The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. The day the guns fell silent. Once and maybe someday again.

It’s incredibly humbling (enraging?) to see, in the ways in which the world around us crumbles, how much that which seems unchangeable is in fact simply the choices of many people, choices which could be different. In that “could”, is the promise that a better world is possible, always within our grasp, and equally the “many” people who make so many choices every day shows the magnitude of the gap between the world as it is and the world as it could be (the Kingdom of God? Always eternally at hand, if we but make it so).

In the world transformed, it will have to be the case that to the extend there are specific times and seasons set aside for remembrance or celebration (yes, I am a Quaker and so I hedge about any dreams of times and seasons, but I also see their manifestations in my own communities)- those times and seasons will include a time for peace. Creating that time here in this world is worth doing.