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Good morning. ‘How many deaths will it take 'til we know/That too many people have died?’ So sang Bob Dylan in 1962. It’s an understandable reaction to war: surely after all these centuries we should have learned the paths that lead to peace. It turns out we have learned something. Three hundred and seventy-five years ago today, in Osnabruck and Munster, the Thirty Years War came to an end with the signing of the Peace of Westphalia. The treaty was a landmark in international relations. Henceforth a tradition emerges by which sovereign states recognise the inviolability of borders and renounce the urge to interfere in the domestic affairs of other states. But wars continued. So nations needed to go beyond Westphalia. Seventy-eight years ago today the United Nations came into existence. The UN went beyond Westphalia. It added such commitments as maintaining international peace and security, protecting human rights, and delivering humanitarian aid. But still we have war. As Jesus lamented, ‘If you had only recognised on this day the things that make for peace!’ Many people have uttered similar sentiments in recent days. It’s easy to give in to despair, and let despair translate into wounded cynicism. But the journey from 1648 to 1945 generated a great deal of wisdom and consensus. We now have criteria for when war might be regarded as legitimate; and specific rules for how war might be conducted and concluded. We have an international court, that can hold people accountable for war crimes, and international peacekeepers, equipped to keep warring sides apart. Yes, the UN has failed so many times: but before we let the passivity of dismay take hold, we should remember the tools reflections on previous conflicts have brought us, and seek to put those tools to use. Perhaps the greatest legacy of previous catastrophes is the insight at the heart of the Christian faith: that out of the very worst and most desperate situation the greatest truth may emerge. Christianity began when, after the desolation of Jesus’ crucifixion, his disciples began to discover the astonishment of his resurrection. Ever since, a core characteristic of faith has been to look into the deepest depths of disaster to find something that dwells only there and is only revealed at such moments: for me, it’s the perception of something beyond despair – a truth, a discovery, a resolution, a promise. The most important things in life are found in the face of the devastation of death. In the midst of horror and terror, where hope is hard to find, that same perception – of a truth only accessible amid dire adversity – may be the best location to place our trust today.