Being a Peacemaker in a Violent World

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
—Matthew 5:9 (NIV)

As a Christian, I have struggled with this message. It seems like a desirable message, that those who bring peace and mercy to this world have God’s calling. And peace seems especially prominent for those who believe. “Go in peace,” Jesus says, “and be freed from your suffering.” And, “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” And, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace.”

But what does that mean? When we offer to bring peace, we probably all have our own definitions of “peace,” just as we all have our own definitions of “God.” What did Jesus mean when He spoke about peace? His first-generation audience, almost entirely Jewish, would’ve understood His meaning of Shalom in the Hebrew tradition. Considering the destruction wrought by prophets like Elijah and Samuel, that doesn’t sound too peaceful.

In recent years, Christianity has come under increased scrutiny because the “peace” advocated in the Bible, particularly the Hebrew scripture, doesn’t accord with today’s warm, low-friction definition of peace. Too often, in our multicultural, scientistic world, we call for “peace” as the reduction of tension, as the elimination of violence. The Biblical YHWH certainly doesn’t, though, and that includes His Son, who said: “I did not come to bring peace, but a sword.”

Biblical peace often seems confrontational, even violent. God seems frequently willing to kick the beehive, or have His people kick it. Our late-modern, hug-a-bear definition of peace doesn’t accord well with a Messiah who would flip tables in the Court of the Gentiles. That definition of peace seems downright terrifying, not least because many churchgoing Christians would find ourselves underneath that flipped table.

Time spent in prayer and contemplation, however, led me to the Epistle of James. Written by Jesus’ reputed brother, this book was so controversial that Martin Luther supposedly wanted it removed from the Bible. Yet I find great comfort, as Luther didn’t, in James’ injunction about how our actions testify to our faith. I especially find comfort in James’ injunction, found in James 2:15-16:

Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?

James, who presumably knew Jesus’ message pretty intimately, understood peace, not as eliminating tension, but as eliminating deprivation. When Jesus charges Christians to bring peace, He doesn’t mean smoothing over tensions or making eruptions of violence go away. Indeed, as the “not peace but a sword” message conveys, Jesus understood that bringing peace could frequently mean confrontation.

That’s hard for me. I’m naturally averse to confrontation. I’ve joined several anti-war organizations since I moved away from my conservative, semi-nationalist upbringing, but I haven’t always been brave enough to participate in direct action. I certainly haven’t shared the bravery of public Christians like Dr. King or Father Daniel Berrigan, who repeatedly endured arrests and beatings to pursue their mission of peace.

Yet where we lack peace in this world, we don’t lack it because we have violence. That’s easy thinking, a simple solution available to White people. Peace comes from confronting injustice, and injustice comes, most often, from some form of self-seeking. When the rich seek wealth, or the powerful seek glory, the result is usually some form of injustice wrought upon the poor and the powerless. We’ve all seen it.

Peace, then, isn’t the absence of tension, and peacemaking isn’t just smoothing over high feelings or calming another’s outrage. Peacemaking must involve confronting the source of injustice. In James’ account, it requires me to bring hot food and a coat to my naked, starving fellows. But it also requires me to ask why some people, who work hard and love their families, nevertheless remain naked and starving, year after year after year.

Again, that’s hard for me. Prayer and study have convicted me that I haven’t been fully Christian, that my journey still has miles to go. Yet I believe, as one who honors peace, that I now have a clearer vision of my mission.Certainly I haven’t answered every question, not for me, or for anybody else. But I have comfort in knowing that, if I have a mission of peace, that mission must begin with justice.

Maybe you all would like to join me on this journey?