We welcome letters to the editor. Letters appear two issues after the article to which they are responding. Letters under three hundred words are preferred, and they may be edited for length and clarity.
Letters responding to articles published in this issue should be received by July 7 for publication in the August/September issue. Please send them to ft@firstthings.com.
Bulldozing Protestantism
Brad East’s “Goldilocks Protestantism” (April 2025) contains a disturbingly innovative usage of the terms “evangelical” and “catholic” that seems at odds with how the terms have historically been used and understood.
For Richard John Neuhaus (with whom I was fortunate to share some teachers), “evangelicals” are simply those Christians who confess the Gospel of Jesus Christ as the universal “catholic” church everywhere, always, has confessed it.
As C. S. Lewis demonstrates in his English Literature in the Sixteenth Century, the sixteenth-century “evangelicals” were those Christians, like Luther, who protested a novel confession of the gospel—one that blurred faith and works, God’s gifts and human efforts—as being contrary both to holy Scriptures and the teaching of the catholic church. In other words, the “evangel” of Jesus Christ is what alone makes the church truly “catholic”! Two sides of the same coin that can’t be pitted against each other without utterly changing the meaning of both terms.
And, as a matter of fact, the first “evangelicals” like Luther were most passionately committed to the purest, highest, most catholic forms of the liturgy—as the Augsburg Confession article XXIV demonstrates.
It was Jean Calvin (not Martin Luther or Launcelot Andrewes, to name two of many) who drove wedges between the evangelical faith, the historic liturgy, and the church catholic—whom C. S. Lewis describes as “Marx and Lenin in one person.” Such division would be most distressing to evangelical-catholics like Luther, Andrewes, Lewis, Neuhaus, and me.
I commend East’s thoughtful analysis of the problems that beset modern Christendom and share his concerns broadly. I don’t dispute that there are groups in Christendom that scorn the liturgy, as well as high liturgy types who despise passionate, heartfelt faith in Jesus Christ. But to call the first group “evangelical” and the second “catholic” seems to me to be doing violence to two of the loveliest words in the Christian’s vocabulary that—when used in their original senses—unite rather than divide the faithful.
Kevin W. Martin
raleigh, north carolina
The Opinion on a “Goldilocks Protestantism” presents a rather shocking analysis of the decline of Reformation-based churches. Brad East opines that numbers tell the tale. Roman, Eastern and Anglican Christians form two-thirds of global Christianity, and a sizable and growing group is evangelical without strong Reformation roots, placing a “premium on personal conversion, mass evangelism, and spontaneous expressions” of worship. Left in between among some others is a shrinking group of Protestant churches, felt to be structurally unstable for the long run as its adherents want to be not too high, not too low, “just right;” hence the dismissive term “Goldilocks Protestantism.”
This view is nothing new; others have predicted the decline of mainline Protestant churches for some years. However, such a vision misses the trees for the forest. Looking more closely, one finds Reformation churches that are alive and well, particularly those of the conservative variety that hold a high view of Scripture.
What is in decline is neo-orthodoxy. My family’s experience has been different; we worshipped with Methodists in the Navajo Nation with a robust theology and commitment to mission. Then we met the PCA. In 1973, 50,000 mainline Presbyterians left to form the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA). The contested issues were spiritual mission, deviation from conservative theology, and matters of church discipline. Since that time, the PCA has increased its membership around eightfold and its number of churches from 250 to 1,934.
This church is quite stable, with its adherence to the Westminster standards along with faithful preaching, active church planting and strong commitment to global missions. Its roots are in the Reformation, but it has also had important fresh impact from the likes of Francis Schaeffer, R. C. Sproul, Sarah Young, and Timothy Keller. Many of these have had important influence on non-denominational churches as well. Goldilocks may have had it right. “The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” (Is. 40:8)
Henry Williams
lookout mountain, tennessee
Brad East replies:
I’m grateful to my two respondents for their careful engagements with my essay.
To Kevin Martin, we will simply have to agree to disagree. My use of the terms “evangelical” and “catholic” is by no means innovative, though it is true that I am not using them either in their etymological or in their theological sense. However, this is a commonplace in both sociological and public writing about divided Christians today, and I was careful to stipulate my definitions. I am in no position to adjudicate intra-Protestant disputes over whom to blame for various liturgical and other departures from catholic tradition, though I suspect Reformed readers will have a few words to say about the characterization of Calvin offered here. In any case, Martin and I share an affection for these hallowed terms, as well as a hope for their eventual restoration to pride of place in common Christian speech, liturgical and otherwise.
To Henry Williams, I fear we, too, are speaking past each other. My essay denies neither that certain magisterial churches have experienced growth nor that some of them are flourishing. It argues instead that their numbers are statistically insignificant, nationally and globally, compared to what I call catholic and evangelical traditions. The latest numbers suggest that, out of 340 million people living in America, fewer than 400,000 are members of the PCA. If my math is correct, that is 0.117 percent of the population. Roughly speaking, there is one PCA member for every 850 Americans. The percentage drops precipitously if we turn to global Christianity.
It’s true that these numbers do not, in themselves, prove a thing about the theological claims Protestantism makes about itself. It is odd, however, to read that “others have predicted the decline of mainline Protestant churches for some years,” yet “such a vision misses the trees for the forest.” The mainline collapsed a long time ago. I grant that some trees are still standing. Is it not worth looking around and pointing out that all the rest have been bulldozed?
Embryo Wild West
My wife and I found ourselves in the middle of the same legal battle Ericka Anderson described in “Who Owns the Embryos?” (April 2025).
I’ve told our story in greater detail elsewhere but, in brief, we adopted embryos through the National Embryo Donation Center and Dr. John Gordon helped us have our son and daughter. We were passionate advocates for embryo adoption and the NEDC, so we were disturbed at the legal and PR mess that occurred in the months leading up to our final embryo transfer. Perhaps most disturbingly, the dispute was being litigated through social media posts and emails. In part because of his professional handling of the matter, we remained patients of Dr. Gordon’s and transported our embryos to Rejoice Fertility from the NEDC. But beyond the PR problems, Andersen’s piece helpfully identifies the real legal matter at the heart of this dispute: the issue of “ownership.”
However, Andersen’s piece could (incorrectly) suggest that the legal issues surrounding embryos or embryo adoption are the fault of either the NEDC or Rejoice Fertility. They are not. That is not to absolve either of all legal or moral guilt. (With my knowledge, I couldn’t say confidently one way or the other.) The real problem rather lies with a culture and legal system that instrumentalizes embryos—and human life in general.
In our experience, the NEDC and Dr. Gordon were aligned in their mission to find homes for embryos. The unfortunate but inevitable reality is they must work within legal constraints (and language) that does not recognize the personhood of the embryo—a fact the stated mission of either center happily conflicts with. In any case, it’s not obvious (to me, anyway) how such a process should work. Should the center/clinic remain the primary guardian until the transfer? Or is the center/clinic only a mediator between parents, between whom guardianship seamlessly passes? I can imagine problems with either position.
One hasty conclusion is to dismiss the whole enterprise, but embryo adoption is worth pursuing even in an otherwise unjust system. For what it’s worth, Robert P. George, who was quoted in Andersen’s piece, agrees and argues with Christopher Tollefsen in their book, Embryo: A Defense of Human Life, that adoption is the way to go from here.
These centers/clinics aren’t perfect and there should be some oversight of their work. But in the meantime, we should remember where the problem really lies, and that it’s not their fault that they’re operating in the “Wild West.”
Derek S. King
university of kentucky
lexington, kentucky
Ericka Andersen replies:
I appreciate Derek King’s comments on this piece and welcome his remarks about the value of embryo adoption. Because there are few regulations and constraints within the world of “Big Fertility,” clinics like Rejoice and NEDC must do their best to navigate a tough situation. It isn’t their fault that there are excess embryos, but once those embryos are in their care, they are responsible for stewarding them well and honoring their potential families.
I agree that embryo adoption is a worthwhile pursuit. These embryos are already human beings, so they should be given the right to life. Unfortunately, many have viewed embryo adoption as a “solution” to what they might do with extra embryos from IVF. After the fact, it is the best option. But, for couples considering IVF, the choice of embryo adoption for any potential “extras” is not a good one.
The best way forward is to stop creating so many embryos through IVF, seek other fertility options, and recognize that human life is not disposable or valuable based on a grading scale inside a laboratory. Families that feel called to pursue embryo adoption to grow their families should do so, as each embryo is a unique creation of God, for which He has a purpose.
The AI Disappointment
In “AI Doesn’t Know What It’s Doing” (April 2025), Thomas Fowler rightly criticizes the hype and panic-tinged discourse that has portrayed artificial intelligence in both apocalyptic and techno-utopic ways. He also points out that AI stems from a nominalist paradigm that “has no concept of abstract entities.” But for an essay that traces the roots of AI to Humean empiricism, Fowler uses curiously empirical evidence to describe its limitations.
He uses the critical issue to be decided—“if computers cannot duplicate human minds”—as the empirically observed premise of an argument that concludes that humans are not material only, and/or that human functions cannot be relegated to algorithms. This chain of reasoning depends on the validity of the very issue to be decided, namely, can AI duplicate human minds?
Fowler is no doubt aware of a line of philosophical reasoning, traceable to Aquinas and Aristotle, that shows that a distinct part of the human mind, the intellect, must be a non-material entity. That part of the human mind that forms abstract concepts performs something that neither computers nor any other purely material entity can do. The detailed argument for this contention can be found at length in Michael Augros’s highly readable book, The Immortal In You, and in somewhat more technical form in an article “Artificial Intelligence and Its Natural Limits” that Gyula Klima and I published in 2021 in AI & Society.
Starting from the immateriality of the human intellect, one can derive many of Fowler’s conclusions about the limitations of AI with greater assurance, regardless of whatever present or future paradigm AI designers choose. The true hazards of AI lie not in some sci-fi apocalyptic takeover, but in careless application of AI systems to situations that require human conceptual insight and judgment, and in our willingness to conform our human lives to machine-like standards of behavior.
Karl D. Stephan
texas state university
san marcos, texas
Kudos to Thomas Fowler for exposing the truth about AI, both its limitations and its dangers.
As a fellow engineer with a thirty-seven-year career in providing professional services in the design and construction industry, I’ve learned firsthand about the overpromise of new technologies versus their reality, and people’s naivete in believing in no limits.
Frustrations from new technology have been a thing for years. Some recent disasters can be attributed to software and not just human error. Would it be human error to put too much trust in our creations?
It’s odd that the hype for AI seems to run counter to the current trend of reducing technology in our lives. If the hype bears fruit, then the errors will become more numerous and disastrous. Then, as we continue down the same path, technology apologists will claim that the mistakes were just bugs that need fixing.
I’m not blind to the many benefits of these new technological advances, but sometimes the juice isn’t worth the squeeze. And yes, hubris is human error.
Andrew Dymek
daniel island, south carolina
Thomas Fowler replies:
Thank you to Professor Karl Stephan. I do not dispute what he says, which is very valuable. Due to space limitations, I restricted the purpose of my essay to show that AI is, in fact, a theory of knowing with specific assumptions, namely those of Hume. Because it is based on these assumptions, it has certain limitations that can be clearly delineated. As far as I can tell, few in the field have any conception of the assumptions they are making, that these assumptions are philosophical, and that they have important implications.
When compared to human knowing, these assumptions and limitations reveal that AI is radically different and inferior. As such, it will be unable to fulfill the ambitious goals and the din of unbridled speculation about its takeover of jobs, society, and human civilization. My hope is that enough people in positions of influence will come to realize what AI can and cannot do and make decisions accordingly. I did not intend my words as a general philosophical investigation; that would be the subject of a much longer discussion, which in fact, I will cover in a book that I am currently writing on AI. That discussion, as Stephan notes, involves reasons why machines—materialism, in this context—can never become human, have souls, or otherwise duplicate humans.
And thank you to Mr. Andrew Dymek. I am in complete agreement. I have over fifty years of experience in the tech field and, like him, have seen many hype cycles. Most recently, there was virtual reality, which made a splash and was going to transform many things. You don’t hear much about it now. Then there was quantum computing. It was going to change everything, though the pundits didn’t seem to know anything about it. In fact, I was so dismayed by my own IT students’ lack of knowledge of the different types of computers, including quantum computers, that I wrote a book on the subject, Computers, Computation and the Limits of Computability. For reasons I further explore in the book, you don’t hear much about quantum computers these days either. They are only suitable for very specific applications. In this, they are similar to AI. Dymek’s point about the improper use of technology is well taken; people often look to technology as a way to solve all of our problems. As Dymek notes, it is important to place technology in the total context of human life in order to properly value it.
Omnis in Sacramenta
Sincere thanks to First Things for publishing Rhys Laverty’s insightful review (“Omnis in Scripturas,” April 2025) of my book, The Saint’s Life and the Senses of Scripture: Hagiography as Exegesis. Although I do not explicitly frame it as such, the reviewer is right to say that my book “fits snugly within the now well-established body of religious disenchantment literature.” Laverty thus associates it, generously but loosely, with books by Charles Taylor, Max Weber, Brad Gregory, and Joseph Bottum—each of which tells a somewhat different story about modernity’s departure from the enchanted, premodern world.
Unlike these writers, however, as Laverty acknowledges, I chart a more gradual path into modernity that begins with the “disintegration of mystagogy” (Kevin Hughes’s phrase) in the twelfth century. Inspired in part by Hans Frei’s The Eclipse of Biblical Narrative, I trace hagiography’s premodern history as a bellwether for the Bible’s own later reception, correlating changes in hagiographic narrative (traditionally rich in its biblical intertextuality) with changes in the way the Bible was being read, studied, and interpreted. Rather than pitting hagiography against sacred Scripture, I see them as “intrahermeneutical” (to use Laverty’s apt expression).
I could have ended the book on an elegiac note with the “outing” of the “brief candle” of hagiography in Chapter Eight; I decided instead to write two more chapters to call for a reintegration of the fourfold senses both in biblical reception and in the way the stories of the saints are told and studied. Laverty finds these final two chapters “underwhelming.” At a faculty colloquium to launch the book, my colleagues at Notre Dame were much more positive about the final chapters than Laverty. It’s tempting to delve more deeply into the literary issues raised by Chapter Nine, but I leave it open to debate for now. I freely admit, too, that Frei’s descriptive approach, analyzed in Chapter Ten, does not, by itself, yield a solution to the problem of disintegration. Were I to write a different final chapter or two, I imagine that I would turn, at least in part, to Hans Urs von Balthasar, who experimented with new hagiographic genres.
The work that remains to be done far exceeds the limits of a single monograph. I thank Rhys Laverty sincerely for the attention he has paid to my book, a first step, in the pages of First Things.
Ann W. Astell
university of notre dame
notre dame, indiana
Rhys Laverty replies:
I am grateful to Ann Astell for such a warmly written letter in response to my review of her book. I was relieved that she agreed with my placing her book within the canon of religious disenchantment literature.
In her letter, Astell notes that her concern is with what Kevin Hughes calls the “disintegration of mystagogy” beginning in the twelfth century, in which the tropological significance of a saint’s life (that is, the ways in which we see them echoing Christ) became separated from its history (that is, what actually happened). The idea of “mystagogy” can perhaps provide some clarity in what I think would be a more constructive direction for a “reintegration” than those suggested by Astell in her final chapters, which she notes that I found “underwhelming.”
“Mystagogy” refers to the process of being “led through the mysteries.” The term is used both loosely to refer to something like “reenchantment” and to developing a broad “sacramental imagination” attuned to God’s presence in all things. It also formally refers to the period of post-baptismal catechesis undergone by adults entering the Roman church in the Rite of Catholic Initiation for Adults. Having received the sacraments of Baptism, Confirmation, and the Eucharist, they are then encouraged to reflect on now being part of the sacramental life of the church. For Roman Catholics, there are then of course four more sacraments to enjoy; we Protestants make do with just the two.
If there is a “reintegration of mystagogy” to be achieved today—for both Roman Catholics and Protestants—it seems to me that, rather than by a renewed hagiography, it will come primarily by churches leading people through those mysteries that God himself has ordained: the capital “S” sacraments.
