Voices from the Holy City: A Call for Peace
On a Saturday morning that began like any other, the kind where you’re mostly just thinking about the first cup of coffee and the potential of the weekend, I was greeted by the glow of my phone delivering news that felt heavy enough to tilt the world on its axis. We are at war with Iran.
The thing about the promise of "America First" is that it’s a deeply seductive idea. It’s the notion that we might finally turn our gaze inward, to the needs of our own neighbors and the fragile infrastructure of our own lives. But in the strange, often entropic logic of global politics, that promise has somehow morphed into blowing up boats in the Gulf and invading Venezuela. And now, as the fog of war begins to lift, we find ourselves standing on the precipice of yet another conflict.
As I write this on Sunday, the news is reporting the death of the Supreme Leader of Iran. It is all moving so fast, the reports of strikes and counter-strikes, that it’s easy to feel small, like a single leaf caught in a gale. But we know who will ultimately pay the price for this. It isn't the people making the maps or the speeches; it’s our sons, our daughters, our mothers, and our fathers who will be called to the front lines.
So, on an emergency notice, we gathered.
We met in Marion Square, a place in Charleston that has seen more than its fair share of history, to hold our signs and lift our voices. We wanted to remind the world, and perhaps each other, that putting "America First" should actually mean putting Americans first. It means universal health care, a living minimum wage, and universal child care. It means lowering the tax burden on the working class while finally asking the billionaires of the world to help carry the weight of the society that made their success possible.
As we stood there, our congregation grew. People walking by stopped to listen, to read our signs, and to join the conversation. There was a moment of tension, too; the local Charleston Police were there, looking ready to apply their version of "justice" with horses and clubs. But thankfully, they stayed in the background, a low-frequency hum of authority that never quite broke the peace of our message.
After a few hours, we returned to our lives as citizens. But we return with the hope that our voices might join a growing echo across this nation, an echo from people who don't want another war, but instead just want a helping hand in what is all too often a very hard world.
The photos from the day document the faces of people who believe that a better, more peaceful world is not just a dream, but a necessity.
