Charlotte Allen is author of The Human Christ: The Search for the Historical Jesus (Free Press) and a contributing editor to the Manhattan Institute’s Minding the Campus website.
Scott didn't simply want to retell the story of the cocky archer of Sherwood Forest who captured the imagination of Elizabethan balladeer, Victorian children's writers, or previous swashbuckling movies. He had a message...from Hollywood.
continue readingMarie Antoinette liked to dress up as a shepherdess and hold court in her "rustic" cottage at the Petit Trianon. So humble.
continue readingStaff Sgt. William James in "The Hurt Locker" has physical courage in abundance. But is it possible that he is a coward?
continue readingAnthony was in his late-thirties, had some degree of brain damage from a childhood injury, worked custodial jobs most of his life. He signed up for job training. Why?
continue readingMarie Antoinette liked to dress up as a shepherdess and hold court in her “rustic” cottage at the Petit Trianon. So humble.
continue readingMarie Antoinette liked to dress up as a shepherdess and hold court in her “rustic” cottage at the Petit Trianon. So humble.
continue readingThe Greek goddess of wisdom was Athena, famous in mythology for having sprung full-grown from the head of her father, Zeus, instead of making her earthly debut in the usual way, and for remaining a virgin. There were only three virgin goddesses in the entire Greek pantheon, and Athena (sometimes called Pallas Athena) was one of the three.
continue readingThe Greek goddess of wisdom was Athena, famous in mythology for having sprung full-grown from the head of her father, Zeus, instead of making her earthly debut in the usual way, and for remaining a virgin. There were only three virgin goddesses in the entire Greek pantheon, and Athena (sometimes called Pallas Athena) was one of the three.
continue readingWhat is courage? Who has it? Have we debased its meaning since Plato sought to define it?
continue readingOne of my most vivid memories of growing up Catholic before the Second Vatican Council is my second confession. Not my first confession. That was a pro forma ritual that took place just before my first communion, just as it does nowadays. My more memorable second confession, on a searing Saturday afternoon in Southern California’s tormenting July, was different. School was out for the summer, there were no coaching nuns to be seen, and the kindly old priest who had heard my first confession seemed to have vanished on vacation. Worst of all, I now had serious sins on my conscience, “mortal” sins that I was certain had eradicated every modicum of God’s saving grace from my soul. I had missed Sunday Mass at least twice, probably more. Catholics regard willfully missing Mass as grave because it is an insult to God.
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