The blockbuster movie of the 2026 summer is unquestionably Christoper Nolan’s The Odyssey. Over the years I have enjoyed Nolan’s films, for they are not only entertaining; they are provocative and thought-provoking. For example, Nolan’s Joker in the Batman movies is a classic nihilist who simply ”enjoys seeing things burn.” Interstellar was a disturbing movie because it focused on questions of life’s meaning and purpose as well as the stewardship responsibility of humanity. His film Oppenheimer caused me to read Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin’s masterful, American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer. But his Odyssey is challenging in other ways.

In 2022 the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, ending the nationally sanctioned constitutional right of an abortion and in effect making it a state issue. The strategy of the pro-life movement was to prohibit abortion in conservative states and work for abortion restrictions in other states. But abortion pills now threaten that strategy. Nearly two out of three abortions in America are “chemical abortions.” They are especially popular in states that prohibit abortion clinics.

The Protestant Reformation was a 16th-century reform movement within the church. The Reformers believed that the Bible taught that salvation was based on faith, not good works, and that the Bible was the ultimate authority, not the Pope. In 1517, a German monk named Martin Luther wrote a list of arguments called the Ninety-five Theses and nailed them to a church door in Wittenberg, Germany. Luther argued that people cannot buy God’s forgiveness; He believed God’s grace was a free gift appropriated by personal faith in Christ and His finished work on the cross. Thanks to the invention of the printing press, Luther’s ideas quickly spread across Europe, as did other Reformers such as John Calvin, Menno Simons (an Anabaptist) and Thomas Cranmer in England.

Within Western Civilization a disturbing trend is raising its ugly head: The Economist calls it “Gen-Z Socialism”—”A fresh crop of socialists want to remake the economy with price controls, hefty wealth taxes and a spree of nationalizations. Supercharged by fury over Gaza, they are winning voters at a formidable pace. Many rose to prominence only recently, like Zack Polanski, who leads the Green Party in Britain, or Zohran Mamdani, the mayor of New York. Others are long-standing political fixtures: the septuagenarian Jean-Luc Mélenchon is on his fourth swing at the French presidency . . . Forget weighty collectivist ideals or seizing the means of production. Gen-Z socialism is a me-first doctrine. Climate change and race, preoccupations of the 2010s and early 2020s, are now much more peripheral concerns. So are social issues, barring Gaza. Angst about inflation, housing and artificial intelligence have replaced all that with something cruder.

The war with Iran, begun by the US and Israel on 28 February 2026, involved Israeli and the US airstrikes on nuclear facilities, military and civilian infrastructure and the death of Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenai—and other key religious and political leaders. But wars are judged by how they end, not by successes along the way. Much of the fighting is over, but the consequences—the brutal realties—of the war remain. As we near the end of summer 2026, what can we conclude about this war?

Karl Marx (1818-1883), the founder of ideological communism, was ethnically Jewish and came from a long line of rabbis on both sides of his family. However, his parents converted to Christianity for professional and social reasons before his birth, and Marx himself was baptized, raised without Jewish religious traditions, and later embraced atheism. Marx famously dismissed religion as an illusion, calling it the “opium of the people.” Yet, as Robert Orlando argues, “when his thought is examined carefully, a striking parallel emerges: Marx didn’t eliminate redemption. He translated it into political economy.

We live amid insecurity, uncertainty, and anxiety. Wars and threats of war remain constant, but financial pressures can also provoke deep concern. As I write, the U.S. stock market is reaching record highs, buoyed by investments in artificial intelligence and expectations of greater productivity. For now, there is little sign of a downturn. Some investors warn that the AI bubble will eventually burst, though not immediately. Even so, two major concerns should trouble thoughtful Christians who value wise stewardship at every level of life: the future of Social Security and the weakening market for U.S. government debt.

Ethically speaking, does the end always justify the means? Does a seemingly good end (having healthy babies free of all genetic disorders) justify the means (in vitro fertilization, preimplantation genetic diagnosis, etc.)? Reproductive and Genetic Technologies have empowered humans to a degree unimaginable only a few years ago. These technologies are also empowering parents to decide what kinds of children they want. Therefore, these technologies raise profound ethical questions, including ethical questions about the human embryo.

Pope Leo’s first encyclical, Magnifica Humanitas (“Magnificent Humanity”), is very long (more than 42,300 words). Although he deals with multiple issues, the central purpose of the document, however, is to challenge the unregulated development of artificial intelligence, which is of great interest to me. “Too often the debate over AI presents two extremes. Technological pessimists speak as if modernity itself were a mistake. Technocrats and transhumanists greet every computational advance as a step toward transcendence. One side would smash the machines; the other would surrender to them.”

This weekend we celebrate the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. It is indeed the founding document of our nation. This anniversary reminds us of the importance of history and a proper understanding of that history. How Americans view their history is important, for that narrative is what is taught in our schools and informs how we view current issues in their historical perspective. Until fairly recently, there was a consensus among most Americans about that narrative. No longer. There are at least two competing narratives that dominate America’s educational curriculums and the various media outlets (e.g., cable television, the social media, and political commentary)