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Sunday, March 16, 2014

Second Sunday in Lent: Kyrie and Peace



Sunday, March 16, 2014

Second Sunday in Lent

Friends, I am sharing a homily I spoke to the gathered community at Christ Chapel at Gustavus on Monday, February 24, 2014.  It speaks about the relationship between liturgy and peace.  
Matthew 5:38-48

The peace of Christ be with you all.  “And also with you.”  Or “And with your spirit.”

To begin, please open up the red ELW hymnals in front of you to page 98.  Take a look at the Kyrie there; I’d like to read the words in dialogue.  I’ll read the parts in light print, if you will respond with the parts in bold. 

In peace, let us pray to the Lord.

Lord, have mercy.

For the peace from above, and for our salvation, let us pray to the Lord.

Lord, have mercy.

For the peace of the whole world, for the well-being of the church of God, and for the unity of all, let us pray to the Lord.

Lord, have mercy.

For this holy house, and for all who offer here their worship and praise, let us pray to the Lord.

Lord, have mercy.

Help, save, comfort and defend us, gracious Lord.

Amen, Amen.




We gather this morning in the physical presence of not only words of peace, but a variety of images of peace.  I invite you to take some time to view the photographs and read the stories of peace that activist John Noltner has assembled and placed on display here in the chapel and elsewhere on campus.  So, it is appropriate to begin this week in chapel with a reflection upon peace.

One striking, but perhaps often overlooked aspect of the historic Christian liturgy is its emphasis upon peace.  Words of peace permeate the liturgy of the church; some of you might recognize the litany we just recited as part of the “Kyrie” often sung at the first part of a Lutheran worship service – at least since the time of the liturgical revival of the 1960s and 70s.  This litany has deep roots – it comes from the Byzantine Great Litany, a ancient litany of peace which was reintroduced into the late 20th century liturgy as a series of prayer petitions combined with the response “Lord, have mercy, ” – the core phrase of the historic Kyrie.  The dialogue is a beautiful plea for a state of harmonious balance, in which peace is desired for all of creation, the gathering of the people of God, and for unity.  Its prayer is for the health of the one body of Christ, the body that the apostle Paul regards so eloquently in 1 Corinthians 12.  This healthy body is in essence the “Peace of Christ” that we speak.

Recently, a cover article of Time magazine, titled “the Mindful Revolution,” got me thinking about the distinction between what might be called “peace of mind” versus the “Peace of Christ.”  Rightfully, in our complex and busy world, most of us have every reason to seek a state of mindfulness, or a state of calm focus, that allows us to sense some personal wholeness in a situation of chaos.  But, in terms of the Good News, or the Gospel that we hear in the story from Matthew this morning, there is a different peace that we all can seek with just as much fervor as the self-oriented peace of mindfulness. 

One tack to take is to look at the theology of Martin Luther, who observed that one aspect of our lives that brings us out of wholeness is the tendency to “curve inward” upon ourselves, to the detriment of our care for our neighbor. 
We know that when pressed to determine which commandment was the greatest, Jesus answers that we are to “Love the Lord your God” and to “Love your neighbor as yourself.”[1]  In this morning’s Gospel, the instructions Jesus gives us towards enacting this love might seem drastic or harsh, but perhaps the challenge for us is to realize the broad extent of who it is that we call our neighbor.  The Gospel tells us that it is “everybody.”  For the peace of the whole world demands that we turn away from ourselves, individually and collectively, toward everybody in our presence, including enemies, and that we pour out our love toward our community. 

Peace begins with this:  turning toward your neighbor and looking that person in the eyes and saying “The peace of Christ be with you.”  This is not just a gesture of greeting or simple good-will, but an act that initiates reconciliation with that person.  In Byzantine theology of worship and, in particular, the celebration of Holy Communion - the gesture of peace - which in the formative years of Christian worship was a “kiss of peace” – the sharing of the peace is an act intended to bring all who are about to share the Eucharistic meal into right relationship with each other.  The idea is that in order to fully break bread with one’s neighbor, each individual must bear no enmity or ill-will toward that neighbor.  In that moment before the breaking of the bread together, that relationship must be reconciled, so that hatred, misunderstandings, grudges, pains, jealousies –the list can go on –these broken parts of the relationship are brought back into wholeness.  In that wholeness, enemies, who are forgiven, always by God, but now by each other, can stand side by side and share in the meal that is, in a dramatic way, the Peace of Christ. 

Samuel Torvend, a scholar of church history and liturgy at Pacific Lutheran University, relates a marvelous story of the depth and power of the sharing of the peace in one Christian community that demonstrates the reality of reconciliation that can occur when the community grasps the notion that this moment is more than just a two minute social time.  He writes: “A former professor once said to me, “The Peace is the happiest three minutes in the liturgy when you get to greet everyone around you.”  Yet at one African American parish in the Midwest, the “passing of the peace” usually takes twenty minutes.  ‘We take those words about reconciling seriously,’ said the pastor. ‘With all the shootings and beatings in our neighborhood, we never know for sure if we’re going to see each other come next Sunday.  We want to eat and drink and then leave at peace with each other.”[2]

So then, Peace continues with this:  Reconciled with your neighbor, you now extend your whole self toward that person with a willingness to bear that person’s burdens.  The gesture that begins with a handshake continues with a prayer for that person’s well-being, and a genuine desire to bear the hurts and wants and needs that he or she carries.  As the handshake is released, the peace of Christ continues as you reach to remove your own jacket from your back and to place it upon the shoulders of your neighbor.   Remember Martin Luther and his concern with the curving inward?  The peace of Christ is the opposite of that turning inward, and is instead an opening away from one’s self.  I don’t think that disagreements between any two humans magically disappear in the act of turning the other cheek, but the act of self-giving love can do much to alleviate resentments, distrust, and disunity. 

Peace continues with this:  practicing the vision and hope for the coming reality of the whole creation joining together in peace and unity in the holy City of God, the New Jerusalem.  As we end this time of Sabbath, let’s rehearse that unity a bit.  We will share the peace, and then gather together at the center of the chapel and sing a simple hymn of peace, Dona nobis pacem. 

The peace of the Lord be with you.  And also with you. 
Please share a sign of that peace with your neighbor as we gather toward the front of the chapel. 


[1] Mark 12:28-34
[2] Samuel Torvend, Daily Bread, Holy Meal: Opening the Gifts of Holy Communion (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress Publishers, 2004), 73-74.

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