Searching for Comfort and Peace

Imagine walking into a classroom on a Sunday morning where all the tables have been pushed aside and the chairs are arranged in a circle.  There are smiles and nods, and one fellow speaks up welcoming us to find a seat so they can begin.  There is no cross, no table, no hymn books or bibles to be seen.  We sit in silence for what seems to be forever but is only half an hour.  People share reflections of what came to their minds that they feel called to share.  Someone comments on how they are minded of the call to dress simply, not to adorn themselves with lace and sparkles.  I tuck my feet with my favorite shoes, black ballet flats covered with tiny black beads and sequins, under my chair.  There are no hymns, no bible readings and no sermons other than those reflections spoken into the centre.  It is assumed that the bible readings are a part of the daily practice of individuals at home.  This is the worship service of the Society of Friends in Halifax, whom we call Quakers, and one of the most profoundly peaceful and sacred moments of worship I’ve ever experienced.  The week before we had been to a completely different gathering, a large group with several different musicians and songs by folks like Cat Stevens and Carolyn McDade.  The preacher spoke at length about her pride in being the first atheist to ever graduate from the Atlantic School of Theology and how, in her three years there, she had argued and attacked the primitive ideas of her professors and classmates, some of whom were in their gathering that morning.  They had readings from Maya Angelou and other poets or philosophers. 

My two friends and I felt profoundly uncomfortable after being labled as primitive thinkers and left with much alacrity, not staying for coffee despite the invitation from our classmate.  We retreated to a restaurant, Cora’s, and took turns speaking the longest grace we had ever spoken. 

It was like we had been starved for the Divine and were more hungry for prayer than we were hungry for eggs benny and a mountain of fruit.  That service had filled us with the message that we weren’t good enough, and that everything we thought about was mere superstition and ignorance.  The Quaker service we went to the following week filled us with peace, self-reflection, and a deep sense of the real presence of the sacred.  In a word, we felt comforted.

Comfort oh comfort my people, starts the Isaiah passage and this year more than ever, we need all the comfort we can get.  We’re still not in as dire a situation as the ancient Israelites that Isaiah was writing to, but it’s plenty dire enough.

Whenever I turn, I hear stories of people feeling stressed, whether it’s the customers at grabbing a gingerbread latte from Paddymelons or the news reporter talking to a psychologist on how to help children cope or the loud judgemental voices on Facebook scorning public health officials.  Secret deals to set up emergency hospitals run by soldiers doesn’t help our levels of stress and it’s scary to hear of fist fights in Calgary malls or see photos of exhausted doctors.

So much chaos in the media and in our community does not make for peaceful times.  Where do we turn when we want comfort?  Many folks are turning to drugs and alcohol to manage their anxiety levels; some are turning to their worst habits and patterns as we hear in the latest reports from Healthy Family, Healthy Futures.  Irene Fitzsimmons, whom many of you know, is hearing more and more cases of family violence.  Her case numbers are rising as tempers flare and tolerance drops.

We look for quick fixes and perfect heroes, but we don’t know where we can find them.  Where is the comfort we are seeking, the security we are craving, the sense of peace we are praying for? 

I wonder if this year, we’re more able to appreciate the context and the testimony of our ancestors in faith.  Isaiah is writing to a people who have been suffering in exile for a hundred and fifty years.  It’s been generations since Jerusalem had been taken over by the Babylonians and the inhabitants forced into slavery and exile. 

The level of hope and peace must have been almost nonexistent to the generations who had never experienced the freedom to live where they chose or work at what they wanted.

And yet, one person in the quiet and stillness hears a simple invitation from God, “Go and tell my people that their time of alienation and oppression is nearing to an end, that a new time is coming and their God has not abandoned them.”

We need these words of encouragement today more than ever.  We need the reminder that this too shall pass, that humanity will survive this and the world will change again for the better.  We do this through humbleness, turning away and repenting of the quick fix solutions that only mask our anxieties and don’t deal with the root causes of our discomforts.  We do this by following Isaiah into the wilderness to hear God speak into the silence.   We do this by avoiding preaching like the atheist who bragged of her superiority.  We preach like John who says one greater than I is coming who will baptise with power and authority.

Searching for peace is more than superficial.  It is a daily practice, and a willingness to look at ourselves with honesty, stripping off layer after layer like peeling an onion.  To spend time looking at our actions and reactions and ask gentle questions of ourselves, where did that impatience come from, what was that resentment about, why did I react so strongly?  And remember that God says to us, “I come with a strong arm to set things right and a gentleness that gathers us like a flock of sheep and lambs”.  We practice peace with God’s loving presence, and that is good news worth shouting from the mountaintops and sharing with the world.  Thanks be to God that we are not alone in our journey to peace!