Just a Cow, Chewing on Peace

Sometimes, I ponder on a thing and I start to make some headway, at least in my own mind.  Other times, though, I start to think on a thing, and what I realize first is how utterly clueless I am about the topic.

I have been thinking on peace, lately.  I filled with awe at what a bewildering topic this is.

This act of writing is an attempt to bring some order to my chaotically arrayed thoughts on the topic.  I could be wrong, in what I am writing here.  God knows I have lots to learn.  I hope you’ll drop a comment and throw some ideas around, and help me to make a little more sense about this stuff.

I think the place I want to begin is with a distinction between two different modes of peace.  Those modes are Shalom, or Godly peace, and Chill, or human peace.

Before I go very far in defining those two, I am going to suggest another distinction.  This is based on where peace lives.  Call them  internal peace and external peace.

I would like to suggest that man’s peace inevitably favors one habitat for peace or the other.   Protestors spend a lot of time and energy working for an external peace.  Mindfulness types seek after an internal peace.

Often times, there is not an explicit and obvious conflict that is going on at the surface level.  Between the protestors and the mindfulness types.  There are no rumbles between the occupy-ers and the meditate-ors.  One of the reasons for this, maybe, is that there is a fine line between avoiding conflict and avoiding violence.  I suspect we spend too much time and energy running away from all manner of conflict out of a fear that we engage in violence.  I think we ought to follow the example of Ghandi, Jesus, Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela (at least in the second half of his life.)  and be willing to risk conflict.

I do think that for so may people, though, where you are going to focus your energy in working for peace is incredibly important.  A person who fights for peace in the outside world would be tempted to act dismissive, I think, toward some one who is working only on the internal.  Similarly, imagine a monk.  Feel free to choose his religion.   It seems that often, he might be dismissive toward somebody working at changing laws, fighting for human rights.

When I began writing this, the thing I was thinking about was that the difference between Shalom and Chill is that Shalom recognizes that peace is contagious.  Internal peace will spread to the external.  And external peace will spread to the internal.  Because, ultimately the world above is the world below; the world within us is the world outside of us.

But as I began writing that paragraph above, the one that began “often times” I had this realization.  I didn’t try to set this up.  I didn’t, in fact, even see this coming.   I found myself looking for examples of people who were unafraid of conflict though they resisted the urge to practice violence.  As you read, I came up with Ghandi, Jesus, Dr. King, Nelson Mandela.  The thing I am struck by, now, that I did not see coming is this: each of them had a profoundly spiritual bent to their practice of peace.

It seems to me then, that to practice Shalom is not only about a conviction that internal peace and external peace are opposite sides of the same coin.  Maybe more importantly, to practice Shalom is to be willing to navigate the difficult path separating conflict from violence.  It is to realize that peace with out conflict is impotence, and peace done with violence is self-defeating.

Lurking somewhere in the midst of all these thoughts is this picture I have in my heart about the Kingdom of Heaven.  I think the Kingdom of Heaven bursts out in these places where we engage in conflict with out violence, somewhere between the boundary of the internal and external.  I think I am going to be better able to articulate this if I spend some time with all these thoughts, chew them up, maybe even swallow them and regurgitate them back up.  So, I, a cow chewing his (err, her) cud, am going to end here, and leave you with that image.

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jeffsdeepthoughts

The stories that speak to our soul begin at a home where things are good. Cinderella is happy with her father. The three little pigs have grown up and are ready to move on. Bilbo Baggins knows his shire. Adam and Eve walk with God in the garden. My story isn’t much different. There was a time and a place where it was so good. There was a community for me. And there was joy. We were filled with a sincere desire to do what God wanted us to do. We possessed explanations and understandings that went a certain distance. We offered security and tradition and laughter. For a lot of years, that was enough. I have this sense that it was also necessary. I have this surety, now, that it certainly wasn’t everything. There were some things that became increasingly problematic as time went by. There was a desire to package things up so very neatly. Sunday morning services were efficient and strategic. Responses to differences of opinion were premeditated. Formula began to feel more important than being real. A real desire for everybody to be one of us, but also a real sense that there is an us, and there is a them. They carried a regret that it has to be this way, but deeper than this regret was a surety that this is how it is. I began to recognize that there was a cost of admission to that group. There were people who sat at the door, collecting it. Those people wished they didn’t have to. But I guess they felt like they did have to. They let some people in, and they left others out. There was a provisional membership. My friends did possess a desire to accommodate people that are different… But it would be best for everyone concerned if they were only a little bit different. I did make many steps forward in this place. Before I went there, there were lies that I believed. Some of the things that I learned there, I still hold on to. But that place is not my home anymore. Those people are not my community anymore. There were times it was hard. I am engaged in a different community now. And I am working hard at finding a place in many different places now, embracing many different kind of families. I don’t always get it right. I am trying and I am learning and I am moving foreward. I have this sense that I am not alone in these experiences. I believe that we are tribe and we are growing. We are pilgrims, looking for a new holy land. Perhaps we won’t settle on the same spot of land. But if you’ve read this far, I am thinking that we are probably headed in the same general direction. I have begun this blog to talk about where my journey is taking me. In every space, we find people who help us along. And maybe we can get to know each other, here. We embrace ideas that provide a structure for the things we believe, and perhaps we can share these too. Maybe we can form a group, a tribe, a community, if we can figure out a way to work through the shadow of these kinds of groups, if we can bigger than the us-and-them ideas that have caused so much trouble in the past. As important as they are, I think the very nature of online interactions will lend itself to something equally powerful. I am stumbling onto these practices that my grandfathers and great grandfathers in the faith engaged in. I am learning about these attitudes and intuitions are so different than the kinds of things we call doctrine today. I don’t know about you, but I am running out of patience, and even interest, in conversations about doctrine. I hope that maybe you’ll share a little something about where your journey is taking you, and maybe our common joys and challenges might help each other along, and we might lift each other up. Thanks for doing this journey with me.

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