The Man Who Died Twice(Thursday Murder Club, Number 2) Richard Osman. Penguin Books (ISBN: 9781984881014) 2022.
Summary: Ibrahim is badly assaulted by a teenage thug and Elizabeth’s ex-husband shows up, suspected of stealing diamonds.
Ibrahim was enjoying his jaunt to a local bookstore–until assaulted by a group of young thugs–including vicious kicks that landed him in the hospital from one of them. One of the side plots is how the Thursday Murder Club figures out a way to get even with with Ibrahim’s assailant. Interestingly, Ibrahim does not want revenge–he just wants to hide out at the Villages. Psychologist though he is, he is suffering both physical and emotional trauma.
Meanwhile, the main plot begins when Elizabeth receives a letter from a former “associate.” Closer than that, Douglas Middlemiss was once married to Elizabeth. Now he is on the run, suspected of stealing diamonds worth £20 million from a shady banker who needs them to pay off the New York mob. And he wants to hide out in the Villages. Also, it turns out that a new girl working there, Poppy, is actually an agent there to protect him. It turns out he needs it. Poppy kills a hit man attempting to kill Douglas. They are removed to a safe house. But it is not very safe. Elizabeth finds both of them dead, when she responds to a message from Douglas.
Now the Thursday Murder Club kicks into high gear, minus Ibrahim for a time. But Joyce pulls him into action eventually. Bogdan joins them, resourceful and not afraid to deal with a female drug dealer. Chris and Donna are pursuing that drug dealer as well. Meanwhile, Elizabeth, with Joyce as an increasingly useful sidekick, follows a trail of clues both to find Douglas killer and the diamonds. But the trail raises a disturbing possibility. Did Douglas fake his own death at the safe house and is still about? And if not, who found the safe house and killed Douglas and Poppy?
One thing for sure, is that this ends in an exciting climax involving all these actors. But I won’t spoil the fun, and fun it is. We discover more in this book how good Elizabeth was at her tradecraft, as well as being the one Douglas allowed to get away to his wistful regret. Joyce comes increasingly into her own. Seemingly sentimental, taken up with making and giving out friendship bracelets, she doesn’t bat an eyelash at dead bodies, or mafia hit men. She offers insights that Elizabeth misses. And her friendship bracelets even provide a crucial clue! All in all, everything came together to make this an enjoyable book, beginning to end.
The Journey of God, J. D. Lyonhart. IVP Academic (ISBN: 9781514009246) 2025.
Summary: A re-telling of the Christian story in six movements, exploring questions seekers, skeptic, and believers ask.
“Tell me a story.” Isn’t that often the longing behind our trips to the bookstore. I wonder, though, if that is our thought when we attempt to read the Bible. Do we open the Bible looking for a story? Or are we just looking for a pick-me-up thought? Then again, maybe scripture just baffles us. What is this book all about?
The Journey of God is an exploration of the Christian story. J.D. Lyonhart, a theologian and philosopher believes we desperately need books like C.S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity that help people see the Christian story and think about it in a fresh way, whether they are a skeptic or a seasoned believer. It’s been nearly a century since Lewis wrote for a very different time and culture. He sets the ambitious goal to fill that gap.
His description of the process of arriving at a title and how this made sense of what he was trying to do will also give you a sense of his writing style: thoughtful, yet witty and a bit edgy.
“However, I’ve slowly warmed to this new title, for the beauty of a journey is that it doesn’t need to be just one thing but can be many things spread over time and over many legs of the adventure. A fight scene with knives and lovemaking can be followed up by a philosophical interlude over a pint. As such, I’ve allowed each chapter in the book to feel a little different from the last. I’ve tried to dance between philosophy, science, poetry, romance, violence, history, historical fiction, comedy, drama, dialogue, and death, weaving them through various genres and styles into one mostly coherent, occasionally bonkers journey–less Sunday school, more Pulp Fiction” (p. xi).
Lyonhart unfolds the journey as one of six movements, devoting two to six chapters to each:
Movement I | Creation: Creation Begins • Creation is Not God • Creation is Good
Movement II | Fall: Humanity in God’s Image • Humanity Gone Wild
Movement III | Nation: Abraham Finds Faith • Moses Meets I Am • Goodness is Commanded • Beauty in the Promised Land • King David and His Boy • Justice Exiles the Nation
Movement IV | Redemption: Jesus is Born • Jesus is Walking Around Saying Stuff • Jesus is Dying to Meet You
Movement V | Church: The Spirit Arrives • The Church Begins • The Apostle Paul Converts • The Church Expands • The Church Today
Movement VI | End: The End of the World as We Know It • Highway to Hell or Stairway to Heaven?
The chapters average around ten pages. Typically, he will move from biblical narrative, such as the “earthiness” of the birth of Jesus, the meatiness or fleshiness of the incarnation, to discussing a Brene’ Brown video, to a personal story or theological implication. Or he will move from the expansion of the early church to our quest for love, affirmation, and identity. But its never preachy and often interspersed with self-deprecating personal stories.
At times he will be provocative, such as when he asks, “Does God have a penis?” I can imagine a child asking this and learning about the questions you don’t ask in church. He uses the question to introduce a discussion of what it means that humanity is in “God’s image.” Considering that our sexuality is an aspect of that image, the question is not that far out.
One of the most telling chapters the one on the exile of Israel as the expression of God’s justice. We tend to want justice when it involves the other guy and mercy for ourselves. However, Lyonhart presses home the objective reality of God’s justice–something we both want and wrestle with as we consider ourselves objects of God’s justice.
In the course of the book, I found all the elements Lyonhart mentions in his introduction. This conveys how all of life is connected to the journey of God and our journey with God. He exemplifies his contention that all God has made is good, and that Christ redeems all things. So, I can easily recommend this book to all the audiences Lyonhart writes for. He unpacks God’s story and show how all of our stories connect. And he does this with clarity and wit that invites us all to enlarged perspectives. I know that was so for me.
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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.
Umberto Eco had a library at one time of 50,000 books. He certainly never read them all. When asked about why he had so many more than he could read, he commented
“It is foolish to think that you have to read all the books you buy, as it is foolish to criticize those who buy more books than they will ever be able to read. It would be like saying that you should use all the cutlery or glasses or screwdrivers or drill bits you bought before buying new ones.“
He actually considered his unread books as a kind of “anti-library,” representing what he did not know. He thought our libraries ought be made up of both kinds of books.
I’m in conversation with many bibliophiles online and it seems to be almost universally the case that we have more books than we will probably read in this lifetime.
I think I’m coming to a greater peace with this. For one thing, I don’t know which books I won’t read. Nor do I know which books that have lounged about unread, I will find the need to read. For example, someone might mention a book, author, or topic, and I realize I have that book! And it all came in handy during the pandemic!
Of course, part of my peace with this is the prior decision to live generously. Acquiring books ought never be a miserly activity. I love giving good books to others who will read them. Likewise, our commitment to charitable giving is the first one set in my budget. Books still are discretionary, after charity, fixed expenses, and basic necessities are met.
So, I think I’m OK with what I’ve not read and won’t be able to. While there is always that yearning for “the next book,” I also find that there is a growing pleasure in having read great books and recalling them (at least as long as the memory works!).
Finally, I like to think of reading as conversations with other minds. And my TBR stack reflects others waiting their turn. It’s as if I am at a reception, engaged in a stimulating conversation, even as I’m aware of someone I’d like to meet. I savor the time in conversation, and then if our times allow, I go to make a new friend.
Five Articles Worth Reading
So, what do I do now? I share the New York Times “The Novels Everyone Will Be Talking About in 2026.” They have looked out to September and offered a list of what they think will be the talked about novels this year. I was excited to see that Ann Patchett and Elizabeth Strout have new books coming out!
On a different topic entirely, I was often asked during my years in campus ministry about spiritual attitudes on campus. “How Big Is the God Gap on College Campuses?” gets down into a lot of stats and an interesting correlation between attendance and political attitudes.
One of the “go-to” books for writers is Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird. Briallen Hopper offers her own appraisal of how well the book has held up after 30 years in “Anne Lamott’s Battle Against Writer’s Block.”
I’m not the only one who thinks that coarse, rude, and aggressive behavior is becoming increasingly the norm since COVID. James McWilliams noticed this on a book tour and writes of his own response in “Why I Try to Be Kind.”
Finally, an aspect of bibliophilia is not only creating a library but enjoying the libraries of others. Enjoy “The Most Beautiful Home Libraries” from the editors of The New York Times Style Magazine.
Quote of the Week
As it happens, we celebrated Umberto Eco’s birthday on January 5. Here’s another quote about unread books:
“There are books on our shelves we haven’t read and doubtless never will, that each of us has probably put to one side in the belief that we will read them later on, perhaps even in another life.”
Miscellaneous Musings
A mute clockmaker finds himself in San Francisco to repair a a giant clock and runs into Jack London. All this just before the Great earthquake. This is the setting for Norman Lock’s Eden’s Clock. I just began reading it and found myself engrossed. Then I discovered that it is the final book in a twelve book series by Lock with Bellevue Press. I wonder if I’ll be going back and reading earlier numbers.
One of my resolves has been to read more humor. Most of the recommendations I’ve gotten are P.G. Wodehouse and Bill Bryson. Terry Pratchett, who I’m reading has also come up. I’ve read Wodehouse, all of Thurber, none of Bryson, so I’d love more suggestions.
I don’t know about you but I feel like I have whiplash from this week. The fifth anniversary of January 6, the seizure of Maduro and the US “takeover” of Venezuela, and the death of a mom in an ICE-involved shooting. I don’t want to debate the politics as everyone on social media are doing. This new video by Amy Grant, who I haven’t listened to in years, captured my own sense as one of the “Woodstock” generation, that, from such “wide-eyed hope,” we’ve “lost our way.” It seemed a kind of lament to me, a place where I find myself in prayer. I take comfort from the fact that those who lament in scripture are renewed in hope.
Next Week’s Reviews
Monday: J.D. Lyonhart, The Journey of God
Tuesday: Richard Osman, The Man Who Died Twice
Wednesday: Richard Baxter, The Reformed Pastor
Thursday: Dale Allison, Jr. Interpreting Jesus
Friday: Ann Hagedorn, Beyond the River
So, that’s The Weekly Wrap for December 28-January 3.
Find past editions of The Weekly Wrap under The Weekly Wrap heading on this page.
Marco Polo, If You Can(Blackford Oakes, Number 4), William F. Buckley, Jr. Mysterious Press/Open Road (ISBN: 9781504018524) 2015 (first published in 1981).
Summary: Blackford Oakes awaits a death sentence in the Lubyanka as a spy, part of a plot to expose a Soviet mole.
The trial was pro forma. Oakes U-2 flamed out over Soviet territory, allowing his capture. Known as a spy, he’s sentenced to death. And appeals for reprieves or lighter sentences have failed. Uncharacteristically, Oakes is down to prayers.
Most of the book concerns how Oakes, out of the spy business for three years, has ended up in the Lubyanka. The problem is that there is a mole high in the U.S. government in the Eisenhower administration, leaking the contents of sensitive meetings. Who it is, how it is being done, and the network that gets that information to the Soviets occupies much of the book.
Initially, the CIA brings Oakes back to help expose the network. The high stakes of this operation strike home when Oakes loses of friend to save his life.
Back in the States, the investigation homes in on the source, a woman Oakes had once been intimate with. Likewise, they figure out how it is being done, despite close monitoring. A Xerox machine plays a leading role. But things take a twist because the CIA knows about the leak. They mix misinformation with credible information including a project dubbed “Marco Polo.” Instead of the Soviets embarrassing the Americans, the Americans want to do the embarrassing.
But first, the Americans must embarrass themselves. And that’s where Oakes flight comes in, paralleling the real life Gary Powers incident. But the Soviets shot down Powers, whereas Oakes stages his flameout. His landing in Soviet territory is deliberate. But you will have to read to understand why, and whether the plan works prior to Oakes execution.
Buckley’s Oakes evokes the cold war machinations of Le Carre and the sexuality of Ian Fleming’s James Bond without the flare of either author. The plot is diverting but not thrilling. The sex is ho-hum. Of greatest interest are the portrayals of Allen Dulles and J. Edgar Hoover. And we care enough about Oakes to hope he will escape with his life. There are others in this series, particularly Stained Glass and Saving the Queen that I would rate more highly. But if you like the series or just want some pleasant Cold War era diversion, give this a read.
Summary: Traces the Renaissance study through the lives of bibliophiles, artistic portrayals, and the darker side of bibliomania.
“When evening comes, I return to my home, and I go into my study; and on the thresh-hold, I take off my everyday clothes, which are covered in mud and mire,and I put on regal and curial robes; and dressed in a more appropriate manner I enter into the ancient courts of ancient men and am welcomed by them kindly, and there I taste the food that alone is mine, and for which I was born; and there I am not ashamed to speak to them, to ask them the reasons for their actions; and they, in their humanity, answer me; and for four hours I feel no boredom,I dismiss every affliction, I no longer fear poverty nor do I tremble at the thought of death; I become completely part of them.”
― Niccolò Machiavelli
Machiavelli describes the dream of many bibliophiles. A study, or library, where we may retreat from the world, and for a space of time, keep company with other minds, some in conversation and others, silently looking on, waiting their turn. Andrew Hui explores this dream, and its realization by Renaissance humanists in their studiolo
He begins by tracing the development from the monastic cell to the Renaissance studies of Petrarch, Machiavelli, and Montaigne. In the case of the latter, the study becomes a circular tower, with quotations inscribed on the ceiling beams. He accumulated over a thousand volumes, a stupendous number for the time. and he recognizes that each reader reads something different in the works of others. They read themselves.
Hui turns to Renaissance painters and notes the curious portrayals of both St. Jerome and the Virgin Mary as not only saints but bibliophiles. It was particularly intriguing to consider figure after figure of paintings of the Annunciation with Mary holding or reading a book. Likewise, Durer, Rembrandt and others portray Jerome laboring among his books.
There is a darker side of bibliophilia. Too many books or the wrong sort of books might lead to a special kind of insanity, bibliomanias of various sorts. One might fall into an abyss of knowledge. Hui explores this theme through the madness of Don Quixote, which began with an addiction to books. Prospero neglected his dukedom for his library where he became engrossed in sorcery, which he use to survive when exiled by his usurping brother to an island with his daughter. Finally, Hui considers Faustus whose reading brought him to despair and ultimate damnation.
Hui takes us not only on a tour of renaissance libraries, real and imagined. He also takes us on a tour of the inner life of those who sought refuge in them. He reveals the fine line between illumination and solace, and insanity and madness. Our books may take us into a deeper perception of reality. Or they may lead us down rabbit holes of unreality. I couldn’t help wonder if solitude led some into more fruitful social engagement and others into isolation. But is this a function of our books or ourselves? It was curious that the bibliomanes were all fictional, the bibliophiles were historic figures. Yet who of us, who love books, haven’t wondered about the dangers of going over the edge? Hui’s study, thus explores not only the inner sanctum of the Renaissance studiolo. He explores the inner sanctum of the dedicate reader.
Nailing It, Nicole Massie Martin (foreword by Carey Nieuwhof). InterVarsity Press (ISBN: 9781514009741) 2025.
Summary: A challenge to nail “leadership as usual” to the cross, embracing Jesus’ way of suffering service, and the hope of resurrection.
“Nailing it.” Typically, the phrase suggests decisively achieving a goal, perhaps with a “take no prisoners” mentality. I think of the violent propulsiveness of a nail gun. It’s not uncommon to hear terms like this in corporate circles for hitting a target, closing a deal, or even in making an incisive presentation. Behind it are notions of power, performance, and perfection, reflecting the demands of traditional leadership. On a darker note, the term even carries a connotation of a type of rapacious sexuality.
Often, these notions carry over into the life of the church. It makes many corners of American Christianity reek with ugly triumphalism, even as leadership inflicts trauma on followers. In this challenging book, Nicole Massie Martin, the current president and CEO of Christianity Today, issues a call for a different kind of “nailing it,.” Specifically, she calls for us to nail our traditional, worldly notions of leadership to the cross of Christ. Through doing so, she invites us into a cruciform life of leadership that suffers, sacrifices, and dies. Then she invites us into the dream of our resurrection hope in Christ.
The cruciform life to which she invites us involves a seven-fold way of progress:
Crucifying power. Moving from controlling power to surrendered power, in which we are empowered by God to empower others.
Crucifying ego. A shift from leadership that is about us to leadership resurrected in the strength and love of Christ.
Crucifying speed. From a culture that moves fast and breaks things (and people) to one that waits on God’s timing and reclaims the “sacramental slow.”
Crucifying performance. Instead of performance-based leadership, presence-based leadership that focuses on who people are and not just what they do.
Crucifying perfection. Rather than the casualties of unattainable standards, union with a grace-filled Christ who enables us to live vulnerably with those we lead.
Crucifying loyalty. Exchanging assimilating and manipulating people to be in one’s inner circle for a unity in Christ based in truth-telling. People are allowed to disagree, to not be on the same page.
Crucifying scale. Instead of the metrics of buildings, butts, and budgets, embracing a stewardship that understands the why, cares for human flourishing, and takes time for collective discernment.
But the end of all this crucifying is resurrection. Martin invites us to dream of what may come through the sacrificial leadership for which she casts vision. She reminds us of some heroes in scripture. For example, Esther, as she risks her power before the king. Or Paul, whose ego gives way to a thorn in the flesh and God’s power through his weakness. Then there is Moses and wilderness leadership that takes forty years to make an eleven day journey. Likewise, Jesus relieves Martha of performance pressures, commending the presence of Mary.
Then we have David, in his sin, learning to lay aside looking perfect for the treasure of being right with and in relationship with God. While Ruth would have been fully justified in embracing her loyalty to her own people, she crucifies that loyalty to go with Naomi, even embracing Naomi’s God, and finding him faithful. Finally, Peter dies to his dream of “scaling” the Transfiguration to listen to the Son and prepare for a far deeper and wider mission.
Nicole Massie Martin, drawing upon her own leadership journey offers a bracing challenge to Christian leaders weary of “American dream” leadership. With real-life examples, she shows what cruciform leadership looks like. In a time of infatuation with power dreams of sharing in some kind of “American greatness,” she speaks of a different dream, calling us to the way of the cross and caring for the least, the last, and the lost. But the question is: which dream will we follow?
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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.
Prayer Takes Us Home, Gerhard Lohfink, Translated by Linda M. Maloney. Liturgical Press (ISBN: 9780814688069) 2020.
Summary: What Christians believe about prayer and the various ways Christians pray and experience God in prayer.
Last year, I had the chance to review Gerhard Lohfink’s Why I Believe in God, which I named my Best Religious Memoir of 2025. His warm “theological memoir” filled with love for God motivated me to get my hands on other works of his. This is one of those.
The subtitle of this book states it is on the theology and practice of prayer. Lest you fear a dry disquisition on prayer, let me assure you I found the same personal warm of devotion in these pages as in his memoir. Here was someone who thought deeply both about the One he addressed and who clearly had devoted his life to prayer, aided by the structures of Catholicism.
He writes about Christian prayer, and that must begin with who we address. Rather than some generic “God” we address the Father through the Son and by the help of the Holy Spirit. He reminds us that we stand together in worship before the Living God, able to come face to face. We are helped in our prayers by the deep sighs of the Spirit. We do not pray to three gods, though we may address our prayers to each of the persons of the one Godhead, He encourages us that God is active in the world and that his “saving will and our prayers work together.”
Then he turns to the many forms of prayer. He reminds us of the different forms our every day speech takes and suggests that prayer is no different. He writes about petition, including a defense of asking God for things, praise, and lament. This last is a helpful corrective for “happy-clappy” Christianity. He explores the extensive material on lament in the scriptures.
I love how he introduces the Psalms as our home for all seasons, in joy and when beset by woes. They are our shelter, indeed our home, even as we make our way to Zion. He then gives instruction on meditation. This is not emptying one’s mind, but filling it with our story in scripture, in creeds, and the church’s prayers. For Lohfink, all this prayers us for the Eucharist. While this reflects a Catholic understanding, Lohfink’s discussion of the element of thanksgiving for the gift of God in Christ, manifest in the gifts of bread and cup, lifts us out of ritual into real communion.
The final chapter is characteristic Lohfink, in which he relates his personal history of prayer. His intent is not that we would follow his example. Nor does he want us to cram all the experiences of his life into our prayer practice. Rather, he wants to assure us in our own experience in both times of dryness and unspeakable joy. Here, as throughout, I sensed a brother walking alongside, not a superior speaking to novices.
Although I am not a Catholic Christian, I found much that spoke to my own prayer life. My heart was warmed by the greatness of God described on these pages and the awesome wonder of corporate worship and gathering at the Lord’s table. The chapter on Christian meditation is one of the best I’ve read. His encouragements that God is active and works in and through our prayers is truth I can never hear enough. He reminds me that in prayer, God takes us home.
Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen. Penguin Classics (ISBN: 9780141439662) 2003 (first published in 1811).
Summary: Austen’s first novel, contrasting two sisters’ approach to love: common sense judgment versus more emotional sympathy.
Jane Austen’s birthday was December 16, 1775. So, the literary world spent the last year celebrating the two-hundred-fiftieth year of her birth. I’m a bit late to the celebration but one of my reading resolutions for 2026 is to read her six major novels, most of her published work. As for reviewing Jane Austen, volumes have been written of each of her books so my “reviews” will be more in the line of first responses to encountering Austen’s work. I’ve not viewed the film portrayals of her work, so my readings truly are first encounters, and no doubt reveal me as an Austen neophyte. Hopefully, I will inspire other first time readers as well as her fans.
It surprised me to learn that when Austen published this work, the original edition title page simply said “By a Lady.” It suggests to me the gender challenges she faced. At the same time, to not hide her gender was bold, it seems to me.
The title signifies the main theme of the book: the two approaches to love of the Dashwood sisters, Elinor and Marianne. However, the backdrop of the book concerns money and inheritance as it bears on matters of love. For the Dashwood sisters, this is set up by Henry Dashwood, who asked his son John on his deathbed to provide for his stepmother and stepsisters. But beyond a basic “living,” John’s wife discourages any further help. Mrs. Dashwood and her daughters, including Margaret, the youngest, accept a modest existence. Sir John Middleton ameliorates their straitened circumstances by providing them the use of Barton Cottage and welcoming them to gatherings at Barton Hall. However, their financial condition affects the marriage prospects of the sisters.
This is where sense and sensibility come into play. Elinor is the one with “sense.” She is somewhat diffidently courted by Edward Ferrars. The couple do grow in their friendship and Elinor has hope of more. Edward, as eldest son, has the expectation of a good inheritance. But mother has her sights set higher than Elinor Dashwood. Edward ceases to be in contact, and it appears he is affianced to the socially ambitious Lucy Steele. Elinor comes to a stoic acceptance that she may not marry–except we see hints that in her heart of hearts, she would have it otherwise.
Meanwhile, Marianne, the younger sister, is beautiful, winsome and characterized by “sensibility.” Attraction and connection matter. Through the Middletons, she meets Colonel Brandon. Brandon is more than ten years older and has a respectable estate after a career in military service. He is quiet and “solid” and interested in Marianne. But she has no interest in him. Instead, due to a sprained ankle, she meets John Willoughby. Quickly, they discover common interests, and before long, there are intimations of a forthcoming engagement. Then Willoughby suddenly leaves for London in connection with a financial crisis.
When Sir John Middleton’s mother-in-law, Mrs. Jennings invites the sisters to London, Marianne reaches out to Willoughby but hears nothing. Finally, she learns Willoughby is betrothed to another woman. She is heartbroken, which sends her into a physical as well as emotional tailspin that her sister is powerless to prevent. She contracts a “putrid fever,” her condition so bad that Elinor enlists Colonel Brandon to bring Mrs. Dashwood to her daughter’s bedside.
At this point, things look bad all around for love and even, in Marianne’s case, for life. Neither sense nor sensibility seem to be working out very well. I’m going to leave it at that, as far as the story goes so you can discover how it all works out if you haven’t read the book.
Money and love. One of the things I notice is that this is a relatively monied crowd. There’s no working class here. No women in service. No men who are laborers. The question is whether you are moving up, and for both women and men, marrying into money is a part of the equation. Edward Ferrar’s mother’s purse strings deters him from pursuing Elinor. Willoughby’s finances are shaky. He also needs to marry money.
Sense and sensibility. It seems in the end, the sisters realize a bit of each are important. At the same time, the portrayal of men reveals few men of virtue. Maybe Sir John Middleton, who seems a generous soul. Colonel Brandon is a solid man of integrity, but uninteresting to Marianne. Ferrars is weak through most of the novel. Willoughby is just a flashy cad. As Flannery O’Connor commented in a very different context, “A good man is hard to find.” It’s not surprising there are so many unhappy marriages.
To her credit, Elinor represents a woman strong enough not to settle. She reminds me of a wise woman I knew who married late in life. She said, “it was better to be single and a little lonely, than married to the wrong person and miserable.” Things are different today than in Jane Austen’s time. No doubt she played a small part in that. But her tale of sense and sensibility suggests both are necessary in the making of good marriages.
I suspect you’ve read at least one book this year. It wouldn’t surprise me if you’ve read a book a week. This week, I’ve been seeing everyone’s end of the year posts of all the books they’ve read. However, one of the articles below woke me up to the bubble we are living in.
Less than half of Americans read ONE book this year. And that number is rising. It might be time to declare the reader an endangered species. But the protection of endangered species is itself endangered, so I wouldn’t count on it. And I would hate to be part of a future zoo exhibit titled “the endangered reader” with the mock habitat of a wing chair and a booklined room.
I’ve long pondered what we can do. About all I’ve concluded is that we avoid at all costs “should-ing” over non-readers. I almost wonder if we need to reach a cultural moment where people discover reading as this “cool new thing,” kind of like how the masses seem to have rediscovered vinyl when we all thought vinyl was dead, replaced by shiny discs in cheesy jewel cases.
My sense is that things like this still spread by word of mouth as people simply gossip about the good thing of reading in their lives, and maybe pass along books they’ve loved. In other words, don’t protect booklovers, but rather turn them loose to share the “disease!”
Five Articles Worth Reading
On that note, “Reading Is a Vice” argues against our strategies of arguing the virtues of reading. After all, we “do it for the thrill of staying up late to read under the covers by flashlight, unable to stop and hoping no one finds out.”
Reviewers have positively reviewed Paul Kingsnorth’s Against the Machine in a number of major publications (even at Bob on Books!) In “Against Doom,” Emma Collins challenges Kingsnorth’s anti-technology jeremiad, concluding, “I’m tired of doom, and of doom being passed off as Christianity. Remember this: faith is about life. It’s about joy. It’s about salvation. Don’t get it twisted.”
I’ve been in a number of conversations, the gist of which is “young men are not doing well.” Richard Reeves, in “Making Men,” argues for “rites of passage,” in helping boys make the transition to responsible manhood.
However, some would argue our society as a whole is not doing so well. on one hand, we exalt radical individualism. But then we wring our hands over how to address the loneliness epidemic. Kristin M. Collier, a physician, argues that at the heart of Christian faith is restoring relationships with God, others, and ourselves. She explores the significance of communion as health in “Religio Medici.”
Lastly, this time between the end of one year and the beginning of another lends itself to consider the complexities of time, which we often take for granted. JSTOR posted a great collection of articles, “Keeping Time: A New Year’s Collection,” offering a variety of slants on this mysterious phenomenon we call “time.”
Quote of the Week
Historian John Hope Franklin was born on January 2, 1915. This quote makes the case for why we don’t erase the unhappy episodes of our history:
“If the house is to be set in order, one cannot begin with the present; he must begin with the past.”
Miscellaneous Musings
I wonder if book influencers will remember books published this month when they make their “best of the year” picks for 2026.
I love Ohio history and so I’m enjoying getting into Ann Hagedorn’s Beyond the River. It’s an account of the abolitionist and underground railroad efforts of the residents of the Ohio River town of Ripley. In particular, it focuses on Rev. John Rankin, who coupled prayer, and fighting off fugitive slave hunters with his rifle.
However, I hate cancer, which has killed people I loved and afflicted many who are near and dear. I’ve even had brushes with it in the form of a couple of skin cancers caught early. I’ve liked Siddhartha Mukherjee’s elegant writing and so have picked up his fascinating “biography” of cancer, The Emperor of All Maladies. I’m early my reading, but one striking advance is that a cancer diagnosis is no longer a badge of shame.
Next Week’s Reviews
Monday: Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility
Tuesday: Gerhard Lohfink, Prayer Takes Us Home
Wednesday: Nicole Massie Martin, Nailing It
Thursday: Andrew Hui, The Study: The Inner Life of Renaissance Libraries
Friday: William F,. Buckley, Marco Polo, If You Can
So, that’s The Weekly Wrap for December 28-January 3.
Find past editions of The Weekly Wrap under The Weekly Wrap heading on this page
Faithful Exchange, David W. Opderbeck. Fortress Press (ISBN: 9781506467016) 2025.
Summary: Economic life through biblical and historic lenses with attention to current debates on capitalism versus socialism.
How might one think Christianly about economic life? How have Christians thought about these matters through the centuries? Among the contemporary systems, is one more inherently Christian? And what resources do we find in the ancient texts of the Bible that speak into our present realities? David W. Opderbeck, a professor of law at Seton Hall University has set out to address these questions in this book.
He describes this book as offering a narrative theology of economic life. After an introduction and overview, chapters 2 through 5 explore the economy of biblical narrative. Specifically, he covers the periods from creation to Babel, the patriarchs through the exodus, the judges, kings, and prophets, and then Jesus and the New Testament.
The next five chapters concern historical and contemporary discussion. Chapter 6 explores property and economics from pre-Constantine through the Reformation. Chapter 7 centers on influences contributing to American capitalism: Locke, Hobbes, Hume, Blackstone, and Smith. Then chapter 8 turns to Marxism and socialism, including Christian socialism and social teaching. Chapter 9 covers the period from the Great Depression, the postwar settlement and our more recent internet-based and global economy. Finally, the last chapter, titled “Toward a Contemporary Constructive Christian Economics” gestures toward how Christians might think about capitalism and socialism. And he draws all this narrative and historical material together.
As you can see, Opderbeck sets himself a huge task. Consequently, much of what he does is, indeed,, narrative and descriptive. The final section of each of the biblical narrative sections offer syntheses summarizing the economic material. The history up to the Reformation addresses private property in tension with a “the earth is the Lord’s perspective.” The discussion of influences upon the American experiment was fascinating, particularly in how all this failed to resolve the vexing problem of slavery, even as it laid the groundwork of commerce and capitalism. For those who conflate communism and socialism, his overview of both movements, and particularly, the Christian socialists is important in understanding the distinctions. He also shows how these challenged the exclusive emphasis on private property in seeking the economic welfare of all.
In the final “constructive” section, Opderbeck first engages a number of contemporary thinkers (Sirico, Waters, Tanner, Milbank, Pabst, and Turner). His skill as a legal scholar was on display in a section on “Critical and Constructive Threads” where integrates biblical material, economic theory, and discussions of corporate practice. Then he illustrates these threads in a case study on land and MOSFET chips.
His approach throughout is to show how the biblical hope informs, critiques, and transcends our earthly economic systems, whether capitalist or socialist. Opderbeck captures this well in his concluding words:
“Freedom for generosity and freedom from the love of money and the lust of the eyes is offered in the waters of baptism and at the table with Jesus in the community of his people. Every -ism, including capitalism and socialism, is here exposed as unworthy of devotion. In every time and place discerning the Kairos and listening to the Spirit of Christ, we are called to act with grace and wisdom, affirming but relativizing private property rights, prioritizing the poor, emphasizing fairness, and actively waiting for the coming of Jesus, when God will be all-in-all” (p. 258).
My sense is that Opderbeck, as a legal scholar, has assembled a careful set of “briefs” summarizing both biblical and historical theology with regard to economics. Then he applies them to our contemporary situation. This is a tremendous resource on Christian economic thought, concisely summarizing, without sacrificing nuance, a vast amount of material. It’s a great place to begin if one wishes to discover the landscape of Christian economic thought, and how it has addressed questions of property and profit, moving beyond slogans, sentiments, and prooftexts to substantive thought.
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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received a complimentary copy of this book from the publisher for review.
