Peace as a “No”
I don’t know about you, but when I hear the word “peace,” my first thought is “the absence of war.” If someone said to me, “I come in peace,” I would think, “This person has no intention of fighting.” In other words, my tendency is to define peace in negative terms. I define peace by what is missing rather than by what is present. I think of peace as a “no” rather than a “yes.” No shouting, no hitting, no guns, no violence, no death.
But I think this definition is missing something.
On the one hand, I remember schoolteachers who preserved peace in the classroom with what I would call a reign of terror. They yelled. They threatened. They smoldered. They did not make me feel safe. Their classrooms were not what I would consider peaceful, even though no one spoke out of turn or fought. Their peace was like the peace of Rome, the pax romana. As the Romans would say, “If you want peace, prepare for war.” In this frame of thought, peace is only ever secured by an iron fist and fear.
On the other hand, I remember schoolteachers who were perfectly peaceful themselves…and also perfectly passive. They were the proverbial doormats. They did not maintain the rules or boundaries of the classroom, and the students were free to do whatever they pleased. The result was chaos. In these classrooms, I did not feel safe. They were not what I would consider peaceful environments, even though the teacher refrained from shouting or harsh discipline.
Both types of schoolteachers—the dictators and the doormats— say “no” to any signs of hostility or violence, either in the students or in themselves. Both aspire toward a kind of peace. Yet in neither type of classroom did I feel at peace.
Where did I feel safe? In classrooms where the teacher was less focused on maintaining control (whether of the class or herself), and more focused on caring for the students. The teachers in whose presence I felt most at peace were the teachers who responded to problems or accidents with compassion. They would not simply punish troublemakers, they would ask them what was the matter. They did not seek to eliminate conflict, but to resolve it by addressing the underlying matters of hurt and misunderstanding. I felt safest—at peace—with the teachers who cared for us.
A Peaceful Pause
When I read today’s scripture, I feel an overwhelming sense of peace. I feel like I’ve climbed through the window of scripture into a home of deep warmth and welcome, a home where I am safe. I feel comforted and nurtured in the presence of Mary and Elizabeth.
I think part of the reason for this experience is that our scripture today gives us a precious glimpse into the personal lives of key characters in the Christmas story. In Matthew, Mary and Joseph are both silent, and we are left wondering how they feel about their experience. Luke, however, rounds out his characters by showing us their reactions and letting us into their thoughts and feelings and conversations. Today’s scripture picks up right after the angel Gabriel’s visit to Mary. Mary has just heard from Gabriel that she will bear the son of God (1:35). She also hears that her relative, the elderly Elizabeth who everyone thought was barren, is sixth months pregnant (1:36). Our scripture tells us the first thing that Mary does after the angel Gabriel leaves. She makes haste to the home of Elizabeth (1:40). Why? I imagine it is because she is desperate not to be alone. Everything we know about Joseph suggests he is a thoughtful guy (cf. Matt 1:19), but in the wake of the impossible news she has just received, Mary needs more than a sympathetic ear or shoulder to lean upon. She needs someone else who knows what she’s going through, who’s going through something similar herself. So she goes to Elizabeth, who also is bearing a miracle child.
The scene of Mary and Elizabeth together is a tender intermission in the Advent narrative. It is a peaceful pause. Mary enters Elizabeth’s home, and blessings immediately pour out of Elizabeth’s mouth. “Blessed are you,” “blessed is the fruit of your womb,” “blessed is she who believed” (1:42, 45). And I imagine that as these blessings flow from Elizabeth, she is embracing Mary and covering her with blankets and whipping up whatever she can in the way of food and gently prodding her bewildered, mute husband, John, out of the way so they can have some privacy and talk about the things that only they can really know.
More Than a Feeling
The peace that I discern in today’s scripture is, on the surface, a good feeling. It just feels good to read about the caring camaraderie of Mary and Elizabeth. I imagine it’s a little bit like the experience some people enjoy when they watch a Hallmark Christmas movie or read an uplifting Christmas memoir. It simply makes them feel good. And I wouldn’t want to diminish that experience.
But I do wonder if the peace on display in this passage isn’t a little bit more than simply the absence of conflict, or even the absence of worry and bad feelings. Because make no mistake, both of these women know adversity. Elizabeth has silently suffered the shame of her culture, in which having no children severely diminishes one’s standing in the eyes of others. Mary will undoubtedly receive similar looks of shame, as her pregnancy starts to show. On top of these personal experiences, both women live as voiceless nobodies, whether in the immediate surroundings of their patriarchal Jewish community, or in the broader setting of Roman occupation and oppression. They must daily submit to other authorities, whether it’s an emperor who orders a census that requires a harsh, impromptu journey, or simply impulsive husbands and greedy tax collectors and aggressive Roman soldiers.
I wonder, then, if their peace is not the fruit of a deeper experience, an experience that knows pain and fear and conflict and yet is not determined by those feelings; an experience that knows adversity and yet insists on blessing. Is it a coincidence that this peaceful scene involves two mothers-to-be? Elizabeth twice makes mention of their wombs, which reminds us that both women are actively carrying and caring for the life that is within them. Could it be that their peace is not so much a feeling, but rather their full-bodied commitment to care? Could it be that their peace has to do with their partnership with God?
Saying “Yes” to God
Later in the gospel, Jesus will talk about peace as something you do, something you make. “Blessed are the peace-makers.” It’s a reminder to me that peace is more than the absence of violence. Peace is more than a feeling. Peace is partnering with God, as Mary and Elizabeth did. Peace is saying “Yes” to God and trusting in God’s work in our world. Peace is what my best teachers made, when they saw the image of God in every child and responded accordingly, seeing them not as problems but as children of God worthy of care and healing. They did not simply say, “No more of that!” They said, “Yes, you are loved. Yes, you deserve goodness.”
The peace of Advent is not the absence of conflict or bad feelings. It is not just something we experience. It is a full-bodied partnership with God. It is not a feeling from which we act, but action from which we feel better. The peace of Advent is caring for the world as God cares for the world. Peace has to do with care, not control. Controlling others is the false peace of the pax romana (and dictator teachers). Controlling ourselves is the false peace of passivity (and doormat teachers). Care is where peace is made. Is born. Here’s how Paul puts it: “Let your gentleness [your care] be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests [your care] be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus” (Phil 4:5-7).
Prayer
Most merciful God,In whose womb creation is reborn—
Where we seek the false peace of control,
Of simply saying “no” to conflict and bad feelings,
Remind us of your care,
Your insistent “yes” to the world
…
May the examples of Elizabeth and Mary
And other Christ-followers then and now
Inspire us to partner with you.
May we know your peace by making it,
By caring for the world around us.
In Christ, the prince of peace: Amen.
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