Peace Be with You
by Anne Le Bas

“Peace be with you” says Jesus to the disciples as he appears before them in
the upper room on the evening of that first Easter Day. At one level this
greeting would have been exactly what they would have expected to hear.
“Peace be with you” was the standard greeting at the time, just as it still
is today in the Middle East.  It is “Shlama lokum” in Aramaic, the spoken
language of Jesus and his disciples, “shalom aleichem” in Hebrew, the
language of the Old Testament as well as of modern Israel, while Arabic
speakers – Muslim and Christian – would bid you “Assalamu alyekum”. 

The “shalom”, “salaam” or “shlama” of this greeting isn’t an emotional
quality. It isn’t about tranquillity or relaxation or quiet. It isn’t even
about the absence of war. It is that state in which everything is as it
should be, when everything is healed, whole – bodies, minds, spirits. It
isn’t just about individuals – it’s about communities, nations, the whole
cosmos. In fact you can never have it fully while others lack it – how can
you be fully at peace while others are in distress?

Seeking “shalom” was a major focus in the Old Testament. The prophets
dreamed of a time when people would plant their crops and be able to harvest
them too, not afraid of an attacking army. They dreamed of people sitting
under their own vines and fig trees, with their families thriving around
them, in harmony with their neighbours, in a world in which the poor were
fed and rulers were just and wise. 

This everyday greeting “Shalom Aleichem”  - peace be with you - and all its
Middle Eastern variants is a rich, deep thing then. But these languages
aren’t alone in this richness. Our English “hello” is a contraction of “hail
to you” , and that word “hail” comes from the same root as health, heal, and
whole.  We talk of someone being “hale and hearty” – I know it is spelt
differently, but it is actually the same word. Whether we know it or not,
when we greet people we are praying for their well-being too.

Those of you who learnt Latin in school will probably remember greeting your
teacher with the word “salve”. That’s linked to the Latin word “salus” –
health. That’s why we call greetings “salutations”. Romans too, it seems,
greeted one another with a wish for wholeness and healing, their equivalent
of “shalom”. “Salus” also gives us the English “salve” – an ointment to make
you well. It gives us safety too – the state in which you are healthy and
whole. And it gives us “save” and “saviour” and “salvation” as well. 
 
But my guess is that when many people hear those last few words, “saviour”
and “salvation” – it isn’t healing and wholeness in the here and now that
spring first into their minds. It isn’t sitting under your vine or fig tree,
or living in harmony with others, or justice and equality. Those words have
picked up some very specific theological associations for many Christians,
associations which I think are often much narrower than they ought to be.

For many Christians salvation has come to mean no more than a guarantee of
admission to heaven when you die. Christ’s work for us as saviour is a bit
like getting us through security at an airport. You know how that is now –
you’ve got to have all of the right documents and none of the wrong sort of
baggage when you get to the gate if you want to end up on the plane – even
then it’s a dicey business if you happen to be at Heathrow Terminal 5 it
seems!. For many Christians salvation is the spiritual equivalent of this.
It gives us what we need to get through the  heavenly security guards so
that we can have an eternity of bliss rather than damnation.

It is a shame that salvation has so often been so narrowly interpreted,
because it seems to me that this is far removed from the ideas that Jesus
expressed in his teaching and actions. “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to
proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let
the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.” That is
what he said at the start of his ministry in the synagogue in Nazareth – his
manifesto, if you like. His mission of salvation is to heal what is broken
and restore the image of God in people, an image that has been twisted and
marred by sin. It is about repairing relationships between people – bringing
about that Old Testament vision of shalom – health, wholeness and justice -
that was always God’s intention for the whole of his world. Of course it
applies to what comes after death as well as what comes before it, but that
unknown territory isn’t Jesus main focus, and we do his message a disservice
if we concentrate solely on that. 

I said when I started that on one level that greeting “Peace be with you”
would have been what the disciples would have expected to hear – the normal
greeting of one person to another. But on another level I am sure it would
have meant far more to them than that. When Jesus proclaims God’s “shalom”,
his peace, to them, he is proclaiming salvation, using that word in its
broadest, and I think, most accurate sense, a salvation that is already in
effect, already healing them and their relationships. Imagine what the last
few days have been like for them. Hiding fearfully in an upper room they
have been arguing among themselves, swamped in regret and shame after their
desertion of Jesus. They have felt let down too – all their dreams
shattered. They are confused – nothing has turned out as they expected, and
they don’t know why. It is all wrong. They might just as well go home to
Galilee and forget all about it. As they hear those words though – “peace be
with you” - they begin to take in the truth they need to hear. God is
healing his world. God is healing them. The apparent disaster of the cross
is actually a sign of God’s indestructible love, which even death can’t
defeat. Jesus, who they might have expected to rebuke them, actually
forgives them.  There is new birth, new life, a new beginning. Peace be with
you – not a promise of admission to a heavenly city when they die, but real
hope for them now and real healing.

And as Jesus proclaims God’s shalom to them, he also makes it clear that
this gift is not just God’s to give. “As the Father has sent me, so I send
you. Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are
forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

These are words that are very familiar to anyone like me who has been
ordained as a priest, because they are read at ordination services. One of
the things priests are given authority to do by their ordination, alongside
blessing and celebrating communion, is to declare God’s forgiveness of sins.
But while I know that it is sometimes important to hear these words spoken
by someone who has the authority and accountability that is given by
ordination, I don’t think for one minute that it is only priests who do this
work. 

Jesus is speaking here to a motley bunch of fishermen, tax collectors, lay
people of all sorts – neither trained nor ordained for ministry. The reality
is that we all have this power to bind others or to set them free. We can
all tie people to their past actions, stopping them moving forward to the
new lives they need or we can release them to try again. We can all give or
withhold the shalom – that healing peace - that they need. It’s not
necessarily a matter of saying or refusing to say some words of formal
absolution, but the way we act towards one another that does this. 

I recall one man I knew who had grown up the youngest of a large, poor,
mining family in the North East. When he was old enough to start at the
local Sunday School his hard-pressed mother did her best to kit him out
smartly for his first session. She carefully knitted him a new jumper – a
rare treat – and proudly sent him off down the road to the church. Not long
afterwards he was back, tearful and humiliated. The vicar had sent him away.
“You can’t come to Sunday School,” he said, “unless you are wearing a jacket
and tie.” His lovingly hand-knitted pullover, which had taken many hours of
effort, and cash the family could ill afford, was not good enough. In fact
the vicar seemed to take it as a deliberate act of disrespect. 

Needless to say the little boy never went back, and sadly he never got over
this rejection either. He was bitterly opposed to the church and to religion
ever afterwards, and that bitterness spilt over into the rest of his life. I
don’t know how many times that vicar had spoken the words of absolution in
church but on that day his  thoughtless words had denied that child the
shalom, the healing peace, the salvation that he needed.  

“Peace be with you.” It is not just a simple greeting, nor just soothing
words. It is God’s proclamation of his saving power that heals us and all
creation, power that sets us free from whatever it is that has bound us, and
calls us into his new life. And as he declares his shalom to us, he reminds
us that we all, priests and laypeople alike, have the power to pass on or to
withhold that shalom– the true salvation that makes us whole and healthy –
in our words and actions too. Amen.

(Comments to Anne at annelebas@DSL.PIPEX.COM.)