Sermon for The Sixth Sunday of Easter, 2022
Grace and peace from God our Creator, hope in our Redeemer Jesus the Christ, and the promised gifts of the Holy Spirit are with you always.
I believe we have discussed before that I am a word nerd. I love puns, I love ideophones, I love generonym, I love phonesthemes, I love being a big enough dork to have developed such a relationship with words that I needed to know the names of those phenomena and then recite them here for you this morning. My love of words of course is related to my love of expression and communication and relationship, but there is far more to it than just the utility of words. I certainly relish the ability to describe something concisely, but I do also love to wax poetic.
Church, and theology, and the liturgy give us so many opportunities to encounter words we don’t really engage in other contexts. Eucharistic. Intinction. Chasuble. Apostolic. There are other words that we read and hear at church that we also read and hear in the rest of the world, but perhaps have different connotations here and there. Host. Fraction. Corporal. Grace. Love. Peace.
There’s a psychological phenomenon called semantic satiation, where you hear a word so many times that it loses all meaning, and your brain just receives it as jumbled sounds. I imagine you’ve experienced this at some point in your life, when trying to edit a paper or memorize something or perhaps just in the midst of a conversation. I wonder sometimes if we have a particular offshoot of semantic satiation in the church, a sort of theological satiation. I have just made up this term, but I do not believe I have invented the phenomenon it describes.
We hear words and phrases so frequently in our scripture, preaching, liturgy, reading, and other spiritual practice that we just sort of gloss over them without deeper reflection. Words like love, grace, hope, sin, freedom, salvation, neighbor, forgiveness, and—this morning’s particular focus—peace.
Each week, we share the peace of the Risen Lord Jesus Christ with one another as part of our liturgy. What a gift! What a delight! What a responsibility! And yet, during this time, we often just wave to each other, shake a hand here and there, say “peace be with you” and maybe chat with the person seated near us for a moment before settling down and moving on with the service. In the Before Times, the passing of the peace would often become a miniature coffee hour, where we’d criss-cross the aisles and greet people and have to be reigned back in by the Presider in order to carry on with the Eucharist.
Have we heard and said the word “peace” so many times that we aren’t even really paying attention to what it means? When we follow the directive to “pass the peace” around, are we conscious of what we’re doing? I’m not sure.
In our text this morning from the Gospel According to John, we are in what is called the Farewell Discourses, where Jesus is formally exiting the lives of his disciples before his ascension to heaven. In the midst of a lot of instructions, review, and cryptic messages, Jesus assuages the fear he knows his disciples are experiencing at the thought of his departure. He says to them, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.” And “Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”
He says this to them in that time and in that place; in our hearing this morning, he has also said this to us. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.”
And today and every Sunday, we are reminded of that gift of peace when the Presider says,
“The peace of the Lord be always with you.” and we reply, “and with thy spirit.”
“The peace of Christ be always with you,” and we reply “and also with you.”
And while it is practically against the law to introduce an argument with dictionary definitions, I think it’s crucial to our endeavor here to know the basics. What actually is the peace of Christ? What have we actually received? That’s what we’re going to figure out today.
The Oxford English Dictionary, which I imagine we can agree is an authority on words, lists two definitions for the word peace. The first is “freedom from disturbance; tranquility” and the second is “a state or period in which there is no war or a war has ended.”
These are fine definitions for general use, I suppose. Do you notice that both are based on an idea of absence? An absence of war. An absence of disturbance. What is a positive peace? In order for this peace of Christ to be such a gift to the disciples and to us, I imagine it to be much richer than absence. I do not mean to belittle the concept of war—the absence of war is truly something to be celebrated. It is my fervent prayer that someday our earth will know the true absence of war, peace in every place for every people.
A quick sidebar. Do you know the origins of the peace sign? The circle with the lines? I have it tattooed here, on my wrist. It originated in the 1950s in the UK, as a symbol for nuclear disarmament. The lines represent letters of flag semaphore, a visual language typical of maritime communication. It’s the letters N and D, for “nuclear” and “disarmament”. The downward lines are the letter N, and the center line is the letter D, and then a circle for a nice, contained symbol. The presence of peace is, fundamentally, the absence of violence, war, and mutually assured destruction. The peace sign, while not a word, communicates so much.
Many great thinkers and leaders have written and spoken about peace. I imagine some of them are here this morning. Take a moment for some very minor audience participation. You don’t even need to report back. But wonder, briefly, about what peace means to you. What does peace feel like in your body? What does peace sound like? What other senses know peace? When have you experienced peace? Maybe close your eyes for a moment and try to remember or imagine. If you aren’t sure you’ve experienced peace, what would it feel like? How would you recognize it? Take a few deep breaths here and ponder.
[pause just long enough to ensure that everyone is uncomfortable]
The great Greek Philosopher Aristotle said that “It is not enough to win a war; it is more important to organize the peace.”[1]
The great freedom fighter Malcolm X said that “You can’t separate peace from freedom because no one can be at peace unless he has his freedom.”[2]
The great Quaker pacifist AJ Muste taught that “There is no way to peace. Peace is the way.”[3]
The history of our world could be summarized as “War and Peace”. We go back and forth between these states, and they mix and mingle as clashes between nations and factions get blurrier. This is why, when Jesus says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.” he follows it with the clarification, “I do not give to you as the world gives.” This is the difference.
The peace we experience in our world is conditional. It is brief. It is often false. As the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. wrote in his famous Letter from a Birmingham Jail, the peace that the powerful often call for is not true peace. He laments the obstruction of “the white moderate, who is more devoted to order than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice.”[4]
It is not peace if it is simply the status quo. It is not peace if it requires someone to be silenced. It is not peace if it engenders fear. It is not peace without justice, freedom, and tranquility for all of God’s beloved children.
The gift we have received from the Risen Christ is this true and positive peace. As the Body of Christ in the world, we operate as the hands and feet of Jesus, and we have the opportunity and responsibility to bear this peace to one another and to everyone we encounter.
Our actions in every sector of our lives have the capacity to bring peace on earth. In our own minds, bodies, and souls, we can practice peace. In our intimate relationships, we can practice peace. In our families and our homes, we can practice peace. In our schools and our workplaces, we can practice peace. In our communities and our churches, we can practice peace. In the public square, in our government, in our organizing, we can practice peace. We can and we must, because we cannot abide the alternative.
The great martyr Archbishop Oscar Romero knew this as well as anyone. Before being murdered by the state in the 1980s, he preached peace and freedom to a civil-war-torn El Salvador. He spoke on the radio, often, reaching people who were far from any good news. He said, “Peace is not the product of terror or fear. Peace is not the silence of cemeteries. Peace is not the silent result of violent repression. Peace is the generous, tranquil contribution of all to the good of all. Peace is dynamism. Peace is generosity. It is right and it is duty.”[5]
As we leave our sanctuary this morning and re-enter the wider world, let us do what is right and what is our duty. Let us bring the dynamic generosity of peace out into the world God loves. Do not be afraid, dear ones, to lead with peace, to move with peace, to share the peace of the Risen Christ. Let that peace wash over you this morning, and embolden you to share it.
The peace of the Risen Lord Jesus Christ is always with you. [And also with you.] Amen.
[1] Aristotle
[2] Malcolm X
[3] Abraham Johannes Muste, as quoted in the NY Times in 1967
[4] https://www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham.html
[5] Archbishop Oscar Romero
