grace and peace

There is a moment in the services of liturgical churches that is sometimes called “passing the peace.”  Introverts the world over often dread this moment (particularly when it derails into fifteen very long minutes of idle chit-chat) – but done right, this moment can actually have a profound impact.

Every Sunday when this moment arrives, we turn with a smile and a hug or a handshake to say a short prayer of blessing over our neighbors: “Grace and peace.” 

Three little words, packed with worlds of meaning.

“Grace” is a reminder, and a gift.  You are the recipient of grace.  And boy, do you need it.  There have been so many moments over this past week in which you have not been the best version of you, in which you have not exercised love and compassion (towards others or towards yourself) – but right here, right now, in this moment?

Grace is yours.  And it covers everything.

AND.  (“But wait, there’s more!”)

“Peace” is a promise, both for now and for the future.  It speaks deep – breathing life and hope into weary souls.  This is not a vague concept; it is completely specific.  Shalom (a more holistic Hebrew concept of peace that means “wholeness”) is a promise that every single thing that is presently broken – the things that aren’t quite right, the rifts between friends, the unresolved conflicts between enemy nations – has the potential to be transformed. 

Peace is yours. Not just someday, but now.

In the passing of the peace, you get to hear these three words spoken (prayed) over you – and you also have the privilege of speaking and praying them over others. 

The universals are always in the particulars.   (Thank you, Aristotle, metaphysics, and Rob Bell.)

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I’ve been asking myself a question lately to which I don’t think I have a very good answer yet.  It’s a hard question, sparked by a difficult situation with no visible resolution, and some reflections that Pastor Michael shared a few weeks ago at TGC TriBeCa on the interactions between Judas and Jesus.  (You can catch the podcast here. I recommend Kleenex and a notebook as listening supplies.)  

I’m not sure this question is ever going to have an easy answer – for me, or for anyone – but that’s alright.  As with most things, I think this is probably going to be more about the journey than the destination.

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In an article on the deeper meaning of shalom, Rabbi David Zaslow writes: “Shalom is the most radical union of opposites imaginable. Shalom brings together people who disagree with each other so that each will listen deeply to the ‘other’ side. It is the people you do not agree with who have the greatest gift for you – the gift of the potential for wholeness.”

Grace and peace provide us an opportunity to grow.

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There are a lot of things in this day and age that can be (if we let them) incredibly divisive – societally, and within the church.  This is nothing new. 

But.

Disagreement and disunity don’t have to go hand in hand.

I know what it’s like to be silenced, judged, and rejected for asking the “wrong” questions in the “wrong” ways in the “wrong” forums, and I also know how much easier it is to live in an echo chamber and to surround myself with voices that say only the things I want to hear than it is to allow myself to be challenged.

But I am a better person for learning to listen to dissenting opinions and for seeking to understand theology and praxis that differs from my own. 

Learning to listen with kindness, curiosity, and respect has expanded my horizons, deepened my faith, and (I hope) made me a more loving and gracious person.  Don’t get me wrong; I still have my worst moments; I am well aware of how easily I can slip into the same modes of harsh judgment of which I’ve been on the receiving end.  I’m not whole yet, but I’m working towards it, and I will keep at it.

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I read so very many Instagram posts and comments after Rachel Held Evans died that I have since lost track of who said it and where, but someone (maybe it was Jeanne Stevens?) mentioned that so many of us had been borrowing courage from Rachel – and it’s true.  She often said the things that so many of us were thinking but didn’t have the courage to say out loud.

I have a confession.

I am so tired of being silent.

Now, more than ever, we need to learn love in ways we don’t yet know it – we need to speak up and speak out, and stop being complicit when we see things happening in the name of God that aren’t of God at all.  We need to learn to be kind and brave – and forthright.

It will take time, and some soul work, but if we dedicate ourselves to becoming people of grace and peace, we can get there.  I truly believe this.

We need to learn to love the people with whom we most violently disagree. This isn’t easy – but because grace and shalom exist, I have to believe it is possible. 

Grace and peace.  Grace and peace.  Grace and peace.

The church has been saying this prayer for centuries, and we need to keep on saying it – until the censers tip, and God’s answer comes down as yes and amen.

Grace and peace, friends.

More to come,
Happy

photo credit: Josh Felise on Unsplash