widespread across evangelical and even ostensibly conservative church culture. The softening of male headship, the sidelining of male leadership, and the reframing of biblical gender roles as culturally conditioned rather than scripturally grounded—these trends have touched nearly every corner of the Western church. The diagnosis feels accurate, and that accuracy is itself valuable. You cannot address a problem you are unwilling to name.
On the positive side of the ledger, Garris is equally clear. The alternative to a feminized church is not a caricature of domineering men barking orders; it is men who take their God-given responsibilities seriously—men who lead their families with love and intentionality, men who step into their churches not as passive attendees but as engaged shepherds and servants, and men who understand that authority and sacrifice are not opposites but are bound together in the biblical vision of manhood.
The principles he articulates—the complementarity of the sexes, the headship of the husband, the importance of male leadership in the church, and the social consequences of getting gender wrong—are not novelties. They are historic Christian beliefs, confessed and practiced across centuries and traditions, before the present moment of confusion set in. Garris’s project is essentially restorative, and there is something deeply sensible about that. The answer to theological drift is not innovation; it is return.
Readers looking for a thorough academic treatment of every relevant passage or a deep engagement with opposing scholarship will want to supplement this volume with additional resources. But that is not entirely what Garris is after. Masculine Christianity functions more as a clarion call than an exhaustive systematic treatment, and on those terms it succeeds. It is direct, blunt, and readable, and it arrives at a moment when directness is badly needed.
The church does not need another round of accommodation. It does not need to find more comfortable language for timeless truths or more palatable framings for unpopular doctrines. What it needs is what Garris is calling for: the willingness to take Scripture at its word, to trust that God’s design for men and women is not a liability but a gift, and to build accordingly. Masculine Christianity makes that case with urgency and conviction.
For readers who sense that something has gone wrong in how the modern church talks about men, women, and gender—and who suspect the answer lies not in further revision but in faithful recovery—this book is well worth your time.
Review Written by Gabriel Herrmann
March 30th, 2026
Remaking the founders in the progressive's image
Remaking the founders in the progressive's image
C. A. Gerber
3/25/2026
Review of First Principles
Review of First Principles
Book Author: Thomas E. Ricks
Book Author: Thomas E. Ricks
tags: history, philosophy
Is it possible to remake the founders in the image of progressive liberalism? In this book, purportedly focusing on the Greeks and the Romans but using almost any excuse to move away from the actual influence of the former to illustrate examples of the founders as modern-day, anti-populist progressives focused on social welfare, author Thomas E. Ricks attempts to recast the debate of constitutionalism versus progressivism as a debate between constitutionalist progressivism and populist conservatism.
Although the author is talented and clearly understands the Greco-Roman world deeply, and although his writing style is both clear, informative, and intriguing, the opinions which he presents as facts make this book both unreliable and intellectually frustrating. He discounts, as an example, any religious influence on the founders, presenting them as thoroughly secular deists skeptical of organized religion and worshipping instead the goddess of what he labels “virtue,” as seen in the Greco-Roman world. To be clear, there is nothing wrong, per se, with his representation of the civilization of antiquity. His descriptions of Cicero, Cato, and Cincinnatus are enlightening; the problem is when he makes the startling claim not that these figures played a role in the lives of the Founders, but that nothing else did. Straining against the historical narrative, Ricks recasts the revolutionary period not as a conflict between monarchical belief and natural rights, which indeed it was, but rather as a conflict between the force of progress, which he paints in an almost Hegelian way, and the populist frenzy which he claims dominated the next century, in contrast to the founders’ desires.
Furthermore, interspersed within the narrative is a social commentary on today’s political arena which makes unsubstantiated claims, such as the assertion that white supremacy is both alive and thriving, and the claim that the current presidency of Donald Trump is comparable to the treason of Aaron Burr and something which the founders, although providing for it, would have dreaded. Also adding his personal opinion that the welfare state would have been wholeheartedly endorsed by the Founding Fathers, he makes claims about their perceptions of morality, such as asserting that they supported homosexuality and that it was only later, with the advent of religious fervor in the nineteenth century, that this came to bear a moral stigma, a claim which ignores both the religious context of the founders and the actions of the government of the time.
The richness of the Founders’ moral, philosophical, and theological influences—including the pervasive role of Protestant Christianity, Enlightenment notions of natural law, and classical republican ideals—is flattened into a single narrative of secular virtue and administrative foresight. This book illuminates the past only insofar as it is bent to mold the present; it is accurate only insofar as it can be contorted to fit the author’s preconceived worldview. While Ricks certainly quotes scholarly authorities such as Gordon Wood and Arthur Herman, giving a rich intellectual background to the founders in that they were influenced by both Scottish realism and English empiricism—though, interestingly, not English constitutionalism—Ricks quotes the founders themselves only selectively, refusing to even consider any religious or ethical considerations beyond an abstract Greek sense of virtuous living, something which, incredibly, Ricks pairs with Epicurean pleasure.
Ultimately, while informative, this book fails to achieve the mark of a serious critique or elaboration on the lives and ideas of the founding generation. The author, at the outset, has an evident bias against certain founders, such as Adams, and ignores potential critiques, circumventing them with quotes taken out of context. Additionally, although bias is an irreducible part of human nature, the excessive use of modern examples to illustrate past problems is both distracting and untrustworthy. It saddens me not to be able to give this book approved status, yet the central claims invalidate the benefits that the reader may obtain from a purely informative viewpoint.
Review Written by C. A. Gerber
March 29th, 2026
Are You Responsible for What You Didn’t Do?
Are You Responsible for What You Didn’t Do?
C. A. Gerber
3/25/2026
Review of Extreme Ownership: How U.S. Navy SEALs Lead and Win
Review of Extreme Ownership: How U.S. Navy SEALs Lead and Win
Book Author: Jocko Willink and Leif Babin
Book Author: Jocko Willink and Leif Babin
tags: leadership, business
Are we required to take responsibility for those things which are not our fault? According to the authors of this book, if we want to succeed, then the answer is yes. Former Navy SEALs Jocko Willink and Leif Babin write a book on leadership that can apply—and, if you read it, will apply—to any area of leadership.
Babin and Willink’s central thesis is controversial to the extreme, yet they defend it admirably. Leadership, they claim, requires the principle of “Extreme Ownership”—namely, taking responsibility for all actions which were executed under your leadership and failed, whether you are responsible for them or not. They also devote considerable time to teaching leaders how they should relate to those serving under them. Explain everything, they instruct, and the day when you don’t explain, the people under your command will know that it is serious. Inject your passion into the mission, and make it clear exactly what you are doing and why you are doing it. If there are objections, address them right away; don’t wait until there is a crisis where a disagreement in purpose splits the team in half. Using real-life examples, such as an incident of friendly fire where a failure to communicate nearly ended tragically, the authors show rather than tell, and then explain further to quell any doubts about the significance and vital importance of their advice.
Filled with practical lessons for leadership, but also with real-world stories on both the battlefield and the business field, the authors, who founded a company that tries to help struggling businesses succeed, bring their expertise onto your bookshelf. I must admit that I was pleasantly surprised by how well these two non-professional authors write. It is an engaging book, partly because it combines stories with genuine excitement, such as those of conflicts in close quarters in the streets of Ramadi, where a bad move, or failing to take responsibility, could lead to your own death or that of your fellow soldiers, with something infinitely more practical for those of us who likely will never set foot on the battlefield. At once practical and extraordinary, this book, although thoroughly secular, recognizes facts about leadership and about moral agency that are explicit for those who hold to a Christian worldview.
My criticisms of this book are few and thus will be made in as short a time as possible. For those reading this book from a Christian background, it may be disappointing that the authors never once mention faith as critical to success in life. Furthermore, these two are genuine Navy SEALs, which means, sadly, that they speak (and write) as such. The language in this book is not, I hope, that used by an eighth grader. Be prepared to be disturbed. Thirdly, although in purpose each chapter purports to deal with a different topic and a different lesson learned in war, it does, after a while, seem repetitive, with the same facts being used several times to elucidate different theses and to prove different points. Fourthly, and lastly, the authors are a bit self-serving, always managing to have the last word on how they fixed up a problem in the world of business.
You do not have to be fighting terrorists in Afghanistan or throwing bombs in Ramadi to need this book. If you are leading a business, shepherding a church, or just trying to live your life to the best of your ability, as all of us are called to do, then this book is for you. Although the authors never mention religion, their instruction to take responsibility for your actions and those of others closely mirrors the Christian belief that each person is morally accountable to God for their actions. Furthermore, in this, you can see a type of Dostoevskyan concern for the actions of others. “We are responsible,” says Father Zosima in The Brothers Karamazov, “on behalf of all and for all.” This teaching is clearly taught in Extreme Ownership, but with a more practical twist. It is no longer purely philosophical; this time it could save your business, or your life.
Review Written by C. A. Gerber
March 25th, 2026
A modern Churchill?
A modern Churchill?
C. A. Gerber
3/17/2026
Review of Bibi: My Story
Review of Bibi: My Story
Book Author: Benjamin Netanyahu
Book Author: Benjamin Netanyahu
tags: memoir, Middle East, leadership
The Middle East is fraught with stories of bravery and stories of cowardice, of war and peace, of all that makes the human heart noble and all that makes it vile. Indeed, throughout history, names that will long be remembered have often carved their mark into the annals of the past because of their actions in this region, which divides three continents: from Lawrence of Arabia to David Ben-Gurion and now, most recently, Benjamin Netanyahu.
It was surprising to me, as I read through the earlier parts of this book, how much time the Prime Minister spent, in his early years, in the United States. This makes his vision of an Israeli-US alliance, akin to that formed by Roosevelt and Churchill during the Second World War, look far less prophetic and far more realistic. Having attended college in the United States, having been the Israeli ambassador to the United States, and having spent a period in Manhattan as Israel’s ambassador to the United Nations, Netanyahu is full of praise for the “arsenal of democracy,” but also warning.
Also surprising is the intense factionalism of Israeli politics. Completely different from the two-party system of the USA, the portrayal of the inner bargains and fights for power, as well as scandal, corruption, and jockeying for parliamentary control, creates an almost laughable picture, yet it is a deadly serious game, for nothing less than the survival of the Jewish state is at stake. It is at once unapologetically partisan, yet rings true nonetheless.
Readers seeking a conventional autobiography will be disappointed. To be clear, Netanyahu does write about his family life, his father’s role in the founding of Israel, and the story of the death of his brother, his hero Yonatan Netanyahu, at Entebbe Airport after the terrorist hijacking. Rather than give only a biography of himself, it seems at times as if Netanyahu is attempting to give a biography of the Middle East, and at that, I certainly believe, he succeeds wonderfully. This is a long book; it is a book that will likely sit on your nightstand and gather dust, but it is a book that should be finished, and when it is finished, you will emerge from your room wiser and more equipped to understand the complex, yet incredibly simple, dynamics of the Middle East.
Having written this book during one of the few brief periods of the last three decades in which he has not been in power, Netanyahu’s highly personal analysis of his life as both a statesman and a man does not include the period for which he is most well-known: specifically, the period following the Hamas massacre of October 7th. However, that is not to say that the book is devoid of interesting periods. From the signing of the Oslo Accords to the Second Intifada, from Cairo to Berlin, Netanyahu captures the prime movers behind the modern geopolitical landscape. Enclosed within these pages are stories of interactions with former Israeli Prime Ministers—some opponents, others, far less, friends: Shimon Peres, Yitzhak Rabin, Ariel Sharon, Naftali Bennett—they are all here, written about by their arch-nemesis and most long-standing opponent, Benjamin Netanyahu.
Also in these pages, you will find intriguing details about US-Israeli relations: from the controversy-fraught administration of Bill Clinton, plagued with scandal at home yet naively hoping to achieve peace with Yasser Arafat, to Barack Obama, who promised to “lead from behind.” Donald Trump and Joe Biden also have a significant role to play, from the Abraham Accords onward.
Neither does the Prime Minister spend all six hundred pages of this book crying over spilled milk or controversial relations with public figures. He does not exclusively concentrate on the present or the future, on what can be if “the right person is elected,” a narrative which so often fills the reminiscences of public figures. To be clear, Netanyahu devotes a considerable amount of time to clearing his own name from controversy and does, at times, seem a little self-serving. Not to excuse him from acting as a human, but his narrative is full of self-praise evinced by other public figures such as Winston Churchill.
Indeed, Netanyahu evokes, at times, an almost Churchillian sense of destiny. And well may he do so, for throughout these pages, although tinted with personal bias, you see before your eyes a figure of immense proportions and vast schemes come to life: a man like all others, full of errors and vanity, but also a man filled with a passion for the true, the good, and the beautiful; a man preoccupied with the defense of his own nation and of Western civilization more broadly.
Review Written by C. A. Gerber
March 17th, 2026
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