Dr. Stacey Patton

01/21/2026

What kind of broke-ass, spiritually diseased people heckle a bunch of monks who are just walking and barely saying a word?

No, really, y’all . . . what kind of degenerate psyche do you have to possess to look at a line of men draped in simple saffron robes, prayer beads in hand, walking for peace, and something in your soul says: this is Antichrist energy? Let’s anatomize the soul that produces this kind of hateful Christian love.

What happened to a faith that once claimed “blessed are the peacemakers?” What happened that some Christians can look at a quiet pilgrimage and see a Satanic Trojan horse and monks minding their business as harbingers of the Antichrist? Ryan’s post exposes the psychological and theological damage of a Christianity that has been so thoroughly captured by fear, nationalism, and apocalyptic fantasy that it can no longer recognize peace unless it’s flying an American flag and carrying a cross in the right political colors.

Across social media, the harassment has been blunt, deranged, and theologically unhinged. Videos and posts show people filming the monks as they walk, shouting at them from cars and sidewalks, warning others that the pilgrimage is “satanic,” “Antichrist,” or “end-times deception,” framing a silent peace walk as a spiritual plot. Comment sections are filled with Christians insisting the monks are agents of false peace, tools of the devil, or signs of prophetic danger, not because the monks are doing anything aggressive or political, but precisely because they are calm, non-Christian, and visibly reverent.

These monks are walking nearly 2,300 miles. On foot. A couple of them ain’t wearin’ shoes. They’ve been walking for close to a hundred days through cold, rain, heat, blisters, traffic, and fatigue. They’re walking with discipline, silence, and the kind of spiritual stamina most Americans couldn’t muster for ten blocks, let alone a pilgrimage that stretches across states and seasons. That is a level of discipline and commitment so deep, so quiet, so unbothered by comfort that describing it as “gangsta” doesn’t even cover it.

All kinds of people have been lining the roads to watch them pass. Folks are pulling over, standing in the cold, some with hands folded, some with tears, some just stunned by the sight of it. Because in a world that is loud, cruel, frantic, and algorithmically addicted to outrage, the image of human beings choosing slowness, choosing restraint, choosing peace with their whole bodies is arresting. It interrupts the nervous system. It reminds you what devotion looks like when it’s not merchandised.

And the irony is obscene. The religion that claims to follow a poor, itinerant teacher who walked everywhere, who owned nothing, who told people to put down their swords, now produces followers who cannot tolerate the sight of men doing precisely that. Walking. Owning little. Practicing peace. Not demanding shit. Not conquering and colonizing. Just being.