Standing outside her tent by a Rafah school, waiting with her grandson for a meal handout to arrive, Aida Ikhzaiq can barely believe how much has changed this Ramadan.

Like most Gazans marking the holy month, she has gone from sprawling banquets with extended family to a modest meal with the immediate family members who are still alive.

“Last Ramadan, I was in my house [in Gaza City], which I owned,” she says.

“This Ramadan, my daughter Henem was killed. My son was injured after we moved to the south. My other daughter is in north Gaza. Many cousins have been lost,” she says. “Our only Ramadan tradition [left] now is fasting.”

Across the Gaza Strip, families like hers are breaking their daylong fasts with dates, cans of fava beans, or soup handed out as aid. There is little food to follow.

“Everything is flavorless,” Ms. Ikhzaiq says of the food, and of the holiday.

Ramadan – a month marked by Muslims across the world with daytime fasting, followed by an evening of food, sweets, prayer, and charity – had continued in Gaza even at the height of the last four Israel-Hamas wars and amid a stifling 17-year Israeli and Egyptian blockade.

Ghada Abdulfattah

A baker prepares qatayef pancakes, which customers stuff with cheese or dates and reheat at home, in Deir al-Balah, central Gaza Strip, March 29, 2024. The price of qatayef dough has more than tripled since last Ramadan.

Now, amid the severest of shortages, demolished homes, 1.5 million displaced people, and a growing famine, Palestinians in Gaza are observing Ramadan with fasting and prayers, while missing family and fearing for the future. Yet one holiday tradition has not only endured but grown this Ramadan: charity.

Praying in a tent

The hub of prayer gatherings in Gaza City, the Great Omari Mosque, once hosted thousands nightly in Ramadan. The largest and among the oldest mosques in Gaza, it was destroyed by an Israeli missile in December.

Most of the surviving mosques in Gaza, where men and women would pray shoulder to shoulder in gatherings that would spill out into the streets, are empty. Many have stopped the Ramadan evening tarawih prayers altogether to avoid mass casualties should they be hit with an Israeli missile or mortar.

Instead, Gazans are praying with their immediate family members in tents.

“Ramadan serves as a period of education, teaching us the virtues of endurance, perseverance, and patience,” says Aayid Abu Hasanein, a Rafah imam. “We are determined to make the best out of it and do what we can do.”

One exception has been Mr. Abu Hasanein’s Al Huda Mosque in Rafah, which was hit by Israeli missiles in February.

Volunteers have cleaned up debris and the mosque carpet for people who wish to pray. A couple hundred people make their way here each day for prayers this Ramadan, down from 1,600 during previous Ramadans.

Ghada Abdulfattah

Palestinians hold Friday prayers in Al Huda Mosque despite it having been damaged in an Israeli missile strike, in Rafah, southern Gaza Strip, March 15, 2024.

Keeping open a house of faith that may once again be targeted in a war is a moral dilemma, Imam Abu Hasanein admits.

“I cannot ask people to come. Yet I also cannot tell them not to come,” Mr. Abu Hasanein says.

Bittersweet

Rani Wafi, owner of Al Nada Confectionary candy factory and shop, has been displaced from his home in Khan Yunis to a tent in Rafah. Yet he continues to sell sweets this Ramadan – now as a laborer at the Al Tour Confectionary Shop.

Amid shortages of food items and the wartime economy, the price of the shop’s famous borma fingers, cheese wrapped in phyllo dough and soaked in a sugary syrup, has jumped from $2 to $12, out of reach for most Gazans.

“People have little desire to indulge in sweets, but many children approach me and plead for free treats,” Mr. Wafi says. “When people hear the price of a small tray, they immediately move on.”

Baker Abu Shady Abu Shanab’s nearby table offers freshly baked qatayef – slightly undercooked doughy pancakes that customers stuff with cheese or dates and fry or bake at home.

One kilogram, or about 2 pounds, of qatayef has jumped in price from $1.35 last year to more than $5 this month.

“I didn’t have high expectations,” the baker says. “Everything is expensive this Ramadan.”

Ghada Abdulfattah

Rani Wafi (not pictured) sells Ramadan sweets at an outside stand for the Al Tour Confectionary Shop in Rafah, March 15, 2024.

Charity lives on

If Gazans are short on food and safety this Ramadan, charity and generosity are in abundance.

Under the plastic canvas of a greenhouse in a disused plant nursery in Deir al-Balah, Abu Hamza al-Nabahin cuts a carton full of onions and soaks rice for the next meal for thousands.

This is his tikiya, a charity kitchen to feed disadvantaged people and travelers, a concept from the earliest days of Islam.

Once used to feed only the most impoverished of Gaza, tikiyas like this have popped up during the war and grown this Ramadan, funded by both international aid agencies and local businesspeople. These kitchens are lifelines for tens of thousands of families across Gaza.

With a desire to help those around him, Mr. Nabahin founded this tikiya in late October in his hometown of al-Mughraqa, outside Gaza City, using his merchant connections and his own stock to supply food.

Ghada Abdulfattah

Volunteers survey giant pots of rice and chickpeas as they prepare meals for thousands at Abu Hamza al-Nabahin's charity kitchen, in Deir al-Balah, March 29, 2024.

“I looked for what people needed. It was food that people needed the most,” he says.

Displaced by the war and now living in a tent, he moved the tikiya here, to Deir al-Balah, where he feeds 8,000 people on the brink of starvation every day.

“The Prophet – peace be upon him – used to feed the poor and needy,” Mr. Nabahin says as he aligns cans of chickpeas for the next day’s meals. “This is the best time to show support and feed people at a time they are really lacking food.”

His volunteers hover over 30 giant pots from early morning to afternoon, cooking up meals for thousands as well as for two evacuee centers. Before sunset and the fast-breaking iftar meal, recipients line up holding their pots and pans.

Mr. Nabahin uses the limited available ingredients to serve up the heartiest food he can: stews of white kidney beans and lentils; rice and peas; eggplant and lentils with pomegranate molasses. He has secured dozens of flour sacks from his merchant colleagues to keep his tikiya going.

Finding fuel is another hurdle; Gaza’s economy ministry occasionally provides him with gas cylinders, but occasionally he has to resort to the exorbitant black market.

As Ms. Ikhzaiq stands in front of her tent in Rafah, a volunteer from a local tikiya finally arrives with their meal.

A man in a black shirt rumbles up in a red tuk-tuk with two large cooking pots in tow. Young children and women immediately line up with plastic jars, metal cans, and pots before the sunset prayer.

Today’s meal? White beans in red tomato soup. Again.

“Yeekh,” Ms. Ikhzaiq’s grandson says, scrunching up his face. “Again? It’s not tasty.”

She holds her grandson.

“When we go back to Gaza City,” she vows, “I will cook whatever you want.”

Taylor Luck contributed to this report from Amman, Jordan.

John Minchillo/AP

On April 1, less than a week after a flashy stock market debut, former President Donald Trump's new media company disclosed that it lost nearly $58.2 million in 2023. Seen here is Mr. Trump's Truth Social account on a mobile device on March 20.

Ever since its spectacular debut last week, which made former U.S. President Donald Trump one of the world’s 500 richest people, Trump Media & Technology Group has experienced a series of setbacks that would sink ordinary stocks.

But this highly charged social media investment may defy the odds, at least for a time.

Some are calling it a “meme stock,” or one that attracts investors for emotional reasons. In this case specifically, some point to Mr. Trump’s followers who buy as a political statement. Whatever it is, Trump Media is banking on trust in a single individual, Mr. Trump, at least as much as on the potential growth of an entire company. Trump Media owns Truth Social, Mr. Trump’s social media network.

“I don’t think it has to do with economics,” says Michael Klausner, a professor at Stanford Law School. “It’s all just a cult stock. [And] if the cult following is strong enough ... maybe in the shorter run it isn’t risky, because there’s just such a willingness on the part of these people to keep buying it.”

Trump Media first appeared on March 25 on the Nasdaq Stock Market under the ticker symbol DJT, and share prices soared in its first few days of trading – surpassing $79 at one point. Then early Monday, in a regulatory filing, the company revealed it had revenue of only about $4 million last year and posted net losses of nearly $60 million. “The Company’s operating losses raise substantial doubt about its ability to continue as a going concern,” the filing warned.

The stock then tanked, losing 21% of its value in a day and closing just below its initial offering price of $49.95. On Tuesday, the stock rallied a bit, closing at $51.60, just minutes after a Bloomberg report that Mr. Trump was suing two of the company’s cofounders for “reckless and wasteful decisions” that damaged the company. The co-founders, in turn, have sued Mr. Trump for trying to dilute their stakes in the company. 

Inherent risks test market norms

Heavy losses, warnings of possible insolvency, and legal squabbles among the founders would normally send investors running for the exits. As of Wednesday the stock was holding fairly steady, closing at $48.81, down about 5.4% for the day.

As an investment, Trump Media was always inherently risky, in part because it used an alternative way of going public, known as a special purpose acquisition company, or SPAC. SPACs are pools of money raised in the retail and institutional markets specifically to merge with – or acquire – high-growth companies. They allow a quicker and less cumbersome way for those companies to raise money from the public. They also allow individual investors – rather than venture capital or private equity firms that traditionally provide the money for these companies to grow – to get in on the ground floor.

The number of SPAC deals skyrocketed in 2020 and 2021, but the boom quickly faded as most of those companies’ share prices fell. Professor Klausner calculates that as of two weeks ago, 92% of SPACs that have come online since 2019 have fallen below their original offering price. “They’re losers,” he says. “They have systematically dropped in price.”

Whether Trump Media can buck the trend is anybody’s guess. Other legal action is swirling around the company and its initial public offering. The company is under criminal investigation by federal prosecutors, partly because of two payments from little-known entities with ties to an ally of Russian strongman Vladimir Putin, the British newspaper The Guardian reports. On Wednesday, two investors involved in the SPAC taking Trump Media public pleaded guilty to federal charges of insider trading. 

Two other facts stand out about Trump Media. First, it has a very small base compared with its ambitions to compete with social media giants such as Facebook and X (formerly Twitter). When they went public, Facebook had over 800 million active monthly users and Twitter had more than 200 million. Using a much looser definition, Trump Media claims some 9 million people have used it at some point.

Second, the company is way overvalued for its size.

“In terms of fundamentals, this is just crazy and outrageous,” says Minmo Gahng, a professor of finance at Cornell University. Initial public offerings may feature companies with high potential but no profits, which leads to sky-high valuations based on hopes for future profits, but nothing at the level of Trump Media. “The new thing is that this is all about politics.”

Some investors believe that Truth Social will someday reach the same level of popularity as Facebook or X, Dr. Gahng says. Others have put their faith in Mr. Trump himself. Still others are using their investment dollars to support him, Dr. Gahng adds, “almost, if you will, a donation.”

Share price versus fundamentals

This divergence between share price and fundamentals is one hallmark of what people call a meme stock, says Albert Choi, a law professor at the University of Michigan who has studied the phenomenon. 

But in other ways, Trump Media isn’t acting like a meme stock at all. There’s been no great surge of investors rushing to buy the stock as there was for earlier meme stocks, such as GameStop and AMC. The volume of trading in the stock has not skyrocketed. There doesn’t appear to be heavy coordination of investors via social media, even on Truth Social itself.

“I’d be hesitant to call this a meme stock, but we’ll see,” says Dr. Choi. “Bottom line is: This stock is kind of weird.”

Ultimately, the future of Trump Media & Technology Group may depend on the financial realities, as well as how much trust and popularity Mr. Trump can generate going forward. “The value of TMTG’s brand may diminish if the popularity of President Trump were to suffer,” Monday’s regulatory filing warned.

Arlette Bashizi/Reuters

Malawi soldiers participate in the Southern African Development Community military mission for eastern Congo in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Feb. 20, 2024. A journalist who was covering corruption in Malawi's military recently went into hiding.

When journalist Gregory Gondwe began investigating corruption in Malawi’s military two years ago, he devised a secure way to communicate with his whistleblower on the inside. 

When the source had information, they would log into an email account Mr. Gondwe created, draft an email, and then save it. Later, Mr. Gondwe would log in and read the draft. That way, there would never be a paper trail showing that the two of them had exchanged messages.

But when Mr. Gondwe opened the drafts folder on January 29, the day his story was published, he was greeted with a different kind of message. “Warning!” it read, “The military has deployed intelligence officers to apprehend you and uncover [us]. If you are in the office, flee immediately and do not return home.” 

Mr. Gondwe heeded the advice and went into hiding. “In journalism, I’ve found not just a profession, but a calling to serve my nation ... I will not apologize for this dedication,” he wrote the following day on Facebook. “To those who disapprove: this commitment to truth is non-negotiable.”

Mr. Gondwe isn’t the only African journalist who has been intimidated in recent months for investigating military corruption. Last August, reporter Karim Asaad was detained over a piece he wrote for the Egyptian fact-checking website Matsda2sh about the arrest of several people with military ties aboard a plane filled with cash and gold bars. And in February, journalists with the Zimbabwean site The NewsHawks were forced to drop an investigation about army corruption after the reporters were “put under surveillance” by the government, according to the publication. 

These incidents point to a troubling trend. In many countries in Africa, there are few checks and balances on the power of the military. Investigative journalists are stepping in to act as watchdogs, but it often comes at great personal and professional cost. 

Tsvangirayi Mukwazhi/AP/File

Journalists such as Zimbabwe's Hopwell Chin’ono (pictured above in handcuffs in 2020) and Gregory Gondwe of Malawi have been targeted by authorities after reporting on military and government corruption.

“Put simply, there are more journalists being targeted by the army in recent times because there are more journalists conducting investigative journalism in general and ... into the army in particular,” says Mlondolozi Ndlovu, a media studies lecturer at the Christian College of Southern Africa in Harare. 

Taking the military to task

The story that forced Mr. Gondwe into hiding was part of a wider investigation into alleged dodgy deals made by the Malawian army. Working for the Platform for Investigative Journalism, a local media nongovernmental organization, he had spent more than a year looking into why the military kept buying vehicles at strangely bloated prices. The January 29 story focused on the purchase of 32 tanks from a company linked to Zuneth Sattar, a business owner previously arrested for bribing the country’s vice president. 

Mr. Gondwe took on the project because “investigative journalism helps to hold the Malawi army accountable,” he wrote in a message to the Monitor. 

But the fallout has flipped his life inside out. When he saw the warning message, Mr. Gondwe immediately went into hiding. Soon after, he fled to South Africa. He says he still cannot return home because he will be arrested or worse. “In my line of work, death can be disguised as an accident,” he wrote.

At the root of Mr. Gondwe’s problem is a long-standing issue plaguing many African countries: military leadership run amok. Many of the continent’s militaries grew out of either armed resistance movements to colonial rule, or else its opposite, colonial security forces. Either way, they have often strong-armed their way into significant political power. For instance, nearly half of all successful military coups in the world since 1950 have been in Africa – more than any other region. 

These powerful militaries often get little oversight, making them prone to exactly the kind of corruption Mr. Gondwe uncovered in Malawi. More than half of African countries don’t tell the public how much they spend on their militaries, according to the Africa Center for Strategic Studies, a think tank in the U.S. Department of Defense. And when global watchdog Transparency International assessed the risk of corruption in the world’s militaries, no country in Africa ranked better than “moderate.” Zimbabwe and Egypt, two of the countries where journalists were recently arrested, ranked “very high” and “critical,” respectively. 

‘No story worth dying for’

In many countries, legislatures are meant to be keeping watch over military spending, but often they are doing only “limited oversight,” Golden Matonga, the chairperson of Media Institute of Southern Africa in Malawi, told the Monitor in a WhatsApp message. Meanwhile, he says governments are also doing little to protect journalists who expose corruption, leaving them to face the consequences on their own. 

In Zimbabwe, for example, arrests and government harassment of prominent journalists are common, forcing journalists to make difficult choices about their coverage. In late February, the editors of the online publication The NewsHawks announced that they were cutting short an investigation into three army officials sacked for corruption for the safety of their reporters and sources. “As we say in journalism, in the final analysis there is no story worth dying for!” the publication wrote on X, formerly known as Twitter. “Self-censorship ... [is] necessary if only to ensure journalists’ safety and wellbeing, at least for the time being.” 

As for Mr. Gondwe, he dreams of returning home from South Africa soon. In a message to his wife posted on his Facebook page on Valentine’s Day, he wrote: “Stay strong, my love, as I draw strength from you. Until we can safely reunite, keep our shared dreams alive in your heart, as I do in mine.”

Andrew Harnik/AP/File

The U.S. Food and Drug Administration, whose campus in Washington is seen here, approved Opill, the first over-the-counter birth control pill, for sale in stores and online beginning in March.

For the first time in the United States, a birth control pill is available to women without a prescription, expanding access to people who have difficulty seeing a health care provider or choose not to. 

As states across the country grapple with abortion rights – whether protecting, restricting, or banning abortion – contraception exists in a less controversial space. But in the greater conversation about reproductive health care, advocates call this over-the-counter option crucial. 

“We still have health care deserts across the country,” says Cathren Cohen, staff attorney at the UCLA Law Center on Reproductive Health, Law, and Policy. “And so being able to just go directly to the pharmacy and purchase it there is a really amazing opportunity and very important.”

Some people are voicing reservations about the unrestricted access to the hormone drug, Opill, especially for teenage girls. Removing medical doctors from the care chain, say detractors, leaves women to navigate reproductive health on their own. 

“Making it an over-the-counter option really just furthers this one size fits all approach that has underserved women for so long,” says Emma Waters, senior researcher with The Heritage Foundation. “[Opill] doesn’t empower them in the ways that it seeks to.”

Maria had her mom for guidance. The 19-year-old University of San Francisco student went on birth control last summer, after her first year away at college. She had to wait until she got back home to Chicago so she could see her family doctor for a prescription. 

“Before last year, I didn’t have insurance. I didn’t have an established doctor here,” says Maria, who withheld her last name for privacy. Over-the-counter birth control, she says, “would have come in handy.”

Now, that’s an option. And it’s as easy as clicking on Amazon. 

Choices of contraceptive

Opill’s main ingredient – norgestrel – has been in use since 1973, with a prescription. It’s also called the “mini pill” because it contains only one hormone (most birth control pills have two). The Food and Drug Administration approved it for nonprescription sales in July 2023. The once-a-day oral medication became available online in March, when it also started shipping to stores.

The cost is $19.99 for a one-month supply, or $49.99 for three months. The relatively low price makes it affordable for most women, without insurance. 

A 2022 survey shows 90% of women ages 18 to 49 have used contraception. There are a dozen different types: shots, pills, and implants for women, which all require prescriptions; sterilization procedures for both men and women; and barrier methods, like condoms. Emergency contraception (certain types are commonly called “morning-after pills”) does not require a prescription – but the $50 price tag is high for some. Other women simply track their own menstrual cycle to avoid unwanted pregnancies. 

An analysis of the most recent data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention shows more than a third of females age 15 to 49 who use contraception rely on sterilization. Another 21% use birth control pills, followed by long-acting reversible contraception (16%), like IUDs and implants. 

Maria, in San Francisco, chose a “rod” – or small implant – that goes in her upper arm and releases hormones to provides birth control over an extended period of time. “It was one time, and I’m done for three years,” she says.  

Safer than nothing?

Some people try more than one prescription before finding the right fit. And sex isn’t the only reason they initially seek it out. 

Seventeen-year-old Kat said that she wanted to try birth control pills to mitigate uncomfortable periods, so her mother took her to a doctor who provided a prescription. The Bakersfield High School student has since become sexually active and says that the safeguards of being on birth control outweigh any concerns she has about possible side effects. This can be especially true, she says, for other teens who may not have a trusted adult to turn to. 

“They might have really strict parents and they are trying to rebel, or they just want to try new things, you know?” says Kat, who also wanted her last name kept private. “I feel like [Opill] is safer” than using nothing.

Maria, too, says Opill is a good option for people with limited options – like women in rural or impoverished communities, and “especially in some states where they don’t have access to abortion but they were to get pregnant,” she says. “This is just another preventative measure for those people.” 

By one estimate, 19 million women live in “contraception deserts” – areas without easy access to a health clinic that offers a full range of contraception. It’s in that context, says Ms. Cohen, that nonprescription birth control is especially important.

In the wake of the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision that allows states to govern abortion policy, many states have restricted care. Existing providers are struggling to meet patients’ needs, says Ms. Cohen, and over-the-counter birth control “is a safe and valuable opportunity for people to access contraception without needing to make, wait for, or pay for a doctor’s appointment that will surely help increase access to care.”

It’s those women – living in marginalized communities – who face the greatest disadvantage when looking for contraceptive care, says Ms. Waters, who warns that the new, over-the-counter access encourages a laissez-faire approach to birth control. “We’re basically telling women that they don’t need time with a doctor,” she says. “Their concerns, whatever they are, whatever their motivation is in using birth control, are something that they can handle on their own.” 

The role of pharmacies

A 2022 study shows nearly 90% of Americans live within 5 miles of a pharmacy. And as of last year, the use of retail health clinics – the ones found inside a pharmacy like CVS or Walgreens – was up 200% over five years. More than half of states empower pharmacists to write prescriptions for birth control.

A different survey found more than three-fourths (77%) of women ages 18 to 49 believe birth control should be available without a prescription if research proved it to be safe and effective. In addition to being approved by the FDA, Opill is endorsed by the country’s major medical associations. 

By all accounts, Opill is not for everyone. And whether or not they consult a medical specialist, most women have an abundance of information at their fingertips. 

“It varies for everyone,” says Maria. “I mean, we all have access to Google nowadays.” 

When Gabriel Kline founded Odyssey ClayWorks in 2013, he intended it to become more than a thriving business with an educational pottery studio, a sales gallery, and a residency program for ceramics artists. He says he also wanted to “do good” in his Asheville, North Carolina, community.

The former U.S. service members who participate in Odyssey’s Veterans Clay Program feel the good the studio is doing – from their places behind the potter’s wheel. For 11 years now, military veterans and their families have been coming for a series of pottery classes that Mr. Kline offers free of charge. The classes help veterans heal or simply forge stronger ties in the city.

“When you start doing pottery, you just lose yourself in it,” Roseanna Coates says while working on a series of ceramic tiles during one class. “It’s a better form of therapy than any therapy I’ve ever had.”

Ms. Coates, who was in the Army for three years in the 1980s, says she suffered an incident of sexual trauma before a service-related injury ended her military career. She was attending counseling and therapy sessions at the Charles George Department of Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Asheville when she learned about the Veterans Clay Program. “It just felt like home,” she says. “It’s calm and nonjudgmental.”

Starr Sariego/Special to The Christian Science Monitor

Mr. Kline finishes throwing a large serving bowl on a pottery wheel.

An appreciation for service

Mr. Kline notes that he is not a trained art therapist and that the classes, though therapeutic, are not art therapy in the formal sense. But clay, to him, is “a material that calls you into the present moment.” And throwing clay on the potter’s wheel takes so much concentration, he says, that “it’s very difficult to be thinking about anything else.”

Though Mr. Kline himself never enlisted, his father and grandfather both served in the Army, and he grew up with a respect for the military and for the idea of service. He also knew of many contemporaries from his hometown who were returning from overseas tours of duty with physical and emotional problems. Starting a program for veterans was a way to pay homage to his family’s service, to honor a good friend who was killed in the Iraq War, and to establish his business as a beneficent force in the community.

“I thought pottery could provide a returning soldier the peace, serenity, and calm I experienced,” Mr. Kline says. “I thought maybe it would be a good experience for people who have gone through something traumatic.” 

Mr. Kline began his practice of pottery as a high school student in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. He continued his ceramics training at the Rhode Island School of Design while earning degrees in visual art and religious studies from Brown University. He talks about pottery as both an artistic technique and an internal, spiritual process.

Classes offered through the Veterans Clay Program were an immediate success, filling quickly. At first, Mr. Kline taught the classes, but he now has mostly stepped aside from teaching and passed those duties along to other artists from the community. 

Starr Sariego/Special to The Christian Science Monitor

Gabriel Kline founded Odyssey ClayWorks, which offers a series of classes free of charge for former service members and their families.

“A beneficial effect”

Lori Pelaez, a former Army nurse, estimates this to be the fifth series of classes she has taken through the program. While painting the underglaze on a ceramic dog she made in class the week before, she explains that working with pottery is relaxing.

“It’s getting away from all the bad things in the world,” she says. “The contact with the clay and molding it with your hands has a beneficial effect. I love it.”

Rebekah Wiggins, an art therapist and licensed clinical mental health counselor, has worked at the VA Medical Center in Asheville for 10 years. She has helped connect numerous veterans in Greater Asheville with Mr. Kline’s program. Thanks in part to her efforts, the ceramics work of many of the veterans is on display in a showcase at the VA Medical Center.

Ms. Wiggins brought a group of veterans to one of the first classes that Mr. Kline offered. They ranged from 56 to 90 years old. 

“It was amazing,” she says. “Most of the veterans had little or no prior experience, and everyone felt a measure of success after each class.”

Ms. Wiggins recalls the experience of one particular veteran, a man whose legs had been amputated above the knee. “By the end of the series, he was working the pottery wheel with core stability, independence, and felt a sense of achievement,” she says. “Forgotten were the words, ‘I can’t do that.’” 

Starr Sariego/Special to The Christian Science Monitor

Mr. Kline watches as veteran Rita Thornton paints underglaze on a dragon-themed tile.

Ms. Wiggins says programs such as Mr. Kline’s are beneficial for veterans, including those who have suffered trauma. 

“Not only does it help veterans to get out into the community with peers in a supportive and creative atmosphere,” she says. “It also can be a steppingstone for trauma recovery. There is a significant mind-body connection when it comes to trauma, and clay work invites a direct, physical experience.”

Initially, Mr. Kline paid for the program out of his own pocket, even though his business was not yet making money and he had a newborn daughter at home. In time, he secured some funding from partners as well as money from the city and the state. Much of that funding dried up during the coronavirus pandemic. Now the program is funded by a benefit auction, outside donations, some private foundation grants, and All Together Art, a nonprofit organization founded by several veterans who have participated in Mr. Kline’s program. “I love the work we do,” he says. “We use the studio like a center for self-improvement.” 

AP

People walk near the Roman Catholic Cathedral in Chilpancingo in the Mexican state of Guerrero.

In early February, when the president of Senegal postponed a scheduled national election, street protests erupted over fears he might stay in power. Yet one of the most powerful voices for restoring the election – and calm – came from the League of Imams and Preachers of Senegal. The religious leaders asked President Macky Sall “to ensure an honorable exit and give our country every chance to remain a haven of peace and stability.” He relented.

Also in February, religious leaders in Mexico negotiated a truce between two drug cartels in the southern state of Guerrero. The rival gangs had escalated a turf war with a sharp rise in killings. The truce has since held, and the murder rate in the state has dropped by 23%. One Catholic bishop said the cease-fire has been maintained by constant prayer.

Meanwhile in gang-wracked Haiti, where one priest was able to arrange a temporary truce between gangs last year, many religious leaders have stayed put to meet the needs of the people. Last month, the country’s Catholic bishops invited “all Haitians, without distinction, to refrain from fuelling violence” and support an effort to form an inclusive transitional government.

Such peace endeavors by faith leaders are being taken more seriously by governments these days. Last year, Samantha Power, administrator of the U.S. Agency for International Development, called for officials to better engage religious workers in social and economic work.

“We must take religion into account,” she said. “In fact, when we fail to do so, we fail to tap into one of the world’s most powerful potential forces for change.”

“At their best, religious traditions around the world remind us of the dignity of all people – dignity, a force that has spurred people to action,” Ms. Power added.

Sometimes religious sentiment can be “a catalyst for violence,” as the United States Institute of Peace pointed out. Yet it can also be “an unparalleled inspiration for reconciliation and healing,” the institute noted.

“Even where religion is not an explicit presence, it is a cultural undercurrent that is immutably present – and one that is often vastly underestimated by policymakers.”

Faith leaders are hardly underestimated in places such as Senegal, Mexico, and Haiti. They are in the public eye and not only in the pulpit. The rest of the world has taken note.