Introduction
Partway down the slope of the Mount of Olives, just outside Jerusalem, there is a chapel called Dominus Flevit, which translated, means “the Lord wept.” The chapel is constructed in the shape of a teardrop, marking the location of Jesus’ lament over Jerusalem. This “teardrop chapel” commemorates the story of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem as told in Luke 19, which says that “as Jesus came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, ‘if you…had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace!’” Ever since we began planning for this peace-themed worship series this image of Jesus weeping over Jerusalem, and his cry of lament, “If you had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace!” has stuck with me.
Where else would Jesus weep today? Ukraine seems like an obvious choice. Jesus weeps. “If only you had recognized the things that make for peace.” Perhaps in Ethiopia where a civil war has reignited fighting, creating a humanitarian crisis. Jesus weeps. “If only you had recognized the things that make for peace.” But peace means so much more than the end to war, as we are learning this morning, and violence is so much more than armed conflict.
In Jesus’ lament, “if only you had recognized the things that make for peace,” the Greek word for peace is eirini, the Hebrew word for peace is Shalom, and both have a much bigger meaning than our English word “peace.” For the next five weeks we will focus on this Hebrew concept of Shalom.
What is Shalom? What is violence?
What is Shalom? As we have already heard today Shalom is more than just the absence of conflict or war. It is also the presence of something better. Shalom as a noun means to be in a state of overall well being and contentment; to have enough. It means to experience completeness or wholeness.
When any of the parts of our lives–our relationships and experiences–are out of alignment or missing, Shalom breaks down. Life is not whole and it needs to be restored. In this sense Shalom can also be a verb. To make Shalom means to find what is missing and restore it; to reconcile and heal broken relationships, to make right what is wrong, and to work together for each other’s benefit, to reestablish well being and to make sure that everyone has enough. Shalom means relationships of mutuality between people, between people and creation, and it means being in right relationship with God.
In the biblical story, Shalom is both the identity and the activity of God. Shalom is who God is and how God operates. Israel’s kings were supposed to cultivate Shalom for their people, but it rarely happened. Many of the Psalms create a compelling vision of what living in Shalom looks like. Prophets, like Isaiah, looked forward to a future Prince of Shalom who would make right all wrongs and heal what was broken. Jesus was that Prince of Shalom who restored to wholeness the broken relationship between God and humanity. Shalom is the identity and activity of Jesus. and we, as Jesus’ followers, are called to create Shalom in our lives, in our communities, and in our wider world.
So if that is the meaning of Shalom, we also need a broader definition of violence. Violence is armed conflict and physical combat–inflicting pain and hurt with weapons of all shapes and sizes. But violence is also exclusion, rejection, persecution and oppression based on gender, skin colour, age, economic status. Poverty is violence. When people go to bed hungry, or go to bed on the street, that is a form of violence. The residential school system and its generational impact is violence. The lack of resources to treat people suffering with mental illness and addictions is violence. Violence happens when people are displaced from their land. Violence happens when the land and resources are exploited for economic gain with no concern for the impact on water, plants, animals, birds, fish and the soil itself. Violence happens when economic and political systems benefit some at the expense of others. Turning a blind eye to suffering allows violence to flourish. Where ignorance and indifference exist, violence can thrive.
So the armed conflicts in Ukraine and Ethiopia represent only some of what makes Jesus weep. Perhaps we should also name Tent City in Kitchener on the corner of Weber and Victoria Streets. Jesus weeps. “If only you had recognized the things that make for peace.” Perhaps at the site of the former Mohawk Institute Residential School. Jesus weeps. “If only you had recognized the things that make for peace.” Perhaps on the site where Black man George Floyd died at the hands of white police officers. Jesus weeps. “If only you had recognized the things that make for peace.” In workplaces and families and marriages where there is tension, abuse and misuse of power. Jesus weeps. “If only you had recognized the things that make for peace.”
There is much that is broken, torn, disconnected and polarized in our world right now. You need only to tune into the news or social media to notice. We could name all sorts of places and experiences where we as a human family have missed the mark and need to learn the things that make for peace. There is much that needs to be restored and made whole. Why don’t we recognize the things that make for peace? And who will teach us the things that make for peace?
At Sunday Morning Ministry when we considered this peace focused theme, we wanted to explore how our nearly 500 year old Anabaptist/Mennonite peace tradition speaks into these challenging situations today. As Brent I began some preliminary brainstorming and did some research and reading, I got more and more uncomfortable.
Early Anabaptist/Mennonite pacifism meant non-resistance to the use of violence in any situation but particularly a refusal to participate in the military and the political arena. Out of a desire to be faithful to the teachings of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount, Anabaptists refused to use armed resistance, even in self-defence, which meant a willingness to suffer and endure persecution rather than taking up weapons to inflict pain or harm on another. In an effort to live simple, quiet lives in harmony with others, as much as possible, Mennonites earned the designation “the quiet in the land.”
Over the nearly 500 years of Anabaptist/Mennonite history that peace position has evolved. Now, many Mennonites have become more out-spoken and activist, protesting violence and injustice, calling for social reform, demonstrating, campaigning and working for a more just society, and engaging in the political arena as a way to serve fellow citizens, and help governments create the kind of society where all can thrive.
But something troubling has also emerged over time. Contemporary Mennonite voices are challenging the way our peace position has been used and misused over time. Encouraging meekness and submission to the will of others in order to avoid conflict has been used to oppress women and other minorities. Telling people to endure persecution and be quiet helps to hide or cover up abuses of power and oppressive social structures. Voices from abused women, the Black, Indigenous and Queer communities and their allies now critique how our peace theology has been “weaponized” to silence and oppress. They remind us that what might look like a good life for some comes at the expense of others without the same opportunities. In light of these challenges, some aspects of our peace position simply feel inadequate. The task of exploring our peace theology felt even more daunting.
As Brent and I continued brainstorming for this series, we came across the dramatic reading that you just heard, in John Paul Lederach’s book “Reconcile: Conflict Transformation for Ordinary Christians.” Here it felt like we had a foundation in Psalm 85 to ground our series, and some helpful conversation partners to work with–the four siblings Mercy, Truth, Justice and Peace. More on them in a few minutes.
Exploring the Text
Psalm 85 begins as a lament…remembering how God has helped the Israelite people in the past, followed by a pained voice of melancholy longing. “You have poured out amazing blessings on this land! You have restored the fortunes of Israel..forgiven the sins of your people…your blazing anger is now ended…” Here the writer reminds God of all the ways God has helped them in the past. And then the writer cries out for that help once again. “Now bring us back to loving you, O Lord, so that your anger will never need to rise against us again…revive us! …Pour out your love and kindness on us, Lord and grant us your salvation.”
This is the voice of someone who is experiencing suffering and trouble, who is in the midst of what feels like the prolonged and persistent anger of God directed at them and all their generations. It is a desperate plea for help.
The Psalm shifts again. This time to a compelling, hopeful, beautiful image of what happens when we begin “listening carefully to all the Lord is saying,” as the Psalmist puts it. Mercy and Truth meet together. Justice and Peace kiss each other. Truth rises from the earth, and righteousness smiles down from heaven. Jesus’ words in the Lord’s Prayer, “your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” echo this part of the Psalm.
Like in so many of the Psalms we recognize the tension here. There is a beautiful vision of Shalom–how things should be–and the sad reality that life is not always that way. One writer has described the Psalms as the “gymnasium of the soul.” All of our feelings get a workout as we wrestle with all the experiences of our lives, and the reality that all is not as it should be.
Here at the end of Psalm 85 we meet the four siblings: Mercy, Truth, Justice and Peace. They are pretty important characters that show up all over the place in the biblical story, especially in the Psalms. And as we have heard in our dramatic reading, just like ordinary siblings they can even get into some sibling rivalries and play favourites. But it becomes clear that for that beautiful vision of Shalom to emerge, they all need to be included and valued.
So let’s get to know them a little better. Over the next four weeks they will each get their own Sunday. So today I will offer just a quick character sketch of each one.
Mercy (hesed) is usually the gentle one, full of acceptance and compassion. Mercy is deeply loyal and above all concerned for relationships and the well being of the other. Mercy is quick to forgive–sometimes too quick to jump to healing. Mercy would rather avoid conflict and confrontation. Mercy is not always willing to sit with the painful truth, and doesn’t always have the patience to work at the tough, complex issues to get at the root of the problem.
Truth (‘emeth)–is the consistent one, always reliable and full of integrity. A faithful friend. Truth is also the most direct, straight-up and honest. Truth always wants to know what really happened–to get at the facts and the evidence, shed light on the situation and seek clarity. Truth is quick to expose wrongdoing, and refuses to hide any of the embarrassing details, sometimes at the expense of the relationship. Truth can seem forceful and demanding and even come across as a bit arrogant, and self-important.
Justice (tsedeq) Justice always needs everything to be fair and equal. Justice is concerned about making things right, fixing and solving problems. Justice digs deep into the problem to see what is behind it. And Justice won’t let anyone off the hook, insisting that someone needs to be held accountable for what went wrong. Justice is going to make sure that happens. Justice is action oriented, fervent, intense, zealous, enthusiastic and passionate. But Justice can come across as a bit high-minded and self-righteous and Justice is prone to get burned out, exhausted and disillusioned.
Peace (shalom)–Is good natured and agreeable. Peace doesn’t like conflict and is quick to step in to stop disagreements, accusations, bitterness, name calling and physical fights. Peace will pull the sides apart, and get in between in order to restore calm. Peace just wants to hold the family together and move on from the conflict. Sometimes peace can come across as arrogant and more important than the others. Peace just wants the conflict to end, and sometimes makes it too easy to forgive and forget and move on. Peace sometimes forgets the need for the others to have their say, or the need for somebody to be accountable for what happened.
All four siblings have their place. They are all strong and important, but the best is when all four of them are valued and included. At the end of Psalm 85 when Mercy and Truth meet and Justice and Peace kiss each other, we begin to come close to understanding the Hebrew concept of Shalom, and the Greek understanding of eirene. Here we have the fulsome wholeness of Shalom. Psalm 85 is more than individualistic hope, but rather hope for social transformation. Shalom does not distinguish between personal salvation and social, physical and economic well-being. They are held together.
And Shalom refuses to separate spirit from body. Salvation described here is not for some other world–some life after death, pie-in-the-sky only–but rather for a transformed life here and now, fully restored and made whole.
So over the next four weeks we hope to get to know these four siblings better. They will be our guides as we explore our peace theology from a biblical perspective–to see where it is strong and helpful, where it has limits and where it has been weaponized and used against the vulnerable. I expect that, like the Psalms, this will involve some Lament, like Jesus weeping over the city of Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives, “if only you had recognized the things that make for peace.”
We will need to learn from each of the four siblings–Mercy, Truth, Justice and Peace, “the things that make for eirini, Shalom.” And while we will Lament and face difficult realities, mostly, I hope, it will offer us a compelling, exciting, beautiful vision of a transformed life of Shalom, restoring wholeness for all.