July 30, 2026

RAISE YOUR HOPEFUL VOICE:

He Sang About Loneliness. He Built Belonging (Samuel J. Abrams, July 30, 2026, AEIdeas)

Durkheim had a word for the feeling that runs through Once and much of Hansard’s music: anomie. It is what happens when people lose the relationships and rituals that tell them where they belong. In the film, the two protagonists have remarkable talent, but they lack people who can hear it and recognize it. They meet and truly see each other—albeit for a fleeting moment in time. The standout song, “Falling Slowly,” is remembered as a love song, but it is really about trust. Two strangers make something beautiful because each is willing to be vulnerable in front of the other.

That kind of encounter feels rarer today as we are increasingly isolated and disconnected from each other. AEI’s Survey Center on American Life found that the share of Americans with no close friends quadrupled between 1990 and 2021. Those numbers describe far more than isolation; they reveal that so many lives are lived in places where people do not feel known.

Hansard’s answer to loneliness was never a theory. In 2010, just before Christmas, volunteers collecting for Dublin’s Simon Community asked him to sing. He said no, went home, felt bad about it, grabbed his guitar, and came back. The volunteers had already left, but he played anyway. Other musicians joined him. He returned the next Christmas, then the next. 15 years later, thousands gather outside the Gaiety Theatre on Christmas Eve because one person came back.

That may be the most important thing Hansard ever created. Not an album or an Oscar-winning song, but a place people knew they could return to.

THE ONLY EXISTENTIAL THREAT IS INTERNAL:

Loving the stranger: this week’s parashah, Ekev (Rabbanit Joanne Greenaway, 7/30/26, The Jewish Chronicle)

Among all these commandments, one has a particular force: “You too must love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.”

Rashi draws our attention to the reason the Torah gives. We know what it feels like to be strangers because that was once our own experience. Having known vulnerability ourselves, we should never look down on others. Our history is not simply something to remember; it is meant to shape our character. The memory of being strangers should make us more compassionate today.

The Jewish story begins with slavery and displacement. Sadly, it did not end there. In more recent history, British Jewish life was profoundly shaped by refugees escaping Nazi persecution. Nearly 300,000 Jews found refuge in Britain. They arrived carrying immense loss, but also determination and hope. Their contribution has become an integral part of our community.

That legacy can still be seen in the work of World Jewish Relief. Many people know the organisation for its efforts to rescue Jews before and after the Holocaust. Today, it is Britain’s leading Jewish charity supporting refugees of all backgrounds to rebuild their lives through employment, training and practical support. Its reputation rests on both its expertise and the dignity with which it treats every person.

Perhaps that is what makes its work so deeply rooted in Jewish values.

AMERICA RUNS ON DUNKIN:

The Baptist First Amendment (Matthew Young, Ad Fontes)

In the wake of such decisions, many conservatives and Christians—particularly among Reformed protestants—have questioned the view of the establishment clause, preferring some form of Christian nationalist or establishmentarian regime instead. Yet these reactions surrender the First Amendment too quickly. For what has been lost in the modernist interpretation of the First Amendment is the religious origins of the establishment clause. Contra Justice Black, the religion clauses of the First Amendment did not spring from Enlightenment rationalism or the ideal of a secular public sphere freed from religious influence. Instead, they represented the triumph of a particular and distinctly Protestant (and, to be specific, Baptist) account of the liberty of conscience that rejected religious coercion while still envisioning an expansive role for religion, in which Christianity could shape public life and policy.

Few things written on the First Amendment have been as deeply obfuscating as Hugo Black’s decision to rely on Thomas Jefferson’s beliefs to define the meaning of the First Amendment. While Jefferson may have played a limited role in the fight for religious freedom, there is little reason to give his interpretation primacy. Despite dominating Black’s reading of the law, Jefferson was in France while the Amendment was debated, with his role in promoting the Amendment largely confined to occasional correspondence with James Madison. Moreover, as a rationalist and republican, Jefferson’s hostility toward religious influence in politics was uncharacteristic of the other framers—including most of those who supported the First Amendment. The Amendment was established thanks to an uneasy alliance between Enlightenment deists and the deeply religious—what Sidney Mead famously called the “rationalist-pietist alliance.” The pious—like the Baptist pastors Isaac Backus and John Leland— who supported the Amendment saw it as narrowly forbidding religious coercion, rather than barring religious influence in the public sphere. Jefferson’s view was marginal: despite his apparent attempts to court the Baptists who had allied to secure the Amendment (including his famous letter to the Danbury Baptists on the “wall of separation”), contemporary evidence shows that few, if any, supported Jefferson’s view.


In choosing to elevate Jefferson over, say, Backus, Justice Black sided with those Enlightenment deists and 20th-century liberals for whom the separation of church and state came to represent a sort of contempt for the very religious faith— and religious influence in politics—that birthed it.