“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give
to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be
troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” From the Gospel according to John,
the Gospel for today, chapter 14, verse 27.
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus
Sancti. Amen.
Peace. We all know what this word means;
we all have an idea of it. Perhaps we tend to think of it as an absence of
conflict, of violence, an absence of any kind unpleasant or painful or disturbing
condition or situation. And we certainly know what it means, or would mean, in
Syria today, and in every other place torn apart by war. In our own city, peace
would mean an end to gang warfare. I remember, when I lived in Los Angeles,
that a truce was arranged between two major gangs. The peace that followed
allowed people to walk the streets without fear of being struck by stray
bullets. Peace is a universally understood concept, a universal desire and
goal. For most people, anyway. And we all use the expression “peace and quiet;”
this kind of peace is the absence of noise. We’ve all heard the Arabic “salaam
aleikum,” “peace be with you,” close to our liturgical expression, and the
Hebrew “shalom.” And young people today use an expression, “peace out” to
conclude an email or a text message. Or at least they do when they’re
communicating with me! I don’t know how current it is. In any case, it is an
improvement on the old radio expression, “over and out!” And I’ve noticed
lately on Muni buses and trains, placards portraying sayings expressive of
various ideals: Respect, Love, Gratitude, among others, and, of course, Peace.
All these concepts and experiences are
examples of peace “as the world gives.” They are all good and necessary. They
all come from that universal desire for safety, security, freedom from
violence, for the absence of conflict. Taken together, they suggest a way of
living that would be comfortable, contented, and safe. This is peace “as the
world gives.”
But Our Lord says, “I do not give to you
as the world gives.” Our Lord knew well, as we know, how fragile the world’s
peace really is, and how fragile, temporary, fickle even, our own personal
peace can be. Peace between friends, in families, on the job, and of course in
government and the world, is easily lost. This is the real nature of the
world’s peace. And this is not the peace Our Lord is talking about.
“Do not let your hearts be troubled, and
do not let them be afraid.” This sentence points toward what Our Lord is getting
at. Perhaps we think that if everyone else would just calm down, and stop being
so selfish and small-minded and demanding, then there would be peace. After
all, isn’t it obvious that there are lots of people out there behaving badly,
and if they would just stop, everything would be fine? But, Our Lord says, to
his first hearers and to all of us, “Do not let YOUR hearts be troubled.” In
other words, he locates the difficulty in finding peace, not in others, but in
ourselves. He is addressing us, not some hypothetical other who is the source
of all the trouble in the world. “Do not let YOUR hearts be troubled.” And what
is the source of this trouble in our hearts? “And do not let them (your hearts,
he means) be afraid.” The source of the trouble in our hearts, is FEAR. Fear is
the real opposite of peace, not conflict, as we may be tempted to suppose.
There may be no apparent conflict in one situation or another, creating the
impression of peace, but if there is fear, there is no peace. And conflict
arises from fear. If we want peace, we must let go of fear, our fear.
In Form I of the Prayers of the People,
which Deacon Michael and I use from time to time, we pray for “the peace from
above, for the loving kindness of God, and for the salvation of our souls.” And
then we go on to pray for “the peace of the world, for the welfare of the holy
Church, and for the unity of all.” The two kinds of peace could not be more
clearly distinguished. The peace of God IS his loving-kindness, and IS our
salvation. And the peace of the world, at its best, IS the well-being of the
Church, and the well-being, and unity, of all. And the peace of God, the peace
not of this world, makes the peace of the world possible.
In our liturgy, we greet one another with
the Kiss of Peace. Perhaps we experience it only as a perfunctory gesture, a
polite nod in the direction of an ideal, but I would like us to experience it
as something more than that. We are extending to each other, with the grace
that is given us, the peace not of this world which Our Lord has extended to
us. If we can let go of the trouble in our hearts, the fear, if there is any,
even for a moment, we can catch a glimpse of what Our Lord is getting at. There
is a double movement here, since extending peace to each other in this way, we
are helping each other and ourselves to let go of trouble and fear. We are able
to give each other the kiss of peace, because Our Lord has enabled us to let go
of our trouble, whatever it is, for a moment at least, and beyond, in ways that
we may not perceive directly, but which are endlessly working in us. Let us
appreciate this grace-filled moment, this gesture, of peace, and think of
ourselves as carrying it out into the world, the trouble-filled, fear-filled
world, which needs the peace from above to help find the peace that we all desire.
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give
to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be
troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus
Sancti. Amen.

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