April 24, 2005 Philippians 4:4-9, John 14:23-29
THE UNWORLDLY PEACE OF GOD
Once upon a time I preached what I thought was a terrific sermon and was met at the door by a parishioner who told me, "Pastor, your sermon was like the peace and mercy of God to me!" "Why thank you!" I replied. Whereupon the person continued, "Like God's peace, it was beyond all understanding. And like God's mercy, I thought it would endure forever!"
Well, I promise this sermon will not endure forever; but I do mean in these few minutes to explore something of God's peace, which often does "pass beyond all understanding."
In our scripture reading for today, we hear Jesus speaking to his disciples for the last time before his crucifixion, in words that have often been a source of great comfort. "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." When my grandmother died in 1974 following a long illness, we went through the Bible she kept at her bedside and found these same words underlined. How often she must have been assured by them in her last days. We used them as a text at her memorial service, and since then, I have read them in nearly every one of the funerals or memorial services I have conducted. But of course this promise of peace is a source of great strength in many other situations as well.
Robert Schuller has said, "Be kind--for everyone you meet is carrying a heavy load." After some 29 years in the ministry, the more I can see how right he is! Some folks, however, seem to carry their loads better than others, seem to be able to face great adversity with calm and assurance, because they have this peace of God within.
I recall Dan Rather's description of his first meeting Dr. Martin Luther King. It was in the midst of a very traumatic time for our nation, some 40 years ago, as the throes of the Civil Rights revolution seemed to be shaking the foundations of our society. "We found a couch and sat down. My first impression was that in the midst of all the disorder, Dr. King was secure within himself, under control. He had his own thoughts together, knew what he was doing. He often talked, as I got to know him, about a quality he called `Peace at the center'. He had it. If you had walked into that room that day, and looked at him, you would have thought that this was the only man in that house, maybe in the entire country, who had a sense of peace."
King had the "peace of God." So did Gandhi. So did the Apostle Paul. So did Jesus. So did my grandmother as she faced death, and so have many, many others who faced strife and adversity. They had the peace of God. But what is it and how does one get it?
Perhaps the easiest way to answer that is to first describe what it is not, and ask, what is the peace that the world gives?
English composer Brian Wren, whose material we use often in our worship, has written a hymn called "Say `No' to Peace" which in part proclaims....
Say no to peace if what they mean by peace
is the quiet misery of hunger,
the frozen stillness of fear,
the silence of broken spirits,
the unborn hopes of the oppressed.
Say no to peace if what they mean by peace
is a rampart of gleaming missiles
the arming of distant wars,
money at ease in its castle
and grateful poor at the gate.
Much of what passes for peace in today's world--peace given by the world--is not really peace at all, not really the peace of God. The world's peace is often a facade for violence and misery underneath. I remember my first sightseeing trip to Beverly Hills as a young college student. After a childhood on the desert, I was quite impressed with all the beautiful houses, the perfectly manicured lawns, how peaceful and quiet each estate seemed to be. But all you need to do is read the papers to discover that behind and underneath all that peacefulness lies "the frozen stillness of fear" and "the silence of broken spirits." Behind things like the very public break-up of Brad and Jen lie alcoholism, drug abuse, domestic violence, deep unhappiness and frantic climbing and tugging for success, lives controlled by wealth, "money at ease in its castle"....this is not peace at all, no matter how itlooks on the outside.. But of course you don't need to go all the way to Beverly Hills at all to discover that the same kinds of things go on in any quiet neighborhood. Things may appear peaceful, when in reality, they aren't at all.
Over a decade ago, I lived through the riots in Los Angeles, following the first Rodney King verdict. The next year there was another trial for the officers who beat him, and we all watched tensely as the verdicts were announced. Afterwards, the reporters said: all is peaceful in South Central. And yet how much peace is there really when different verdicts may have led to a renewal of the violence? How close to the surface is violence when peace is only maintained by a massive show of police and military force? Is that real peace, or is that just keeping the lid on it? It is the same in countries newly liberated from dictatorships....is it really peace when it is maintained only by the presence of troops?
The peace of the world is a peace that ignores or smoothes over or even supresses conflict. Now I am the kind of person who doesn't like conflict. I suppose most of us do not like conflict and confrontation. I am the world's expert at smoothing over a problem. But of course that doesn't make the problem go away, it just hides it. We once owned a house which developed a few crack s on a couple of walls. I spackled over them and repainted. Things look as good as new. But then, the back door didn't want to open, and that's kind of hard to disguise. So we had to have a contractor come in and do some structural work. That was more expensive, and painful, but it had to be done, if the house was to have integrity.
It's the same with relationships. I remember learning several years ago that some good friends were splitting up and divorcing. When we had last seen them, we had no idea; they seemed like such a peaceful, happy family. Obviously things were not peaceful, and had been smoothed over too long, until they could no longer be fixed. The world often gives that kind of outward but deceptive peace.
That's why the prophet Jeremiah condemns those who cry "Peace, Peace" when there is no peace.
The peace that the world gives is often the peace of stagnation and inertia and escapism. Remember that old song we love to sing? "With someone like you, a pal so good and true, I'd like to leave it all behind, and go and find Some place that's known to God alone, just a spot to call our own. We'll find perfect peace, Where joys never cease, Out there beneath a kindly sky. We'll build a sweet little nest, somewhere in the West, and let the rest of the world go by!" Sounds great, and I'm looking forward to some of that in a couple of months! Trouble is, that kind of peace is also the peace of the graveyard, where we shall all rest free from the world's turmoil in due time. Why get there before we have to? (Martin Luther: "If I rest, I rust!")
In contrast to this peace that the world gives, Christ offers us peace of another sort, the "Unworldly peace of God." Such peace is not based on the masking over of conflict, nor is it maintained by force of arms or threat of violence, nor is it escapist from the world and its struggles. Listen to the words of the rest of Brian Wren's song...
Peace is a song,
Playing to the pipes of freedom,
Swinging to the sound of love.
Peace is a tree,
growing from the soil of justice,
Watered by the rain of love.
Peace is the shouting of children at play,
the babble of tongues set free
the thunder of dancing feet,
and a father's voice singing.
Peace is the hauling down of flags,
The forging of guns into plows,
the giving of fields to the landless,
and hunger a fading dream.
Peace is a song,
Playing to the pipes of freedom,
Swinging to the sound of love.
This is the peace that Christ gives, a peace that the world does not give. It is a peace that begins deep within the human heart, a "peace at the center", and then radiates out into the world in deeds of justice and love which help ensure God's peace for all people.
I suppose the primary thing to understand about the peace which God gives is that, in the words of Frederick Buechner, "For Jesus, peace seems to have meant not the absence of struggle, but the presence of love."
In the language of the Hebrew Sciptures, the word for peace is "Shalom". At its root it means "to be whole, or complete, or in harmony." In a word, Shalom signifies well-being--inner well-being, outer well-being, well-being as a description of your relationship with yourself, with others, with the whole creation, and with God. It means being alive and aware of the world around you, not immune from hurt or pain, but eager to restore the harmonies of life.
To possess this sort of peace, this shalom, in your life is to experience the peace of God. But it's not something you can go out and get, like a new car or download like a computer program. It comes only as we fulfill certain conditions.
One of them is gaining a proper perspective on your life. Stand back, occasionally, and put thing in order. Years ago the LONDON TIMES put the obituaries on the front page. Kind of a sobering way to start the day. (At least if you didn't see your name there, you knew things were okay.) And, by the time you got to page two, with the news of disasters and tragedies and economic indicators, you had a few things in rather clear perspective. You knew the world has always had crises, and will always have them, long after you're gone. It will somehow manage to go on without you.
And having put things in perspective, you are free to realize who you are, and to Whom you belong. And you will realize that at the center of existence is One on whom we can depend, and whose child you are. It is God's peace that is open to us when we realize deep down inside that God cares about us and loves us. Whatever around us may come undone, inside our lives are held together. And because we feel God's care, we know that nothing can ever sever our relationship with God.
Peace from God allows us to ask questions, to raise doubts, to wonder. Because we know that love binds us together, we are free to face conflict, not retreat from it. We can disagree with those we love--and love those with whom we disagree.
A number of years ago now Pam and I attended an ecumenical celebration, bringing together Catholics, Protestants, and Jews. It was held in a Jewish Temple, and because it was an orthodox Jewish Temple, many of the men wore yamicas on their heads. As I went in I thought, well, I don't want to upset anyone, or look out of place, so I put one on my head. During the service, we were invited to greet those around us, wishing them either "the Peace of Christ", or "Shalom". Pam turned to the lady next to her and said, "The Peace of Christ". The she paused for a moment and added, "I really like the expression, SHALOM!" The lady looked at her, looked at me in my Yamicah, looked back at Pam and said, "That's because you've grown up with it, dear!"
Well, in a very real sense she was right! I did grow up with Shalom--an inner sense of well-being that I was loved, and that Peace could be present in all circumstances. Of course with three younger brothers and a sister, I often wondered if peace really was possible. And as I said, I still tend to avoid conflict more than I should---but I do know the underlying sense of shalom that comes from knowing I am loved--by God and by others--and from living with that love in the center of my being.
That is the kind of peace that the world cannot give; but the world cannot take it away either. And that's why when you are the recipient of the marvelous, unworldly peace of God, you can live and struggle and love in the midst of the world.
A couple of times now I have presented exerpts from Mark Twain's "The Diaries of Adam and Eve." Like Job, Adam in this version fiercely questions the ways of God with humans. He eats the apple, not because he has no principles, but because he is hungry. He fusses with Eve because she talks too much, and is glad for the snake to come along, so Eve can talk to it for a while and give him some peace.
But then, he writes: we have been thrown out of the garden, "but it is better to live outside the garden with her than inside without her."
Finally, Eve dies, the diary ends. But we are permitted to hear the last words of Adam spoken at Eve's grave. He says: "Wherever she was, there was Eden!"
You see, Eden, that perfect paradise of Peace is not always found in some faraway, trouble-free land, but right here in our midst, in those relationships that challenge us and give us life, in those places of need and demand, in the situations that call us to love and to care and to be about God's business. Wherever love is alive, and at the center of our being, there is Eden! And there too is the unworldly peace of God, which passes all understanding.
I leave you, then, with these words of an old benediction:
And now the Lord plague you and torment you,
The Lord set an impossible task before you
and dare you to meet it;
The Lord give you strength to do your best.
Then and only then, the Lord grant you peace.
