Illegal alien and suspected MS-13 gang member Kilmar Abrego Garcia was a member of a far-left organization that raked in cash from the Biden administration as it advocated for illegal aliens. Abrego Garcia, infamously and erroneously dubbed a “Maryland man” by Democrat politicians after he was deported to his home country of El Salvador, was a member of a leftwing organization called CASA, which lobbies on behalf of illegal aliens and is now advocating for the Salvadoran national to be shielded from deportation. The group called to abolish ICE and runs campaigns to prevent local law enforcement agents from collaborating with federal immigration enforcement, all while the Biden administration pledged more than $5 million to the organization. It also openly identified Abrego Garcia, a suspected MS-13 human smuggler, as a member of the organization. “CASA is outraged that ICE deported CASA member Kilmar Armando Abrego Garcia in violation of a court order and at grave personal danger,” the organization wrote in a statement. Now, CASA falsely claims that “the Trump administration disappeared Kilmar Abrego Garcia.” The leftwing organization identified the suspected MS-13 gang member and human smuggler as one of its members in an April statement condemning his deportation, and has remained involved in the case, with CASA representatives appearing to flank his wife at a recent press conference in Nashville, Tennessee. CASA, to which the Biden administration awarded millions of taxpayer dollars, has offices across the mid-Atlantic region, including in Maryland, where Abrego Garcia resided prior to his deportation. Included in the more than $5 million awarded to CASA by the federal government since 2022 was a $250,000 grant from the Department of Homeland Security to fund “innovations in citizenship preparation.” The group has multiple membership tiers, including one that allows members to access a range of services, including legal deportation defense, vocational training, and citizenship application assistance. Each of the three membership tiers requires members to pay a monthly or annual fee. It is not apparent what membership tier Abrego Garcia belonged to, nor whether he sought out services from the leftwing organization. CASA did not respond to a Daily Wire inquiry concerning Abrego Garcia’s membership. In addition to offering support services to illegal aliens, CASA also pushes an extreme ideological agenda. The far-left organization calls for ICE to be abolished, calling it a “rogue agency” that has “caused immense harm to our communities.” The organization notes that it is currently working to pass legislation in Maryland that would prevent local law enforcement agencies from working with ICE to identify and apprehend illegal aliens. The group is also advocating for legislation that would prevent ICE from obtaining identifying information from Maryland’s state and local agencies, shielding illegal aliens from being identified by federal immigration enforcement agents. The group’s sister organization, called CASA in Action, advocates for specific policies and endorses candidates who encourage “greater engagement of Latinos and voters of color in elections.” “By mobilizing Black, Latine, Afro-descendent, Indigenous, and Immigrant voters, CASA in Action … play[s] a powerful role in electing progressive change leaders,” the group goes on to say. Abrego Garcia was returned to the United States to stand trial for human smuggling charges, but is expected to be deported yet again before his trial concludes, this time to a willing “third country” instead of his home country of El Salvador.

The song that plays over the end credits of Superman is “Punkrocker” by the Swedish group Teddybears (featuring Iggy Pop). It’s a musical bookend to a running joke between Superman/Clark Kent (David Corenswet) and his girlfriend Lois Lane (Rachel Brosnahan). Lois claims she’s more credibly “punk rock” because of her journalistic cynicism. “I question everything and everyone,” she declares to Clark, while he trusts “everyone [he’s] ever met.” His response: “Maybe that’s the real punk rock.” This corny but sincere quip encapsulates both the spirit of the movie and the post-cynical zeitgeist of our moment. Call it metamodern oscillation or a vibe shift. Whatever the label, the gist is clear: Pessimistic, cynical deconstruction is out; optimistic, earnest joy is in. The trauma plot has given way to the triumph narrative: from defeatist to aspirational, can’t do to can do. The pendulum might still swing back and forth in this metamodern transition, but the momentum is decidedly in the direction of hope. The trauma plot has given way to the triumph narrative: from defeatist to aspirational, can’t do to can do. More than just a reboot of the iconic Superman franchise, James Gunn’s take on the Man of Steel is a reset of the superhero genre as a whole. After decades of comic-book universes with ever more diminishing returns (both artistically and commercially), superhero fatigue is real. Audiences are ready for a factory reset. This movie gives it to them. Silly Sincerity and a Rebuke of Stifling Seriousness One thing that feels jarring—and refreshing—about Superman is how much it recognizes the inherent “Zap! Pow!” silliness of comic-book action and the fantastical weirdness of superhero world-building. Comic-book narratives don’t require inherent logic or verisimilitude; they’re free to do whatever they want within a loose set of “rules” or boundaries. That’s why they’re fun. And in 2025, we’re hungry for post-woke, unproblematized fun. However exceptional it was as cinema, Christopher Nolan’s Dark Knight take on Batman circa 2005 to 2012 doesn’t resonate with the 2025 mood. Zack Snyder’s Man of Steel and other Snyder-helmed Justice League films also look too bleak and gritty in retrospect. Comic books are supposed to be diverting, right? Heroes are supposed to be heroic, yes? To quote Heath Ledger’s Joker: “Why so serious?” Gunn’s Superman feels like a reembrace of the comic-book form and a rebuke of how the movie genre lost the plot, joy, and humanity of superheroes along the way. From its bright-colored palette (exactly the opposite of the brooding noir darkness of Matt Reeves’s 2022 The Batman) to the gleefully retro Superman suit (bright red undies and all) to the His Girl Friday vibes of Lois’s romantic banter with Clark, Superman is assuredly happy and eager to invite audiences into unapologetically silly fun. Gunn’s Superman feels like a reembrace of the comic-book form and a rebuke of how the movie genre lost the plot, joy, and humanity of superheroes along the way. After years of superhero movies that situated comic narratives within painstakingly realistic, disenchanted milieus (see Nolan’s Batman films especially), or within “universes” that became messier and less plausible as the sequels, prequels, and spinoffs mounted, Superman embraces a freewheeling, playful, be-a-kid-again aesthetic. It’s a film that doesn’t take itself more seriously than it should. It’s liberating. Gunn’s wild plot feels like a jab at the incoherent multiverse plots and sci-fi hokum that over time made the MCU films so boring. Superman’s story incorporates “pocket universes,” “monkeybots,” “dimensional portals,” “dimensional rifts,” “nanobots” and so forth, but in a way that highlights their absurdity. Rather than condescending to audiences by attempting to make these things make sense, Gunn instead embraces their weirdness and the chaotic color and texture they bring to the overall cinematic canvas. Meanwhile, the film’s purposefully corny dialogue also serves as a reproof to the exposition-heavy, too-serious scripts of recent comic-book movies. When Lois says “You’re kidding!” in response to some sci-fi nonsense spouted by Mister Terrific (Edi Gathegi), it’s both a knowing wink to the audience (“It’s OK you don’t get it; we don’t either!”) and a sweetly nostalgic nod to the exclamatory phrases common in comic-book speech bubbles. Similarly, Superman’s vocabulary is rife with 1940s-era lingo that reinforces the film’s retro aesthetic: “What the hey, dude?” “Good gosh!” “No can do!” Though Gen Alpha audiences might be baffled by some of the archaic words Superman uses (e.g., “goons,” “guff,” “golly”), the overall impression is endearing. This is an old-school film unashamed to embrace wholesome entertainment where virtue is attractive, aw-shucks romance is unironically embraced, and there’s nothing toxic or embarrassing about a chivalrous, masculine, constantly-saving-women-and-children-from-peril good guy. Normie Is the New Radical Corenswet’s take on the character is the best since Christopher Reeve. A family man himself, Corenswet captures the charming normalcy of the character in a way that makes us care. Sure, he’s got superhuman strength, speed, and eye lasers. But he also bleeds and feels. He’s a Midwestern farmer boy with a beloved dog at his side (the scene-stealing superdog, Krypto) and a girl he loves. Corenswet doesn’t overcomplicate the character. He cries when he’s sad and smiles broadly when he feels love or joy. He may be a “metahuman,” but he’s still human. Turns out a character can be compelling and interesting without being transgressive. Transgression is overdone and stale. Normie is the new radical. Though the film doesn’t play up Superman as a Christ figure as much as previous franchise entries did (especially 2006’s Superman Returns), the parallels are still there. If all myths are filtered echoes of the “true myth” of Jesus Christ, as J. R. R. Tolkien argued, the messianic mythology of Superman is especially resonant. Choices and Actions Define Us One of the clearest ways Superman reflects a cultural shift is how it rejects the “origin story” obsessions of recent superhero movies. That there are good guys and bad guys is simply assumed in Superman; Gunn isn’t interested in the sort of “bad childhood” psychologizing of villains that has been ubiquitous in recent movies (e.g., Joker, Cruella, or Wicked), nor in tediously dark origin stories that make heroes murkier than they need to be (e.g., X-Men Origins: Wolverine). He’s not interested in how heroes or villains are made as much as in what they do with their power now. As Pa (Pruitt Taylor Vince) tells Clark in a moving scene prominently featured in the trailer: “Your choices, your actions—that’s what makes you who you are.” Despite Freud-shaped secularism’s insistence that we’re bound by “born this way” identities or irrevocably tethered to past pain, our personal history doesn’t determine our future. Secular narratives like Superman chalk this up to human resilience (a real, common-grace gift). But Christians know there’s a deeper truth powering our hope: the gospel. New life is possible. New birth. Beyond what you were, you can be someone new. Superman embraces that sense of possibility, even if it doesn’t have the theological justification for it. It gets us out of these characters’ heads and into their actions: Whatever happened to you before, how now shall you live? What will you do with the time that’s given to you? Superman gets us out of these characters’ heads and into their actions. For archnemesis Lex Luthor (Nicholas Hoult), the envy-driven actions are devious and deadly. For Superman and his “Justice Gang” buddies, the actions are workmanlike acts of valor to save innocent lives—which often means fighting giant lizard monsters and helping people get out from under falling skyscrapers. Lo and behold, it’s more inspiring—even more interesting—to watch heroic actions like this than to probe heroic psychology ad nauseam. We don’t go to the movies to be therapists or cynical journalists. We go to be inspired by ideals of valor and goodness. Look Up When Superman surges skyward from the rubble, bloodied fist raised high, we’re inspired simply by the sight of this nonverbal resolve. When we see him shield a child from an explosion or hold a baby out of harm’s way, we don’t need to know how he got here. We’re just moved by what he’s doing. These iconic, heroic tableaux are what we’ve been missing in a pop cultural landscape mired by therapeutic navel-gazing and character-flattening identity politics. The film’s aspirational tagline—“Look up”—speaks to the shift. It’s not “Look within” or “Look at how broken this hero is!” It’s “Look up.” See how valiant he is. Be inspired to be like that too. Even when Superman gets misunderstood and the public turns against him via a Luthor-orchestrated smear campaign, he (and the movie) spends little time dwelling on it. There are problems to solve and people to save. The closest Superman gets to being defensive is when he asserts to Lois, “I’m not here to rule over anyone.” His purpose is instead rather simple. He wants “to be a good man.” Goodness, decency, kindness, normalcy. Serving others more than obsessing about the self. Stewarding power to serve rather than be served. This is what Superman embodies. In a cynical and narcissistic age, this is why he’s punk rock.

Eighty percent of Americans believe religion is losing its influence in public life. In the past, John Wilsey might have found a silver lining in that news. When he was writing on American civil religion in his 2015 book, American Exceptionalism and Civil Religion, Wilsey worried that Christian conservatives were idolizing their nation. Given the amount of ink spilled promoting and opposing Christian nationalism over the last decade, one might expect those fears to have grown. But now, in Religious Freedom: A Conservative Primer, Wilsey, professor of church history at The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, argues that “there has been a massive overcorrection among Americans on both the left and the right.” Chest-thumping nationalistic fervor has been displaced by self-repudiation, disillusionment, or a “thoughtless and thankless apathy” (111). Religious Freedom spans centuries and continents, faithfully bound together by a strand of golden thread, which is “the tradition of the harmony between the spirit of liberty and the spirit of religion,” or, as Wilsey often calls them, “America’s two spirits” (22). As Alexis de Tocqueville observes, these spirits elsewhere “have often been at war with one another.” In America, however, they obtained a rare and “marvelous combination.” Religious Liberty Given its title, Religious Freedom might sound like a niche book on the First Amendment or a formal consideration of the separation of church and state. Instead, it’s about religious freedom in a far more capacious sense: the freedom that religion makes possible. Wilsey offers an extended paean to the insights of Tocqueville, the greatest chronicler of American exceptionalism. In Democracy in America, Tocqueville writes that “liberty cannot be established without morality, nor morality without faith.” In this sense, then, all freedom is religious freedom, because without religion it can’t be sustained. All freedom is religious freedom, because without religion it can’t be sustained. The case for Christian nationalism or even a more modest state-established religion might look good on paper. But its fruits are bitter and small. Far from being some voguish “post-war consensus,” the need to keep the church and state separate was already evident to Tocqueville in the 19th century. Sociological research bears this out. “Competition creates energetic churches,” Rodney Stark argues. “But,” he says, “the lazy colonial monopolies did not survive in the United States, being replaced by a religious free market.” If the Church of England is anything to go by, a nationally established faith is no bulwark against capitulation to the culturally normed sexual ethic. By contrast, the United States outperforms the United Kingdom, Hungary, and other countries preferred by the Christian nationalists and postliberal pundits, exceeding them in “weekly church attendance, views on the importance of God, and belief in life after death” (190). The Way History Grows Wilsey’s vocation as historian is made manifest throughout Religious Freedom. Telling stories about Tocqueville’s family weeping over a long-dead king, spinning parables out of a Habsburg king in Dante’s The Divine Comedy, Wilsey brings the past to life with vivid effect. History clearly is “more than an irrelevant litany of dates, names, and obscure places on a map” (122). Perspective, not nostalgia, is the purpose of historical inquiry. Drawing on Peter Viereck’s work, Wilsey argues that “conservatism is the art of listening to the way history grows,” rather than returning to some lost utopian past. Burkeans, or “aspirational conservatives,” as Wilsey sometimes calls them, “see change as inevitable, and that it must be managed by honest deliberation based on constitutional procedure, tradition, and prudence” (48). In contrast, reactionaries who refuse to reckon with legitimate historical shifts often end up aping the revolutionary left’s disruptive tactics. Wilsey, following Viereck, calls them “Ottantotts” (88ers), referring to the counterrevolutionary right in 19th-century France who thought all the world’s problems could be solved by winding the clock back before the French Revolution of 1789. According to Wilsey, “American conservatism since 1990 has demonstrated a turn toward Ottantottism, especially in its rising populist appeal” (49). It’s this doomed attempt to turn back time that leads James Davison Hunter to conclude that Americans lack the cultural resources for democratic solidarity. Wilsey’s complementary effort looks to steer conservatives toward the future-facing dynamism of the Tocquevillean synthesis and away from Ottantottism in all its exhausted forms. National Idea Wilsey makes a compelling case that faithful Americans can uphold our nation’s historical ties to a Christian culture without devolving into Ottantottist Christian nationalism. In fact, he demonstrates how America’s various national identities across time have always traded on at least a measure of Christian doctrine, some more coherently than others. Wilsey demonstrates how America’s various national identities across time have always traded on at least some Christian doctrine. While acknowledging that Christian nationalism’s critics usually have “the Christian America thesis” in mind (popularized by Tim LaHaye, Jerry Falwell, and David Barton), Wilsey argues that Stephen Wolfe offers a far clearer and more concerning account of Christian nationalism. In The Case for Christian Nationalism, Wolfe calls for a “theocratic Caesarism” under a “Christian prince” who “directly command[s] action as civil law.” Wilsey rightly concludes that this “departs from the American tradition of republicanism in crucial ways pertinent to religion and ordered liberty” (105). Wilsey elaborates, “The logic that Wolfe uses can only lead in the same direction as Hegel’s did for Marx and Heidegger—the totalizing of the state and the degradation of the Christian faith that Wolfe holds dear” (140–41). Drawing the book’s thesis together, Wilsey demonstrates how “[Wolfe’s] argument for a magisterial Christian state emanates from, and resonates with, the contemporary Ottantottist Right,” rather than an authentic synthesis of America’s two spirits (125). The United States is fast approaching the semiquincentennial of its independence. Scripture promises the church that “the gates of hell shall not prevail against it” (Matt. 16:18), but it offers no such assurances to the nation. Whether we’ll survive the coming centuries will depend on our continued commitment to the combination of the spirit of liberty and the spirit of religion. In Religious Freedom, Wilsey provides Christians a needed roadmap to the pressing political challenges of our time.

Melissa Kruger talks with her friends Hunter Beless and Laura Wifler about the role social media has played in their lives, both positive and negative. They talk about temptations that can arise from social media—from neglecting other good pursuits to inspiring covetousness. They discuss why it can be helpful to take breaks and what red flags they look for in their own lives that show social media is doing them more harm than good. Recommended Resources: Journeywomen podcast Titus: Displaying the Gospel of Grace Related Content: Social Sanity in an Insta World The Danger of Self-Soothing Through Social Media Why I’m Staying on Social Media The Disaster and Delight of Social Media Discussion Questions: 1. What one word would best describe your current relationship with social media? 2. What benefits or positive experiences have you had from engaging with social media? 3. In what ways does your social media consumption feed comparison or discontentment in your life? 4. What would it look like to engage with social media in ways that glorify God and allow you to love others well? What would you start and stop doing? 5. What practices or boundaries could you put in place to be a wise consumer of online content? 6. Have you ever taken a break (or considered taking a break) from social media? What was the experience like? 7. How can your discussion partners pray for you as you consider how to engage with social media in healthy, God-honoring ways?

As Syria’s Christian community mourns its dead, we are compelled to confront the barbaric act committed against the Orthodox Christian community and the persistent dangers facing other minorities in the region. To understand this tragedy and chart a path forward, we must first revisit the turbulent history of Syria and the Levant.In the early 20th century, Syria stood at the crossroads of empire and identity. The collapse of the Ottoman Empire after World War I gave way to the Sykes-Picot Agreement, which carved up the Levant into spheres of European influence.In Syria, federalism could succeed if implemented with fairness, robust minority protections, and international support to prevent external meddling.Syria fell under French mandate in 1920, a betrayal of promises for an independent Arab kingdom. Instead, it became a colonial outpost shaped by European interests rather than the aspirations of its diverse peoples: Sunnis, Alawites, Christians, Kurds, Druze, and others. The French exploited sectarian divisions to maintain control, sowing seeds of mistrust that would linger for generations.When Syria gained independence in 1946, it inherited a fragmented society with no clear framework for governing its complex population. The decades that followed were marked by coups, political instability, and the rise of the Ba’ath Party, which promised secular socialism but delivered authoritarianism instead.Hafez al-Assad’s ascent in 1970 cemented a dynastic rule that concentrated power in a narrow, Alawite-dominated elite. While the regime claimed to protect minorities, it often sidelined or suppressed other ethnic and religious groups, fostering resentment beneath a veneer of secular nationalism.A brutal turning pointThe Arab Spring of 2011 shattered this fragile order. Peaceful protests against authoritarianism were met with brutal repression, igniting a civil war that drew in foreign powers and fractured the nation.Amid the chaos, extremist factions like ISIS emerged, targeting religious minorities as enemies of their radical vision. Christians, whose presence in Syria dates back two millennia, faced systematic persecution, with historic churches destroyed and communities displaced.This past year, the trauma deepened. Last month, a suicide bomber opened fire during Sunday mass in a small church in western Syria, killing 22 worshippers and wounding 63 in an attack reminiscent of ISIS’ atrocities in Qaraqosh and Maaloula.The Druze minority in the south faced similar threats from Islamic groups within the coalition that ousted the Assad regime. To their credit, the Druze, with support from Israel, armed and defended their communities. The Alawite minority endured revenge killings in the wake of regime change, while the Kurds, battle-hardened but geopolitically isolated, remain vulnerable due to Turkey’s hostility.These incidents underscore a grim reality: Syria’s minorities are pawns in a larger geopolitical game, their survival perpetually at risk.A new solution: FederalismThis is not a moment for empty platitudes. Syria needs to confront a painful truth: A unitary, centrally governed state has repeatedly failed to protect its people, especially its minorities. The alternative, however, is federalism.A federal Syria would not mean partition but rather an organized decentralization of power. Regions could govern themselves according to their cultural, ethnic, or religious identities, while national unity would be preserved for issues like foreign policy and defense. Christians, Druze, Alawites, and Kurds could administer their affairs, ensure their security, preserve their heritage, and rebuild trust in governance.Such a system would empower local communities to protect Christian populations, preventing the decimation of ancient communities as seen in Iraq after 2003. A federal structure would foster resilience against external threats, allowing minorities to safeguard their futures.RELATED: Syria’s new rulers: From jihadist terror to ‘moderate’ media rebrand Wildpixel via iStock/Getty ImagesFederalism, though imperfect, has stabilized other post-conflict, multiethnic societies. Iraq’s Kurdish region, despite challenges, enjoys significant autonomy. Bosnia’s power-sharing model, while complex, has maintained peace. Even Switzerland’s federal system, rooted in linguistic and cultural diversity, provides a blueprint for striking a balance between local autonomy and national cohesion.In Syria, federalism could succeed if implemented with fairness, robust minority protections, and international support to prevent external meddling.A break from the pastPan-Arab nationalism and centralized rule, imposed after the fall of the Ottoman Empire, failed to deliver either stability or pluralism. Syria’s latest church attack adds to a long history of betrayals against its minority populations.To survive as more than a failed state, Syria must adopt a structure that protects the vulnerable and manages its divisions, not one that tries to crush them. Federalism won’t solve everything, and many will resist it. But Syria has already tested the alternative — consolidated power, endless violence — and that path led to ruin.

Glenn Beck isn’t one to make knee-jerk accusations or rush to judgment. He gives people the benefit of the doubt until they’ve proven they don’t deserve it.And that’s exactly what Attorney General Pam Bondi has done, in his opinion. “I want Pam Bondi fired,” Glenn says frankly.The memo released by the Department of Justice and the FBI claiming Epstein’s client list doesn’t exist was enough for many to call for her resignation. However, the final straw for Glenn was the DOJ’s release of prison cell surveillance footage from the night Jeffery Epstein supposedly committed suicide that includes a one-minute gap.“Do you release a tape and then let the public find out for themselves that there's an edit in the tape?” asks Glenn, adding that even if we were to give the DOJ “every benefit of the doubt” and assume that the time gap is legitimately “a digital jump in the tape,” it still speaks of incredible incompetence on the part of the department and Pam Bondi. “Do you not put an intern on it just to say, ‘Watch the clock and make sure there's no jumps or edit in the tape because we know 300 million people are going to be watching it’?”Co-host Stu Burguiere agrees: “It would be very easy to edit in a minute of footage” or at least release the video with a caveat noting that there is an “error.”“Correct,” says Glenn. “This is incompetence.”But the “jump in the tape” isn’t the only evidence of incompetence. Glenn’s head writer and researcher, Jason Buttrill, found something else in the tape: “This camera doesn't even have eyes on Epstein’s cell at all.” Jason shares the following graphic, which shows the location of Epstein’s cell in relation to the camera’s vantage point (yellow).“I’ve spent years and years and years looking at surveillance and security camera footage, as you know, in my previous job,” says Jason. “I’ve never seen an over-one-minute jump right at a time that would be very, very, I don't know, just convenient.”“Sixty seconds would be perfect for if you wanted to conceal the fact that someone walked across that area,” he adds.However, someone trying to reach Epstein’s cell might not have even needed to enter the camera’s frame at all. “The camera doesn't actually show 100% of the potential paths to get there,” says Stu.In other words, if Epstein was indeed killed, his murderer could have reached his door undetected while the camera was rolling.Glenn can only come to one conclusion: “Pam Bondi needs to be fired.”To hear more, watch the clip above.Want more from Glenn Beck?To enjoy more of Glenn’s masterful storytelling, thought-provoking analysis, and uncanny ability to make sense of the chaos, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution, and live the American dream.

Newly uncovered wooden tools from Pleistocene China reveal complex, plant-focused technology far earlier than expected in East Asia. Researchers working at the Pleistocene-era Gantangqing site in southwestern China have uncovered a diverse set of wooden tools dating from approximately 361,000 to 250,000 years ago. This discovery represents the oldest known example of advanced wooden tool [...]

Astronomers claim to have found new evidence supporting a controversial observation that our galaxy is residing in an unusually sparse region in space. If it's correct, it could rewrite cosmology.

Yang Hengjun, author and former Chinese diplomat, who is now an Australian citizen, display a name tag in an unspecified location in Tibet, China, mid-July, 2014 in this social media image obtained by…