Excerpted from Seeking
Peace.
Only when you have made peace within yourself will you
be able to make peace in the world.
Rabbi Simcha Bunim
From greeting cards to bookmarks, from billboards to
embroidered dish towels, our culture is awash in the language of peace. Phrases
such as “peace and good will” appear so widely that they have been reduced to
slogans and clichés. In correspondence, many of us close personal letters with
“Peace.” On another level, governments and the mass media speak of heavily
armed “peace-keeping” battalions stationed in war-torn regions around the
world. In churches, priests and ministers close their services with “Go in
peace,” and though the words are intended as a blessing, they often seem to be
little more than a dismissal until the following Sunday.
Muhammad Salem Agwa, a leading Imam (Islamic teacher) in
I use Salaam alaikum
as a daily greeting, but it does not just mean “Good morning” or “Good
afternoon.” It means more: “The peace and blessings of God be upon you.” When I
say this, I feel that you are at peace with me, and I with you. I am extending
a helping hand to you. I am coming to you to give you peace. And in the
meantime, until we meet again, it means that I pray to God to bless you and
have mercy upon you, and to strengthen my relationship to you as a brother.
How different the world would be if we were really at
peace with everyone we greet during the course of the day, if our words were
more than politeness and came from our hearts! In reality, as atheists never
tire of pointing out, few conflicts have caused so much bloodshed in the course
of human history as our ceaseless bickering over religious differences. No
wonder the old prophets sighed, “They lead my people astray saying, ‘Peace,
peace,’ when there is no peace.”
Peace as the Absence of War
To many people, peace means national security, stability, law and order. It is
associated with education, culture, and civic duty, prosperity and health,
comfort and quiet. It is the good life. But can a peace based on these things
be shared by all? If the good life means limitless choices and excessive
consumption for a privileged few, it follows that it must mean hard labor and
grinding poverty for millions of others. Can this be peace?
Writing on the eve of World War II, my grandfather,
Eberhard Arnold, wrote:
Does pacifism suffice? I don’t think it is enough.
When over a thousand people have been killed unjustly,
without trial, under Hitler’s new government, isn’t that already war?
When hundreds of thousands of people in concentration
camps are robbed of their freedom and stripped of all human dignity, isn’t that
war?
When in Asia millions of people starve to death while in
When thousands of women prostitute their bodies and ruin
their lives for the sake of money; when millions of babies are aborted each
year, isn’t that war?
When people are forced to work like slaves because they
can hardly provide the milk and bread for their children, isn’t that war?
When the wealthy live in villas surrounded by parks, while
in other districts some families have only one room to share, isn’t that war?
When one person builds up a huge bank account while
another earns scarcely enough for basic necessities, isn’t that war?
When reckless drivers cause thousands of traffic deaths
every year, isn’t that war?
I cannot represent a pacifism that maintains there will be
no more war. This claim is not valid; there is war right up to the present
day…I cannot agree with a pacifism whose representatives hold onto the root
causes of war: property and capitalism. I have no faith in the pacifism of
businessmen who beat down their competitors, or husbands who cannot even live
in peace and love with their own wives…
I would rather not use the word “pacifism” at all. But I
am an advocate of peace. Jesus said, “Blessed are the peacemakers!” If I really
want peace, I must represent it in all areas of life.
In political terms, peace may take the form of trade
agreements, compromises, and peace treaties. Such treaties are usually little
more than fragile balances of power negotiated in tense settings, and often
they plant seeds of new conflicts worse than the ones they were designed to
resolve. There are many examples, from the Treaty of Versailles, which ended
World War I but stoked the nationalism that started World War II, to the Yalta
Conference, which ended World War II but fueled tensions that led to the Cold
War. Cease-fires provide no guarantee of an end to hatred.
Everyone agrees that peace is the answer to war, but what
kind of peace? Rabbi Kenneth L. Cohen writes:
Darkness is the absence of light, but peace is not just
the cessation of hostilities. Treaties may be signed, ambassadors exchanged,
and armies sent home, yet there still may not be peace. Peace is metaphysical
and cosmic in its implications. It is more than the absence of war. Peace, in
fact, is not the absence of anything, but rather the ultimate affirmation of
what can be.
Peace in the Bible
One way to examine
the deeper meanings of peace is to see what the Bible says about it. In the Old
Testament there is perhaps no concept richer than the Hebrew word for peace:
shalom. Shalom is difficult to translate because of the depth and breadth of
its connotations. It possesses no single meaning, though one might translate it
as completeness, soundness, or wholeness. It extends far beyond “peace” as we
commonly think of it in the English language.
Shalom means the end of war and conflict, but it also
means friendship, contentment, security, and health; prosperity, abundance,
tranquillity, harmony with nature, and even salvation. And it means these
things for everyone, not only a select few. Shalom is ultimately a blessing, a
gift from God. It is not a human endeavor. It applies to the state of the
individual, but also to relationships – among people, nations, and between God
and man. Beyond this, shalom is intimately tied to justice, because it is the
enjoyment or celebration of human relationships which have been made right.
In his book He Is
Our Peace, Howard Goeringer illustrates an even more radical
meaning of shalom: love of one’s enemies.
In 600 BC the Babylonian army invaded Judea and took
hostages from
As we might expect, Jeremiah’s letter was not popular, not
a bestseller. The suffering hostages could not see how their well-being and the
well-being of their captors were inseparably bound together. To think of
serving their captors in a spirit of kindness, nursing their sick, teaching
their children Jewish games, working an extra hour for them! – this was utter
foolishness.
Goeringer is right: often the peace of God appears utterly
irrational, not only in the eyes of the worldly-wise, but in the eyes of the
most religious people.
Peace is a central theme in the New Testament too, where
the word eirene is used most
frequently. In its biblical context, eirene
extends far beyond its classical Greek meaning, “rest,” and includes many of
the various connotations of shalom. In the New Testament, Jesus the Messiah is
the bearer, sign, and instrument of God’s peace. In fact, Paul says Christ is
our peace. In him all things are reconciled. That is why his message is called
the gospel of peace. It is the good news of God’s coming reign, where all is
made right.
Peace as a Social Cause
The world is full of activists fighting for worthy causes: there are advocates
for the environment and for the homeless, anti-war activists and promoters of
social justice, fighters on behalf of battered women and oppressed minorities,
and on and on. In the sixties many of us in the religious community marched
with Martin Luther King. Now, in the nineties, many are taking up the fight for
the abolition of the death penalty. My own community is deeply committed to
this cause, which is, in a broader sense, a struggle against the injustices in
the American judicial system. The horrors we have come across, both locally and
internationally, make it clear that the politics of law and order have more to
do with violence and fear than with peace.
Some of the men and women I have come to know in this work
are among the most dedicated people I have ever met, and I would not belittle
their achievements for a minute. Yet the fragmentation that marks the lives of
others, and the divisiveness that often results in their fighting each other,
is painfully apparent too.
Looking back on the sixties, a time when so-called
peaceniks abounded, several thoughts come to mind. The longing of Beatles fans
who chanted “Give peace a chance” over and over cannot be discounted; I feel it
was genuinely spiritual. Unlike the overwhelming majority of today’s young men
and women, many youth in the sixties and seventies attempted to translate their
hopes and dreams into deeds. They led marches and held events, formed communes
and committed acts of civil disobedience; they organized sit-ins, protests, and
community service projects. No one could accuse them of being apathetic. Yet it
is hard to forget the anger that twisted the faces of some who shouted loudest
for peace in those years, and the anarchy and cynicism that later swallowed the
whole era.
What happens when idealism runs out, when the rally is
finished, when the Summer of Love is over? What happens when peaceful communes
and loving relationships fall apart? Does peace become just another cultural
commodity, a symbol to be ironed on T-shirts or printed on bumper stickers? In The Long Loneliness, Dorothy Day, the legendary
radical who founded the Catholic Worker, comments that youth’s longing for a
better world sometimes has as much to do with nihilism and selfishness as with
anything else. Young people idealize change, she says, but they are rarely
ready to start with themselves. To quote Rabbi Cohen again:
An individual can march for peace or vote for peace and
can have, perhaps, some small influence on global concerns. But the same small
individual is a giant in the eyes of a child at home. If peace is to be built,
it must start with the individual. It is built brick by brick.
Peace in Personal Life
Sylvia Beels came to our community from
A war film I saw when I was nine horrified me, and from
then on I knew I could never see war as anything good, however good the cause
might be.
After I married, my husband Raymond and I joined the Left
Book Club and read all their books. We met regularly with a group of friends
discussing the ideas in these books. We searched and searched to find a way
through the labyrinth of human ideas – war, peace, politics, conventional
morals versus free love, etc. – but came no nearer to finding a peaceful or
just society.
Later, during the long, difficult birth of her first
child, Sylvia realized that her personal life was marked by the very same
troubles she was fighting in society. Despite a promising career in music, her
marriage was in shambles and her mind in turmoil. Then and there she decided
that before she could contribute anything to world peace, she needed to find
peace within herself and with others. (Sylvia’s husband died of heart disease
shortly after this, but they were able to reconcile at his deathbed.)
Maureen Burn, another community member, came to the same conclusion
after years of anti-war activism, first in
I was always an idealist and a rebel. The First World War
worried me, though I was but a child. We were told that the German Kaiser had
caused the war, and when I was ten I wrote to him asking him please to stop the
war. I was always against war.
My husband, Matthew, a prominent public-health officer,
was also a pacifist. After experiencing the trenches of World War I, he had
become an ardent anti-militarist and champion of social justice. Our common
interest in the Russian Revolution of 1918, the works of Tolstoy, and the
crusades of Gandhi had created a bond between us and led to marriage.
Many young people were going to Moscow in those years, and
because we were attracted to the communist ideal, “from each according to his
strength, to each according to his need,” I suggested that we move to Russia,
too, with our little boys…Only when Matthew said, “A bomb thrown by a communist
is no better than a bomb thrown by a capitalist” did I change my mind.
Matthew always disappeared on Armistice Day. I don’t know
where he went. He thought it an insult to the dead to have a big military
parade at the Cenotaph, where the unknown soldier was buried; and he never wore
his medals. After the war Matthew’s mother told me that he had once declared he
would never again do a thing for a society so rotten that even the clergy
preached killing to the young…
In the Second World War, during the bombing of
When I returned home afterward, my husband suggested I go
to my sister Kathleen for a few days’ rest. Kathleen lived at the Bruderhof. I
wrote asking if I could come for a short time, and she answered yes.
I had no idea what a shock awaited me there. I was reading
some of their literature, I can’t remember the title of the book. Whatever it was,
it plainly stated that abortion was murder: to kill new life in the womb was no
more justifiable in the eyes of God than the killing that takes place in war.
Up till then I had been a rationalist and didn’t see anything terrible about
abortion. Now, however, I was thrown into great turmoil and felt the horror of
my action for the first time.
I do not cry easily, but at that point I could do nothing
but weep and weep. I deeply regretted what I had done, and longed that it could
be undone. I was only a visitor to the community, but my sister took me to one
of the ministers, and I told him all. He invited me to a members’ meeting,
where a prayer was said for me. Immediately I knew I was forgiven. It was a
miracle, a gift; I was full of joy and peace, and able to make a new start in
life.
Nothing is so vital – or painful – as recognizing the
unpeace in our own lives and hearts. For some of us it may be hatred or
resentment; with others, deceit, dividedness, or confusion; still others, mere
emptiness or depression. In the deepest sense it is all violence and must
therefore be faced and overcome. Thomas Merton writes:
There is a very pervasive form of contemporary violence to
which the idealist fighting for peace by nonviolent methods most easily
succumbs: activism and overwork. The rush and pressure of modern life are a
form, perhaps the most common form, of its innate violence. To allow oneself to
be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too
many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone
in everything is to succumb to violence. More than that, it is cooperation in
violence. The frenzy of the activist neutralizes his work for peace. It
destroys the fruitfulness of his own work, because it kills the root of inner
wisdom which makes work fruitful.
Many people feel called to take up the cause of peace, but
most of them turn back once they realize that they cannot bring it to others
unless they experience it themselves. Unable to find harmony in their own lives,
they soon come to the end of their rope.
In the most tragic instances, a person may suffer such
disillusionment that he takes his own life. Folk singer Phil Ochs, a well-known
peace activist in the sixties, comes to mind; so does Mitch Snyder, founder of
the Center for Creative Nonviolence and a respected advocate for the homeless
in
The Peace of God
True peace is not
merely a lofty cause that can be taken up and pursued with good intentions. Nor
is it something to be simply had or bought. Peace demands struggle. It is found
by taking up the fundamental battles of life: life versus death, good versus
evil, truth versus falsehood. Yes, it is a gift, but it is also the result of
the most intense striving. In fact, several verses in the Psalms imply that it
is in the process of striving for peace that peace is found. Such peace is a
consequence of confronting and overcoming conflict, not avoiding it. And rooted
as it is in righteousness, genuine peace – the peace of God – disrupts false relationships,
disturbs wrongful systems, and debunks the lies that promise a false peace. It
uproots the seeds of unpeace.
God’s peace does not automatically include inner
tranquillity, the absence of conflict, or other, worldly estimations of peace.
As we can see from the life of Christ, it was precisely by his rejection of the
world and its peace that his perfect peace was established. And this peace was
rooted in his acceptance of the most harrowing self-sacrifice imaginable: death
on a cross.
Many of us who call ourselves Christians today have
forgotten this, if not willfully blinded ourselves to it. We want peace, but we
want it on our own terms. We want an easy peace. Yet peace cannot come quickly
or easily if it is to have any genuine staying power. It cannot merely mean
psychological well-being or equilibrium, a pleasant feeling that is here today
and gone tomorrow. The peace of God is more than a state of consciousness.
Dorothy Sayers writes:
I believe it to be a great mistake to present Christianity
as something charming and popular with no offense in it…We cannot blink at the
fact that gentle Jesus meek and mild was so stiff in his opinions and so
inflammatory in his language that he was thrown out of church, stoned, hunted
from place to place, and finally gibbeted as a firebrand and a public danger.
Whatever his peace was, it was not the peace of an amiable indifference.
Here I should point out that despite my own faith in
Christ, and despite the vocabulary of this book (which some may find “churchy”)
I do not believe that one must necessarily be a Christian to find the peace of
Jesus. True, we cannot ignore Jesus’ statements: “He who does not gather with
me, scatters” and “He who is not for me is against me.” Yet what does it mean
to be “for” Jesus? Doesn’t he make it clear that it is not religious words or
other expressions of piety that matter? He looks for deeds of compassion and
mercy – for love. And he says that even a cup of water to a thirsty person will
be rewarded “in the kingdom of heaven.”
Jesus is a person, not a concept or an article of
theology, and his truth embraces far more than our limited minds can
comprehend. In any case, millions of Buddhists, Muslims, Jews – and agnostics
and atheists – practice the love Jesus commands us to live out with more
conviction than many so-called Christians. And it is hardly our place to say
whether or not they possess his peace.
The Peace that Passes Understanding
Some readers might
find it fruitful if I went on here to examine various understandings of peace,
and to discuss whether it is a way or a state of being. Others might wish to
know just what I mean when I say people are seeking peace. Are they looking for
closeness with others, or hungering to be themselves? Are they yearning for
trust and love, for something more to look forward to than retirement?
Something else entirely? What is peace, in a nutshell? A thought from one of my
grandfather’s books has been helpful to me. He writes about a threefold peace:
the inner peace of the soul with God; the fulfillment of nonviolence through
peaceful relationships with others; and the establishment of a just and
peaceful social order.
In the end, though, the best definition does not matter,
for it may not help us find peace. To grasp the meaning of peace we must
experience it as a practical reality, not only as something in the head, or
even in the heart, but in our day-to-day lives.
Sadhu Sundar Singh, a Christian Indian mystic who lived at
the turn of the century, writes:
The secret and reality of a blissful life in God cannot be
understood without receiving, living, and experiencing it. If we try to
understand it only with the intellect, we will find our efforts useless.
A scientist had a bird in his hand. He saw that it had
life and, wanting to find out in what part of the bird’s body its life lay, he
began dissecting the bird. The result was that the very life he was in search
of disappeared. Those who try to understand the mysteries of the inner life
intellectually will meet with similar failure. The life they are looking for
will vanish in the analysis.
As water is restless until it has reached its level, so
the soul has no peace until it rests in God.