“Living in Peace”
Micah 6:6-8
Matthew 5:1-12
We preachers have a lot of ground to cover this morning.
Because the world is broken in many places. Because so many people are living in fear and in pain. Because evil has taken off its gloves, stopped operating in secret, stopped following the law and upholding the Constitution, stopped even pretending to care about anything other than its own power. Because good-hearted, kind, caring, and faithful people like us are overwhelmed by the blatant cruelty of our government and tempted to despair. Because our scriptures this morning offer both challenge and comfort.
At times like these, progressive preachers like me are inclined to do our best to speak a prophetic word. To speak from our grief with righteous anger, steadfast hope,” and unflinching faith. To make clear what the truth is and what churches and people of faith should do.
Well, we might get to that.
But your preacher is also a pastor. And the pastor part of me is pretty sure that most of us here know the gospel truth and have some sense of what we should be doing. Most of us know that to love our neighbors is to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with our God. Most of us are praying fervently for things to change—praying with our feet as well as our hearts.
And still . . . our hearts hurt. Still we worry for the well-being of our neighbors, the future of our children and grandchildren, the health of our democracy and our planet. Still we feel way more powerless than mostly white people of mostly great privilege are used to feeling. Still, we find it challenging to stay grounded in hope and love.
And so I want to begin this morning on a pastoral note from an unlikely source. I generally don’t like artificial intelligence; I am concerned about all its negative ramifications, everything from environmental damage to widespread deception and brain rot.
But when I came across some AI-generated content on Instagram yesterday, I knew I had to share it with you. The question Zachary Helton asked of AI was this: “What might Mr. Rogers say about what is happening in Minneapolis right now?”
And this was the response, which I encourage you to hear in Mr. Rogers’ voice:
When something painful happens in a community, it can feel like the ground shifting under our feet. We notice it in our bodies before we ever find the right words for it.
If you’re feeling sad, angry, confused, or frightened, I want you to know that those feelings make sense. They are signals that you care. In moments like these, I often think how easy it is to feel helpless. But helplessness is not the same as hopelessness. Even when we can’t fix what’s happened, we can choose how we show up now. One of the bravest things any of us can do is stay tender in a time that tempts us to harden, to listen instead of rushing to explain, to grieve without turning away, to let our hearts break open just enough that compassion can still move through us.
If you are an adult, children may be watching how you respond, even if they don’t say so. They learn from whether we make room for sadness, whether we speak about people with dignity, and whether we remind them that they are not alone.
And if you’re a child or feeling like a child on the inside, I hope there’s a safe person you can talk to, someone who will listen without needing you to be anything other than what you are.
In hard times, it can help to look for the quiet acts of courage that rarely make the headlines: neighbors checking on neighbors, people showing up with food, hands reaching out in comfort, voices insisting on care and fairness. These are signs that love is still very much at work.
You matter. Your feelings matter. And the ways you choose to care about yourself and others matters more than you might ever know. I’m glad you’re here, and I’m glad we’re neighbors.
I don’t know about you, but to me that sounds a lot like “Love your neighbor as yourself,” and remember that you need to take care of yourself so that you will be able to take loving actions in a world on fire. To me, it sounds a lot like, “Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God”—with a side of “and remember to listen to your body.”
Or, to put it another way: When evil seems to have the upper hand, when unjust systems are disappearing and killing people and leaving the good people feeling powerless, lament. Rage and grieve. Connect. Pray. Ground yourself in love and goodness. Work with others. Discern what is yours to do, and then take action—realizing that while it may not stop the evil immediately, it will shine a light on the wrongdoers, call systems to account, build community, and foster hope, strength, and determination.
Those who are closest to God don’t need AI to tell them this. People who draw close to God cannot help but love God’s people. And people who love God’s people cannot help but see their pain and fear. And people who see pain and fear cannot help but try to offer comfort and hope.
And so it is that when Jesus began his teaching ministry at a synagogue in Nazareth, he lifted up the lowly and made clear that it was his mission to turn the unjust systems of the world upside-down so that God’s will for justice, kindness, and community might be done on earth, in this life. And when he offered his first major address on a mountainside, he did not begin with rules or prohibitions, dogma or doctrine.
Instead, he began with a series of blessings, a litany of congratulations to people who had done nothing more than be made in the image of God. The Beatitudes are not rewards for good behavior, but rather a reminder of how God’s world is designed to work: We are blessed not because we are good, but because God is good.
Are you poor in spirit or in goods? Are you discouraged, depressed, or destitute? You are blessed because you know your need for God and others.
Are you grieving the loss of a loved one, a dream, your health, or the state of the world? You will be comforted by memories, shared stories, well-meaning people who don’t know what to say, and the realization that you are not alone.
Are you one of those gentle souls who has a hard time standing up for yourself but would go to the ends of the earth for the welfare of someone else? You will inherit a world that is better because of you.
Do you hunger and thirst for justice? Does your cup overflow with compassion even when you are exhausted by your own outrage at injustice and evil? The strength, creativity, love, and commitment of others in the struggle will feed your soul.
Are you merciful toward those who have wronged you? Then you, too, will be forgiven.
Are you laser-focused on your pursuit of God’s realm? You will see God’s love and goodness everywhere you look.
Are you mistreated and abused for your justice work? Know that your Spirit-filled work is making a new world possible. Take comfort in knowing that you are in good company, and that God is with you.
In a divided, dehumanizing, and violent world, are you devoted to being and making peace? Well, then, you are a child after God’s own heart. You will be blessed and you will be a blessing.
That’s just how it works—because God is good all the time.
Ninety-nine days ago, when some 20 Buddhist monks began their Walk for Peace, left their temple in Fort Worth, Texas, in relative obscurity. Dressed in saffron-colored robes and accompanied by their dog, they walked silently, praying with every that all beings might be at peace, that all beings might be happy.
Over time, their walking through this divided, broken, and violent nation began to garner attention. Their humble, silent walking began to inspire and encourage and bless the throngs who gathered along roadsides to watch them pass. Over time, their walking witness and prayer began to make and impart peace to the many thousands of people who traveled to see it and more than 1 million people who have followed it on social media. In every place they have walked, local police and sheriffs have provided escort and given their badges to the monks.
The monks’ walk has not been without pain and hardship. One monk was hit by a car and had a leg amputated; Anoka the dog had to have surgery; the lead venerable monk has taken ill, and in recent days they have been walking through falling snow and bitter cold.
And still they walk. Still they inspire. Still they bless.
May we, too, live in peace. May we, too, walk and live for peace and justice. May we, too, bless and unite through our ministries. May we know the blessing and gift of walking humbly with God together.
