For Love of Peace

Sermon Series: The Things that Make for Peace
sermon by Torin Eikler
Luke 10:25-37 Mark 12:28-34

It often feels as if our society is fascinated by love. We use the word all the time for almost any frivolous thing we enjoy – I love ice cream … I love the wintertime … I love movies. It’s at the center of the single most popular genre of literature in this country - the romance novel. And, whether they are comedies, action/adventures, or thrillers a love interest is part of almost all the movies that make it big. One very popular television show, The Bachelor, is based on the premise that one eligible young man can interview a small group of women (all of whom are gorgeous and talented, of course) and, over the course of a few months, fall in love and get married. We even have a special holiday created just to honor love, and however much we may complain about Hallmark holidays, we may find ourselves in quite a bit of trouble if we let February 14th pass us by without making some sort of gesture. (That’s only a month away …. Let this serve as your reminder.)

Of course, the love I have been talking about is really just enjoyment – at least most of the time. (Though I suppose some might say the love of chocolate is deeper and more enduring than what passes for love in many relationships.) It really doesn’t compare with the love most of us have for our spouses, our parents, our children … our God …. Perhaps we shouldn’t even call it love in order to avoid confusion, but I’m not entirely convinced that we could really stop even if we wanted to. The habits of our language are just too strong, especially when they are re-enforced so strongly by the obsession of our culture.


Love is also one of the favorite themes of Christianity. That comes as no surprise to you, I’m sure. Most of us have heard about love in church or Sunday school from the time we were small children. Many of us chose to have I Corinthians 13 read at our weddings (or have heard it read at the weddings of others): “If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging symbol …. Love is patient, love is kind …. Love never ends.” And, all of us know the central claim of Christian dogma that it is the love of Christ that brings salvation by reuniting us with the heart and Spirit of God.

The scriptures are rife with admonitions to love. And, that’s not surprising either since one of the most common claims about the nature of God (right up there with all-powerful and all-knowing) is echoed in I John 4 – “God is love.” Love laces the speech of the prophets, is written between the lines of many of the stories of the First Testament, and the psalmists decorate their poems and prayers with elegant images of love for God and the love of God for all creation. Perhaps the best known verse from the gospel of John affirms that “God so loved the world that he sent his only begotten son that whosoever believes on him would not perish but have everlasting life.” And, as we heard in the reading from Mark, Christ himself rates the commandment to love God and the commandment to love others right at the top of the list. Love, it seems, is more important even than following the Ten Commandments … which, I suppose, makes sense since all the laws of our faith are grow out of a sacred commitment to living out those two ideals.

As we know, this love is not at all the same as the light, easy love we claim so often. It has little to do with how much we like something. After all, we have all been in the position of disliking – perhaps even hating – someone at the same time that we feel a deep love toward them. It’s one of the most confusing experiences I have had in my life. It is a deeper reality intimately connected to the deepest part of our being. It is involves caring about and for the well-being of another person – of all other people – as well as all of creation in the same way that we care about and for ourselves… caring so much, in fact, that we are willing, at times, to submit ourselves – our hopes, our desires, our plans, and our dreams – to God’s dreams, plans, and over-riding passion for the world.

And since this love is connected to us at such a deep level it is more than just a state of being. It really isn’t possible to love in this way and not be active. Such deep love, as I have come to know it and as I see it embodied in Christ, calls for action. As Anabaptists, we know this in our bones, and for us, that action goes beyond prayer and seeking the salvation of others – though that is an important part of it. We push ourselves to strive for lives motivated by that love – lives of service to others in service of God. And, on Maundy Thursday when we mark the last night Jesus spent with his disciples in the ritual of the Love Feast, we practice the service of foot-washing as a symbol and reminder of what active love looks and feels like.


Of course, the continual challenge for us is to be open to have our lives shaped and guided by love. It is hard, if not impossible, to hold ourselves in a space of submission and openness to God’s will. As soon as we feel the pull of the Spirit toward some action, we latch onto that and work at fulfilling that call. We focus our minds and our energy on the task at hand, and we tend to lose the perspective and receptivity to feel any other nudges that may come our way. Or, we don’t sense any particular leading at all, and we become discouraged. It is just hard to hold ourselves open to God for very long without feeling exposed and vulnerable. Perhaps the most challenging moments, though, are the times when we find ourselves in the struggle to love and care for people that we don’t know, don’t like, disagree with, or judge as wrong-headed – perhaps even evil. It’s hard to find love within ourselves for the stranger or the enemy.


Yes, it’s hard to love our enemies as the news shows us. From the Middle East to Eastern Europe to Central Africa and the courtrooms of western China, people around the world are caught up in violence and struggle with enemies they know or think they know. And, yet there are stories of some who reach out across the lines of conflict and find a way to work for peace through the power of love.

Listening to All Things Considered on NPR this week, I heard a story of Peace and Hope. In this case, Peace and Hope are two men who partner to write a blog about the struggle between Israelis and Palestinians, but their story is one of hope for peace.

Eric Yellin and his partner live about 10 miles apart – one in the Israeli town of Sderot and the other in the Gaza neighborhood of Sajaiya, yet it was not until they met and became friends that either man stopped to think about the lives of those on the other side of the border. As Yellin, Hope Man, put it:

“Living in Sderot, not knowing anyone, it just seemed like, well, [more] refugees … another area of the world where people suffer. We are suffering, too, through this conflict. There are places all over the world where people suffer. But, as soon as I started meeting people [in Gaza], it created a real connection. I realized that there were people on the other side – people exactly like us who are suffering in the same way, and then I began to understand the situation differently. The only way to end this conflict is through some kind of connection and dialogue.”

His own perception is that Peace Man had a similar experience:
“First of all, for him it was the first time to meet Israelis. And for him, they were always the enemy, always the oppressor. It took a while to create trust even between the two of us, and I think, over time, we have really become friends. Even though he lives in a difficult area and fears for his safety, he continues to share in this work with me. And, I think there is full and complete trust. I would trust him with my life and I think vice versa.”


In the midst of generations of conflict, these two men have found the power of love can break down entrenched barriers and open a way to peace. In other places around the world, people have surprised themselves by reaching out to their enemies and discovering brothers and sisters who share the same experiences, the same hopes, and the same dreams – experiences of violence and suffering, hopes for peace, and dreams of a brighter future for themselves and those they love. Often, when they come together, their examples shine as a beacon that draws others to join them and small and large groups of people begin to work for peace.
While most of us don’t live in a war zone, we are often faced with less extreme “enemies” in our daily lives…. There is one person in the office who feels hostile and is always dismissing our ideas or undermining our authority. There is someone in our meetings who just rubs us the wrong way. There is that clique that pushes everything through and doesn’t care about anyone outside their own group.

A had a conversation with a friend and brother about two months ago, and he told me a story. His “enemy” was his boss which is always problematic. This man was, he felt, a misguided, unethical scoundrel (my words, not his). As he struggled to find a way to work with him, he turned to his mother for advice and heard this question in response, “Have you prayed for him?”

I don’t know how my friend took that, but I know I would be a bit put out by such a response. I generally turn to my mother for support and sympathy. Even if ask for advice, what I really want is commiseration and validation. But, I guess if you ask for advice you will get it, and my mother usually has a good deal to offer me in those times. In my friend’s case, the advice was all the more memorable for echoing the Sermon on the Mount, and he reasoned that if anyone needed prayer, it was this man. He went away from the conversation with a commitment to follow through.
What he discovered was that praying actually helped. Whether it changed his boss is up for debate. He certainly didn’t see much difference over time. But, it did change him. He began to feel pity and empathy for his erstwhile “enemy,” and that helped him to get past the actions and attitude that he didn’t like. He began to see his boss as a person who had his own struggles and difficulties. As he came to see the man as another child of God, he found that he was able to look deeper, see the good in him, and love that Christ-spirit even if he would never really like him.

I have to admit that I have never turned to prayer to deal with my own nemeses. Usually, I just dismiss them and move on to people that I actually like. Yet, there are people I carry with me. I remember them with anger or pain because they have done me wrong, and they live in my dreams and my fears, coloring my memories and shaping my response to others. I don’t like the power they have over me, but I have learned to live with it. After that conversation, I have begun to wonder if it has to be that way….


“You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. You shall love you neighbor as yourself.” Two commandments – the two commandments that rest at the heart of our lives as disciples. It doesn’t sound so difficult or complicated, but it is. Yet, looking at the life of the one we follow, we cannot avoid this calling. Christ lived these commandments. He struggled with them too, if his prayers in the garden and his raging in the temple are any indicator. Still, found a way to love everyone, even to the point of praying for his executioners with his last breaths.

That kind of love can and does endure. It hopes and believes. It does not insist on its own way, and it lets go of anger or fear or hate. It does not stand by passively but reaches out to meet pain and suffering with compassion and service. It does all this because it is hard to stay angry, to stay at war, or to watch injustice when the others involved are people you truly love. That is the flavor of the love Christ showed – the kind of love we are invited to hold and to share. And that kind of love is the way to peace – peace and one-ness with God, peace and one-ness with one another, peace and one-ness within ourselves. I pray that each one of us finds the way into that love and the peace it brings.

(Re)Illuminating our Lives

sermon by Carrie Eikler
Matthew 2:1-12; Isaiah 60:1-6
Epiphany

Reading: "Christmas Day, 1949" (ed. Paul Auster, I Thought my Father was God and Other True Stories from NPR's National Story Project. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2001.)

This story comes from a book called I Thought My Father was God. It is a compilation of stories received as part of a National Public Radio series, where people were invited to send in stories of their lives. They didn’t have to be astonishing, or particularly dramatic. Just true.

This particular story, entitled “Christmas Day, 1949” was written by a woman named Sharon from Tennessee. And as I was reading this over the holidays, I thought of it as an Epiphany story. Today we celebrate epiphany (which actually comes 12 days after Christmas…hence inspiring the Christmas song we all know and love or loathe as the case may be). But even though Epiphany comes on January 6th, this Sunday we celebrate the conclusion of the Christmas season by remembering the visitors who came to Bethlehem from the east, bearing gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

So why is this an Epiphany story? OK, it does take place around Christmas time. It is about giving gifts, and maybe the magi were the first holiday gift givers—a comparison I hesitate to make—and it is about unlikely people coming into relationship with one another, if only for a brief time. These are obvious connections. But Epiphany is more than that. It about a revelation, it is about a manifestation. “Ah, I’ve had an epiphany!” we may say. In a sense, Jesus was revealed to the world on epiphany, as the world came to him in the visit of the Magi, the visitors from the far away lands, nothing like the Bethlehem, or Jerusalem, or Nazareth of Jesus’ people.

In this short story of Christmas 1949, two epiphanies happen: the woman writing says “that was the Christmas when my sisters and I learned the joy of making others happy.” A first illumination, a “Eureka!” moment, a transformative event that revealed a deeper meaning and purpose. Many of us have hopefully had this first epiphany in our faith lives, when we discovered what it meant to be a follower of Christ, when we stepped into the waters of baptism, when we felt an internal conversion--when we finally found the Christ-child we have been traveling so long to worship, like the Magi first encountering the baby Jesus. For many of us, that first epiphany is one long discovery, a journey made and not simply a destination found. If you haven’t had that moment or moments such as these yet in your faith life, I pray that you will keep searching.

But there is another epiphany in the story that extends that first illumination, one that is the reality of Christian discipleship. It is articulated by the father when he tries to give the travelers money.

He says “I’ve been broke before, and I know what it’s like when you can’t feed your family.” This epiphany comes when we return to what we have known, in a new way, a way that reminds of where we have been, and where we might be headed. Or, how our experience in the past can teach us about how to respond in the present moment. We live this in the story of the Magi not because it is the first time we have encountered the Christ child, but because we are invited to return—to become re-illumined by what is waiting for us.

But all our stories need re-illuminating, each of our faith needs a little luster restored. Let’s face it. The Magi story is likely an old one to us, sort of the way the Jesus story can start to feel old and stale. Sort of the way our faith lives start to feel old and stale. Reliving the story of the Magi can seem more like Christmas pageantry, just retelling a story that has been solidified through the centuries.

Rick Gardner, a former biblical studies professor of mine writes in a commentary on Matthew regarding the way this story can move from bland to relevant. He writes: “In the church today, the magi play leading roles in the typical annual Christmas pageant. It is debatable, however, whether those pageants let us perceive the full significance of the visit of the magi. What we usually miss is the powerful impact of the contrasting reactions to Jesus’ birth which Matthew portrays. A more faithful script might include a scene focusing on the anxiety of the authorities over the birth of a new leader who would upset the current establishment. Herod would be cast as present day ruler, surrounded by advisers in three-piece suits and clerical garb. The magi in turn might consist of persons today who come from the “outside” and who are looking for a new order—perhaps an ardent feminist, a human rights advocate, maybe even a new age mystic. In such a pageant, the cutting edge of Matthew’s story would again become evident” (Believers Church Bible Commentary: Matthew. Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 1991)

Perhaps our first epiphanies we have experienced in our faith life border on the sublime, the excitement of finding a child who can save us and the world. Many people talk about their early faith being a “child-like” faith that doesn’t satisfy after a while, a Christmas pageant story of the Magi perhaps. Getting stuck in the initial satisfaction can grow stale and if we dwell with how it grows stale we likely get cynical about our faith. Or, if we are satisfied with simply being happy with what was revealed to us at the beginning of our journey with no commitment to growing in faith, we likely will become terrified like Herod—anything that challenges us will be suspect.

The story of the Magi doesn’t just stop with finding the Christ and with being illuminated. It calls us to return to the world, likely by a different path than we first journeyed. It calls us to remember, like the father in the Christmas Day story, what it was like when we first encountered that experience, and let it move us into deepening faith, and re-illumination.
So we are invited to move out of the pageantry and move into real journey.

As we prepare to move into this new year, perhaps we might look back and ask ourselves some questions about our journey, so it might help guide us into re-illuminating our faith walk in the coming year. If you feel comfortable, I invite you to close your eyes and meditate on these questions that the spirit of Epiphany calls us to ponder

How have you felt distant from God in the past year? Or, how has your faith life felt stale?

How have you felt close to God recently? Or, has your faith life been vibrant at any time this past year?

What is it that needs illuminated in your life at this moment? How can you invite Christ’s light into your life?

Now, hear these words of the Old Testament prophet, Isaiah, as a blessing for you, words that spoke of the coming light that would shine into the world, and continues to illuminate our lives: “Arise, shine for your light has come and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the LORD will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you. Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn. Lift up your eyes and look around; they all gather together, they come to you; your sons shall come from far away, and your daughters shall be carried on their nurses’ arms. Then you shall see and be radiant; your heart shall thrill and rejoice, because the abundance of the sea shall be brought to you, the wealth of the nations shall come to you.” AMEN