The Things That Make For Your Peace

“If only you would know, this day, the things that make for your peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes.”

Jesus,  Lk 19:42

This is going to be short and… not sweet, but embarrassing. But thankfully, social media is very forgiving and understanding, so I know I’ll be fine. Let me therefore confess.

Two weeks ago, I was attending an evening online prayer school via zoom. We were learning about the peace that comes with contemplative prayer, and about the treasures of ancient liturgical texts that were passed down through countless generations and shared by Christians of various nations, denominations and walks of life. We were praying along with the texts and the sacredness of the moment was tangible. At least, I imagine it was. For the others.

I actually missed most of it, because I was trying to do the most impossible thing you have ever heard of. I tried to simultaneously be in an attitude of contemplation, and follow the news.

To my (unwarranted) excuse, it wasn’t just any night. It was January 6^th, and I told myself it wasn’t my fault that the rioters had chosen to storm the Capitol the same day I was supposed to concentrate on the prayer of St Francis. What was I supposed to do?

Although I felt guilty about it, I couldn’t deny the sad fact that the headlines and pictures of the riot were somewhat more fascinating than the Peace Prayer of St Francis. Several times that evening, I found myself wanting to check into the news about insurrection and violence, as if needing a break from trying to learn about contemplative peace and non-violence.

Now, that’s disturbing.

Needless to say, I wasn’t agreeing with what they did at all. I was, like most people who were following this, appalled and disturbed. And yet, I kept wanting to read about it. I kept going back to it.

Those of you who turned the news off immediately on January 6th to go pray, and never went back to read or watch more of it, pray for me, too. The others, you know what I’m talking about. Fact is, it’s entertaining, even though it’s sad and disturbing and negative.

We can shrug this off and call it human nature or an effect of shrewd media that knows how to fuel our lowest instincts. But this isn’t harmless, and it can’t be shrugged off. The fact that it’s a lot more entertaining to read or watch about an angry mob storming the Capitol than it is to hear a theologian speak about the relationship between self-control and peace, should alarm us. And why is that, you ask?

Because my and your participation in negative news, our fascination with chaos, hatred and violence is fueling all of these very things inside us. We all know you don’t have to agree with anything shown in the media to be deeply influenced by it. In a twisted way, the hatred, fear and division we read about and watch, end up spreading into the world through all of us well-meaning, so-called peaceful people.  

But I’m not just blaming the media. I’m blaming myself for neglecting my responsibility as a follower of Christ. Brian Zahnd recently tweeted the following about the riots: “Mobs, violence, fear, and hatred ARE the devil.”  They represent and impersonate the devil in our world. Our participation in his schemes might be unintended, but has its effects on us and the world nonetheless.

This is why the Bible spells out the Fruit of the Spirit in such detail. Being filled with the thoughts and actions of God is not just some ethereal feeling of bliss. It is actually quite down-to-earth, hard-work stuff. The Fruit of the Spirit is quite literally all the things we never hear of in the media.

Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control.

You see why I’m calling it hard work? Most of us don’t just carry all of these virtues around with us, ready to shower family, coworkers, and friends with them. The Narrow Path the Bible speaks of might actually talk more about our decision to cultivate these virtues, than about anything else. For wide is the path that leads to hatred of the other. Wide the path that leads to taking what I feel is mine with force. To sabotaging my conscience by believing that the end justifies the means. To vilifying those I blame, whether it’s the people in the Capitol or those storming it.

But narrow is the path that seeks actual peace. Narrow is the path that resists our inborn temptation toward sensationalism and drama. Narrow the path that desires to see the one who just committed some horrid act as a beloved child of God, and refuses to play the devil’s favorite game of dividing the world into neatly labeled groups of Us and Them.

What can be done then? I think it starts with what can be imagined. Can I (and do I even want to) imagine a world in which there is only Us, and no Them? Only if we can, I believe, will our demonic fascination with scandal and fear be replaced with the blueprint of God—the realization that every human is part of Us, included in His love and part of His great plan of redemption. As long as there’s any kind of Them on my map, I sabotage my own work toward the kind of peace Jesus came to bring to—you guessed right, all of us.