c. 1999 Religion News Service

(Tom Ehrich is a pastor, writer and software developer living in Winston-Salem, N.C.)

UNDATED _”Peacemaking”was a touchy concept when I was coming of age in the 1960s.

If one talked of”peace,”people immediately took sides on Vietnam. Some considered peacemaking to be soft and unpatriotic.

But the Sermon on the Mount doesn’t just go away. It still says,”Blessed are the peacemakers.”Not blessed are the nice, the peaceful, those who have found serenity, or the victors, but blessed are those who make peace.

We might debate when war is just. We might defend the right of a person or a community to defend itself from attack. We might assert that peace is more than the absence of war, that peace also requires justice.

The blessed condition, however, is still the making of peace _ as even the warriors will affirm, no matter how many stand safely on the sidelines yelling for someone else’s blood.

Who or what actually makes peace? I got a glimpse of that Sunday morning in a worship time that suddenly grew deep.

It started off a normal service. I had driven to this congregation near Raleigh, N.C., to fill in for a friend. We sang, we heard Scripture (the Sermon on the Mount).

Then something changed. I heard a depth in my preaching that I hadn’t known would emerge. I saw depth on people’s faces. Something was happening. The healing ministry showed me what.

A half-dozen people came forward to receive the laying on of hands. Others stood behind them, touching their shoulders. Tears flowed. The entire room grew still. They kept on singing, but the stillness was palpable.

When I came to a woman who has been fighting cancer and might well be losing the battle, I realized the entire congregation was centered on her. She has shared her illness with them; they know every twist and turn in the chemotherapy, the hair loss, the good days, the bad days, the children who don’t know what to think, the husband who watches his beloved slip away.

She was making this peace.

Her pain cut through the trivial. The pathos of her situation made warring wills seem absurd. Her trust in God carried everyone beyond the perfunctory. Her tears were like a balm, soothing every wounded soul.

She didn’t set out to do this. It just happened, because God was in the moment, using her to focus everyone’s needs on the throne of grace.

So this is how peace happens. It happens when we lay our lives open to each other _ not hiding behind masks, not allowing our masks to become turf that we defend at all costs, not allowing our defense of turf to become aggression, until finally our neediness is forgotten and all we have within us is rage and fear.

Peace happens when we stand naked before God. Peace happens when we see each other’s needs and thereby see what truly matters.

The warring factions in Washington keep hoping that one more decision, one more vote, will enable them to get on with governance. But those chasing President Clinton seem trapped in a loathing that prohibits compromise. Those supporting the president seem more open to shades of gray, but that’s just a political strategy forced upon them by earlier losses.

We have unshakable confidence in our ability to find peace through violence. If we can just get rid of Saddam Hussein, say many, we will have peace in Iraq. Send NATO troops into the Balkan morass, say many, and they will find peace. Bomb one more abortion clinic, chase one more adulterer from office, sue one more employer, divorce one more spouse, snag one more contract, go deeply into debt to buy one more new car _ and then we will have peace.

We can debate whether any or all of those actions is justified. But peace isn’t about winning or defeating. Peace isn’t about one side’s getting its way. Peace isn’t about demonstrating conclusively the will of God or the genius of the Constitution or the superiority of one nation or one way of life.

Peace happens when we stand before God, not before tribunals of our own staffing, and when we see our common humanity, a oneness that flows not from shared opinion or even shared values, but from shared brokenness.

DEA END EHRICH