God's Peace (Psalm 23, Philippians 4:1-9)
A sermon by Kate Fiedler on October 15, 2023
What is there to say after the week we witnessed? How should a person of faith respond to so much devastation, suffering, death, and images of countless lives and communities destroyed? What does one say when words seem so insignificant?
I considered the Quaker worship style more than once, to sit in silence together with you who are gathered downtown and with you who are watching online. To create space for the grief and rawness of emotions.
To be together in silence, in prayer, in sorrow, in reverence, and maybe even in faith.
And then I turned to the scriptures, back to the living Word that does not and will not let me go. Today’s scripture passages are two texts chosen straight from the Common Lectionary selected decades ago for today. A psalm and an epistle. A psalm that Emerson read and is familiar to him in English, as I learned his church in Guatemala City uses the Twenty-Third Psalm to teach English to the children who fill their space after school. A psalm that is a familiar favorite to many, scriptural comfort food I like to call it, like your grandmother’s famous mac and cheese casserole. A psalm that is often read at funerals and is frequently posted in church school classrooms. A psalm that describes the peace of God, with green pastures and still waters, with a cup that overflows, even in the presence of enemies. A psalm that closes with the promise that you and I will dwell with God, forever. A psalm that includes “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.” A psalm that names fear and evil, and yet begins and ends with descriptions and images of God’s peace.
How could I stay silent when my heart cried out for such peace this week?
I’m sure you were seeking peace too.
And our epistle this week comes from the letter to the early church in Philippi, which scholars believe the Apostle Paul wrote while he was imprisoned. Listen to these words from Philippians 4, as found in your bulletin:
Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved.
I urge Euodia (You-o-dia) and I urge Syntyche (Sin-ti-key) to be of the same mind in the Lord. Yes, and I ask you also, my loyal companion, help these women, for they have struggled beside me in the work of the gospel, together with Clement and the rest of my co-workers, whose names are in the book of life.
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you. This is the Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.
When I first chose this passage several weeks ago as the likely focus of my sermon, I thought that I would focus on rejoicing. But I cannot do that now. A sermon about rejoicing will have to wait for another day, another time. What struck me as I went back over this scripture in light of the violence in Israel and Gaza was this line: The Lord is near. This simple sentence echoes the intimacy and closeness of God in the twenty-third psalm. When the psalmist speaks of God using personal pronouns, it is an intimate Divine-and-me relationship described in verse after verse. God is leading the psalmist beside still waters and restoring the soul of the writer. God comforts the author in the valley of the shadow of death. The Divine and the disciple are close.
Paul promises such intimacy and connection to the early church in this letter, too. Through prayer and supplication, the people let God know what is on their hearts. Then the peace that surpasses all understanding, the peace of God, will guard their hearts and minds in Jesus Christ, the embodiment of God’s love on earth and the Word made flesh and fresh.
I don’t know about you, but this week I needed Jesus to guard my heart and mind. I need a loving shepherd to guide me through the darkness and the shadow of so much death. I need to be reminded of God’s peace, when I start to lament and wonder if you and I will ever live to see a day that is peaceful, for all creation and for all nations.
I am amazed that fifty-four years ago a committee of scholars chose these two texts—Psalm 23 and Philippians 4—to be read in worship today. The emphasis on God’s peace and the nearness of the Lord is just what my heart needed to focus on this week amidst the news and images of terror. For me, this is an instance of the work of the Holy Spirit, weaving together ancient scriptures that speak to our current events in a way that only God could craft. This is an example of the power of the Holy Spirit providing comfort and care through the living word. God pursues us, with grace and love, even through the work of a committee.
Today, I want to close with two glimpses of God’s peace at play for me this week. I hope many of you are aware that the Folk Festival is happening on Brown’s Island and along the river. Musicians and singers from around the world…including a band from Burkina Faso, dancers from the Philippines, a Zydeco band from Louisiana, and Hawai’ian Hula dancers from California…rhythm and melodies from cultures all over the country and world are represented on different stages throughout the weekend. Richmond-ers of all ages and neighborhoods and people from all over wander from tent to tent, appreciating music and art that represents the cultures and colors of our world. And if stunning music isn’t enough to make your heart sing, there is food to make your belly dance too. Tacos and Thai, plantains and pie, Jamaican and Cajun, and even delicious fried funnel cakes that leave a trail of white powdered sugar like angel dust however you eat it…such cuisines are there to tickle your tastebuds and remind you that tables are filled with delicious dishes all over the world. It’s the kind of atmosphere where toddlers and teens, grandparents and college students can all gather around to enjoy the same music and main course. Many of you have heard me declare that I don’t know exactly what heaven will be like, but I’m hopeful there will be scrumptious food, stirring music, and open spaces to gather and dance, to meander and meet up with loved ones known for years and newly met. It’s the kind of scene I imagine the people attending the concert last Saturday in southern Israel expected, before terror overtook their time outdoors. It’s the kind of community gathering I will not take for granted, and I pray all God’s people will be able to enjoy in peace and safety.
My second glimpse of God’s peace happened on Wednesday. There is an interfaith group called the Faith Forum that meets monthly for lunch. When I have attended in the past, the discussions have been low key. This week was different. About 25 religious leaders gathered at First Baptist, and Jim Sommerville introduced us to a friend of his who used to work in DC for over a decade, speaking to us through the wonders of Zoom from Bangalore, India. She offered a presentation and some historical background to what was happening in Israel and the Gaza Strip, quoting Israelis and Palestinians on the ground. After she spoke, several of my Jewish colleagues spoke up, including an Israeli woman with generations of extended family members currently in Israel. Different viewpoints were shared and voiced, from different Jewish colleagues, and a Muslim scholar chimed in, while a few Christians spoke up as well. Our discussion concluded by agreeing that all lives are precious to God, and that as people of faith, we, the Jews, Muslims, and Christians in the room, have much more in common than the specifics that separate us. The emotions were raw. The conversation was real. And yet, and yet, I left feeling more hopeful than I had all week. I left grateful for the space to come together with a room full of people of faith who were willing to be honest during a devasting time. I left grateful to be part of a church community that would not think I was wasting my time by sitting and listening to colleagues of different faiths speak for over an hour. I left that lunch knowing that such conversations are one small step towards creating the peace that God describes in our scriptures today. I left trusting that the Lord was near.
Beloved saints of Second, I don’t know when you’ll experience glimpses of God’s peace, but I pray you do. I don’t have clear answers for the way forward after the world has witnessed so much violence and hatred this week. But I hold fast to the belief that God’s heart is indeed breaking, that God wants all people to live in peace and safety, without fear or hate. I hold fast to the belief that God is grieving each death, of every Israeli life cut short, and every Palestinian killed, and even of every Hamas fighter who will not return home. I do not understand the expanse of God’s love, but I hold on to believing it is beyond my comprehension in extravagant ways. I cannot grapple with how people can live side by side in peace after experiencing such terror and devastation, but I trust that it is God’s intention and vision. I hold to the truth that the Lord is near. Even in the shadow of death, God is present with comfort and power. We do not have to worry about anything—did you hear that?!?—we do not have to worry about anything, but through prayer we trust in the peace of God. I pray for a day when you and I know that we are dwelling in the house of the Lord, when we know that the Lord is near and the peace of God will always be with us, and also with the world.