Last Sunday night, more than 520 people gathered on the steps of the College Church, spilling onto the sidewalks on the East and West side of Grand Blvd. Most students were probably sleeping off their jet lag or scrambling to finish postponed homework, but a few probably wondered why there was this mass of people silently perched in their own backyard.

The short answer: The St. Louis Instead of War Coalition has been holding a vigil for peace on Sunday nights since September 2001.

Additionally, Sunday was an international day for peaceful presence for millions in cities and towns around the world. So the usual crowd had swelled a bit.

Yet the regulars, one of whom I try to be, will tell you that standing on those steps for a half an hour once a week has little to do with lobbying President Bush or swaying the opinions of an entire nation.

Rather, the thing that brings people back is much simpler: the search for an inner peace.

To stand in that crowd is to stand among people of peace, people who don’t wield geopolitical clout or look into the future, scheming about the way the countries of the world should act, but instead believe in the power of the individual. For vigil regulars, the experience is greatly therapeutic: an escape from a cynical world, a glimpse at a world of intelligence coupled with patience and understanding.

We could never ask for peace without showing it ourselves.

Now don’t get angry because this sounds overly idealistic. It is. My inner peace won’t stop Saddam Hussein from enslaving the people of Iraq. I know that. But think of it this way: the people of Saint Louis University are not at war. Granted, we can disagree about the way our world is run, but when the bombs are falling on Baghdad, there is no future in us fighting each other as well, right?

There is an emotional, ideological factor hindering much of our progress, but it never served anyone except the most stubborn and the most selfish to take a perfectly understandable personal belief and extend it to others as their only option. In other words, to offer –and when it gets legal, enforce–a belief, not for others’ consideration, but for their total acceptance. As university students and faculty, we gain nothing from being so savage.

Every human desires peace. The reason many support war is because of their genuine desire for peace. The means are the part we disagree about.

Yet as of this week, I’d say the means have been chosen for us. So what does that mean for this peace we seek?

As Bush invades Iraq, as American troops, Iraqi civilians, Iraqi troops and others are dying, where do we find peace? Do we wait for the dust to settle and go searching peace in a desert half way around the world? Will we really find peace there? I doubt it.

Hawks and doves alike, it doesn’t take much to realize–to feel in the pit of one’s stomach–that war deals an irrevocable blow to the fragile human spirit.

I’m not trying to say one side is right or wrong. Rather, I want us to recognize the solidarity members of the human family feel with each other and the subsequent pain we feel when we loose one of our brothers or sisters.

My point is, when our president launches his war, all of us are going to need a little consolation. The first thing I would suggest would be to come to the vigils at the College Church. Regardless of who you are, acceptance and compassion are paramount so I would hope everyone would feel welcome.

But that may be unrealistic. Even though I guarantee this Sunday’s vigil will be much more somber and much less political, I can’t deny that the event is also an organizing tool for a social action group and some of the ending announcements may even rub people the wrong way.

When the bombing starts and for the next 48 hours it continues, the SLU IOW Coalition will hold vigil at the clocktower for all those suffering and dying in Iraq. Again, all are welcome; but, again, some may not feel comfortable among strangers.

So gather with your friends, sit in silence for the fracturing of the world, recognize what is happening, not in order to place blame, but simply to know what has happened, because it is important and it will not go away anytime soon.

Maybe you’ll tell us where you’re meeting so we can visit each other, converse, sympathize–become people of understanding. And for those of you cynics out there who remain unconvinced, go easy on us, please, we’re dreamers.

Andrew Ivers is a freshman studying English and political science.