You may have noticed that the front of our worship booklet this morning indicates that in addition to this being the Sixth Sunday after Easter and the Memorial Day weekend, today is also something called “Rogation Sunday.” Rogation Sunday takes its name from the Latin verb rogare, which means “to ask.” Its Christian roots can be traced back to the 5th century AD, with its observance reaching the British Isles sometime in the 7th century AD.
Historically, Rogation Sunday, which is always 6 Easter, as well as the Rogation Days of the following Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday that lead up to Ascension Day, which is the Thursday after 6 Easter; these Rogation Days have historically been days of prayer and intercession, originally asking for God’s blessing on “the community, the land, and the harvest” for the coming year. (Wikipedia, “Rogation Sunday”)
During the reign of Elizabeth I in England, Rogation Sunday additionally became a time to bless and celebrate all town and communal boundaries, “with extra emphasis on the stability gained from lawful boundary lines,” and the Sunday was usually marked by the whole congregation, including clergy and choir, processing around the parish boundaries – “beating the bounds,” as it was called. (Ibid.)
Blessing, stability, lawfulness, and the willing observance of civic boundaries – to me, these are all indications of a time of peace, and a lack of outward danger and strife; and yet, in our 6 Easter Gospel reading this Rogation Sunday morning, a lack of danger from the outside world is not what we hear; a lack of danger from the outside world is not what Jesus is about to face.
As with last Sunday’s Gospel, today’s reading is part of what’s known as Jesus’ “Farewell Discourse,” his extended teaching/prayer that comes at the end of the Last Supper. Prior to this particular passage from John, Jesus has already told the disciples that he’s returning to the Father, that he won’t be with them any longer; and today we hear him say that God’s Spirit, the Advocate, will come to be with them in his absence as teacher and as empowerment. The one who will betray him has left the company, and he knows that what awaits him outside this room is violent death.
In spite of this, he says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” (Jn. 14:27)
To the Christian community in Philippi, the community that will come into being around the newly-converted Lydia, Paul later writes these words of comfort from a prison cell: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice…Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 4:4, 6-7)
In her novel In This House of Brede, a book about a community of Anglican nuns in England, author Rumer Godden begins her story by describing a carving over the front door of the convent. She writes, “The motto was ‘Pax,’ but the word was set in a circle of thorns….Pax: peace, but what a strange peace, made of unremitting toil and effort, seldom with a seen result; subject to constant interruptions, unexpected demands, short sleep at nights, little comfort, sometimes scant food; beset with disappointments and usually misunderstood; yet peace all the same, undeviating, filled with joy and gratitude and love. ‘It is My own peace I give unto you.’ Not, notice,” says Godden, “the world’s peace.”
The peace that Jesus leaves with us; God’s peace that surpasses our understanding; the peace that is not the world’s peace – what exactly is this peace?
In English, we think of peace as an absence of conflict, struggle, or hostilities between individuals, groups, or nations. Peace can also indicate a freedom from distraction or annoyance, either in a personal setting or in our own minds. In Hebrew, however, the concept of peace, the understanding of the Hebrew word “shalom,” this concept is far more nuanced and multi-layered than its English counterpart. The peace of Jesus, the peace of God that Paul writes about, and the peace that is not of this world, these are all shalom – and biblical shalom addresses the heart.
Shalom is a state of being, a gift given by God to all of creation; and while shalom, like the English word peace, can mean a lack of hostility between two entities, shalom itself also includes harmony, wholeness (often expressed as “salvation”), completeness, well-being, tranquility, and complete reconciliation. Shalom is a blessing, and when extended to others, the wish for shalom includes a desire for their health and wholeness as well.
As one Christian author writes, “The webbing together of God, humans, and all creation in justice, fulfillment, and delight is what the Hebrew prophets call shalom. We call it peace but it means far more than peace of mind or a ceasefire between enemies. In the Bible, shalom means universal flourishing, wholeness and delight – a rich state of affairs in which natural needs are satisfied and natural gifts fruitfully employed, a state of affairs that inspires joyful wonder as its Creator and Savior opens doors and welcomes the creatures in whom he delights. Shalom, in other words, is the way things ought to be.” (Cornelius Plantinga, Not the Way It’s Supposed to Be)
In our own Eucharistic Prayer D, we say that even though we turned away from God, breaking the shalom between us through our own disobedience, we say that “through the prophets [God] taught us to hope for salvation” – which is another way of saying that “through the prophets God taught us to hope for shalom,” to hope for the restoration and the completeness of our relationship with God.
Even the letters that spell the word “shalom” have significance, especially the first one – the Hebrew letter “shin.” Each letter in the Hebrew alphabet has its own life given to it by God, its own divine formation. “Shin” consists of three upward strokes united by a common horizontal base, and within the context of blessing, the upward strokes represent El Shaddai, God Almighty; God’s Shekhinah, which is God’s Glory; and Shalom, God’s Peace. More popularly, “shin” has also been said to represent the common bond God shares both with God’s creation and with humankind – that “common horizontal base” that I mentioned.
In worship, “shin” is formed by each of the hands of the one pronouncing the Priestly Blessing upon the people, the blessing given by God to the people of Israel, and it’s formed like this.
In the Book of Numbers, God says to Moses, “Speak to Aaron and his sons, saying, ‘Thus you shall bless the sons of Israel. You shall say to them: The LORD bless you, and keep you; The LORD make his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you; The LORD lift up his countenance on you and give you [shalom].” (Num. 6:23-26)
Those of you who are familiar with Star Trek will no doubt recognize the similarity that “shin” has with Mr. Spock’s Vulcan salute. Leonard Nimoy, who was Jewish, wrote in his autobiography that “when he was a child, his grandfather took him to an Orthodox synagogue, where he saw the blessing performed and was impressed by it” – so impressed that he later based Spock’s signature greeting, “Live long and prosper,” on the “shin” of God’s shalom.
So where is the disconnect with true shalom, the peace of God that is so all-encompassing that we can’t even wrap our heads around it? Where is the disconnect between true shalom and the counterfeit peace of the world?
I think the disconnect has to do with the way we tend to approach the reality of pain and suffering in our own lives and in the lives of those we love; how we tend to approach the realities of stress, loneliness, self-esteem, anxiety, and despair. There’s not a family in this congregation, and probably not even in this nation, that at some time and to some degree; possibly recently, possibly horrendously; not a single family, maybe not even a single individual, that hasn’t had to deal at some level with self-destructive behavior in themselves or in others – whether it be substance abuse, excessive gambling, compulsive shopping, inappropriate sexual or physical behavior, or whatever – and I want to be very, very clear here that I am NOT including diagnosed or diagnosable addictive or mental health issues, or experience-related issues such as PTSD in these comments. Those issues, along with their challenges and their sorrows, are entirely separate. I’m not talking about them or referencing them here.
This being said, in a sermon he himself preached, a recovering drug addict turned seminarian said that with every hit of the many drugs he had taken in his years of using, he was looking for “a little bit of peace for a short time.” (LP, Peace, 38)
This same search for peace, this same search for relief from pain is our own search as well.
This search is for the world’s peace – the world’s willingness to offer us short term solutions to make our pain stop, to give us “a little bit of peace for a short time.” This is the peace that’s right at hand; and yet, says another author, “a little bit of peace for a short time” “points out all that is wrong with the peace the world gives, and it also points to what is most important about the peace of God.” (Ibid.)
The peace of God, the shalom of God, exists alongside our suffering, is a companion in our suffering, and at the same time is far more than our suffering. Often shalom comes into our consciousness through the people of faith around us; and while we might sometimes lose our awareness of shalom, shalom itself, God’s shalom, is still with us.
Losing both her sister and her mother to cancer in a matter of months, one author writes, “God chooses the very strangest times and circumstances to teach us about peace. On reflection, I couldn’t have learned about this non-worldly peace without being up against the toughest challenge I had ever faced. Now, when I think I cannot possibly bear a pain or resolve a problem, I remember that Jesus’ peace [Jesus’ shalom] is not of this world. It does not require tranquility of circumstance in order to flood our lives.” (Connie Clark, LP, Peace, 23)
Later in John, Jesus says, “I have said this to you so that in me you may find peace, [in me you may find shalom]. In the world you find suffering, but have courage: I have conquered the world.” (John 16:33)
Even so, even though “tranquility of circumstance” isn’t required for us to experience the shalom of God, of Jesus, and of Paul, tranquility of circumstance can be helpful – and here’s where the tranquility of “sabbath time,” of intentionally setting aside time for God, can help to lead us into God’s peace.
Honoring the Sabbath, of course, is one of the Ten Commandments, a Commandment that all too often gets short shrift when our kids are playing organized sports, or when the weekend is the only time to catch up on errands and chores. Nevertheless, the Hebrew word for sabbath, “Shabbat”, is related to two other Hebrew words – one that means “to stop” and one that means “to sit.” In Orthodox Jewish families, no work is done on Shabbat, and the understanding of what constitutes “work” extends to cooking, driving a car, and even turning on a light switch. One worships on Shabbat; one spends time with family; and one rests, honoring God.
In days gone by, especially before retail stores were open on Sundays, many Christian families also spent Sabbath Sundays that were family-oriented and toned down. Today, in an attempt to regain spiritual and physical balance, it’s not unusual to hear of people dedicating a set day or set period of time during the week as their “sabbath time,” a time for their own slowing down and turning towards God.
Linking “Shabbat” and “Shalom,” one author writes, “What if one day a week, we focused on not just a day of rest but a day of getting our wholeness restored? What if weekly we could completely refill our life tank in our bodies, hearts, and minds? That is what true shalom does, if we allow it.
“When our peace is full and overflowing, we are able to trust [God] to restore what may have been lost last week. We can confidently move forward in hope that we will have all that we need in the week ahead. This is what Shabbat is for. Shabbat is for Shalom. Shabbat Shalom.”
When used as a greeting, this author says, “’Shabbat Shalom’ is saying, despite all the craziness throughout the week, ‘may you end the week with a rest that brings that inner peace that recenters us on the One who gives it’ – and also, ‘May your next week begin with that sense of inner rest and completeness, where nothing is lacking.’” (From “Shalom” in The Christian’s Biblical Guide to Understanding Israel by Doug Hershey)
As we go forth on this Rogation Sunday, may we all honor the creation and the Sabbath, finding that inner rest and completeness; spending intentional time stopping, and sitting in wholeness with God – and as Christians, may we never settle for only a little bit of peace.
Shabbat Shalom.
Amen.