The twentieth century mystic Thomas Merton once noted that the gods of hate are much easier to serve than the gods of love. You do not have to be a mystic to understand that. If you have ever struggled to love someone who was difficult to love or respect someone who has not respected you, then you know what Merton means. It is much easier to avoid such people, feed our resentments toward them, gossip about them to others, and plot ways of retaliating against them than it is to love them for who they are, to pray for them, to forgive them, to make peace with them.

Since Hamas engineered its surprise attack on Israel and Israel began bombarding the Gaza Strip, there have been calls from peace from governments and religious organizations from around the world. Pope Francis has said, “War is always a defeat. Every war is a defeat . . . In war everyone loses.” Yet we know that it is much easier to see the advantages of peace and the absurdity of war when we are thousands of miles away, when it is not our children who were executed in front of us or our friends who were mowed down at a music concert or our neighbors who were killed when a missile landed on our street.

 Most of the time when leaders speak of peace, they are talking about a ceasefire and a bargaining table. No one can deny that these steps are necessary; but will that bring peace? The problem is that when the world talks of peace, it usually means that it is no longer to my advantage to wage war. If the situation changes, well, maybe it will be to my advantage to resume the war.  Right now we have a crime problem in Chicago, because crime is lucrative. Criminals are mostly able to stay ahead of the police. If police and citizenry find a way to work together to make crime less lucrative, the crime wave may fade. But will that actually solve the crime problem? Will the crime problem just lie in wait for a time when circumstances change and crime becomes more lucrative again?

Because our bulletin must be submitted to the printer by noon Monday, I am writing these words early on Monday morning. By the time the weekend comes, who knows what will have happened in the Middle East? As I write this, Israel is poised to invade Gaza. Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu spoke to his troops yesterday, saying, “We will destroy Hamas.” President Biden was a bit more nuanced, when he said that “Hamas must be eliminated.” We have heard such bold statements many times. Remember that World War I was to be “the war to end all wars.” Remember that The League of Nations would guarantee it! What I believe this means for people of faith is that when we pray for peace, we have to go a bit deeper than praying for the violence to stop. We have to pray for a softening of the hardened hearts. Jesus understood all that. In fact, that was the basic theme of his famous Sermon on the Mount. It is not enough to change our outer behaviors. We must also look at the inner attitudes that control our behaviors. “You have heard that it was said to your ancestors, ‘You shall not kill.’ But I say whoever is angry with his brother is liable to judgment.” And it is in that light that Jesus blesses peacemakers. He is blessing not only those who can bring reluctant enemies to the bargaining table. He is also blessing those who can open a pathway to healing and to love. “Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you,” he says. “Not as the world gives do I give it to you.”

Walter Stewart, the sports editor of the Memphis Commercial Appeal, wrote a column for Christmas in 1945, while he was serving with the Army in Indochina. The Commercial Appeal would reprint this column every Christmas. Stewart reminds us how complex true peace really is. The column ends this way: “Perhaps this is really the first peacetime Christmas in four years—as the announcements say in jolly Old English type. If you think that, you must think that we lighted peacetime Christmas candles five and eight and ten years ago when the throat of China gaped red before Samuri swords—when Spain bled itself white and Poland wallowed in the glory dust with Holland and Belgium and France—when shabby funny little Ethiopia burst like a ripe grape before the hooves of the Four Horsemen. This may be a peacetime Christmas, and there may be good will toward men. But before taking it for granted, it might be wise to poll the new widows wailing in the slattern alleys of Tel Aviv—to count the bullet-riven sacks spilled along the hot roads of Soerabaja—to watch the ghosts who celebrate this peacetime Christmas in Northern Burma. You might ask them if those are crosses above their graves or only question marks”

                                                                   Fr. Joe

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