I did not watch the State of the Union address. I don’t think I’m alone in that. Many people just find our whole political scene exhausting. Consequently, when people decide to see what the fuss is all about, they tend to read reactions to reactions, commentary on commentary. In today’s environment what is read tends to be curated for your particular tribe.

Because I do think I should know what was said at the SOTU, I usually do read the transcript. AP typically does a good job of just providing a straight up transcript. If you would like to read the transcript you can find it here. (You may find the “How to Read a Political Speech in Four Questions” addendum at the end of this article useful.)

But, if we don’t watch the show and we no longer read the actual speech, if we rely on other people’s opinions to form our own opinions, is that good? I think our country needs sober deliberation, not performative outrage and unexamined “hills to die on.”

Can we have useful and productive conversations with our fellow Americans if the conversation devolves around comparing other people’s opinions with other people’s opinions? Shouldn’t we truly develop and examine our own opinions?

So, this article is not about Donald Trump. It is about whether we have the civic habits necessary for self-government.

What is a State of the Union Address?

Let’s be clear. The SOTU is an exercise in rhetoric. Which is not to say “a big pack of lies.”

The classical Greek understanding of rhetoric referred to the art of persuasion through speech. Not manipulation, not spin. And here is the important part: It was to be the disciplined craft of speaking truth suited to an audience. Suited to an audience? What does that mean?

It means meeting people where they are, and having a story to tell that reaches that audience. The manner of delivery should vary depending on your audience. But the message should be the same across audiences. That’s a big ask for an address to the entire nation. Categories necessarily flatten, and theatrics increase. But it remains an exercise in rhetoric, and so what does that even mean?

Today when someone says, “That’s just a bunch of rhetoric,” they generally mean fundamentally not real. They mean spin, emotional manipulation, BS. I call it marketing.

But the original meaning of the term “rhetoric” is supposed to be what is used in the SOTU. I am going to analyze this speech in the context of four elements: the material (facts), the form (tone and structure), the efficient cause (the speaker), and the final cause (the end it seeks, why give the speech at all).

Most of the commentary I have seen stops at the first element, facts. They ask: “Was this claim true?” That matters. Truth matters. But it is incomplete. When we stop at the fact check we miss the chance to ask the deeper question: What vision of the nation is being presented?

The Real Problem: Faction

Aristotle had a word for the great destroyer of republics: stasis - faction hardened into identity.

Over the last sixty years, political success in America has increasingly relied on coalition slicing and turnout mobilization rather than persuasion. Victory often depends less on convincing the populace than on energizing one’s own side.

This is structurally factional. Is that a problem? Aristotle thought so. He said that a republic rarely falls first to foreign invasion. It weakens internally when citizens cease to see themselves as participants in a shared project. I think it is fair to say we have arrived at that point.

Where is Our Republic Today? Our institutions still function. Courts operate, elections happen, transfer of power is largely peaceful, January 6 notwithstanding. But trust is thin.

Has our Nation Lost its Way?

How many read that and thought, “Duh.” How many read that and bristled at the suggestion? How many decided this article was too long already and left? How many don’t care to consider the question?

Reasonable people could have sober discussion about whether or not, how and why and what to do or not do.

Consider the following. Some may argue that we are shifting toward managerial globalism. What does that mean? Expanding bureaucratic authority, prioritizing economic integration, and softening our national identity in favor of some sort of world order.

Others argue the greater danger is populist reaction, meaning “the people” versus “the establishment”. A distrust of institutions that seem to only serve insiders, a sense that politicians simply don’t represent them.

Now, these are frameworks or categories that the regular dude in the street doesn’t think within. It plays out as economic insecurity, cultural confusion, loss of shared norms, media manipulation… In broad categories, people feel a divide. Stability vs instability, respect vs contempt, belonging vs being on the outside.

Given all that, I think a fair question is whether we are forming citizens to be capable of rational dialogue. I’m kind of thinking we are not. And, commentary on the SOTU that simply stops with fact-checking and opinion mongering does not help.

So, What About the Speech?

What was the message of the speech? What was Trump’s speech writer trying to do with this speech? Maybe more than you think.

I think there was an end in mind. The speech emphasized order, sovereignty, strength, and protection of citizens. And let’s be honest. Those are legitimate political goods.

It emphasized parental authority, national identity, and economic stability for working households. Those themes resonate with many.

But tone matters.

The speech relied on moral binaries. By which I mean that the opposition (the left, Democrats, the woke) was framed as inherently corrupt. Them’s fightin’ words, and serves to reinforce faction rather than bring together under shared values.

A speech can be strong without being contemptuous. Trump’s success has in part been due to a large piece of the population identifying with his contempt, and so this speech was often contemptuous. For his side, his faction, he was trying to correct a perceived regime drift toward abstract globalization and managerialism.

But his intensity risks reinforcing the very factional dynamics that weaken our shared civic life. I think it tried to address one axis of disorder while aggravating another. But what story was Trump trying to tell?

He was telling a restoration story. Very on brand for the Make America Great Again theme. Specifically, The nation drifted into disorder and weakness. We have drawn the lines again. Strength is returning. A “golden age” is beginning.

His speech framed leadership as protection and reassertion rather than mediation and compromise. His moral framework: We were losing ourselves. We are taking ourselves back.

The Problem

The SOTU has suffered mission creep. Ok, mission tsunami. The original intent comes right out of the U.S. Constitution.

The State of the Union comes directly from Article II, Section 3 of the U.S. Constitution:

The President “shall from time to time give to the Congress Information of the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such Measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient.”

That’s it.

Just two purposes:

1. Inform Congress about the condition of the nation.

2. Recommend legislation.

That was the original intent. Now it is narrative aimed at the nation. It has gone from report to story. It is a marketing event.

If you judge a modern SOTU by original constitutional intent, it almost always falls short. It is no longer primarily informational. It is performative.

That doesn’t make it illegitimate. It means it now functions as:

• A regime-defining narrative moment.

• A symbolic assertion of executive vision.

• A rallying event.

The Framers envisioned something more administrative and restrained. The modern version is closer to civic theater.

So, in this case, all Trump accomplished was hardening factional lines.

If we go back to the four elements I mentioned earlier, the pattern is clear. On the material level (facts), the speech offered a series of claims meant to demonstrate progress and justify the “restoration” theme. But in our media environment those claims mostly become ammunition for dueling fact-checks. The form was not conciliatory; it was combative and theatrical, built around moral contrasts. The efficient cause was consolidation: energize the home team, keep the coalition emotionally aligned. And the final cause was the story itself: restoration, reassertion, “golden age.” Whatever you think of the policies, that narrative structure is what the speech was designed to do.

A Way Forward (For Those of Us Without a Microphone)

National speeches now function more as rallying events than invitations to deliberation. For the big government people what I say next will not make them happy.

The repair work will not happen in Washington.

It will happen in formation.

A republic survives only if its citizens are capable of rational dialogue. That does not happen by accident. It happens through education. But I am not primarily speaking of formal schooling. It is formation in the habits of mind that make deliberation possible.

Things that are best taught in the home:

Are we teaching our children how to argue without hating?
How to distinguish between disagreement and evil?
How to read primary texts instead of curated reactions?
How to detect rhetoric without dismissing it as manipulation?

Education is never neutral. It forms loves, loyalties, and reflexes.

If young citizens are formed primarily as activists, or consumers, or brand-loyal partisans, then faction will deepen. But, if they are formed in rhetoric, history, literature, and constitutional literacy, what would be the result? They will learn how to inhabit tension without panic.

Great literature does something political speeches rarely can. It teaches tragedy without despair. It teaches complexity without cynicism. It teaches that human beings are flawed and yet redeemable. It trains the imagination to see opponents as persons rather than abstractions.

Stories form the moral imagination long before policy debates begin.

If we want sober deliberation, we must cultivate citizens capable of it.

That means:

• Read the transcript.

• Teach your children to read it.

• Read books that enlarge rather than shrink the soul.

• Practice disagreement without contempt at your own dinner table.

• Refuse to outsource your thinking to your tribe.

No president can save a republic whose citizens cannot deliberate. But citizens can renew the habits that make self-government possible.

How to Read a Political Speech in Four Questions

Most political speeches are not policy manuals. They are narratives designed to shape imagination and loyalty. If you want to step outside the reaction cycle, ask these four questions:

1. What Problem Is Being Named?

Before judging tone, ask:

• What disorder is the speaker identifying?

• Is the problem real, exaggerated, or selectively framed?

• Who is portrayed as harmed?

Every speech begins with a diagnosis.
If the diagnosis is distorted, the rest will be too.

2. What Story Is Being Told?

Political speeches are stories in disguise.

Look for:

• Heroes

• Villains

• Victims

• Turning points

• Promised restoration

Is this a story of siege?
A story of renewal?
A story of decline?
A story of triumph?

Facts matter. But story shapes identity.

3. What Vision of the Human Person Is Implied?

Listen beneath the slogans.

Are citizens portrayed primarily as:

• Consumers?

• Victims?

• Warriors?

• Autonomous individuals?

• Members of families?

• Participants in a shared moral order?

Every policy rests on an anthropology.

If we misunderstand the human person, we misunderstand politics.

4. What Is the Final Goal?

What is the end being promised?

• Safety?

• Prosperity?

• Equality?

• Sovereignty?

• Justice?

• A “golden age”?

And ask:

Does the speech move toward reconciliation and stability —
or toward permanent mobilization?

Strength can restore order.
But order must eventually serve peace.

Final Reminder

Before reacting, slow down.

Read the transcript.
Separate facts from narrative.
Distinguish diagnosis from rhetoric.
Look for the underlying anthropology.

A republic survives when its citizens deliberate — not when they merely react.

Are you familiar with “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”?

If you have not read the book by RLS (Robert Louis Stevenson, not Restless Leg Syndrome) then I dare say you are not.

You may have seen the various adaptations; nay, scratch that, the various corruptions. That they are corruptions I can convince with one example. If you have seen any representation in cinema of Mr. Hyde being a large hulking brute, then know that this is very nearly the opposite of the true Mr. Hyde.

The monstrous nature of Mr. Hyde is slowly developed. Witness his introduction:

“All at once I saw two figures; one a little man who was stumping along eastward at a good walk, and the other a girl of maybe eight or ten who was running as hard as she was able down a cross street. Well, sir, the two ran into one another naturally enough at the corner; and then came the horrible part of the thing; for the man trampled calmly over the child’s body and left her screaming on the ground. It sounds like nothing to hear, but it was hellish to see. It wasn’t like a man; it was like some damned Juggernaut.” (Easton Press ed., 1980, p. 8)

And this:

“But there was one curious circumstance. I had taken a loathing to my gentleman at first sight. So had the child’s family, which was only natural. But the doctor’s case was what struck me. He was the usual cut-and-dry apothecary, of no particular age and color, with a strong Edinburgh accent, and about as emotional as a bagpipe. Well, sir, he was like the rest of us; every time he looked at my prisoner, I saw that Sawbones turn sick and white with the desire to kill him. I knew what was in his mind, just as he knew what was in mine…” (ibid., p. 9)

The indication here is of some sense of danger unnamed, unable to be described or exactly defined, but nevertheless felt strongly in the bones. As the reader, we immediately sense that something is very wrong with Mr. Hyde. We feel it along with the characters. We connect. We do not yet grasp the truly monstrous nature of his existence. But we experience a level of dread. Contrast this with the movie representations. He is often large, hairy, hunched, fanged, or otherwise animalistic.

The difference? The original story explores a moral failing, a study of what lurks inside an otherwise respectable man. The movies turn the story into a science experiment gone wrong. In other words, very different stories with entirely different themes.

What has all this got to do with Snow White?

In the original folk tale of Snow White, variously known as Snow Drop or Sneewittchen, we have a very different tale from what most of us remember.

I will leave aside the original Disney animation, though it departs in key ways. One example: in the fairy tale, Snow White is not awakened by true love’s kiss; no, the piece of poisoned apple is dislodged from her throat during transport, and she awakens. One more example: In the fairy tale, the evil queen is made to dance in red-hot iron shoes until she dies.

The original Disney effort does act as something of a bridge to the latest corruption though. The story was flattened to a degree in the original Disney movie, and then some pieces were simply done away with in the latest effort. It will help to review the original fairy tale.

The original is about real life. As are all fairy tales. “Oh, do tell,” I can hear some saying. Well, OK.

1. The tale tells us of a person in power who is both envious and devious. She disguises herself three times in attempts to kill Snow White, speaking to her obsessive envy. The first time she orders a huntsman to kill her. That this envy is disordered is further heightened by the queen’s desire that the huntsman bring back the slain girl’s lungs and liver. Why? So that the queen can eat them. The huntsman lets Snow White go, and kills a stag or boar (depending on the version), bringing back the lungs and the liver which the queen eats. The queen is more than just an envious person; she commits what she believes is actual cannibalism. She is a monster. And envy is shown to corrupt absolutely, and to hide itself in its pursuits. You’ll be forgiven for seeing any modern day political touchpoints…

2. After Snow White eats the apple and the dwarves find her, they mourn for three days, then place her in a glass coffin where she remains for several months. Yes, months. And she remains as pure and uncorrupted as the day she was placed in the coffin. This is symbolic of her purity and goodness.

3. The glass coffin is also symbolic of a chrysalis. This is a type of rite of passage. Snow White will transition from naive girlhood to womanhood.

4. The prince finds her in the woods, and appeals to the dwarves to take the coffin where it can be safeguarded and so that he can admire her beauty. While the coffin is being transported, it is jostled or dropped and the piece of apple dislodges and she wakes up. Salvation does not come via a prince or kiss. The jostling of life, mundane events, the healing effects of time, and a chance encounter: these are what save her. This just is real life.

5. The evil queen’s fate is not ambiguous. She is made to wear red-hot iron shoes and dance herself to death at Snow White’s wedding. Evil, when found, must be publicly ended that the moral order may be restored.

6. All fairy tales end happily, usually with a dance or a wedding, or, as in this case, both. If they do not end happily, they are not properly called fairy tales, they are instead cautionary tales.1

Much of the above arc was altered in the 1937 movie, and some might say for obvious reasons. But it is clear that the moral, if you want to call it that, was altered to something much simpler and, let’s face it, easier to sell. Especially in 1937. “Don’t worry girls, your prince will come and you will live happily ever after.”

So, oddly, Rachel Zegler had something of a point when she called out the whole prince saving Snow White thing.

Anyway, the latest Disney effort, were it not named Snow White, would be difficult to tie to the original folk tale. There is no glass coffin, heck, there aren’t even dwarves. But that’s not why it fails. The reason is deeper.

I hope that you will be able to see and feel the reason this movie has failed, why it has not resonated with anyone despite the obvious singing talents of Rachel Zegler. The fault lies not with her, but with the whole movie.

The original Snow White is an alchemical or archetypal transformation story. Snow White is an innocent soul. The Queen is an externalized shadow self.2 Dwarves represent subconscious or chthonic (pronounced thawnic, meaning delvers in the earth) knowledge. The apple, you see it right? Temptation. The Fall. The Glass Coffin represents suspension between life and death, stasis. And don’t forget chrysalis, caterpillar to butterfly.

The original tells truths we can all see and identify even today in our modern age. These are all aspects of life. Real life. All of this is missing or twisted in this latest version of Snow White. Hell, even fairest means most equitable, not most beautiful. There aren’t even any dwarves. There is a resonance in the original tale which old and young alike can sense even if they cannot name. And this is why the latest movie has failed.

It does not acknowledge the permanent things. It does not touch the eternal.

Saving movies from themselves is serendipitous work. This article is an example of alchemy in action. While smoking a cigar and drinking some spirits and listening to the Literary Life Podcast on The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, I suddenly had an epiphany regarding Snow White and found it necessary to put fingers to keyboard and hammer out this article. Sub-creation is an interesting thing. If you found this article interesting and entertaining, you could always contribute to my future alchemical productions by smashing that button below.

Public Square (GLOB)—I propose to present Theophany across some diffuse genres. Theophany? Theophany.

The narrow technical definition of theophany is God appearing to man in a perceptible way, from theos (God) + phainein (to reveal/show). The Biblical example most might be familiar with is The Burning Bush from which I pulled the title of this article. Yes, I plagiarized God.

But I guess since I quoted my source, I am forgiven.

The burning bush was the Old Testament reading (Ex 3:1-8, 13-15) from the Third Sunday of Lent. I was thinking about theophany and whether or not we have any experience of that today. Clearly we don’t have a burning bush. But does Grace break through into our daily lives? I think one can find it almost everywhere if one is looking and open.

Everywhere?

I offer bits of art that moved me in specific ways, and the way they are connected. My premise is that while not specifically examples of God manifesting himself, they are examples of grace breaking through in some tangible way which we can feel, and which is open to intellectual affirmation of the source of the feelings.

ANIME

Isn’t Anime just a time-suck for adults with questionable tropes and things like “fan service” and essentially an immature indulgence? Well, yeah, that argument is easy to make. But I would like you to consider:

Your Lie In April.

Yes, this has all the staples of the genre, exaggerated emotional reactions, changes in drawing style to emphasize different scenes, etc. But, this explores a relationship between a gifted female violin player and a tortured piano prodigy who has lost the ability to play. I do not want to give away plot points in case you decide to watch this, but it is a complex psychological drama of an abused youth and what true love and healing can look like. And when I say true love, I mean true, all encompassing, deep, sacrificial love. This anime is a poetic meditation on grief, trauma, artistry, and the fragile beauty of connection. It’s ultimately beautiful.

It made me cry.

Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End

I have not yet finished this offering. But, it is a fascinating look at what happens after the adventure is over and the battle won. It literally starts at the end of some epic 10 year war against the Demon King. Frieren is an elf who while she can be killed is otherwise is immortal. The four heroes arrive in the capital city in time for a meteor shower that happens once every 50 years. She leaves her band of brothers, so to speak, a hero, a priest, and a dwarf, promising to return for the next meteor shower. On her return, they have all aged, and during her visit, Himmel the Hero dies a peaceful happy death of old age, a life well-lived.

This shocks her and she is suddenly confronted with the fact that she barely knows these people with whom she has shared such a pivotal adventure. From here, the story follows what might seem like an obvious arc, essentially telling the tale from her memories and her ongoing interactions with new companions. But, really, it is an exploration of friendships lost and honored, of growth and change, and a desire for connection. Importantly, she is a mage who helped defeat the Demon King, but she is a mage made for a time of peace.

The story moves from quiet reflection to pitched battle, from silliness to gravity, from the sublime to the ridiculous and back again.

Through it all, the anime asks, “What happens after the major battle and the war is won?” It is a good question and one that any Christian may also ask of themselves in this day and time. What does a good Christian do after The Resurrection? One answer to this question can be found in this quiet reflection on living a complete life. You may well ask, “What can some pagan cartoon possibly tell me about how I should live my life?”

Indeed.

The Extraordinary Attorney Woo

This is a live action Korean drama about an attorney who is a high functioning autistic. But instead of tired tropes of courtroom dominance, this offering is suffused with genuine wonder.

She has graduated from a prestigious university with the highest marks. But no law firm will hire her, until a past school mate of her father brings her on to her firm. There is quite the backstory going on and she is something of a pawn in other people’s chess games. But.

Like any show that genuinely connects with an audience, this show is about relationships. Father, daughter, friends at work, friends outside of work, bosses and subordinates, jealousy and growth. It is a story of perseverance, duty, and honor. But most of all Wonder.

She’s a walking paradox; intellectually brilliant, socially awkward, emotionally earnest, and profoundly human. The show doesn’t use her autism as a plot gimmick or tragic flaw. Instead, it invites us to see the world through her eyes, where every whale, every case, and every awkward interaction is filled with underlying meaning.

It’s refreshingly non-cynical, which is rare. Yet, it’s not naive. It faces real issues such as disability stigma, workplace politics, family wounds, and class divides, with a clear eye and a warm heart. I am trying and failing to think of a Western show that manages this without substituting snarky insults and the forced cheap laugh or dramatic eruption. Much of today’s western TV is unsatisfying, to me at least, due to lack of depth of writing for fear that the stupid audience will miss the point.

Something approaching magical happens in the company’s cafeteria. Please watch the clip.

Watch her friend, on the left. Watch her face. She is truly moved by this revelation of what Attorney Woo thinks of her.

This show, if you will let it, gives life to quiet feelings that you may have had, but have had trouble expressing. It’s about connection, its about the possibility of communion.

The Alchemy of Souls

On the surface, it looks like a fantasy epic with flashy martial arts, political intrigue, and enough magic to choke a dragon. All the things that make The Puppycat (my wife) sigh and leave the room.

But beneath all the spellcasting and body-swapping, it’s about something far deeper: identity, memory, and what makes love endure when the person you love is no longer quite the same.

It asks questions like:

• If your soul is trapped in another body, are you still “you”?

• Can love survive when even memory gets rewritten?

• And what does it mean to choose someone, and remain constant in that choice no matter what. Quite literally, no matter what.

There’s real heartbreak in this show. Not just from the usual tragic backstories, but from the existential dislocation the characters face. It’s romantic, yes, but it’s also metaphysical. It dares to ask what parts of the self are essential, and what can be let go. The love story is woven with sacrifice, restraint, and a constant battle between desire and duty.

But what got me was the constancy.