Vladimir Putin likes to associate today’s Russian Federation with the old Russian empire, and in one sense he is right. The Russian empire was the most repressive state of its era, with the most refined state police: the Okhrana. Russian revolutionaries, the men and women who would establish the Soviet state, were educated by its methods. It did not simply hunt them down; it ensnared them, often without their knowledge, in a complicated dance of incriminating their comrades.

What is love? Reader, don’t hurt me. Just etymologically. I’ll try.It may be the slipperiest word in the English language. We are constantly asserting its meaning and renegotiating its definition, especially in pop culture.

In the household where I was raised, “Love thy neighbor as thyself” often felt like the highest commandment. My grandmother, who worked as a nurse on Rikers Island at the peak of the AIDS crisis, fashioned our home in Queens as a place where everyone was welcome. Patriarchs played dominoes in the den and neighbors swung by to say hi. Reggae blasted from our dusty record player while church sermons competed from the kitchen radio.

Donald Trump was supposed to have changed the world, robbing America not just of its luster but of its allies’ trust. Here was a president of such gauche ignorance and hostility, it seemed impossible that American power would ever be seen in the same light again. For Europe, in particular, Trump’s jingoistic belligerence was poised to be an adrenaline shot to the heart, Pulp Fiction–style, jolting the continent out of its American dependency.

In 1938, British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain arrived home from a conference in Munich. He and other leaders had met with Hitler; they had agreed to allow the German army to annex a slice of Czechoslovakia; in exchange, Hitler offered more dialogue, and promised not to fight any further. To the cheering crowd who gathered to welcome his plane, Chamberlain happily declared that the threat of war had passed: He had obtained “peace with honour….peace for our time.

Illustrations by Miki LoweThe poet Christian Wiman grew up in a Baptist household but progressively strayed from his religion—until he was in his late 30s. At that point, two life-changing events rocked him back to Christianity: He was diagnosed with a rare form of blood cancer, and he fell in love.Having known agnosticism and faith alike, Wiman understands how absurdly irrational religious belief can seem—and also how such irrationality is insufficient to refute a higher being.

When the mayor of Washington, D.C., announced changes to the city’s mask mandate last week, spit hit the fan. As of March 1, District residents will need to cover up in order to attend school, go to a library, or ride in a taxi. But gyms, sports arenas, concert venues, and houses of worship—you know, all the places where people like to breathe hard or sing and shout in close proximity—will be facial free-for-alls.