In my blog last week I talked about what the Church calls a “liturgical” calendar which guides the Church in celebrating the “Christian” year. The first “season” of that year is Advent. We began that season on Sunday, November 27.
There are four Sundays in Advent. In many churches there is the tradition of lighting a special candle every Sunday, each candle representing the four traditional themes of Advent: Hope, Peace, Love, and Joy.
This second Sunday, Dec. 4, we lighted the Candle of Peace.
As I ponder that Candle of Peace, my mind was scrambles with myriad thoughts and questions. Is Russia going to continue the war in Ukraine? Is China preparing to overrun Taiwan, and move on toward conflict with the US? How long are our two national political parties going to hatefully relate to one another?
But then came a shift in my pondering. I remembered an experience a pastor friend had shared…the morning he was awakened by the telephone. “The anguished voice of a parishioner informed me of the sudden death of his only child, seven years old. He begged me to come as quickly as possible, for his wife had closed herself off in a bedroom in a speechless state of total despair. I dressed and, before leaving I prayed. What did this woman need? Peace! I prayed that God would give her peace.
“When I arrived at the house I was met at the door by the husband, the look on his face telling the grief which consumed him. With a motion of his hand, he pointed out the bedroom; I went in. The blinds were closed. I could vaguely distinguish the form of a woman lying fully clothed on the bed. Her eyes were closed and her face expressed no emotion. I leaned over and took her hand, but she made no movement. I mumbled a few words of sympathy and sat down beside the bed.
“I remained there without a word, immobile as she, and the phrase kept tumbling over in my mind, ‘I am here to bring you peace,’ but I could not speak a word.
“The time passed painfully, interminably, and each time I found myself mentally formulating a sentence that would wreak the silence, something said to me gently but inescapably, ‘Be quiet!’ So I continued to be silent. I didn’t even know if the woman was aware of my presence. I had no idea how long the silence was lasting. Then, fifteen…twenty minutes…maybe longer, I’ll never know.
“Suddenly her eyes opened and her face turned towards me. Her hand motioned to me. And then I heard the word, yes, coming from the depth of her sorrow:
‘Pastor, give me peace.’ I had not said a word. Now I replied, ‘Yes, that is why I have come.’ I knelt down beside her bed and placed my hands on her forehead and said, ‘I give you peace in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.’
“I had given the gift of peace to one who was dying for lack of it. Some months later we met again, and she said to me, ‘I shall never forget how you gave me peace. I remember the moment and the peace returns…thank you.’
‘Whether we are pondering the “war” and the potential wars that may come, or wrestling with raging powers within, we can have the peace of Christ…as we used to sing, the peace that passes understanding, down in my heart As you read this, hear it as a pastoral word, ‘I give you peace in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.’