This morning we heard two wonderful texts. Both were explicit in calling the people of God to work for peace. Zechariah gave us that extraordinary metaphor of the "sowing of peace" [Zech 8:12]. This agrarian image will resonate particularly well with the gardeners among us. Peace is something to be cultivated, nourished, and cared for just as Moriah does in the veggie patch at Irene’s Place. Peace is like a flourishing bunch of broccoli: it takes time, effort and tenderness. But how do we sow peace? How can we be peacemakers?

The Christian philosopher Nicholas Wolterstorff has mused over the biblical injunction to work for shalom, the Hebrew word for peace. Shalom, for Wolterstorff, is all about practicing right relationships with God and with each other. Today I draw on his three-part framework to explore how we can work for peace.

Wolterstorff’s first step toward shalom is the absence of violence. Where there is violence, there is no peace. If we strive for peace, we must strive to avoid violence.

Mathew’s gospel has Jesus climb a mountain to deliver his inaugural address to the gathered disciples. Just as with a politicians’ speech to parliament after winning an election, this sermon lays out Jesus’ intentions and provides the tone for all that follows. The setting on the mountain nudges us to recall Moses climbing to the top of Mount Sinai to meet with Yahweh and receive the law; and yet for Mathew one greater than Moses is now present. Mathew apparently wants his readers to understand that this Sermon on the Mount is a definitive interpretation of that law; the words of Jesus are the fulfilment of a central thrust of the law and the prophets.

And at the top of the mountain Jesus sits down and talks. And so we have what I regard as the deeply ironic situation we face this morning where I am preaching a sermon about another sermon in which both sermons insist on the priority, not of talk, but of action. And yet while peace-talkers might not be blessed as such, the fact that Jesus took the time to talk about peace should alert us to the importance of our doing the same. Talk forms within us the readiness for action.

And on that mountain Jesus talks to his disciples, his community. The instructions included in this talk are not meant to be taken individually. The message of Jesus is for the community of faith and it is only in that fellowship that his message could possibly be lived out.

And the message of Jesus on that mountain is this: love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. Others argue that rational people love their friends and hate their enemies. Jesus rejects this outright. That is not his way. With unnerving clarity Jesus explains that a defining characteristic of those who follow him is that they will love their enemies. If you love your enemy at the very bare minimum you cannot seek to do physical or emotional violence to that person. This love for enemies is the normative ethic for all who would follow Jesus. The Christian response to violence is not to retaliate or seek revenge; rather the followers of Jesus will respond to violence with prayer and with love.

To hammer this point home Jesus explicitly takes the law of retribution – ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth’ – and supplants it. He tells his disciples that they should not resist evildoers; they should turn the other cheek, give their coat and their cloak, and walk the second mile. This ethic, at heart, is simply this: be the peace that you want to see. If you want peace, prepare for peace and behave peacefully. The best way to avoid violence is to avoid violence.

Now, one is tempted to think that Jesus was being quite naïve here. Frankly, you could be forgiven for thinking his approach is rather misguided. How on earth Jesus thought that anyone would be inclined to take his words seriously, God only knows. And yet, the disturbing thing is that Jesus was no stranger to violence. He lived in an occupied land which had been conquered through atrocious acts of military brutality. The Roman Empire forcefully suppressed all potential threats with the savage shedding of blood. When Jesus was still a toddler King Herod, jealous and fearful that the child might emerge as a future rival, sent his troops in to Bethlehem in order to kill him. His parents fled to Egypt and so the boy escaped by the skin of his teeth. However, as they searched for him the soldiers systematically murdered all the children in Bethlehem under the age of two [Mat 2]. Jesus knew something about enemies.

And yet despite this Jesus still proclaims an ethic of non-violent love of enemy. And we know that he meant it. We know he meant it because he himself practiced it. The shadow of the cross is deeply engraved on this passage. When Jesus was arrested he rejected the sword and refused to fight back and defend himself [Mat 26:47-56]. After Jesus had been tortured, abused, and as he lay nailed and dying on the cross he prayed for his enemies: "Father, forgive them…" [Luke 23:34]. And in so doing the perfection of God was revealed for the world to see. Jesus, God’s ultimate revelation of God’s own self, loves his enemies. The crucified Christ responds to violence with mercy and forgiveness. In this light we can see that the command to be perfect as God is perfect is not a demand for moral purity or sinlessness. It is rather a call for imitation. Just as God loves enemies and blesses them and proves it in the life and death of Jesus the Messiah, so the children of God are to do likewise. Worryingly, it is in the face of the expectation that the disciples would be persecuted, and indeed they were, that Jesus calls them to non-violent love.

Now to all this I see two critical objections. The first is that my portrayal of Jesus as fulfilling an Old Testament peace ethic begs the question: What about the times that God is said to purpose disaster? [Zech 8:14] What about all those violent passages in which God and God’s people are described as doing violence to others? Thankfully David Neville will address that topic next week and so I don’t have to. But I will say this: if we believe that Jesus was the Christ, very God of very God, then his authority invites us to read the Old Testament through the lens which Jesus himself provides.

A second objection can be framed in a question like this: Can a Christian serve as an armed member of a UN peacekeeping force? Aren’t they also peace makers? Are there not times when an act of violence is the only way to stop a yet more evil act? My own tentative answer is that the normative ethic for the followers of Jesus is clear. We are called to love our enemies. If or when a Christian feels it necessary to err from this norm then there needs to be a conversation. Because peacefulness is a defining characteristic of the children of God we need to ask each other what it means to live this out. In our conversations the starting point is non-violence. This starting point is critical because it implores us to use all our imaginative power and creative energies to seek to avoid the use of violence.

But peace is not simply passivity, not simply avoidance. For Wolterstorff, non-violence is only the first step toward shalom. The next stage is the doing of justice. Where there is injustice there can be no enduring peace. Injustice vanquishes the possibility of peace. Wolterstorff argues movingly that the cries of the poor and the victimised touch God’s heart and brings tears to God’s eyes. Justice is all about care for the poor, the orphan, the widow, the oppressed, the victim [Zech 7:9-10; Deut 10:17-19]. It is advocating on behalf of those who have no voice. It is working for a society in which the vulnerable are not trampled over by the powerful and wealthy.

The book of Zechariah is preoccupied with the idea of return and renewal. The context is the early heady days as the Jewish exiles begin their return home after their bondage in Babylon. Part of this return is to the call to behave again as the people of God should behave. Accordingly Zechariah’s listeners are instructed to "render in your gates judgements that are true and make for peace" [Zech 8:16]. In ancient Israel the city gate was the location for politics, commerce and legal activity. It was the public space; the place of government and law. And it is in this space that the Lord calls the people to make right judgements, to do justice. And the justice that they are told to do is that which makes for peace. Peace is not just about interpersonal relationships. It is also about societal relationships. Peace is seeking to put in place structures that enable the care for the most vulnerable among us. Peace is the proactive work for a more just society.

Jesus too speaks of justice. Each of the beatitudes, the blessings, has powerful social justice themes associated with them. This is expressed with all the subtlety of a brick in the parallel passage in the Gospel of Luke [Luke 6:17-26], but they are here in Mathew as well. In the fourth beatitude the word ‘righteousness’ is often used in the English translation, a word with connotations for us of personal ethics and piety. However, the word could equally have been translated as ‘justice’ and the text therefore be rendered: ‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for social justice’. Blessed are those who long for the justice of God. It seems that while self-defence does not make an appearance on his list of priorities, proactive work for the marginal is core to the politics of Jesus.

Of course, the work for justice tends to lead straight into confrontation. And here we have a paradox that lies at the heart of peacemaking: the work for peace often results in conflict. The challenge for Christian peacemakers is not how to avoid conflict, but rather how we work through it.

For Wolterstorff the absence of violence and the doing of justice are the twin foundations for shalom. But in themselves they are insufficient. Shalom also requires the sharing of delight and joy. Peace without enjoyment is a truncated peace. According to Wolterstorff, the people of God are called to be a people of celebration. Crucially, this celebration does not rest on the ignoring of pain and loss. Celebration does not require forgetting the many wounds of the world. Mourning is a part of all our lives. Indeed, all our celebrations take place in the midst of lament. The resurrection and the cross cannot be separated.

Zechariah deals with this coupling of mourning and joy with great beauty in the final verses of this morning’s text:

The four fasts mentioned all memorialised times of great pain for Zechariah’s audience. The fasts remembered sieges against Jerusalem, the destruction of the city walls and the temple at the hands of the Babylonians seventy years earlier, and also the death of a previous governor. Collectively they paint a picture of utter demise and fullest gloom. And yet these seasons of lament are to be made into "cheerful festivals" of "joy and gladness". This is a profound statement of hope which would be echoed in the words of Jesus much later: "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted" [Mat 5:4].

Because their fasts will turn to feasts the people are commanded to "love truth and peace". The feasts are conditional upon the practice of peace. The feasts are also an act of peace. To celebrate, to offer warm hospitality, to host rollicking great big parties, to be delighted with each other; these are also acts of peacemaking.

Two concluding thoughts. First, a piece of shameless advertising. This morning, I have given a framework for understanding peace work: the absence of violence, doing justice, and sharing delight and joy. But I haven’t gone into the nitty gritty details of what it means to practice peace in our everyday lives. However, I invite you again to the upcoming weekend of workshops where presenters will directly address the pragmatics of peace. It promises to be a very stimulating weekend and I do hope you will come along.

And lastly, I want to meditate on what it means to pursue peace in a violent world by glancing over at the communion table laid out before us. The bread and the wine are reminders of how Jesus lived. They also trace the contours of the new society into which Jesus has called us. For on the cross Jesus showed a new way to deal with offenders – by forgiving them. On the cross Jesus gave a new way to deal with evil – by suffering. On the cross Jesus reveals the power of God: the cross is mightier than the sword, love is stronger than hate, life outflanks death, peace and not brute force determines the meaning of history, mercy is a truth more real than vengeance. Perhaps as we share communion again this morning, if the Spirit stirs among us, we might be able to find the courage to hope again that the way of Jesus is not vanity. Perhaps too at this table we can find the inspiration to live our lives in such a way that we too might be called the children of God.

May God’s peace be with you. Amen.