From my seat in the balcony in the National Cathedral, I realized that the crowd I saw numbered nearly the same as the number of American soldiers who had fallen in the last four years.
As we stepped out of the cathedral, wind blew snow from the rooftops, past the lit windows of the Cotswold-like cottage beside the cathedral.
Walking beside me was our 15-year-old son, David, and Odess Monsanje, from Zambia, who is living with us for a year.
I was born just before the United States entered World War II, and I've been participating in peace walks and vigils since the war in Vietnam. This was one of the best organized and deeply felt.
Rollercoaster feelings all around began with the storming weather that day. While it kept many away, for those gathered in the National Cathedral it seemed to enhance the energy of the evening.
I WATCHED FOR MONTHS as many of my coworkers devoted themselves to preparation for the Christian Peace Witness, including weeks of negotiation for the civil disobedience.
Ambassadors. I'm a sometimes preacher, these days a Methodist holding forth among an Episcopal congregation in Detroit.
Though I have stood weekly at a vigil for the last five years, been in several marches, and even participated in civil disobedience, I have never had the opportunity to do direct action in an inten
It's about the journey. As the cathedral dean, Rev.