The Return of the Eighth Day Books Catalog

by Erin Doom

Feast of Sts Aristarchus, Pudens, & Trophimus, Apostles of the 70; Holy Tuesday in East
Anno Domini 2020, April 14


IT'S HARD to believe it’s been over twenty years since my first day of work at Eighth Day Books (“EDB”). Those were the good old days before the age of Amazon, or “The Jungle,” as EDB proprietor Warren Farha aptly calls it.


Those were also the days when the EDB catalog was at its peak. It would typically be mailed out around Thanksgiving, just in time for Christmas shopping. And then, sure enough, throughout December and through the early months of the New Year, we’d be flooded with orders, some for just one or two books, but many for a long list of titles. They came from a bunch of bibliophiles who were simply unable to resist the exquisite selection of books. And they came from the likes of Peter Leithart, who gives the best description of its annual arrival: “For a book addict like me, receiving the EDB catalog was like receiving a quarterly supply of crack delivered to my door by my dutiful postman.” 


While many orders were phoned in, the daily arrival of the postman was always the most exciting part of the day. Why? Because a good chunk of those orders were mailed in through the U.S. Postal Service. Yes, phoned in, mailed in.


That’s right, I said mail orders. Imagine the slow process. Back then people took the time to slowly and thoughtfully read through the entire catalog, marking the books they were interested in. There was no surfing, scrolling, or clicking; in those days these words had a completely different connotation. Then, after the torturous process of narrowing down the list of marked books, folks actually filled out a mail-order form. Yep. They wrote down each title and price, manually added up the total, inserted the form into an envelope, stamped it, mailed it, and then, most inconceivable of all, they patiently waited for the books. 


But the wait was worth it. Because you knew that every single title in that catalog had been carefully chosen, that each book had not only been held in a person’s hands who loved books, but had been carefully read, recommended, and reviewed. Moreover, the principle upon which the selection of books was based, as articulated in each catalog’s introduction, was so winsome that you had no doubt that any book coming from Eighth Day Books was going to be a prized treasure. Here’s how Mr. Farha, almost thirty years ago, described his process of selection: 


If a book (be it literary, scientific, historical, or theological) sheds light on ultimate questions in an excellent way, then it’s a worthy candidate for inclusion in our catalog.


Reality doesn’t divide itself into “religious” and “literary” and “secular” spheres, so we don’t either. We’re convinced that all truths are related and every truth, if we pay attention rightly, directs our gaze toward God. One of our customers found us “eclectic but orthodox.” We like that. 


Indeed! I love that. As have countless other customers over the years from all parts of the globe. 


The fruit of that founding principle of selection was a mail-order catalog that offered its own sort of education. Again, Peter Leithart concurs: “Each book was accompanied by a lengthy description—not publisher’s puffery but a serious summary and interaction with the book. Buying and reading all the books in the Eighth Day Catalog would be an education, but reading the catalog was an education in itself.” 


But it wasn’t just the catalog that offered an education. While working at EDB, I earned a B.A in Religion, History, Greek, Spanish, and Latin, and then an M.A. in Ancient and Medieval History from Wichita State University. I was blessed to have received a great liberal arts education. But I’m convinced it paled in comparison to the curriculum I enrolled in when I began working at EDB in 1998. Most importantly for my life and work, it’s where I learned Church history and was introduced to the Church Fathers, who have played such a vital role in the development of Eighth Day Institute (“EDI”). 


Speaking of education and EDI, let me end with a small bit of history. In his acceptance speech for the inaugural 2017 St. John of Damascus Award, Mr. Farha shared an interesting story about the early days at the bookstore: 


Very shortly after I opened in 1988, a customer came in, and pulled me aside in an insistent way, and said: “This is a great place. You should add some kind of educational aspect to it, there’s so much more here than books.” Now I look at Eighth Day Institute, and all that it is and does, and think of that customer, whose name or face I can’t even recall, and think how prophetic his words turned out to be.  


Prophetic indeed. Remarkable. That is precisely what EDI is: the “educational aspect” to EDB. 


In 2008, just a month after EDB celebrated its twentieth anniversary, EDI hosted its first Hall of Men meeting in the building next door, which is now called “The Ladder” and serves as EDI headquarters. That evening’s toast to St. Boniface, the Apostle to Germany (d. A.D. 754), would be the first of over 200 heroes to be toasted over the last eleven years. It also proved to be the foundation for the development of all sorts of other educational endeavors: Sisters of Sophia, Eighth Day Symposium, Inklings Oktoberfest, Florovsky Week, Synaxis , Word from the Fathers , St. John of Damsacus Award, Cappadocian Society, a continuously growing body of content on our website, including a digital library for Eighth Day Members, and now the new addition of this annual catalog of books and culture (after its publication paused seven years ago . . .). 


Before I worked for EDB, I subscribed to Books and Culture , a bimonthly review modeled on the New York Review of Books and launched in 1995 as a follow-up to the publication of Mark A. Noll’s Scandal of the Evangelical Mind . Its mission was to provide Christian intellectual engagement with ideas and culture. Like the EDB catalog, it was printed on newsprint (if you are old enough to recall, that’s the type of paper newspapers were printed on). However, while the EDB catalog contained hundreds of short reviews in a little under 200 pages, Books and Culture published essay-length reviews of about two dozen books in 40 pages. 


When I first encountered the EDB catalog, I was immediately struck by its similarities to Books and Culture . And my first thought was, “The EDB catalog needs essay-length reviews, maybe even essays.” So during my eight years of employment at EDB, just as Socrates was a gadfly to the Athenian state, I was a gadfly to Warren Farha, constantly badgering him to add essays to the catalog. Over a decade later, EDI is now publishing the EDB catalog and, with Warren’s blessing, it now includes the addition of essay-length reviews and essays. I hope you’ll be pleased by the expansion. 


One final note. The print version of Books and Culture sadly came to an end in 2016. For twenty-one years it stood against the tide of cultural decay by promoting great books and by seeking common ground with like-minded Christians. Eighth Day Books has been doing the same for thirty-one years, and Eighth Day Institute has supplemented that mission for the last eleven years. Through your earned patronage, both EDB and EDI intend to continue doing the same for many more years. 


EDB hopes you will exercise the virtue of patience and resist the temptation of the Jungle. We hope you will read this catalog, mark your books of interest, and then order them through EDB: by mail, phone, or website. And do check out the new and completely overhauled EDB website. We are confident you’ll be delighted by the new online experience. But please do know, we’re still delighted receiving orders in the mail, or hearing a human voice on the phone (that old but dependable piece of technology). 


Eighth Day Institute needs you to support our educational endeavors through membership. Invest in an organization that is dedicated to renewing our dying culture. You’ll be joining a community of folks who love learning, desire God, and believe Christians should be one so that the world might believe. You’ll be enrolling in the Eighth Day curriculum, receiving a world-class education through our publications and events. Plus there are a lot of great perks that come with membership, including a 10% discount on books from EDB (Patron level and above). If you are convinced we can create a Christian culture once again, as the early Christians did, and if you believe in our mission of “renewing culture through faith and learning,” then consider joining us today. 


Read this catalog, become a member , order some books, and then make a pilgrimage to Wichita so you can visit the bookstore and attend one of our events! But most importantly, let your gaze be directed toward God by paying attention rightly to every truth. 


Disclaimer : Although Eighth Day Institute and Eighth Day Books have no formal affiliation or financial relationship, our support for each other is mutual and enthusiastic. Eighth Day Institute’s mission of “renewing culture through faith and learning” is carried out through not-for-profit (501c3) educational endeavors that seek to accomplish what Eighth Day Books does as a for-profit business through book sales: connect people to classics which shed light on ultimate questions and expose people to the teachings of the great cloud of witnesses, whose origin is an Empty Tomb. 


*To get your hands on a hard copy of the Eighth Day Books catalog, call Eighth Day Books at 800.841.2541.

Share this Post on Your Preferred Platform

By Mark C. Watney • August 25, 2026
Inside the head of my three-month-old granddaughter, Lucy, said G.K. Chesterton is, "a new universe, as new as it was on the seventh day of creation...a new system of stars, new grass, new cities...and new seas." And this is because, he adds: The gravity of astonishment at the universe...dwells in the eyes of a baby three-months-old [and] the universe is put upon its trial and forces us actually to remodel our conduct...we seem to be dealing with a new race, only to be seen through a microscope...[with] delightful bulbous heads, three times too big for the body. But Chesterton's central thesis in this essay is not that babies are so marvelous, but that our treatment of each other as adults, in contrast, is so broken. "It is our attitude towards grown-up people that is wrong," he writes, because we no longer see each other with astonishment and wonder (unless, that is, we are falling in love). But babies remind us that humans really are astonishing, and this "revolutionary theory of the marvelousness of all things" should force us to "remodel our conduct" toward everyone we meet. A baby seems to be a necessary icon for us, correcting our eyesight which grows old and struggles to see "the weight of glory" in each other as teenagers, adults, and perhaps especially, as old people. Even though he did not reference icons in his essay, we seem to drift very easily into what could be called a type of iconoclasm, an inability to see each other as image bearers of God Himself. William Wordsworth describes us as "trailing clouds of glory" when we first arrive here "from God, who is our home." But soon, he says, "shades of the prison-house" begin to smother us, and we forget. "We bow to grown people," says Chesterton in this same essay, "take off our hats to them, refrain from contradicting them flatly, but we do not appreciate them properly." God speaks to us, like we are working through in St. John of Damascus , through the "cataphatic or apophatic spectrum of theology," or literally from the spoken word (cataphatic) or unspeakable word (apophatic). Apophatic I noticed has the same root in Greek as Infant does in Latin. Both mean "unspoken." God has given us both bibles and babies, speechless wonders through which He means to unglaze our eyes and fill us with astonishment. MARK C. WATNEY is professor emeritus at Sterling College, assisting in its newly established C. S. Lewis Center. He has given papers at Harvard's Center for Hellenic Studies and Dordt College
By Michael Simmon • August 25, 2026
"God became man, so that man might become God." St. Athanasius the Great, On the Incarnation (54:3)  These words from St. Athanasius may sound, at first blush, provocative. However, St. Athanasius is restating, perhaps more simply, what St. Peter says in his second epistle: the promise of being united to Christ is that men and women made in His image will partake in His divine nature (2 Peter 1:4). Paul Kingsnorth's latest book, Against the Machine, inverts this idea and opens our eyes to the world emerging at a rapid rate, the world dominated by what he calls The Machine. The new mantra of The Machine age is, instead, this: Man will become God by Man's own self-creation. Reading Kingsnorth is not for the faint of heart. It's easy to be overcome by despair. The goal of the Machine age is "transhumanism", to be liberated from the constraints of the body. For the transhumanist (self-described), the future is disembodied. The future is limitless. But this is not liberation. Because the Machine is not limited to the physical world, it follows naturally there is a spiritual nature to this lifestyle, what he ultimately identifies as a manisfestation and/or manipulation of the demonic. Whether or not you agree with his ultimate conclusion, we can see its effects. An entire generation, and many across generations, addicted to screens. Disintegration of communal life, most disastrously in the breakdown of the family. Increasing rates of loneliness, depression, and suicide, especially among children. It's clear we need a Savior, and the Machine isn't it. Instead, Kingsnorth encourages us toward a revival of community, men, women, and children living embodied lives in the same space and time: working together, eating together, worshipping together, loving each other, carrying each other's burdens. If this sounds like Eighth Day Institute...if this sounds like what the Church is meant to be, it is because this is exactly what the Church is. We are saved together in Christ. MICHAEL SIMMON currently serves as the Secretary of Eighth Day Institute Board of Directors and Coordinator for Hall of Men. He resides in Wichita, Kansas with his wife and four children.
By Luke Taylor Gilstrap • July 31, 2026
"What is it that has ordered the things of heaven and those of earth, the things which move through the air and those which move in the water; nay, rather the things which proceeded them: heaven and earth and the natures of fire and water? What is it that combined and arranged them...set them into motion and put them on their unceasing and unhindered course?..But who is the architect of these things? Or did not he who made them also bring them into being? We shall certainly not attribute such power to spontaneity." On the Orthodox Faith, Chapter 3 This comes after St. John of Damascus sets out to delineate between the created and the uncreated, a fact which, while at the core of existence, seems for him to be, for this very reason, the simplest to believe. Everything but God is created and, thus, susceptible to change. This means people, but this also means demons, angels, the rest of the created order across the entire cosmos. Everything is vulnerable to unrest. Except for God. If you have ever tried to explain the Holy Trinity to a child for the first time, maybe you have felt as I have the weightier, inexpressible side of God's unchangeability: how do I possibly communicate this essential fact to the person in front of me? (This is usually when my faint stutter starts to pop up again.) I like that here, like St. Patrick reaching for a three-leaf clover, St. John brings us back to earth to better understand the cosmos. Fire and water are no less mysteries than heaven and earth. And yet here we are, cooking and washing, eating and drinking, filled and sustained on what we can neither fully explain nor claim to have created. Only God is unchanging. Vice versa, God is the only constant we need. Maybe the rest is better left unsaid. LUKE TAYLOR GILSTRAP is Vice President of the Board of Directors for Eighth Day Institute. His poems have appeared in Spiritus, Ekstasis (Christianity Today), and Relief Journal, among others. He lives happily in Wichita, Kansas with his wife and three sons.
By Luke Taylor Gilstrap • July 24, 2026
"Now, one who would speak or hear about God should know beyond any doubt that in what concerns theology and the Incarnation not all things are inexpressible and not all are capable of expression, and neither are all things unknowable nor are they all knowable. That which can be known is one thing, whereas that which can be said is another, just as it is one thing to speak and another to know. Furthermore, many of those things about God which are not clearly perceived cannot be fittingly described, so that we are obliged to express in human terms things which transcend the human order. Thus, for example, in speaking about God we attribute to Him sleep, anger, indifference, hands and feet, and the like." On the Orthodox Faith, Chapter 2 When I was studying Fiction in graduate school, one of the first methods I learned to really situate the reader in the story you were about to tell them was disorientation; if you wanted to ground them in one story, first you had pull the rug out from under their feet. So it's fitting that in the beginning of St. John Damascene's On the Orthodox Faith, before rebuilding our foundation, he first puts us squarely in limbo, seesawing back and forth between certainty and uncertainty. To paraphrase, there is no doubt (certainty) that about God some things can be expressed...but not all things (uncertainty). Some things about God are truly knowable (certainty), but some are unknowable (uncertainty). Oh, and while we're speaking about God (certainty), let's admit there's a gap, too, between what we say and what we know (uncertainty). My favorite line in this spiraling excerpt, "...it is one thing to speak, and another to know," takes me back to the final lines in Wendell Berry's poem, "How to Be a Poet," which he wrote primarily as a reminder to himself: Accept what comes from silence. Make the best you can of it. Of the little words that come out of the silence, like prayers prayed back to the one who prays, make a poem that does not disturb the silence from which it came. Wherever your preferences fall on the cataphatic or apophatic spectrum of theology (whether you lean more toward what we can say about God or what we cannot), Berry's poem, I think, would nod along with St. John: before we say too much, let our words be preserved by the silence from which they came. I'm thinking of the silence, that filling, restorative quiet I feel when I step into a cathedral or in some of my favorite moments with my kids in the early hours. Even before praying, can we hear the One already praying in us? ​​​​​​​Let's start there. LUKE TAYLOR GILSTRAP is Vice President of the Board of Directors for Eighth Day Institute. His poems have appeared in Spiritus, Ekstasis (Christianity Today), and Relief Journal, among others. He lives happily in Wichita, Kansas with his wife and three sons.
By Mark C. Watney • July 20, 2026
Late-Night Bookstores and Spiritual Reading
By Sarah Orner • July 20, 2026
On St. Benedict and the Making of Vows
By Luke Taylor Gilstrap • July 20, 2026
The Pursuit of Truth in the Age of AI
By Michael Simmon • July 20, 2026
On the Theology of Raising Chickens
By Luke Taylor Gilstrap • July 20, 2026
G.K. Chesterton and Raising Small Children
By Fr. Mark Lovett • June 9, 2026
"Seal of the Fathers"
More Posts