Those of you who were here last Sunday will remember that Cheryl Pyrch, who preached and baptized last Sunday, and I decided to engage in what Cheryl called "lectionary horse trading." I'm sorry, that is what Cheryl said in a confidential email to me. Because the readings from Acts suggested for last Sunday and today both told remarkable stories about baptisms, Cheryl wanted to include both passages in last Sunday's service.
Actually, had I used the Acts passage suggested for today, I thought I might lift up the remarkable story of the slave girl who had the spirit of divination and brought her owners a great deal of money by fortune telling. The slave girl followed Paul and his friends, speaking out against them and the way of salvation they proclaimed. Paul, annoyed, ordered the spirit of divination to come out of the girl. This greatly angered her owners, and Paul and Silas were brought before the magistrates and then thrown in jail. This leads to the remarkable story of baptism which Cheryl lifted up last Sunday. (Acts 16:16-34)
I'm sorry, having said Cheryl used the Acts passage last Sunday, I have just used it again. But it bears repeating. Because I could not base this sermon on today's suggested passage from Acts, I decided to base it on the suggested passage from John suggested for last Sunday, which we have just heard.
Because Jesus' words,
"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.
I do not give to you as the world gives.
Do not let your hearts be troubled,
and do not let them be afraid."
(John 14:27)
these words have always been a profound source of comfort and strength for me, and for the many who have heard this passage read at a funeral or at a memorial service. Indeed, I think it is true that I have never conducted such a service without reading this passage from John.
And then I chose hymns which speak of peace, from the strong opening, "O Day of Peace" sung to the tune of Jerusalem, which, as Dave Prince reminded me as he, Vera Roberts and I wandered home from an endless Presbytery meeting in Brooklyn Tuesday evening, is a tune we all remember from the movie "Chariots of Fire."
(I say "wandered," because I got lost in Brooklyn.)
But the opening hymn speaks with power of our longing for the day when "by God's grace our warring world shall see Christ's promised reign of peace."
And as we sing the quiet closing hymn we will pray in song that ... "God will take from our souls the strain and stress, and let our ordered lives confess the beauty of your peace."
This all seemed to make sense, and then Jennifer sent me a working copy of the Order of Service and I was reminded that George Davey had chosen anthems in keeping with Ascension Day, which was Thursday. These are very appropriate choices on George's part. I am always glad to hear a choir sing Vaughan Williams' "O Clap Your Hands." But now you know why the music in this service seems to be going in more than one direction.
I know you remember the scripture passage which speaks of Jesus' Ascension, from the first chapter of Acts:
Jesus said, "You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses ... to the ends of the earth. When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them, and said, "Why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven." (Acts 1:7-11)
Ephesians speaks of the Ascension in these words:
God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the age to come. (Ephesians 1:20-21)
George and the choir and I hope you are enjoying this service. Surely it contains a musical mood for everyone.
But now, back to Jesus' words of Peace, as recorded in John.
John 14 is the first time we find the word "peace" in this Gospel. "Go in peace" was a commonly used Jewish expression. As Jesus prepared his followers for his death, he was doing much more than saying "farewell." Here the verb "leave" is offered in the sense of a bequest. In verse 18 Jesus promises not to leave them orphaned.
"I will not leave you orphaned, I am coming to you."
The disciples will not be alonemdash;because they will live in the peace of Jesus. Later he says, "I have said this to you, so that in me you may have peace. In the world you face persecution. But take courage; I have conquered the world!" (John 16:33).
The peace that Jesus offers is not the world's peacemdash;not the false promise of security nor the end of conflict. Jesus offers his peace. A peace that derives from the heart of Jesus' life. The peace Jesus offers contains his love and his joy. It is the peace at the center of Israel's hopes, as in the familiar words from Isaiah:
How beautiful upon the mountains
are the feet of the messenger who announces peace,
who brings good news,
who announces salvation,
who says to Zion, "Your God reigns." (Isaiah 52:7)
This is the promised peace that is available in Jesus. But Jesus' promise of peace is not an invitation to complacency. For he repeats the warning which this discourse began: "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me." Jesus is not simply telling the disciples not to worry, but rather calling them to face the new circumstances in which Jesus' departure will leave them. (Bible Commentary, The New Interpreter's Bible, Volume IX)
"Peace I leave with you." Be strong!
We will sing the final hymn quietly, and then enjoy a few minutes of silent meditation before the benediction. This will be a time to bring into our thoughts and prayers the whole range of memory and thought associated with "peace."
During this past week, I have been making a mental list of those times when I felt most at peace, personally. That has been an interesting exercise. Ranking these memories is not the point. But my list includes those childhood moments when all seemed well with my immediate family, and my brother and parents and I were gathered for one of my mother's wonderful meals. And a much more recent memory of a silent retreat in a beautiful monastery. And all those interactions with friends when those I was with gave me a sense of peace and well being.
But meditating on the word "Peace" must also include thoughts prompted by the familiar prayer of St. Francis:
Lord, make me an instrument of Thy Peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope;
where there is sadness, joy; where there is darkness, light.
In his book of meditations on prayer, Alan Paton wrote:
I should like to set down here my own belief. In so far as I am willing to be made an instrument of God's peace, in that far have I already entered into eternal life. Heaven to me is here, and whatever else it may be, I can know it now in so far as I am an instrument of that peace. (Alan Paton, Instrument of Peace, p. 113)
Bill Coffin wrote, "Peace always seems a weary way off. As Jeremiah lamented, 'We looked for peace, but no peace came.' But to give up on peace is to give up on God." (William Sloane Coffin, Credo, p. 91)
Yes, God needs us as instruments in the struggle for peace.
A few weeks ago, we heard the lesson from John 20 which tells of the risen Christ appearing to the disciples. The doors of t he house were locked. Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." Them he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you."
Peace was to accompany the disciples in what Jesus was calling them to do. That is, they were to so clearly manifest the presence of Jesus that whoever saw the disciples say Jesus who sent them. This became possible through the gift of the Holy Spirit. And Jesus sends us into the world. That is food for thought as you meditate after the closing hymn.
And before you leave your pew, extend a word of peace again to those near you. For remember, we go out as members of a community. And go knowing that the peace Jesus promises does not mean the absence of struggle. His peace does mean the presence of love. Jesus said, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid." Amen.