New York Times, March 2026
A friend and I were sitting at a too wide table this week, talking in hushed tones about something heavy and hard she had been going through. (Hospitals, lots of hospitals.) She told me that in the bleaker moments, she’d been surprised she was reading more religious texts. She lowered her voice to a whisper, raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes. “You just need something more when it’s really bad,” she said. “Something more meaningful.” It was as though she were disclosing some big secret. But she’s hardly alone. Every week, my inbox is filled with folks sharing the faiths, fandoms, classes, chatbots and YouTube channels they’re turning to for help.
It’s a common path, almost a cliché. When people are struggling with something, they often go looking for answers to big, hard questions. But what about when a whole society is facing a crisis — war, economic collapse, political upheaval, revolution? What voices and sources help us navigate our collective struggle? That’s where public theology comes in.
