And now their plowshares are beat into swords—as are ours,
    now their pruning hooks are beat into spears—as are ours.
        Not only swords and spears,
        but bullets, and bombs, and missiles,
            of steel on flesh,
            of power against bodies …
And you, in your indignation sound your mantra,
    “Blessed are the peacemakers.”

We dare to believe they are the aggressor,
    and we are the peacemaker.
Yet in sober night dream, we glance otherwise
    and think we may be aggressor,
    as we vision rubbled homes,
        murdered civilians

        and charred babies.
And you, in our sadness, sound your mantra,
    “Blessed are the peacemakers.”

We do not love war,
we yearn for peace,
    but we have lost much will for peace
    even while we dream of order.
And you, in your hope, sound your mantra,
    “Blessed are the peacemakers.”

Deliver us from excessive certitude about ourselves.
Hold us in the deep ambiguity where we find ourselves,
Show us yet again the gaping space
    between your will and our feeble imagination.
Sound your mantra with more authority,
    with more indignation,
    through sadness,
    in hope … “Blessed be the peacemakers.”

Only peacemakers are blessed.
            We find ourselves well short of blessed.
Give us freedom for your deep otherwise,
finally to be blessed,
    in the name of the Peacemaker
    who gave and did not take. Amen.

 

 

Many peoples will come and say,

“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
    to the temple of the God of Jacob.
He will teach us his ways,
    so that we may walk in his paths.”
The law will go out from Zion,
    the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
He will judge between the nations
    and will settle disputes for many peoples.
They will beat their swords into plowshares
    and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will not take up sword against nation,
    nor will they train for war anymore.

Come, descendants of Jacob,
    let us walk in the light of the Lord.