has fed such urgent comfort through a dream,
whispered, "your lord is coming, he is close"
that I have drowsed half-faithful for a time
bathed in pure tones of promise and remorse:
"tomorrow I shall wake to welcome him."
-excerpt from Geoffrey Hill, Lachrimae Amantis
The treasure of these last handful of days here in Chicago has been the fact that the sun has been out. After weeks of tentative light and persistent cold, the sun has begun to carve an arc in the sky just a little higher, just a little warmer, and just a little brighter. It's a wonderful thing to experience even a little bit of warmth on your back after so long. Walking back from campus yesterday, I even saw a crocus peeking out from behind the base of a shrub. Premature and ill-fated though it was, it was still a crocus. Spring, dare I say, is close.
That said, such bright days set the evening darkness into starker relief. It's not at all a sense that the nights are darker. It's rather a sense that life is beginning to once again rev up the fullness of its contrasts. Rather than the continuous dull grayscale of Chicago winter, my body and soul must once again be ready to take in both glorious brightness and vast darkness, all within 24 hours.
How do we balance and receive such stunning contrasts? Because if we step back even just a little, that's what we're surrounded by. Contrasts. In the Geoffrey Hill's poem above, that's part of what he's talking about in the mingling of "promise and remorse." Sometimes the best we can do is "drowse half-faithful" in anticipation of what Christ, in his coming, will renew and redeem. The contrasts of life can be all too overwhelming. That's why the whisper of the angel, "your lord is coming, he is close..." can penetrate so deeply into our souls: we want so badly for the contrasts and tensions to be set aright, for resolution to come. Because, so often in the evening hours, in moments when we are really honest about our lives, our world, and our selves, we long for that peace most of all.
Peace, deep peace, is not merely a social ideal to pursue. It's the deepest reality of all creation, as God breathed it into life. We draw our understanding of peace from incredibly deep wells: Shalom, that wonderful Hebraic word, has a depth of meaning, ranging from inner peace and wholeness for the individual, all the way to the healing of the brokenness of the entire world--the cosmos.
What a fitting passage from Bonhoeffer, then:
"Jesus' followers are called to peace. When Jesus called them they found their peace. Jesus is their peace. Now they are not only to have peace, but they are to make peace. To do this they renounce violence and strife. Those things never help the cause of Christ. Christ's kingdom is a realm of peace, and those in Christ's community greet each other with a greeting of peace."
- from his book, Discipleship
Scripture to consider:
Which of you desires life,
and covets many days to enjoy good?
Keep your tongue from evil,
and your lips from speaking deceit.
Depart from evil, and do good;
seek peace, and pursue it.
Psalm 34:12-14
Prayer for the day:
God of peace, you give me peace, now teach me to be a peacemaker.
Amen
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