If you were here last week, you heard me preach on the ever-present danger of thermo-nuclear war. I know it was kind of a downer. So I thought I'd lighten up this week. Something on personal spirituality. But the lectionary didn't cooperate! It's not going to let me lighten up, and it's not going to let me get away from the subject of peace - or the lack thereof. But I've at least tried to include a few jokes. And we can console ourselves at coffee hour with the special food and cake.
If you were to grab a random man, woman or child on the street and ask them to tell you what they knew about Jesus, chances are they'd say something about his birth. Almost everyone's familiar with at least the kernel of the story told by Luke: That the mother of Jesus was named Mary. She was a virgin, engaged to Joseph, when the angel Gabriel came and told her she'd have a child. That when she was close to giving birth, she and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem to be counted in a census by the Roman emperor, Caesar Augustus. That there was no room for them in the inn, so Jesus was born in a manger. And that angels that came to shepherds, guarding their flocks by night, with the words, "Peace on earth, good will towards men," as the King James version would have it. And most people know that Jesus died on a cross, without fighting or any kind of violent resistance. We call him the "Prince of Peace." And we remember his words in John, "Peace be with you."
So these words of Jesus, from Luke, may seem out of place, even shocking. "Do you think I have come to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division." Division not just between peoples and nations, but within families: between mother and daughter, father and son, and of course, in-laws. The disciples would have recognized the truth of that statement. They had seen division and controversy follow Jesus. All the people and leaders of the synagogues were divided; some folks wanted to throw him off a cliff; others traveled from miles around to hear him. Some villages would not let Jesus or the disciples enter; others welcomed them with open arms. Some thought he was in league with Beelzebul, the ruler of demons; others trampled each other to reach him and hear his teaching. Indeed, families were divided: later Jesus would say whoever does not hate father or mother is not worthy of me. Yet, Jesus had also said to love your enemies. He had healed the sick and fed the hungry. And at his birth the angels had sung of peace on earth. What was it really: did Jesus come to bring peace or division?
The American Heritage dictionary defines "peace," as the absence of war or other hostilities; freedom from quarrels and disagreement; harmonious relations; public security and order; inner contentment and harmony. That definition of peace covers a lot of ground and many different kinds of peace — not all of them savory. There's the peace of empire: pax Romana or pax Britannica or pax Americana, where one country establishes a kind of public security and order through power and might. That kind of peace allows for lots of road building, and wealth building, and building building—not all of which is bad. But the peace of empire doesn't last long. There's always war at the edges: in Judea, in India or in Vietnam. And those who build the roads, or the pyramids, or the railroads pay with their lives. There's the peace of a family where the father rules and brooks no disagreement: those households are free from quarrels. Then there's the pre-Stonewall kind of peace when churches and families didn't argue about sexuality. You remember those days: everyone got married or lived a contented life of chastity in singleness. And finally, I still have to say something about thermo-nuclear war —there is the peace that comes when superpowers may be on hair-trigger alert, able to destroy the planet at a moment's notice —but they don't.
That was the kind of peace Jesus found, and still finds on earth. So he came to bring division. Not division for division's sake, or conflict for conflict's sake. He came to bring the kind of division that allows for true peace. Or rather, he came to expose divisions already there, so healing can happen. The division between rich and poor, for example. When he told the story of the rich man and Lazarus, it was provocative, but it invited the rich to repentance, opening up the possibility for peace with justice. Christ also brings the kind of division that comes when oppressed people state their grievances, so wrongs can be righted, and apologies made. That's peace with reconciliation. He brings the kind of division that comes when two people —maybe married people —frankly share their disagreements, so there can be peace with understanding.
Now some of us are more conflict avoidant than other, but many of us, most of the time, prefer almost any kind of peace to division. There are many reasons for this. We're uncomfortable with anger. We want people to like us so we don't confront them; or we don't want to feel guilty or responsible so we don't listen when others confront us. We don't like change —especially if it means letting go of privilege or taking a risk. So we keep quiet for the sake of peace in our marriage or in our friendships. Or we say we want equality for GLBT people but we ask them not to talk about their sexuality. Practically every white person says they believe in racial equality, but hardly any white person is willing to do the hard and conflict-ridden work of fighting racism. Or we say among like-minded friends that we think we have to get out of Iraq, but we don't speak up and risk dividing our families or churches. Jesus might call us —in his loving and forgiving way —hypocrites.
It's not easy to be in a conflict, no matter what side of the divide we're on. It's not easy to know what side of the divide we should be on. It's not always possible to know when we're in the middle of a conflict that will lead to peace, or a conflict that defies it. But we can trust that Christ is with us in that struggle. He knows: he brought controversy everywhere he went, even unto death. And he was not the only one. We can look to that great cloud of witnesses, those named in Hebrews and others have come before us in faith. History is not just a sorry litany of death, war and destruction. There have been victories, too, and heroes and heroines, peacemakers who have risked the anger and persecution of others.
And we can remember that peace on earth will never be perfect, at least this side of the second coming. We can accept compromises and be encouraged by steps toward a true and lasting peace, whether it's in the arena of world affairs or of our family. We can celebrate agreements that keep bombs from dropping, even if injustices go unaddressed. And we can welcome division: in our families, in our churches in our nation. Not division or conflict for it's own sake, not divisions that lead to ignorance or oppression, or violence. But we can welcome the division that Jesus brings, the conflicts and controversy that can lead to true peace. The peace of which the angels sang.