Day 3 of Lent, if you’re listening in 2023, is the 24th of February. Bon anniversaire! Anniversaire of what? The war. Russia invaded Ukraine on this day, or possibly far earlier if we’re counting Crimea. We probably should, but a year ago is when it darkened the world, by which I mean the lines were drawn and Russia was cut off and everbody’s electricity cost went up.

And I was extremely glad and surprised, that the world, as a body, cut Russia off for their invasion. It would have been cheaper to let Russia get away with it. I was actually surprised none of our papers were backing Russia in a let’s-bring-down-the-gas-cost argument. I’m glad they didn’t, and I know there are probably complex murky politics behind it that I do not understand. I don’t understand why the war is still on, a year later, since it seems to be tangibly worse for Russia, for Ukraine, and for every other country there is. It feels like Russia would have pulled out long ago, if they were sensible, for their own sake. There’s probably a reason somewhere, and that reason continues to build the war, the violence, the body count, the horror, the relentless evil.

From the start I’ve been praying for peace. It’s an odd prayer, because I know large volumes of people pray for peace in every war, and it doesn’t make the war stop. A billion or so people must have been praying for peace in World War II, but that went on for years. I don’t think it’s a waste, but I don’t have my hopes up.

And I never just pray for peace. Quick peace on its own could be giving Russia the land they want, and letting them take away the freedoms from those now under their control. It’s illegal for trans people in Russian territory to drive cars, which feels like a small point for me to raise, in comparison to their many war-crimes, but for trans folks in Russia and Ukraine it’s a real and immediate concern. I desperately want an end to the war, but I pray for peace *and justice*. I’m not asking for violent or melodramatic justice, but I know peace and justice can be peace which doesn’t reward the oppressors with the power to keep up their happy oppression. A year or so back the American police were being accused on often, and deliberately, killing unarmed Black civilians on the streets. There were protests and riots, and the police stepped up their force to put down the objection. And I could do nothing from the UK but pray for peace and justice. Not just a peace where the riots stop and the police get away with their crimes. Armed police are very good at forgiving one another for their actions against non-police. Peace and justice, which the protests sought.

The world and every part of it is in radical need of peace, both the the physical violence of wars, and the economic violence where the poor get poorer while the energy shareholders get to celebrate, and what is called the culture war, with America legislating against LGBT folk and against indigenous folk, and the hobbling of the NHS, and UK celebrities and newspapers bringing rage and suspicion against the trans, and all of these things leading to deaths and then to more deaths, and great big body counts. Sometimes this seems like the worst decade, because the vulnerable, the despairing, the people who just need some peace and relief and human joy and delight and acceptance and gladness have, instead, poverty, desperation, guns and bullies and violence and the cruel eye of once-kind newspapers.

Many days I try not to think about it. I think, ah for the good old days, when Covid and Brexit seemed our capital problems. There are so many conflicts being carried out and sustained and persisted that I feel I’m growing inarticulate. There’s never been an easier time to be depressed, and so I pray for peace and for justice. For an end to attacks, and for a revival that moves with compassion and protection. Not peace that keeps the poor at the current rate of poverty, but peace and justice that shows ways out of sorrow, and ways out of homelessness, ways out of sickness, ways of suicidal ideation, out of war and into reconstruction. Out of crisis and into a robust free healthcare. Out of discrimination and into acknowledgement that trans folks are someone other than an enemy or a leech or a bogey monster. The ones I know are mostly cool cats. I would like some peace and some justice, and when the sun shines in the sky again I would like to be able to eat a fancy ice-cream without the world’s tearing injustice and sorrow cutting at my heart and depriving the ice-cream of its comfort. But I know I have to be realistic. I must always eat ice cream in ignorance. We can only rest a little if we close our eyes to the horrors. Nonetheless, peace, please, and justice, ASAP, Amen.