Sermon, 7/18/21. Peace: Self-preservation as a Ministry to Others | St. James Episcopal Church in Somerville, MA

8 Pentecost

Psalm 89:20–37; II Samuel 7:1–14a; Ephesian 2:11–22; Mark 6:30–34, 53–56

Jesus said to them, ‘Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.’ –Mark 6:31

O God of peace, who hast taught us that in returning and rest we shall be saved, in quietness and in confidence shall be our strength: By the might of thy Spirit lift us, we pray thee, to thy presence, where we may be still and know that Thou art God; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (BCP, p. 832)

My intent today is to speak to you about peace. What a good and joyful thing it is to have peace! Does not our psalmist extoll that elusive condition when he writes:
Oh, how good and pleasant it is, when brethren live together in unity! (133:1)
What the psalmist omits, however, is how to achieve that unity, that invisible, elusive peace.

If I were to wager, I would bet that you immediately thought: ‘O God, no! Not another sermon on war in Afghanistan or in Iraq, or in Syria, or between Palestinians and Israelis, or disagreements with China or North Korea, or on the struggle for equality in our own land, which is being lived out both in word and in deed.’ If that or some similar idea occurred to you, then I would win that bet, because that is not my intent this morning, although I do wager, if we were to give serious thought to what today’s lectionary lays before us, that on-the-surface peace, freedom from those acts of warfare and enmity, would rise like the sun that provides us light and warm, which we need for our survival on this orb. Likewise, today’s lectionary, the Book of the Prophet Samuel, Paul’s Letter to the Church at Ephesus, and the Gospel of Mark, while they do not directly address our present condition during a long-desired relief from our pandemic, upon reflection, at least for me, they give meaning to what is necessary for that peace, but what we, prior to the pandemic, tended to overlook.

What did we overlook, you may well ask, that these cited biblical sources, written centuries ago by men, could instruct me, a 21^st-century modern, in how to achieve peace? Perhaps, you think: ‘I am but one person, an individual, who does not set policies of governments that result in belligerent clashes, both foreign and domestic.’ Whereas that may be true, I, however, suggest that indeed Samuel, Paul, and Mark provide us with far greater significance and power than we dare recognize, and that is an elusive entity in our lives that is fundamental to all peace.

Remember Isaiah? Given the innumerable regions around the globe, our island home, where men are squared off to do battle with one another, what preacher would not seize the opportunity to use the words from the prophet Isaiah to tell us how essential it is not to destroy ourselves and our environment? Isaiah is the prophet who talks about turning swords into plowshares (Isaiah 2.4). I suppose that, for contemporary nations, a more applicable translation or rendering of Isaiah would be to convert tanks and missiles and fighter planes into machinery for producing better and more plentiful crops. However, I do not wish to talk about that peace. That peace is a peace that comes secondarily, namely after a more essential and fundamental one has been established. Even for the prophet Isaiah, there was a more fundamental peace for which he pined, because if and when that basic peace has been recognized and established, all other forms of peace follow.

A hint of that basic, fundamental, essential and elusive peace is hidden in plain sight in the “argument” that takes place between David, biblical Israel’s king, and Yahweh, the God of Israel. As I read through that reading—and I did so several times—I actually found it humorous! I translated, or attempted to translate, this interchange between David and God. Imagine, if you would, this dialogue:

David: Finally! I have a nice palace made of cedar. I think that it’s time to provide God with a similar accommodation. We have dragged God, i.e., the Ark of God around, wherever we have dwelled and engaged in combat. Now that I am settled, surely we can do better by God.

God: Just who do you think you are, David? Who got this job as king for you in the first place? Was it not I? Yes, the Ark of the Covenant has been schlepped from place to place? But I do not need an Ark or a tent to remind me that I am God. Build what pleases you, but do you really want to know what I really desire of you? Well, I’ll tell you. What would really please me is that you teach the people about me, by how you live; and, if you do, I will make a name for you that will outlive you and your tent and Ark into the ages of ages.

Hint number two to this elusive peace comes to us in Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. On the surface, Paul appears to address the emotions-laden and peace-disturbing issue of discrimination. Paul, a man, addresses the issue of the circumcised group and the uncircumcised group in a male context (namely, with other men). Granted, Paul seems to ignore half the human race. That was his time, and we are dealing with a historical document. However, I want us to look beyond that limitation and, to do so, I must quote the essence of Paul’s argument, an essence that goes beyond gender.

But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off, have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace, in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, … He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body…So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundations of the apostles and prophets… (Ephesians 2:13ff)

Paul, a lawyer by training, makes the case that God had [previously] outlined to David. Does he not? Paul does not deny the historical linkage between biblical Israel with its ancient code of behavior, a history riddled with both good and intemperate allegiance to God. Indeed, what Paul does is to reiterate what God said to David—namely, that God does not need an Ark or a palace. In fact, the God of Creation is not to be found in—well, is not confined to—a structure, as many since creation have desired and attempted to do. That act, whether to build a temple for God, or circumcision by which one group desired to exclude another, was not original to the creation.

The third and, for me, most important hint toward this elusive peace is provided for you and for me in a statement that is so brief in today’s gospel, as to be almost a throwaway line:

Jesus said to [the apostles] ‘Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while. (Mark 6:31)

I have read and reread this appeal by Jesus, and I have asked myself, what I would say to that invitation, to come away to a deserted place in order to re-center myself. Some of us would respond immediately in the affirmative to that request of Jesus. Many of us, I would venture, would be reluctant to escape to the kind of retreat that Jesus had in mind, because such a withdrawal from social interaction is exactly the opposite of how the disciples were living at that time and where many of us today live our lives. The next sentence in Mark’s accounts of that encounter describes so accurately where they were in their lives and, not surprisingly, where we are in ours. Sadly, according to Mark, the disciples had to decline that invitation to retreat to a desert place, “For many people were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat.”

This reference to eating is essential to Jesus’s request, for Mark uses it later to describe the miracle of the 5,000 being fed from five loaves and two fish. We know also from the gospel lesson that the retreat that Jesus had in mind was short-lived. By the time their boat lands on the other shore, a huge crowd was awaiting them. And this happens a second time, further downstream. Even when pressed on every side, Jesus nevertheless reminds us of the necessity of taking care of ourselves physically, as well as taking stock emotionally and spiritually of who we are; for, should we not be physically fit and at peace within ourselves, we are not able to love and serve neighbor as self.

An MD friend, a loyal churchman and scientific researcher, states our dilemma, yours and mine, another way. We allow ourselves, says he, to get caught up in a pace of life that leaves us breathless and tired so much of the time that we lay ourselves open to many illnesses, because our immune system is overtaxed. He states further, instead of retiring to a deserted place, metaphorically speaking, and resting for a while, we enhance the value of the stock of pharmaceutical companies. And although we follow doctor’s orders and take the pills, those drugs do not change the pace of life. Seldom, my friend says, do we consider seriously the invitation of Jesus: “Come away by yourselves to a remote place and rest a while.” I would suggest, though, that if we did, we would come closer to that peace of God that passes all understanding.

As people of faith, living under the banner of Jesus of Nazareth, we cannot deny that Jesus calls us to engage fully with the problems of our world. In the gospel lesson today, Jesus steps off the shore twice and is immediately engulfed by the problems of his world. However, we do well to recall that Jesus takes himself on many occasions off to a deserted place. Jesus calls us to find a balance between engagement and disengagement. We need to be open to times to go away by ourselves to a remote place and rest for a while, however difficult with our modern diversions—TV, smartphones, and laptops at the ready—it may be.

You see then, the word of God, as provided us in today’s lectionary, guides us to a place of peace, to one that says, it is not about what I want or do not want. That inner peace is the foundation, on which all other forms of peace are secured. True peace is about what God wants, how we, individually and communally, may respond to that call to be at peace with God, by working to be at peace within our own selves. It may seem simplistic, that summary of Jesus when asked which laws of God are important; yet in its simplicity is rooted a basic understanding: knowing oneself and loving oneself is essential to loving the Other.

It is a peace that restores to our inner selves what God says over and over again, namely that you have value to me, for I knew you in the womb, before you knew yourself. Recall that God is in the remotest, the most unlikely of places. As Elijah once discovered, so may we: God was there in a brief and faint whisper, that still small voice. We give ourselves a chance to hear God when we unplug ourselves, when we take time to wait, to watch, truly to listen, to slow down, to retreat. As scary as it might sound to do these things, the space we create by doing so is not a lonely place. It is the place where God is.

Hear again the words of one of my favorite prayers:

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Peace, I Ask of Thee o River