You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
When Jesus tells his followers that the dawn of God’s New Age will be accompanied by upheaval and cataclysm, he includes armed conflict among the signs to look for: “When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom…”
Conflict seems to be a fact of life, or at least intrinsic to human nature. Almost as soon as there were humans they began to disagree. As people developed the capacity to make weapons, conflicts became armed ones. As people developed the capacity to enslave or conscript one another, armed conflicts became a business with armies and navies, and eventually even the skies became a battlefield. And as people developed the capacity to philosophize and rationalize, armed conflict was often framed as noble and good, a necessary evil to achieve freedom and prosperity. The human cost of that freedom and prosperity was often conveniently omitted from the narrative.
Is it churlish to raise such issues on Veterans Day, a day we set apart to honor and celebrate the sacrifices and courage of those women and men who go to war on our behalf? I hope not. I am deeply grateful for those who serve and have served, and to those who paid the ultimate price in death or dismemberment. I ache for the many veterans who remain haunted by the trauma they’ve experienced and sometimes have perpetrated, and am troubled by the paucity of mental health support being given them. I honor our veterans even as I look for a day when we won’t have any, because the human race has figured out better ways to work out conflict.
That seems about the most ridiculous sentence I’ve ever written. Not even Jesus seemed to foresee such a day this side of the fulfillment of God’s Kingdom. As long as “nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom…” we will need armed forces to defend us and sometimes the defenseless in other lands. And as long as we have armed forces, we will have veterans to be honored and supported.
Itt doesn’t have to be either/or. God’s realm is a both/and place, and that same Jesus who predicted conflict was also called the Prince of Peace. We can support our veterans while working to expand the many effective peacebuilding and conflict-resolution initiatives in our world. We can champion restorative justice initiatives which seek to break cycles of vengeance that fuel so many conflicts. We can teach our children better ways to achieve their goals. We can honor our active duty service members while calling out bad actors who prey on the vulnerable, both within their ranks and in the populations in which they serve.
And we can proclaim the Good News we will one day know in full, that Life of God in which all are housed, all are fed, no one is in want or need, and therefore no one needs to be in conflict. The prophet Micah painted that dream: God shall judge between many peoples, and shall arbitrate between strong nations far away; they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more; but they shall all sit under their own vines and under their own fig trees, and no one shall make them afraid; for the mouth of the Lord of hosts has spoken.
Jesus suggested that nations rising up against each other are among the birth pangs to realizing that vision of peace. Perhaps they are. But they’re not the only ones. We can show other signs of God’s in-breaking realm of peace by living as though it were already here.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Showing posts with label peacemaking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label peacemaking. Show all posts
11-3-23 - No Rose Garden
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
When I was young(er), there was a hit on the radio that went “I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden; along with the sunshine there’s gotta be a little rain sometimes.” (Yikes, I even remember the lyrics – worse yet, there’s a video!)
I’m reminded of this little ditty by the last two Beatitudes:
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”
Lest Jesus’ disciples think that following him was their road to glory, he tells them right up front to expect flack, slander, even persecution. This will signal that they’re in the big leagues, up there with the great prophets of Israel who had messages from God their leaders didn’t want to hear. Look at what happened to them: flogging, imprisonment, job loss – sometimes death. Jesus does specify that it’s persecution for the sake of righteousness, or for his sake. Ordinary suffering and mistreatment don’t buy us a reward. But suffering for the revelation he has come to proclaim and demonstrate? That will be honored.
In Europe and America we don’t face much persecution for being Christian – assuming that we present enough evidence to convict us. But if we’re serious about our faith and vocal about how our relationship with God in Christ affects our choices, decisions, priorities in how we spend our time, money and relationships, we may face derision, even some social cost. And to assert equity and justice for the poor and marginalized, in line with Jesus and the prophets before him, can put us at odds even with other Christians.
Now, if you’ve been keeping score, you’ll notice I skipped one Beatitude:
When I was young(er), there was a hit on the radio that went “I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden; along with the sunshine there’s gotta be a little rain sometimes.” (Yikes, I even remember the lyrics – worse yet, there’s a video!)
I’m reminded of this little ditty by the last two Beatitudes:
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”
Lest Jesus’ disciples think that following him was their road to glory, he tells them right up front to expect flack, slander, even persecution. This will signal that they’re in the big leagues, up there with the great prophets of Israel who had messages from God their leaders didn’t want to hear. Look at what happened to them: flogging, imprisonment, job loss – sometimes death. Jesus does specify that it’s persecution for the sake of righteousness, or for his sake. Ordinary suffering and mistreatment don’t buy us a reward. But suffering for the revelation he has come to proclaim and demonstrate? That will be honored.
In Europe and America we don’t face much persecution for being Christian – assuming that we present enough evidence to convict us. But if we’re serious about our faith and vocal about how our relationship with God in Christ affects our choices, decisions, priorities in how we spend our time, money and relationships, we may face derision, even some social cost. And to assert equity and justice for the poor and marginalized, in line with Jesus and the prophets before him, can put us at odds even with other Christians.
Now, if you’ve been keeping score, you’ll notice I skipped one Beatitude:
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God."
This may be the most important one - and, thanks to Monty Python’s Life of Brian (“Did he say, 'Blessed are the cheesemakers?”) perhaps the best known. I’ve grouped it with these persecution clauses because a true peacemaker is apt to make enemies, ironic as that may seem. Peacemaking is not for the faint of heart – just ask Nelson Mandela or Martin Luther King, Jr., to cite some obvious examples. Or Jesus. As we are reminded all too clearly in the actual enmities between Israel and its neighbors, and social/ political skirmishes about that conflict, many people are deeply invested in their enmities, in us/them thinking, in the political and economic gains to be had by demonizing others. If we take up the ministry of forging peace, we should expect flack, even shrapnel.
How do these beatitudes hit you today? Can you relate to the promise of persecution, and to the eventual reward? How have you experienced the ministry of peace-making? Are there ways your church community could become more active in that focus? What prayers rise up in you today?
Jesus doesn't promise us a rose garden. He doesn’t promise us a return to the garden of Eden. He promises to make us part of God’s mission to reclaim, restore, and renew the garden of this earth and all its inhabitants. That breathtaking invitation is worth suffering for.
This may be the most important one - and, thanks to Monty Python’s Life of Brian (“Did he say, 'Blessed are the cheesemakers?”) perhaps the best known. I’ve grouped it with these persecution clauses because a true peacemaker is apt to make enemies, ironic as that may seem. Peacemaking is not for the faint of heart – just ask Nelson Mandela or Martin Luther King, Jr., to cite some obvious examples. Or Jesus. As we are reminded all too clearly in the actual enmities between Israel and its neighbors, and social/ political skirmishes about that conflict, many people are deeply invested in their enmities, in us/them thinking, in the political and economic gains to be had by demonizing others. If we take up the ministry of forging peace, we should expect flack, even shrapnel.
How do these beatitudes hit you today? Can you relate to the promise of persecution, and to the eventual reward? How have you experienced the ministry of peace-making? Are there ways your church community could become more active in that focus? What prayers rise up in you today?
Jesus doesn't promise us a rose garden. He doesn’t promise us a return to the garden of Eden. He promises to make us part of God’s mission to reclaim, restore, and renew the garden of this earth and all its inhabitants. That breathtaking invitation is worth suffering for.
8-8-22 - Division
You can listen to this reflection here.
Reading the prophets of Israel can feel like witnessing an abusive relationship. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” “Wham! You’ll get what you deserve.” “Oh, but I love you and one day it’ll all be wonderful…” These writings tell the story of a broken relationship between God and God’s chosen people, who seemed incapable of fidelity despite God’s gracious provision and forgiveness. And the way the prophets rendered the words of God (and the way those who later wrote down those words conveyed them) often make God sound like a petty tyrant as well as a thwarted lover.
We get a sense of danger as well as deep disappointment, “Here is what I wanted for you, what I did everything to ensure for you – but you could not stay with me, and now I can’t protect you from the consequences of your choices.” It’s often a bitter message, and I confess as I read both the gospel appointed for this Sunday and the passage from Isaiah, it’s hard not to see these texts through the lens of the deep divisions in our country and world.
Let’s start with the Gospel, which shows Jesus in a dire mood, speaking of fire and division. He has just been telling a parable about being prepared for God’s appearing, and he seems pretty ticked off: “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!”
If division is what Jesus was after, he’d be happy in America at this moment in our history. We are defined by many things other than our divisions, but our fault lines keep getting more pronounced, our positions dug in, fissures widening. This cannot possibly be God’s will for us, can it?
Jesus is the Prince of Peace, as the angel foretold at his conception. He is the source of peace for us, and the power for us to be peacemakers. But let’s not forget: Jesus did come into this world to do battle with the powers of evil – that is the fight he was itching to engage, the fight he wants his followers to join him in. Each time those who might be his disciples capitulate to injustice, tolerate intolerance, benefit from systems rigged in favor of the white and wealthy, fail to love our neighbor as ourselves, we recede from that fight. And every time we make a different choice, an inconvenient or even sacrificial choice, we help usher in the reign of true peace Jesus brought into this world.
How does this scripture sit with you? Where are you being called to draw the line, to pray for the conversion of those who seek only their own good to the harm of others? We are called to stand with Jesus against evil and hate-mongering. That’s a division, if you will, one that can lead us to unity.
Reading the prophets of Israel can feel like witnessing an abusive relationship. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” “Wham! You’ll get what you deserve.” “Oh, but I love you and one day it’ll all be wonderful…” These writings tell the story of a broken relationship between God and God’s chosen people, who seemed incapable of fidelity despite God’s gracious provision and forgiveness. And the way the prophets rendered the words of God (and the way those who later wrote down those words conveyed them) often make God sound like a petty tyrant as well as a thwarted lover.
We get a sense of danger as well as deep disappointment, “Here is what I wanted for you, what I did everything to ensure for you – but you could not stay with me, and now I can’t protect you from the consequences of your choices.” It’s often a bitter message, and I confess as I read both the gospel appointed for this Sunday and the passage from Isaiah, it’s hard not to see these texts through the lens of the deep divisions in our country and world.
Let’s start with the Gospel, which shows Jesus in a dire mood, speaking of fire and division. He has just been telling a parable about being prepared for God’s appearing, and he seems pretty ticked off: “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!”
If division is what Jesus was after, he’d be happy in America at this moment in our history. We are defined by many things other than our divisions, but our fault lines keep getting more pronounced, our positions dug in, fissures widening. This cannot possibly be God’s will for us, can it?
Jesus is the Prince of Peace, as the angel foretold at his conception. He is the source of peace for us, and the power for us to be peacemakers. But let’s not forget: Jesus did come into this world to do battle with the powers of evil – that is the fight he was itching to engage, the fight he wants his followers to join him in. Each time those who might be his disciples capitulate to injustice, tolerate intolerance, benefit from systems rigged in favor of the white and wealthy, fail to love our neighbor as ourselves, we recede from that fight. And every time we make a different choice, an inconvenient or even sacrificial choice, we help usher in the reign of true peace Jesus brought into this world.
How does this scripture sit with you? Where are you being called to draw the line, to pray for the conversion of those who seek only their own good to the harm of others? We are called to stand with Jesus against evil and hate-mongering. That’s a division, if you will, one that can lead us to unity.
6-29-22 - Boomerang Peace
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
I tend to think of peace as a static thing; I associate it with stillness, stability, rootedness. The way Jesus describes peace, though, it is dynamic, bouncing from person to person, house to house, community to community. This peace sounds downright restless: “Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’ And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you.”
What is the peace of God? It is power and purpose and presence. Different from ordinary human peace, the peace of God is strong as iron, filling us unexpectedly, able to keep us rooted in times of anxiety or conflict. As I have grown in faith, I’ve often been surprised by the peace I’ve experienced; sometimes I just can’t find the anxiety I expect to be there. The peace of God is pure gift – Paul says it is a gift that comes when we make our petitions known to God with thanksgiving. (Philippians 4).
Jesus goes even further, speaking of peace as a force that can be directed to another person. The idea of saying, “Peace to you,” or “Peace to this house” when we encounter another person, and really meaning it – speaking it as a command to heavenly powers – could be world-changing. What if, instead of “Hello” we said, “Peace” – which, after all, is what the greeting “Shalom” or “Salaam” means. And what if, as we were saying it, we prayed that God would fill that person with the peace we feel? “Peace” to institutions we deal with. "Peace" to Congress. “Peace” on the highway, train, in the grocery store, at family dinner. Really sharing our peace at church instead of just saying hi.
That’s all we would need to do. If the person had no interest in the peace we have to give, it would bounce back to us. But if we don’t even offer it, someone who really needs God’s peace might miss out.
God’s peace becomes part of us, something we can share, the same way we share our intellect, our compassion, our money and time. We could give our peace a shape or color so we can become more conscious about sending it to others. Like any good boomerang, it will always come back to us.
I tend to think of peace as a static thing; I associate it with stillness, stability, rootedness. The way Jesus describes peace, though, it is dynamic, bouncing from person to person, house to house, community to community. This peace sounds downright restless: “Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’ And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you.”
What is the peace of God? It is power and purpose and presence. Different from ordinary human peace, the peace of God is strong as iron, filling us unexpectedly, able to keep us rooted in times of anxiety or conflict. As I have grown in faith, I’ve often been surprised by the peace I’ve experienced; sometimes I just can’t find the anxiety I expect to be there. The peace of God is pure gift – Paul says it is a gift that comes when we make our petitions known to God with thanksgiving. (Philippians 4).
Jesus goes even further, speaking of peace as a force that can be directed to another person. The idea of saying, “Peace to you,” or “Peace to this house” when we encounter another person, and really meaning it – speaking it as a command to heavenly powers – could be world-changing. What if, instead of “Hello” we said, “Peace” – which, after all, is what the greeting “Shalom” or “Salaam” means. And what if, as we were saying it, we prayed that God would fill that person with the peace we feel? “Peace” to institutions we deal with. "Peace" to Congress. “Peace” on the highway, train, in the grocery store, at family dinner. Really sharing our peace at church instead of just saying hi.
That’s all we would need to do. If the person had no interest in the peace we have to give, it would bounce back to us. But if we don’t even offer it, someone who really needs God’s peace might miss out.
God’s peace becomes part of us, something we can share, the same way we share our intellect, our compassion, our money and time. We could give our peace a shape or color so we can become more conscious about sending it to others. Like any good boomerang, it will always come back to us.
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