Psalm 43
1 Thessalonians 2:9-13
Matthew 23:1-12
The beginning of the book of the prophet Micah tells as he was from Moresheth and that the “word of the Lord” came to him in the days of Kings Jotham, Ahaz and Hezekiah (cf. Micah 1:1). Moresheth’s exact location is uncertain, except we know it was somewhere in southwestern Judah. We know rather more about the time in which Micah lived, and prophesied. The “days of Kings Jotham, Ahaz and Hezekiah” covered the years 740-687 BC. Historians of the period tell us these years were marked by Judah’s general decline, as the power of the neighboring Assyrian empire increased, conquering areas dangerously close: Damascus fell to it in 732 BC, Samaria in 722 and in 701 Jerusalem herself was besieged. For those in the area, it was a period of upheaval, crisis and insecuirty; and we all know what happens in such times, the average person looks after his or her own interests. Those who do not, stand out as exceptional; and this was no less true in the ancient world. About those perilous times one bibilical historian writes, “Danger was not only external. Prophets, priests, and judges accepted bribes; merchants cheated; Cannannite cults were used alongside Yahwistic ones”.
At the same time – as in all periods of crisis and upheaval – the thought on everyone’s mind, the word on every politician’s lips was “peace”. Peace. Peace, however, is a slippery thing and its pursuit is rarely unsullied by self-interest. In many cases, all that peace means is that my life, or the life of my family, or the life of my community, or the life of my country continues undisturbed regardless of the consequences on others outside those narrow spheres. For most of us, peace means our bellies are full. As Micah himself records: “Thus says the Lord concerning the prophets who lead my people astray, who cry ‘Peace’ when they have something to eat.” (Micah 3:5). At best, for most of us, peace is the cessation of obvious conflict even if the parties in the conflict are not exacly reconciled, even if there is no friendship between them. This kind of peace is usually purchased at a high cost: the complete and utter subjugation – even humilation – of an enemy, the silencing of internal opponents, the costly and constant watch for potential eruptions of violence or retribution, without and within the state. This is the kind of peace which was the norm for the great empires of the ancient world (and of the modern world, as well); and is best exemplified in the Pax Romana, the peace so highy vaunted by the Roman Empire. The Romans controlled all the known world and for many years did so effectively, but ruthlessly. Jesus was one of the casualties of the Pax Romana, as were many of the early Christians: Alban, Cecilia, Peter, Agnes among them, and many others unknown by name. But also casualties were ten of thousands of people captured and enslaved, the many hundreds of thousands who lived in abject poverty and at the whim of social superiors, the scores of tribes and nations conquered and kept in check by occupying forces of Roman troops. Yes, what passed for peace – and what still may pass for peace today – looks very different from the bottom of the pile.
The prophetic tradition of Judaism presents a very different image of peace, the foundation of which is right relations between peoples, and between people and God. Peace in this tradition – shalom – has many resonances and can mean something as simple as a curteous greeting (as it is still used today in modern Hebrew), but it also has profound social dimensions and is associated “with righteousness, law, judgement, and the actions of public officials.” At the same time, in the tradition of ancient Judaism, God and God alone is the creator and source of this kind of peace and it is God and God alone who gives shalom.* To work for peace – shalom – in one’s life and in the world is to align one’s self with God and what God wills and desires in creation. To work against peace is more than just perpetuating hostility or making war, it is to live in darkness, “without vision…without revelation”. (Micah 3:6) Shalom is more than peace in the narrow way in which we usually have come to understand and experience it, it is rather an entire framework and pattern for God’s world. It is not something which exists merely by our creation, purely between human beings or even between nations, but it is a reality meant to encompas the entire cosmos; a pattern that ideally should dictate all our dealings with creation, with others, with ourselves. The source of its disruption is most usually not the outside forces which menace and threaten, but the internal forces which undermine and corrupt human society and relationships. In speaking about the the lack of peace, Micah does not speak about the hostility of the Assyrians or the threat it poses. He speaks of the internal decay of rightousness and of basic human decency in Judah: “Hear this, you rulers of the house of Jacob…who abhor justice
and pervert all equity, [you]…give judgment for a bribe, [your] priests teach for a price, [your] prophets give oracles for money.” (Micah 5:9, 11) And so, often the prophets still speak up for shalom in periods where there is no apparent hostility, sometimes most especially in periods of prosperity; for example as when the prophet Amos writes in the name of the Lord, “I hate, I despise your festivals,
and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps. But let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” (Amos 5:21, 23-24). God’s vision of peace – of shalom – is not about making nice, but about making justice; and the latter is in many ways far tougher and more nuanced than the former because it calls for serious self-examination both of individuals, communities and nations. Shalom challenges us by unmasking the very causes of the hostility between peoples and nations which lead to violence – injustice, prejudice, greed, pride. These can not easily be overcome with a simple, concordat, agreement or summit. They can only be overcome with conversion of spirit, conversion life, both personal and communal. They can only be overcome by genuinely aligning ourselves to God and God’s gracious plan for creation.
God’s plan, God’s vision of peace is costly. And its price must be our dying to privilege and facile stability, it must never be the suffering or subjugation of another. Shalom creates no casualties. Even should a nation not be at war, if hundreds of thousands within its cities and towns live in poverty there is no peace. Even if a people can congratulate itself by proclaiming how free are its citizens, if a section of that citizenry cannot participate in the fruits of that freedom due to poor educational provision or lack of dignified employment, then there is no peace. Even when a nation can take due pride in its scientific and medical advances, if large sections of its population have little to no access to those advances then there is no peace. When people’s sense of justice is still an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth, then there is no peace. Living shalom means we take the risk to envision the world as God might see it, and to unmask injustice and its subtle violence, even when the powers that be tell us everything is alright, that things are peaceful, because as Christians we know that peace – real peace – is much, much more, and that ultimately no earthly power can provide it. All that we as people and as a nation can do is speak up for it and accept no cheap substitutes, no matter how comfortable they may make us feel. All we can do align ourselves to it by allowing justice to roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. Then and only then can we truly come to call ourselves followers of the Prince of Peace.
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