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.” 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.”
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.
