The holidays are fast approaching. I will be spending time with people I love very much but whose beliefs and ideologies and values and political persuasions don’t always line up with my own. I have tried to ignore to which sides they lean and belong, but some things are more easily hidden than others. I have been downright shocked sometimes at the things that are said and done in the name of “righteous” conviction.
In the past few weeks I’ve found myself backing away from social media, disengaging from the dividing lines that seem to mark us as a contemporary society, shielding myself from the angry news, the dehumanizing words, the conversations that feature more talkers than listeners.
I am, by nature, a peacemaker. I don’t like to step inside conflict, to shake up waters that I’d rather remain tranquil and still. And sometimes that means I haven’t spoken when I really needed to speak, when I felt the words damming up inside, when I noticed that someone was bulldozing another’s identity.
Identity is a shaky thing in the first place; we’re often not entirely sure we’ve really found it. We uncover it, we bury it, we uncover it again. We don’t always live into it perfectly.
When our identity is further shaken for the purpose of corroborating right or wrong in an argument that will prove ridiculous in the grand scheme of things, I balk. Not always publicly, but always privately.
I know what I’m supposed to speak; the words come easily for me. But sometimes I’m too tired to be brave. And, besides, what about peace?
I’ve spent quite a bit of time recently thinking about what it means to be a peacemaker. Thinking about how we preserve dignity and honor in the face of ever-present conflict. Thinking about my own convictions and where they line up with peacemaking.
Sometimes the best way to understand something is to think about what it doesn’t mean.
Peacemaking doesn’t mean compromising on my values. It doesn’t mean leaving behind my ideals. It doesn’t mean pressing pause on my mission, which can be summed up by e.e. cummings’s wise words: “love is the whole and more than all.”
It doesn’t always mean remaining silent.
The other day my husband was standing at his computer, scrolling through Facebook, though I’ve told him it’s not a good time to be on Facebook and we have better things to do and create. He saw a post from a friend that shocked and disappointed him. He said, “How do I keep from spending all my time on social media, helping people look at facts instead of mere opinions?” He was asking, because he wanted to set this friend straight, to present the factual details that could be used to create a more informed opinion—regardless of whether or not that opinion actually changed.
It’s a difficult question to answer, and the answer will be different for everyone, at different times. Some weeks I know I have better things on which to train my focus; some weeks I feel compelled to impress knowledge and compassion onto and into hearts. Sometimes my peacemaking looks like remaining silent; sometimes it looks like bringing a sword (metaphorically speaking, of course).
Sometimes the peacemakers are the people who speak most boldly (in love, remember), let that truth unfold in the hearts of hurting people, and usher in peace that is large and expansive enough to overcome fear and hate and dividing lines. Sometimes our very presence is peace: we show people they are not alone, that they can endure, that we are all the same, deep down. Sometimes we become peacemakers in the things we create.
And we must not neglect to do what is necessary for ourselves, to remain at peace. We cannot be peacemakers if we are not ourselves at peace. For me, that looks like scheduling a time of meditation every morning. It looks like taking frequent Sabbaticals from social media. It looks like culling acquaintances from my friends list. It looks like spending time with the people I love, in person, here, now.
In becoming peacemakers, we must have standards: we cannot compromise who we are, for what we stand, and what we know of love—that it forever endures, no matter what. That is as true for us as it is for “them.”
I hope you have a wonderful holiday season full of peacemaking and gratitude.
For more writings like this, sign up for Rachel’s e-newsletter. You’ll get a some free books and short stories, too. Visit her Reader Library page for more details.
(Photo by Jonathan Meyer on Unsplash)
