One of my favorite parts of the morning prayer service in our hymnal is the Benedictus, which is the song Zechariah sings in Luke 1 as he prophesies about what the future holds for his newborn son, John, who we know as John the Baptist. The last part goes like this: “In the tender compassion of our God the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
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| Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash |
Peace is understood to be a central characteristic of Christianity. We recall another prophecy, this one from Isaiah, that the coming Messiah would be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. We think of the Beatitudes, “blessed are the peacemakers”, and Jesus’ surprising instructions elsewhere in the Sermon on the Mount to “turn the other cheek” when faced with hatred and violence. We bring to mind Jesus calming the storm with the words “Peace, be still,” and calming his anxious and grieving disciples with the words “Peace be with you.”
With this as our foundational understanding of peace, I wonder if perhaps you had to look again at the text as I read today’s Gospel passage from Matthew, in which Jesus proclaims, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.”
The Prince of Peace carries a sword? This doesn’t make sense! We remember, however, that division is not the end goal of Jesus’ life and ministry, but rather an unavoidable reality on the way to the end goal of peace.
When we read the Scriptures, it becomes more and more apparent that the “way of peace” in which our feet are guided often winds through the valleys of discomfort and division. The message of the cross that Jesus preaches is hard! It calls for sacrifice, and thinking and acting for more than just ourselves. The way of the cross is the way of love that suffers with, the way of the upside-down, last-are-first Kingdom of God. It calls us to choose faithfulness over success; calls us to forget appearances and instead welcome strangers and those who can give us nothing in return. The way of the cross calls us to die with Christ. Wait - that’s the way of peace?! Yes, that’s the way of peace.
In the words of theologian and writer Debie Thomas, “…the peace Jesus offers us is not the fake peace of denial, dishonesty, and harmful accommodation. His is a holistic, truth-telling, disinfecting peace. The kind of deep, life-changing peace that doesn’t hesitate to break in order to mend, and cut in order to heal.
Jesus will name realities we don’t want named. He will upset hierarchies we’d rather keep intact. He will expose the lies we tell ourselves out of cowardice, laziness, or obstinacy. And he will disrupt all dynamics in our relationships with ourselves and with each other that keep us from wholeness and holiness. This is not because Jesus wants us to suffer. It's because he knows that real peace is worth fighting for.”
This peace – real, lasting peace – is God’s shalom. It is all about wholeness and community, balance and harmony. This all-encompassing peace cannot be attained when there is injustice, scarcity, and fear, and it cannot be attained by pretending that injustice does not exist. For this peace to be built, so many other things must be dismantled – anything and everything that separates us from God and from one another.
This process is not comfortable, to say the least. But the promise found in dying to sin in the waters of baptism is that we will also be raised to new life with and in Christ.
We cannot bring about peace – God’s shalom – on our own. And so we give thanks that God guides our feet into this way. We give thanks for a God who works toward peace in surprising and unexpected ways, with division that brings wholeness, and dying that brings flourishing and life. We give thanks for a God who accompanies us always, walking with us in the way of peace. Amen.
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