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For Abdul, a 17-year-old refugee from Afghanistan, and others who arrived in Greece without their parents, this year was their first Ramadan away from their families.

“In Afghanistan, our father, mother, sister all fast—all people are doing it. Here, it’s different,” Abdul said. “It will be difficult for us, but we will not forget our religion.”

Abdul, whose name was changed to protect his privacy as a juvenile, lives in a shelter in Athens with other underage refugees who have found themselves in one of the most homogeneous Christian nations in the world.

It’s time for evening prayers. Shah Malik heads to Masjid Usman, in an Athens neighborhood that is home to immigrants from Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Bangladesh.

A handwritten sign taped beside the entrance reads that the prayer space is registered as a library. At least 200,000 Muslims live in Athens, but of the 120 prayer spaces in the city, only three have been able to navigate a maze of legal restrictions to register as mosques.

Germany’s main Protestant church mostly gave up efforts to convert Jews in the decades following the Holocaust, and closing that chapter should have been a formality.

But the Evangelical Church in Ger­many, or EKD, made up of 20 regional Lutheran, Reformed, and United churches, did not officially abandon the Juden­mission, or mission to the Jews. And small groups of evangelicals in a few member churches have long opposed an official statement against conversion, despite calls from Jewish groups to issue one.

When Javier Flores, a 40-year-old father of three, received an order to surrender to U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, he fled to Arch Street United Methodist Church. He said he is determined to stay in the United States for the sake of his children.

The north Philadelphia resident, who has no criminal convictions, entered the United States from Mexico without papers in 1997. Since then, he has been deported and reentered several times.

The day after the election, Lisa Sharon Harper nearly gave up the name “evangelical.”

Harper, chief church engagement officer at Sojourners, a progressive Christian organization, “felt betrayed” by the 81 percent of white evangelical Christians who voted for Donald Trump for president. Their vote was essential to the victory of a candidate she described as “representing all of the things Jesus stood against—lust for money, sex, and power.”

Of the 4,000 women gathered at the Qasr el Yahud baptism site in the Jordan River Valley, many wore white T-shirts emblazoned with the words “Women Wage Peace” in Hebrew, English, and Arabic.

An Israeli in a sleeveless white tunic embraced an elderly Palestinian in a black hijab, as the gathering swayed to the beat of doumbek drums and tambourines and chanted: “Hey Ya, women walk for peace!”

On the day after the election, Mervat Aqqad’s seven-year-old son woke up and asked who got elected president.

When Aqqad broke the news to Ibrahim his first question was, “Do we have to move now?”

“I told him, ‘You were born here. You’re an American citizen like anyone else,’” said Aqqad, a middle school teacher in Raleigh, North Carolina.

When John Floberg, an Episcopal priest on the Standing Rock reservation, called for clergy to join him in Cannon Ball, North Dakota, to show support for the Standing Rock Sioux Nation, he thought 100 might come.