On Holy Saturday, as Palestinian Christians tried to reach the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Israeli security forces started attacking and arresting them, demonstrating a clear violation of religious freedoms.
The purpose of everyday practices in ancient contexts is not easy to discern because contemporary, local folk have no need to talk about why they are doing what they are doing. This is perhaps especially true when it comes to attire related to decency.
Every year on Remembrance Day, the bishop of London leads a public Christian act of lamentation in the open air, accompanied by hymns, Bible readings, and prayers in the name of Jesus Christ.
Part of the answer lies in the visceral nature of the game. Unlike chess, football is physical to the point of absurdity. Grown adults in body armor crash into each other over what is essentially a leather egg. There's drama in every play. You don't need a PhD in physics to appreciate a one-handed catch while somersaulting over a defender like a caffeinated acrobat.
Not a day passes without some overt expression of it in our national life. A crime committed by one Muslim becomes an indictment of all Muslims. A cultural practice is wrenched from context and weaponised to provoke anxiety. A theological concept is distorted to imply threat. And on the streets, and increasingly online, it can turn into violence, intimidation or exclusion directed at anyone who looks Muslim.
We are living through one of the most disorienting periods in recorded history. The AI race is accelerating toward ever faster, ever more sophisticated automation and optimization. Agentic AI systems are moving from research labs into workplaces, healthcare, and governance. Geopolitical tensions are restructuring alliances faster than institutions can adapt. And planetary systems are signaling, with increasing urgency, that our current trajectory is unsustainable. Amid all this, it is dangerously easy to lose sight of a foundational question: What are we actually optimizing for?
BBC Jodie was surrounded by smiling faces at her 21st birthday party, but most were people she had not known for more than a month. The party had been organised for her by the London International Christian Church - a Bible-based non-denominational church, according to their website - into which she had recently been baptised. She was told by her "discipler", or church mentor, she says, that she could not invite any friends from outside the church - only a handful of family members.
The monks are part of a 2,300-mile pilgrimage for peace from a Buddhist temple in Fort Worth, Texas, across nine states to Washington DC. Dressed in vibrant orange robes, they have walked about 20 miles daily, eating one meal a day and practicing loving-kindness a form of mindfulness that can be thought of as a form of non-violent resistance. Their journey is a slow-moving meditation meant to embody peace, rather than argue for it.
But Zia is one of an estimated 85,000 to 100,000 Muslims in Colombia, comprising less than 0.2 percent of the country's population. Within that community, though, is a prism of diverse backgrounds and experiences. Some of Colombia's Muslims reflect a rich history of migration to the region. Others are converts. The Colombian Islamic community is a small one but enjoys more on account of its diversity, Zia said, as he took a break from serving tea in his uncle Zaheer's restaurant
