Advent 2 An Old Word

Isaiah 9:6-7

Ok, I’ll admit it.   There are quests that send me down internet rabbit holes.   Coming from a background in language, words are one of those quests. I love looking at old manuscripts, reading the Hebrew on the pages of Esther at the Royal Ontario Museum, having the privilege to look at pages of the Book of Kells, and declaring battle on Google translate’s work on French idioms. 

Lots of words. 

This week, we light the candle of peace.  We have beautiful symbols around this time of year of peaceful scenes, starry nights, quiet mangers (that’s another story!).  There are quotes that abound about peace and how we can ‘get it”.  Then there are images of those who can’t even go to buy bread without fearing drone strikes, or those for whom mental health struggles mean that days and nights are full of visions of anything but peace. 

So let’s take a look at that word.  An ancient word, in many writings.  A word we want to be true but it’s so, so hard to hold on to or make it last.   Our own human history, no matter what culture or identity we hold, tells that struggle pretty clearly. 

Peace.

We see the closest thing to the English word peace in Latin in the first century, though older words for peace exist in other languages and cultures.    Regardless of the origin, almost all of the words for peace mean ‘freedom from war’.   Not just the absence of war.   Freedom from it–which means that policies and procedures and powers were in place so people didn’t have to worry about it. They would have time to rebuild, grow, laugh, eat, harvest, sleep. 

Someone had to hold the peace for them, had to hold them in a state of freedom from war, while they did all that good, ordinary, day to day growth and life. 

In that understanding of peace, we need someone powerful holding the peace intact.  There are various ways through history that people did that, and do that today.  Some good ways, some not so good. What is curious is, in that in older definitions of peace, peace was not something one could give oneself.   Peace was a gift. Peace was held for you. 

One of the most interesting twists of the word is in the English language.   In Old English, the Latin word for peace (pax) actually replaced the word for happiness in a number of manuscripts in the 1500’s (Online Etymology Dictionary, complied by Douglas Harper )    What brought one happiness was the same power that brought one peace (which, given the culture in northern Europe in the 1500’s, made a lot of sense).   And that equation works–how many moments of joy or happiness can we experience when we are worried about struggle or war?

When we wait and see how God’s peace works in the world, (and there are days when I wonder how long that will take, but I see glimmers here and there) we know that peace is rooted in all the things we see in those words of Isaiah’s: wisdom, justice, counsel (which would imply listening to all sides), knowledge about God.  A peace that lets the world breathe again. A peace that lets people buy bread without fear, or go to school above ground rather than in tunnels because they are hiding from explosions above. A peace that lets a child sleep without fear that there will still be a safe roof over their head the next night.   If we accept God’s peace, it is as a gift to be shared, not something to say, “this is just for me and I don’t have to worry if anyone else has some”.   Peace does not come without struggle: we have the example of a Chrsit who suffered and died for us so we could have peace with God and work for God’s peace in the world. Still, even in the working, God offers peace, and keeps us going. 

So when I think of this old word, this word that talks about freedom, I have to ask: who holds  and gives peace for me?  As we accept that gift, we can extend that peace to others – moment by moment, step by step.  If we try to do it ourselves, we’re not big enough to hold that peace for everyone. 

To think about this week:

• Who holds our peace? Who or what is offering you peace and  is strong enough to make that offer real?

• Who holds and gives freedom from struggle for you–freedom for mental hurt, painful memories, struggles that you think you can’t handle all by yourself?

Who holds that kind of power to give peace?

For me, I can only think of one kid in a manger who can do that. 

Also known as the (most ancient) Word made flesh.  

Or the Prince of Peace. 

May you know God’s peace deeply and fully this week, and may you have moments to share that peace with others. 

 Peace in Christ,

Susan

Photo and content © Susan Kerr 2024. Crocheted “Peace” ornament created by Deborah McVean.   May not be reproduced or circulated without permission of the author.

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Hope and Boxes 

A reading for this week :Romans 15:12-13  (the ‘root of Jesse’ that is talked about here was the apostle Paul referring to Jesus). 

       We’ll light the first candle of Advent on December 1 this year.   It’s often called the candle of  Hope.   But today, I’d like to start with boxes, if we could. They might be a little more of a familiar object around this time of year.

       We talk a lot about boxes—physical and metaphorical. Is a box big enough for what we want it to hold?   Is it made of the right material?   What will we do with it after we’re finished?   Can we collapse it down and break it down, or should we use it again?

We see the boxes all over the place. Stacked in recycling bins, labels betraying what was once inside.  And then a small child will ask for the box and turn it into a car, spaceship, time machine, bed for a doll.   An unhoused person will use the cardboard to make a flat surface to sleep on.   Grocery stores have piles of empty boxes to substitute for bags for larger items. Sometimes we have so many boxes we don’t even know what’s in them anymore.

     On the other extreme, there are things we keep in boxes as collector’s items because if the box isn’t broken, the item is more valuable.   Or so we are told.  

     There’s an old myth about Pandora letting loose all kinds of evil things because she opened a box. The only thing left in the box, before she shut the lid, was hope.  That was the only thing she (and humanity, we’re told in the myth) got to keep.

As we get closer and closer to Christmas, we see more and more boxes. And perhaps less and less hope. So we try to grab on and guard each things that gives us hope, and safeguard it.

     But that’s not the way God works.   Hope  we have in God is not a thing to be trapped, packaged, held. It always leads somewhere and its value is seen best when it gets let loose. It’s not the container that holds hope that is important, but it might help hope get from one place to another. However, that box that hope comes in is always meant to be opened. Here’s some examples:

•         Hope comes in a box of food—and when that box is opened, having a full stomach, and what one could do with that energy.
•         Hope comes in a closed medicine vial –and when that vial is opened, it allows a person to be protected against disease.
•         Hope comes in a bag of gently used clothes and blankets—and when that bag is opened, there’s enough to stay warm for a night and look differently at the world the next day.
•         Hope comes in a box of wood holding hay –and when that manger is empty, there is a place for the Son of God.
•         Hope comes in a box of human skin and bones – and when we hear words and stories and grace coming from God who is our hope, we can move forward, out of our own boxes, into the real life God gives us.

Hope was never meant to be safeguarded.   It’s meant to be out of the box. 

God never tried to safeguard Godself.  

God was meant to be out of the box.

That’s why Jesus came—because it’s what no one expected God would do, coming to where no one expected God to be.  

So here are the questions for this week: Where can we embrace the unexpected nature of God, break down the boxes we so carefully build, and see hope? Where can we let hope loose on the world in the name of Christ? What will that look like for you, and for me? 

May you experience the gift of a rush of joyful hope and ‘open boxes’ as you journey this week.

Peace in Christ,

Susan

Photo and content © Susan Kerr 2024.   May not be reproduced or circulated without permission of the author.

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