The Countermarch

A grandmother and her granddaughter sit in warm light at the kitchen table, seen through the window of a stone house. (AI-generated image)

Place & the Particular

Meet Me at Mary’s Place

We’re gonna have a party.

A moonlit residential street in Huntington, Indiana, leads toward an illuminated church steeple. Photo by Scott P. Richert.

Place & the Particular

Footsteps and Memories

The dead still speak, if we have ears to hear.

In the style of a social-realist painting, men leave a shadowed factory as children and spouses welcome them into the golden light of home. (AI-generated image)

Forward March

Remotely Present

Placing work at the service of life

Wendell Berry sits between two women on a stage at the McConnell Center at the University of Louisville. (AI-assisted restoration of a photograph by Scott P. Richert.)

Faith Incarnate

Incarnation and Human Scale

Why are so many Catholics drawn to Wendell Berry?

A number of Wendell Berry’s novels and collections of short stories sit on a red wooden bookshelf. (Photo by Scott P. Richert)

Letters & Reading

Do This in Memory of Me

Wendell Berry and Catholic fiction

Volumes of Wendell Berry’s essays sit on a black bookshelf. (Photo by Scott P. Richert)

Letters & Reading

Beyond Consilience

Wendell Berry on E.O. Wilson

A human hand passes a red apple with a bite taken out of it to the open wooden-and-brass hand of an automaton. (AI-generated image)

Forward March

The Original Sin of AI

Why we can’t create a system that’s better than us

The Countermarch

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A sunset over calm water off Mackinac Island, framed by dark pine trees and a stone wall. Photograph by Scott P. Richert.

Leisure and the Lake

Cultivating the sound of silence

A carved Pietà of Mary holding the body of Christ in the Cathedral of St. Bartholomew, Frankfurt, Germany. (Photo by Scott P. Richert.)

The Fullness of the Truth

What our senses fail to fathom

A man types on a laptop at a wooden desk beside coffee and a notebook. The screen shows a passage about putting an idea into words. (AI-generated image)

I Have an Idea

How do I know? I wrote it down.

An archon guides a scroll-bearing seeker through a gate; another casts a seeker and burning scroll into the abyss. Christ and two disciples walk to Heavenly Jerusalem. (AI-generated image)

All Truth Is God’s Truth

Truth isn’t meant to be hidden.

Six conspirators sit before press cameras with their faces illuminated and an open red dossier displayed on the table. (AI-generated image)

Hiding in Plain Sight

Conspiracy theories in the age of Trump, Part 2

A young woman’s hand reaches past a silver crucifix to grasp an herbal charm on a dark bedside table. (AI-generated image)

The Devil You Know

Satan, party of one

As conspirators gather around a sealed red dossier, one conspirator secretly passes a document through a doorway to an outsider. (AI-generated)

Of Sin and Conspiracy

Conspiracy theories in the age of Trump, Part 1

A black-and-white illustration of an alien as a federal judge in a courtroom by Stephen Warde Anderson.

Us vs. Them

The roots of American distrust of the federal government run deep, and for good reason.

An AI-generated image of a writer pausing over manuscript pages as the shadow of a mechanical hand falls across his work.

Gaslighting Ourselves

If you let AI change the way you write, the machines win.

The Polkaholics perform on the Ethnic Stage at the 2004 On the Waterfront Festival in Rockford, Illinois. (Photo by Scott P. Richert)

Polka Can’t Die

Traditions must keep growing if we want them to survive.

Stained glass of the Crucifixion, with Saint Mary and Saint John the Evangelist, in SS. Peter and Paul Catholic Church, Huntington, Indiana. Photo by Scott P. Richert.

The Truth Needs No Defense

What the world desperately needs today is not a defense of the truth, but the proclamation of the truth.

Portrait of St. John Henry Newman beside his quotation that one wilful untruth is worse than the sun and moon dropping from heaven.

How to Avoid Sins Against the Truth

Why a half-truth may be worse than a lie.

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