Sermon #55 (6th March 2022 at Essex Church / Kensington Unitarians)
‘People want peace,’ as Dorothy Day said. So far, so uncontroversial. Surely most of us do indeed long for peace, though in ‘ordinary times’ perhaps most of us don’t spend that much of our time actively thinking about it. But it seems we are living through pretty extraordinary times right now. The unfolding events in Ukraine, and their global ramifications, are front-and-centre in the news and in the minds and hearts of many of us. I was at the church, in Kensington, on Friday and saw that people protesting the invasion had tied hundreds of sunflowers to the barriers outside the Russian embassy (so I was moved to bring sunflowers to our service today as a sign of solidarity).
In the last week or so, I have heard from many people expressing a sense of being overwhelmed with distress at the news coming out of Ukraine, and anxiety about how events might yet escalate. More than that, there’s a kind of anguished impotence in the face of it all, a sense that (beyond donating to the Disasters Emergency Committee or the Red Cross perhaps) there’s not much we can do. We might show up at a protest or a vigil, we might express our outrage with friends or online, but in the face of unilateral aggression that has resisted all diplomatic attempts to avert it, we might well feel helpless and hopeless. Peace, in this situation, seems like it’s out of our hands.
‘People want peace,’ said Dorothy Day, ‘but not the things that make for peace.’ That’s challenging. What did she mean? The way I understand it – my best guess – is to say that the conditions for peace – not just peace between warring nations but peace in every dimension of human existence and at every scale – peace is dependent on a whole lot of groundwork. And this groundwork is taking place all over the planet, every single day of our lives, and it needs all of us to get stuck in. There might not be much that you or I can do to directly influence what’s happening in Ukraine right now but there is plenty we could do, just where we are, to play our part, and help nudge the unfolding human story towards greater peace and justice, for the sake of future generations.
Dorothy Day said that the ‘things that make for peace’ were daily, unstinting, unlimited works of mercy: ‘to admonish the sinner, to instruct the ignorant, to counsel the doubtful, to comfort the sorrowful, to bear wrongs patiently, to forgive all injuries, and to pray for the living and the dead. The corporal works are to feed the hungry, to give drink to the thirsty, to clothe the naked, to ransom the captive, to harbour the harbourless, to visit the sick, and to bury the dead.’ (end quote)
Now the words that Dorothy Day used might not be language that you or I would naturally use today but it’s a powerful – and demanding – rule of life that she prescribes for the peacemaker. For her, the groundwork for peace consists of acts of mercy – meeting the needs of the worst off – the poor, the marginalised, the oppressed – and also bold acts of resistance and revolt against the injustices which made the people poor, marginalised and oppressed in the first place. It might come (relatively) easy to us to comfort the sorrowful or visit the sick. Perhaps we don’t feed the hungry or clothe the naked with our own hands, or harbour the harbourless in our own homes (though I do know Unitarians and others who do engage first-hand in these good works), but I know many of us support charities who do this vital work on our behalf. Dorothy Day’s life is a hardcore example of what it means to live as a peacemaker but still, I guess we’d nod along, so far.
What about ‘admonishing the sinner’ and ‘instructing the ignorant’? These phrases might be a little more jarring to modern Unitarian ears but I’d still argue we should embrace the spirit of them both. We need to attend to our moral compass in all spheres of our lives and the life of the world we share. And when we discern that things are morally wrong – when people are behaving unjustly – causing harm to others, whether that’s out of malice or ignorance – we need to call them on it. Even if our chances of righting that wrong, or changing that behaviour, seem slim, there is value in speaking up, testifying to what is right, if only because of the influence we might exert on others, when we voice that ‘this is not right, and it doesn’t have to be this way’; ‘another world is possible.’ We need to name what’s really going on in front of us, as we see it, and speak our truth out loud. Even if we don’t go as far as publishing a newspaper to ‘admonish and instruct’ like Dorothy Day did.
I’m not just thinking about – I’m not even especially thinking about – large scale geopolitical rights and wrongs here. I’m thinking about all of the many injustices we witness every day, the harmful behaviours we encounter, including ones we might be tempted to just shrug sadly about, for a quiet life, rather than risk difficult conversations and confrontations. I’m thinking about scrutinising all the ways-we’ve-always-done-things and asking hard questions about what we might need to change, maybe change pretty radically, for the sake of the common good. And doing this at all scales of our lives – in our personal relationships, communities, society – truly seeking peace and justice (because we can’t truly have one without the other). What power, privilege, or resources might we need to give up – or redistribute and share more equitably – to make peace a reality for future generations? It’s tough stuff. No wonder people don’t want ‘the things that make for peace’, as Dorothy Day said.
It might not seem entirely obvious how this approach connects with our feelings and concerns about what’s going on in Ukraine – or any of the other relentless horrors we witness in our world day-in-and-day-out – and laudable as our little-local-actions-for-peace in our own community might be, we might feel like they don’t count for much, given the scale and complexity of what we’re up against. But just yesterday a friend shared a quote on this matter, one which I found helpful and hopeful, and so I want to share it with you. It’s by Ursula Wolfe-Rocca, an educator and activist, who simply wrote: ‘It can be overwhelming to witness, experience, and take in all the injustices of the moment; the good news is that they’re all connected. So, if your little corner of work involves pulling one of the threads, you’re helping to unravel the whole damn cloth.’
Let us take heart from that image, and pull on whatever threads are in our reach, each doing our little bit to unravel the ‘whole damn cloth’ of injustice, and usher in the reign of peace that is our heart’s desire. For the world needs each and every one of us to play our part as peacemakers in whatever way we can. To close, I offer you a blessing for peace, adapted from Maureen Killoran:
As we are confronted by upheaval and chaos,
may we have the wisdom to believe in peace.
Surrounded by voices of discord and disagreement,
may we have the audacity to speak up for peace.
Lured by the seduction of despair and resignation,
may we have the courage to maintain a vision of peace.
And may we each use our gifts in the service of love, justice,
and peace, for the greater good of all. Amen.
Sermon by Jane Blackall
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