“As an observant Jew who was celebrating Shavuot, a holiday mentioned in the Hebrew Bible as a time of rejoicing, I was shocked to open my paper on Friday morning to see our premier indulging in an antisemitic Christian trope — apparently being tough on drug dealers is ‘Old Testament,’ and having love and compassion for drug users is ‘New Testament’?”

That’s what a writer of a letter to the editor of the Free Press said last week. He was writing in response to a remark made by premier Wab Kinew about his approach to drug dealers and drug users in the province.

At an event on May 21, Kinew said Manitoba’s stance would be “Old Testament for the drug dealers, New Testament for the drug users.”

By that he meant there will be “harm reduction and compassion and recovery” for users, but “law enforcement” for those who deal drugs.

Decades have passed since We Shall Overcome was deemed the unofficial anthem of the American civil rights and anti-war movements, but the folk song — originally a gospel spiritual — remains as relevant today, and as frequently sung, as it was back in the 1960s. In the last few months alone, the song’s lyrics have loudly echoed through the crowds at non-violent rallies, protests and sit-ins around the world, and been performed onstage by renowned artists, social activists and community choirs.

One of those community choirs is the Canadian Mennonite University’s (CMU) Voices for Peace. Voices for Peace was launched in March 2026 as an extension of the Anabaptist university’s Singing Resistance program. That program had brought like-minded voices together earlier in the winter to sing in solidarity with those being affected by the ICE raids in Minneapolis.

“We started getting questions about how this work might extend to community protests,” says Anneli Loepp Thiessen, an assistant professor of music at the university and one of the choir co-ordinators. “So we began Voices for Peace as a mobile, rapid-response group that can share music for peace at protests or other community events.”

The mobile, rapid-response nature of the group means that it is not a traditional or typical choir.

There is a great scene in a recent episode of the HBO Max comedy Hacks, in which comedian Deborah Vance (Jean Smart), takes a meeting with a Tech Bro who wants her to train an LLM (large language model) in her style of comedy so that people can write funnier bridesmaid speeches, essentially. Her collaborator/head writer Ava Daniels (Hannah Einbinder) has reservations.

“AI is here and it’s here to stay, so you either get on board or you get left in the past,” the Tech Bro tells her.

“See, that is a big part of why I hate it, this forced inevitability,” Ava responds. “People like you are always saying, ‘It’s happening whether you like it or not,’ but you’re the ones making it happen.”

Ding, ding, ding. “Forced inevitability” is exactly it, and it’s the thing I hate about it, too.

Programmers, computer scientists and software, mechanical, data and prompt engineers — these are some of the professions behind the creation of artificial intelligence. Should theologians and faith leaders also be involved?

Meghan Sullivan, a Roman Catholic who teaches philosophy at the University of Notre Dame, says yes. That’s why she was glad to attend a meeting in March at the invitation of Anthropic, the creator of Claude AI, about the role religion can play in the creation of this life-changing technology.

Sullivan, who also directs the university’s Institute for Ethics and the Common Good, was there with 15 other Christian philosophers, theologians and leaders to discuss the implications of AI for society today — and how it can be taught to behave ethically and morally using religion as a guide.

I spoke with Sullivan this week about that meeting. “I’m very grateful for Anthropic’s leadership in this area with faith communities,” she said, noting that most AI companies are not doing that. “It should have happened sooner, but better late than never.”

You’re tired in a way coffee doesn’t fix anymore. Your energy isn’t what it once was. Your clothes don’t fit right. You weren’t always like this — you used to chase your kids around the yard without thinking about it. You used to put on a swimsuit without a care in the world. You used to eat a burger and drink a beer on a Friday and wake up Saturday feeling fine.

What gives? Nothing seems to work anymore. It’s not for lack of trying. You did keto for six weeks until you cracked at a birthday party. You tried intermittent fasting until your 2 p.m. headache became a personality trait every co-worker saw coming. You bought a Peloton that became a sweater dryer. You did those circuit workouts at the place down the street until your back tweaked. You consulted the clinic that promised a peptide and supplement cocktail would fix it all. Spoiler: It didn’t. The pantry has a graveyard of half-empty protein tubs. The drawer has six supplement bottles you weren’t consistently taking. The closet has a pair of jeans you keep “just in case.”

Here’s the part nobody wants to say out loud: The reason none of it stuck isn’t because you lack discipline or your metabolism is broken. It’s because none of those plans were built for a person living your current reality.

Keto works for some people for a while. Fasting works for some people for a while. The reason they didn’t work for you is you have client dinners. You have your kid’s birthday cake. You have the lake in July and the kitchen at midnight after a long Tuesday.