Rally For Peace Quotes

I was once asked why I don't participate in anti-war demonstrations. I said that I will never do that, but as soon as you have a pro-peace rally, I'll be there.

I will never attend an anti-war rally; if you have a peace rally, invite me.

The victims of Ankara peace rally sacrificed their lives for peace and their only wish was We Want Peace.

The voices of peace can’t be silenced by bombs, shootings, sieges, brutality and barbarism. Despite the challenges we face as peace-makers in a troubled region, all we want is peace and our campaign #WeWantPeace continues.

This seemed to be happening more and more lately out in Greater Los Angeles, among gatherings of carefree youth and happy dopers, where Doc had begun to notice older men, there and not there, rigid, unsmiling, that he knew he'd seen before, not the faces necessarily but a defiant posture, an unwillingness to blur out, like everyone else at the psychedelic events of those days, beyond official envelopes of skin. Like the operatives who'd dragged away Coy Harlingen the other night at that rally at the Century Plaza. Doc Knew these people, he'd seen enough of them in the course of business. They went out to collect cash debts, they broke rib cages, they got people fired, they kept an unforgiving eye on anything that might become a threat. If everything in this dream of prerevolution was in fact doomed to end and the faithless money-driven world to reassert its control over all the lives it felt entitled to touch, fondle, and molest, it would be agents like these, dutiful and silent, out doing the shitwork, who'd make it happen. Was it possible, that at every gathering--concert, peace rally, love-in, be-in, and freak-in, here, up north, back east, wherever--those dark crews had been busy all along, reclaiming the music, the resistance to power, the sexual desire from epic to everyday, all they could sweep up, for the ancient forces of greed and fear? 'Gee,' he said to himself out loud, 'I dunno...

Today Americans, who used to feel welcomed wherever we went, travel abroad with trepidation. We know we are not trusted or liked, that we are even hated, by millions of people around the globe. We must ask ourselves why this is so and do the work of discovering our historical behavior toward the other countries and peoples of the planet. As disturbing as this will be, it is a first step toward a peaceful existence. Not because we can make peace for our country, but because we can make peace without ourselves by changing any harmful behavior or attitudes that contribute to our present predicament. Choose any country on the map that appears to hate America. Listen to what people are shouting at their rallies and read what their banners proclaim in the street. Sit with their anger until you can see America through their eyes... Remember that you, yourself, are America. The U.S. Behave as if you are the entire country and carry yourself with humility and dignity.

Talking frankly about race may make white people uncomfortable. Taking a stand to demonstrate the impact of race on law enforcement is difficult. Look what happened when a National Football League star, protesting discrimination, decided to kneel during the national anthem. Some understood the protest and the right to peacefully demonstrate pursuant to the First Amendment to our Constitution. Others have used the protest to divide us further and rally the white supremacist elements of their constituency. Yes, I am speaking to you, Mr. President, the principal antagonist of racial harmony.

We are people of peace. We are followers of the Christ who was and is the Prince of Peace. But there are times when we must stand up for right and decency, for freedom and civilization, just as Moroni rallied his people in his day to the defense of their wives, their children, and the cause of liberty (see Alma 48:10). …We must do our duty, whatever that duty might be. Peace may be denied for a season. Some of our liberties may be curtailed. We may be inconvenienced. We may even be called on to suffer in one way or another. But God our Eternal Father will watch over this nation and all … who look to Him. He has declared, ‘Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord’ (Ps. 33:12).

We operate under the notion that America actually belongs to us Christians, and that we belong to it. We believe that the church and the state can make beautiful music together if only they would cooperate. We believe that the preaching of the Kingdom of God and the rallying around the red, white, and blue are always compatible. We believe the lie of the Serpent that we can hold to the sacrificial, life-giving, peace-pursuing, cheek-turning way of Christ and hold to the poisonous, domineering, power-hungry, least-of-these-abusing systems of the Empire. But this is impossible.

I get the sense that many in the contemporary biblical womanhood movement feel that the tasks associated with homemaking have been so marginalized in our culture that it’s up to them to restore the sacredness of keeping the home. This is a noble goal indeed, and one around which all people of faith can rally. But in our efforts to celebrate and affirm God’s presence in the home, we should be wary of elevating the vocation of homemaking above all others by insinuating that for women, God’s presence is somehow restricted to that sphere. If God is the God of all pots and pans, then He is also the God of all shovels and computers and paints and assembly lines and executive offices and classrooms. Peace and joy belong not to the woman who finds the right vocation, but to the woman who finds God in any vocation, who looks for the divine around every corner.

you invite me to an anti-war rally, I won’t go. Invite me to a pro-peace rally, and I’ll be there! —Mother Teresa

Let me tell you about spirit.” The teacher comes alive, making eye contact with each of us as he speaks. “No one can command you to have spirit—not principals, governors, presidents, or even kings. There’s no spirit switch in your brain that can be flipped on or off. Spirit isn’t a week you can put on your calendar. It doesn’t come from posters, or streamers, or rallies, or funny hat days. And it definitely doesn’t come from making an ungodly racket with a cheap plastic instrument of torture that was invented purely for disturbing the peace!

My life has not been in the service of some kind of resistance or in accordance with any great ideology. I don’t wish to be twisted into a lesson for some young girl one day, either as an example to emulate or one to avoid at all costs. I don’t need to write yet another rallying cry against the oppressiveness of convention, or a bitter treatise on how I should have chosen a more orthodox existence. I don’t wish to be idealized or scorned. Sometimes I just want to shed a tear in peace, without it being a statement about anything at all.

O, lawdy, seems you don’t got good radar when it comes to pickin’ ‘em,” Elvira muttered. “No, her radar is beyond not good. Her radar is also not malfunctioning. It’s straight out broke,” Martha agreed and I was wondering if perhaps Elvira and Martha were not such a good match. Denver was relatively peaceful. I’d never heard of riots or sieges or militant hostile takeovers of land and I was foreseeing this if these two got together and rallied the female population of the Denver Metropolitan Area as a protest to shelter all women against dickhead assholes.

An immortal has no right to make that choice for humanity," he said, a bitter edge to his voice, as if he resented his own mortality, as if he resented her for being something more. "You say we deserve a chance at peace, but why not a chance at greatness? The biological material my parents found at those ancient battle sites, the work they did on gene therapies. They didn't know it, but it was all for this." Jason threw his arms wide, encompassing his troops. "These are soldiers like no others, warriors to rival Odysseus and Achilles. They will do battle with creatures born of myth and nightmares, and the world will rally behind them.

Our self is not constructed by claiming one side of a duality. Rather we are fashioned as drops of water, of the same abundant substance as the ocean. We have within our small selves all the properties, all the constitutive molecules that make up the limitless whole. We are the many, held in the one. We are fractal images of the ultimate reality. If we embraced this wholeness within ourselves, perhaps we would be less anxious as men about the feminine within, less anxious as heterosexuals about our (perhaps unexplored) capacity to love someone of the same sex, less anxious as Hindus about the evidence of Muslim culture in our lives, less anxious as ‘upper castes’ about the breaching of our spaces by the “lower”, and generally speaking less anxious as “us” about the lurking presence of “them” in us. We could relax into our porosity. We would no longer need to feel small, threatened and in constant need of securing our borders, rallying our defences against being overwhelmed by the “Other”.

Less extreme leftists have been no less enthusiastic for war’s potential to transform the home front, Nisbet added. Leftist intellectuals were practically unanimous in favoring U.S. entry into World War I since they understood the opportunity it presented for institutional change at home. Wartime economic planning, they were convinced, would help to erode Americans’ conservative beliefs in the limits of government and the inviolability of private property. The experience of wartime planning never entirely faded from the national consciousness, and certainly not from that of the Left. When the Depression came, the Left jumped at the chance to revive the spirit of government planning it had so assiduously cultivated during the Great War. The rallying cry was “We planned in war”; now, therefore, we shall plan in peace. War symbolism was ubiquitous in the imagery adopted by Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal. “In terms of frequency of use of such symbols by the national government,” wrote Nisbet, “not even Hitler’s Germany outdid our propagandists.

I am convinced that the language that has the most force, requires the most acumen, talent, grace, genius, and, yes, beauty, can never be, will never again be found in paeans to the glory of war, or erotic rallying cries to battle. The power of this alternate language does not arise from the tiresome, wasteful art of war, but rather from the demanding, brilliant art of peace.

Somewhere someone's uncle or father, a man wearing sandals and khaki shorts who says "back in my day" far too often, is on the grill. He is watching the food like he's afraid it'll change its mind about being a meal and decide to run off when no one's looking. The kids are playing a game that they made up themselves and changing the rules every five minutes. Their smiles are so big, you can fit history inside of them and still have room for right now and the future. The adults hate all the new music, but still want the teenagers to teach them the dances. The cupid Shuffle is common ground and the wobble is a peace treaty signed by both generations. There are no rallies today, no blood on this street, no hashtags here, but there is barbecue, potato salad and greens. The only tears you will see is when someone lifts the foil and all the mac and cheese is finished.

As C. S. Lewis wisely said, “There is no neutral ground in the universe: every square inch, every split second, is claimed by God and counterclaimed by Satan.”34 But lest you think I’m rallying a digital militia to “take America back for God”—relax, really. That’s not where we’re heading. The devil is far too interesting and intelligent for a simple us-versus-them binary.

JACK CANFIELD Mother Teresa was brilliant. She said, “I will never attend an anti-war rally. If you have a peace rally, invite me.” She knew. She understood The Secret. Look what she manifested in the world.

Everyone knew we were deadly serious revolutionaries, not "revolutionaries" seeking a "peaceful political solution" by diplomatic means and using fighting as a side show to demonstrate that we could cause trouble. The masses were for liberation, not capitulation; they rallied behind their Front as the exponent of people's war and protracted armed struggle.

On the second day of the rally, after Terry had called on it to be disbanded, a white nationalist ran over and killed a peaceful Black Lives Matter protester. Visuals from the event dominated the national news and provided Terry with the most high-profile and fraught incident he’d confront as governor. It was a defining moment of his tenure.

Yet there remains an unbridgeable gap between the religious enthusiasts and the philosophical infidels, and it is readily visible in the matter where their tactical alliance mattered most: on religious freedom. In America as in England, religious dissenters rallied in support of religious freedom, but they rarely conceived of it as anything more than a means to the end of securing freedom for their own religion. The freedom to seek salvation through the personal interpretation of the Holy Scriptures was, in the final analysis, just the freedom to be a Protestant Christian, usually of one’s own particular variety. In their practice, they were pluralists; in their theology, the enthusiasts were anything but. “Where they have not the power to carry on Persecution, and to become Masters, there they desire to live upon fair terms, and preach up Toleration,” Locke observed about dissident religious sects. But as soon as “court-favor has given them the better end of the staff, and they begin to feel themselves the stronger, then presently peace and charity are to be laid aside.”80

situation, leading them to set their priorities –   Their Musts included extracting themselves from battle with the Mori, making peace terms in a way that would not look like a defeat, and ensuring the Mori kept the peace.   Once extracted, Toyotomi had another Must – legitimacy. By rallying to the banner of Nobutaka, and showing signs of mourning, fellow generals joined his pursuit of Mitsuhide at the Battle of Yamazaki without the need for extended war counsels, debate, or deliberation.

The Obama administration and major US media portray Syria as a quagmire of religious groups fighting centuries-old battles. The reality is quite different. For many years, Syrians lived peacefully with one another. Syria was a secular dictatorship where dissidents faced torture and jail for criticizing Assad, but people largely ignored religious differences. Once the fighting began, however, leaders on both sides used religion to rally their troops. Rebels relied on the Sunni Muslim majority. Assad appealed to minority groups such as Alawites, Christians, and Shia Muslims.

Race instinct, sense of nationality, enmity, and hatred, these are divisive forces between peoples. This is an astonishing punishment and a terrible judgment, and cannot be undone by any cosmopolitanism or leagues of peace, by any 'universal' language, nor by any world-state or international culture. If ever there is to be unity among mankind again it will not be achieved by any external, mechanical rallying around some tower of Babel or other, but by a development from within, a gathering under one and the same Head (Eph 1:10), by the peacemaking creation of all peoples into a new man (Eph 2:15), by regeneration and renewal through the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:15), and by the walking of all people in one and the same light (REv 21:24) The unity of mankind which can only be restored by an internal operation, beginning within and working out, is, therefore, a unity which in the internal operation of that first confusion of tongues was basically disturbed. The spurious unity was radically upset in order that room might be made for the true unity. The world-state was shattered in order that the Kingdom of God would come into existence on earth.

My hope is that our leaders will capitalize on our country's most admirable qualities. When people in other nations face a challenge or a problem, it would be good for them to look to Washington for assistance or as a sterling example. Our government should be known to be opposed to war, dedicated to the resolution of disputes by peaceful means and whenever possible, eager to accomplish this goal. We should be seen as the unswerving champion of human rights both among our own citizens and within the global community. America should be the focal point around which other nations can rally against threats to the quality of our common environment. We should be willing to lead by example in sharing our great wealth with those in need. Our own society should provide equal opportunity for all citizens and assure that they are provided the basic necessities of life. It would be no sacrifice in exemplifying these traits. Instead, our nation's well being would be enhanced by restoring the trust, admiration and friendship that our nation formerly enjoyed among other peoples. At the same time, all Americans could be united in a common commitment to revive and nourish the political and moral values that we have espoused and sought during the past 240 years.

The simplistic nature of Islamism means that it thrives on victim narratives and clearly identifiable enemies. When there is no such simple, immediate outside threat against which sentiment can be rallied, and when peaceful coexistence is self-evidently in people’s day-to-day interest, it finds it much less easy to gain traction.

We are people of peace. We are followers of the Christ who was and is the Prince of Peace. But there are times when we must stand up for right and decency, for freedom and civilization, just as Moroni rallied his people in his day to the defense of their wives, their children, and the cause of liberty.

The gospel news is of an all-or-nothing venture undertaken by our blessing God. He pursued us all the way into the far country of our lost and forsaken condition. He ran his game plan until it killed him. The final report is simple and all encompassing: Jesus is risen. Therefore life wins. Death loses. God wins. Satan loses. Grace wins. Sin loses. Jesus is risen and he comes to us even now within locked doors saying, “Peace be with you.” Let’s consider how the news of this story rallies us to bless the triune God even today. We, too, may well have locked the doors against the world. Hurt in love, many of us have locked the doors of our heart, hoping never to be vulnerable again. Betrayed, we have locked the doors of hope and put on a mask of clever cynicism. We don’t ever again want to be surprised and embarrassed for trusting. We will be negative first; we will expect the worst and mock anyone trying to love in good faith. Struck down by failures, we have locked the doors against the world, hiding away the passion that used to urge us to dare more, try more. We will not venture out again. We will not show what matters most to us to anyone. But the risen Jesus trampled the gates of death and hell. He is not kept out by any paltry locked doors. They don’t stop him. He comes to us with a blessing hand upraised. “Peace be with you.” He shows us his wounds. “Look, I understand. I bear the same wounds you have. I was pierced for my faithfulness, mocked for my trust, cursed for living out my passion to bless. I died at the hands of those I came to save. But I live again. I have overcome the world. See my wounds. See how I have been where you have been. See me alive again. You too will live again. Not only in the next life but in this life! Be of good cheer.

And when Mother Teresa was asked why she didn’t participate in anti-war demonstrations, she said, “I will never do that, but as soon as you have a pro-peace rally, I’ll be there.” These great leaders knew that to be against something—to focus on your opposition to it—just creates more of it.

Netanyahu, a student—practically a member—of the G.O.P., is no beginner at this demagogic game. In 1995, as the leader of the opposition, he spoke at rallies where he questioned the Jewishness of Yitzhak Rabin’s attempt to make peace with the Palestinians through the Oslo Accords. This bit of code was not lost on the ultra-Orthodox or on the settlers. Netanyahu refused to rein in fanatics among

We are mad if we imagine that the God of love revealed in Jesus will bless us in waging war. That is madness! But it’s a pervasive and beloved madness. And I know from experience that it’s hard to oppose a crowd fuming for war. When we have identified a hated enemy, we want to be assured that God is on our side as we go to war with our enemy. And we believe that surely God is on our side, because we feel so unified in the moment. Everyone knows the nation is most unified in times of war. Nothing unites a nation like war. But what’s so tragic is when Christian leaders pretend that a rally around the war god is compatible with worshipping the God revealed in Jesus Christ. We refuse to face the truth that waging war is incompatible with following Jesus. We forget that God is most clearly revealed, not in the nascent understanding of the ancient Hebrews but in the Word made flesh. We forget that “being disguised under the disfigurement of an ugly crucifixion and death, the Christform upon the cross is paradoxically the clearest revelation of who God is.”6 We forget that “the worst day in history was not a Tuesday in New York, but a Friday in Jerusalem when a consortium of clergy and politicians colluded to run the world on our own terms by crucifying God’s own Son.”7 We forget that when we see Christ dead upon the cross, we discover a God who would rather die than kill his enemies. We forget all of this because the disturbing truth is this—it’s hard to believe in Jesus. When I say it’s hard to believe in Jesus, I mean it’s hard to believe in Jesus’s ideas—in his way of saving the world. For Christians it’s not hard to believe in Jesus as the Son of God, the Second Person of the Trinity—all the Christological stuff the church hammered out in the first five centuries. That’s not hard for us. What’s hard is to believe in Jesus as a political theologian. It’s hard because his ideas for running the world are so radically different from anything we are accustomed to. Which is why, I suspect, for so long, the Gospels have been treated as mere narratives and have not been taken seriously as theological documents in their own right. We want to hear how Jesus was born in Bethlehem, died on the cross, and rose again on the third day. We use these historical bits as the raw material for our theology that we mostly shape from a particular misreading of Paul. In doing this we conveniently screen out Jesus’s own teachings about the kingdom of God and especially his ideas about nonviolence and enemy love.

If the meaning of the mountain range overlooking the home’s peace is called the Quteniqua Mountains, which is rally made up of the Langeberg Range (northeast of Worcester) and the Tsitsikamma Mountains (east-west along The Garden Route), and if the collective name of the mountain range references the idea of honey, the honey that can be found at Amanda and Lena’s home starts with kindness, a type of kindness the touches the world’s core understanding of compassion. “I want to give you a used copy of my favorite book that I think helps to explain what exactly I love about this area. Out of all of her books, this is probably one of the least favorite books based off readers’ choice, yet it is my favorite book because I think it truly understands the spirit of this area.” Amanda handed me the book. “Da-lene Mat-thee,” I said. “Is that correct…” Before I could finish, she had already answered my question. “Yes, the author that I had spoken about earlier today. Although she is an Afrikaans author, this book is in English. The Mulberry Forest. My favorite character is Silas Miggel, the headstrong Afrikaans man who didn’t want to have the Italian immigrants encroaching onto his part of the forest.” She paused for a second before resuming, “Yet, he’s the one who came to their rescue when the government turned a blind eye on the hardships of the Italian immigrants. He’s the one who showed kindness toward them even when he didn’t feel that way in his heart. That’s what kindness is all about, making time for our follow neighbors because it’s the right thing to do, full stop. Silas is the embodiment of what I love about the people of this area. It is also what I love about my childhood home growing up in the shantytown. The same thread of tenacity can be found in both places. So, when you read about Silas, think of me because he represents the heart of both Knysna and the Storms River Valley. This area contains a lot of clones just like him, the heartbeat of why this area still stands today.” That’s the kind of hope that lights up the sky. The Portuguese called the same mountain range Serra de Estrellla or Mountain of the Star… If we want to change the world, we should follow in the Quteniqua Mountain’s success, and be a reminder that human benevolence is a star that lights up the sky of any galaxy, the birthplace of caring. As we drove away, for a second, I thought I heard the quiet whispers from Dalene Matthee’s words when she wrote in Fiela’s Child: “If he had to wish, what would he wish for, he asked himself. What was there to wish for…a wish asked for the unattainable. The impossible.” And that’s what makes this area so special, a space grounded in the impossibility held together through single acts of human kindness, the heart of the Garden Route’s greatest accomplishment. A story for all times…simply called, Hospitality, the Garden Route way…

The inaugural Unite the Bright Rally had come to an unceremonious conclusion and its Grand Wizard was plunged into the otherwise dark and peaceful Charlottetown night.

As 1917 wore on, antiwar rallies drew larger crowds. Charlotte Despard and several other women formed a new organization, the Women’s Peace Crusade. “I should like the words ‘alien’ and ‘foreigner’ to be banished from the language,” she said in one speech. “We are all members of the same family.

Those sad fucks haven’t a clue. Sticking your nose in a book doesn’t entitle you to call yourself an intellectual. You have to take your ideas to the street, confront the stupid wherever you find them, that’s what Zara says. You must force them to think, to see the power of ideas. Those withered academics hiding away in universities aren’t fooling anyone. They can’t hack it. They don’t encourage thought. They kill it. Zara wants to challenge every professor. That’s what her dissertation says. It’s a rallying call for true intellectuals. Intellect is a savage thing, not some cosy, peaceful pet to be shut away in institutions for the mild-mannered.

The next day, 13 January, murderous anti-Armenian violence overwhelmed Baku. A vast crowd filled Lenin Square for a rally, and by early evening men had broken away from it to attack Armenians. As in Sumgait, the savagery was appalling and the center of the city around the Armenian quarter became a killing ground. People were thrown to their deaths from the balconies of upper-story apartments. Crowds set upon and beat Armenians to death. Thousands of terrified Armenians took shelter in police stations or in the vast Shafag Cinema, under the protection of troops. From there they were taken to the cold and windy quayside, put on ferries, and transported across the Caspian Sea. Over the next few days, the port of Krasnovodsk in Turkmenistan received thousands of beaten and frightened refugees. Airplanes were on hand to fly them to Yerevan.

Boston would see many young men march through over the next five years: parades both ebullient and somber, strutting off toward glory or trudging homeward, shattered, from the fields of death. The Wide Awake rally of October 16, 1860—the last great parade of the peace—was an unwitting dress rehearsal for all that would follow.

Although it was never conceptualized by a Czech movement, paradoxically enough, Czech 'organic work' in economic, social, and cultural modernization advanced strikingly during these decades. The Czech lands, politically and administratively subordinated provinces of Austria without any kind of cultural or political autonomy, flourished economically and culturally. The Czech provinces achieved by far the highest level of economic advancement in Central and Eastern Europe. Rapid and successful industrialization, social modernization, and the highest literacy rate in the region made the Czech lands more similar to the West than any other part of it. In other words, Bohemia and Moravia profited a great deal from being a hereditary province of the Habsburg empire and as a consequence enjoyed an equal status with Austria proper. Rapid economic progress certainly contributed to the further failure of Czech national demands during the 1860s and 1870s. The boycott of the imperial Diet and Reichsrat in 1867 in favor of the reestablishment of the statni pravo, or a Rechtsstaat, that is, equal legal-political status with Hungary, was again rejected. The Bohemian Declaration of August 1868 that renewed this demand generated mass rallies of support around the country. The imperial cabinet of Count Karl Hohenwart was ready to accept the concept of a 'trialist' reorganization of the empire and granted cultural autonomy to the Czech people, although not equal status with Hungary, in the fall of 1871. Emperor Franz Josef, a hard-nosed defender of Austro-Hungarian 'dualism,' rejected the 'trialist' Austro-Hungarian-Slav concept, however, and dismissed the Hohenwart cabinet. The Bohemian and Moravian representatives in the imperial Diet renewed their boycott of it. As before, such passive resistance was ineffective. It did not shake the empire, and the prosperous Czech provinces were not ready for violence. The Moravian Czechs gave up the boycott in 1873, and a split in the Czech national movement in September 1874 led to the reentry of the 'Young Czechs,' a newly organized National Liberal party, into parliament. In the fall of 1878, even the 'Old Czech' National party joined. The peaceful Czech national movement lost momentum and dried up for several decades. 'Organic work' nevertheless became more vigorous and successful than ever.

It doesn’t come from posters, or streamers, or rallies, or funny hat days. And it definitely doesn’t come from making an ungodly racket with a cheap plastic instrument of torture that was invented purely for disturbing the peace!

To Eliot Beneath the skin of every colleen, There's a snail. It shrinks looking at another rally of candles, Squeezes too feeling lips of her man, Smeared with different glosses. She screams at times, You raise the volume of your sound system. Ah!silence is peaceful, Only she knows vacant silences draw the curtain. Upon her stage, No great crime or chivalry is performed, As they are patent of the first race. It's like putting out some lamps, There's no word in dictionary Namely hollow women.

The Arab revolt for which Hussein hoped never took place. No Arabic units of the Ottoman army came over to Hussein. No political or military figures of the Ottoman Empire defected to him and the Allies. The powerful secret military organization that al-Faruqi had promised would rally to Hussein failed to make itself known. A few thousand tribesmen, subsidized by British money, constituted Hussein’s troops. He had no regular army. Outside the Hejaz and its tribal neighbors, there was no visible support for the revolt in any part of the Arabic-speaking world. The handful of non-Hejazi officers who joined the Emir’s armed forces were prisoners-of-war or exiles who already resided in British-controlled territories.

This fight is not ours. The trumpet call is the sanctus bell that gently rings out. In that silent moment we rally to our Lord Jesus Christ, who is now present and hidden in the holy and venerable hands of the priest. Although widely spread, in that precious and spotless Host we are called together both to fight and to find peace.

When she was in Vienna she saw fascist groups triumph during outbreaks of bloody political unrest. On trips over the border she witnessed Adolf Hitler’s National Socialist Party rising fast in popularity on the back of his pledge to put Germany first, with his Nuremberg rallies becoming massive displays of Nazi paramilitary power. In nearby Italy, the dictator Benito Mussolini had declared war on democracy itself back in 1925, and had been building up a police state ever since. She was thus witness to the dark clouds of nationalism gathering across the horizon. Peace in Europe and Virginia’s intoxicating “belle vie de Paris” were already under threat.

I stared at my son’s face, peaceful in sleep. Rally. “Rally Ramsey,” I murmured, trying it out to see how it sounded. “Huh?” Faye asked. “What if we named him Rally?” She hummed. “Rally Gannon Ramsey.” It clicked. Instantly. “That’s his name.” “That’s his name.” Faye smiled, letting out a quiet laugh. “I guess we have to stop calling him Squish.