Peace, according to Google, is “a freedom from disturbance; quiet tranquility.” To a certain extent, this is what Advent is to me. A time where I can be free from the restlessness of life; a time where I can simply be. This definition perfectly describes why I love the Advent season so much.
However, there’s another definition of peace. Google also says peace is “freedom from or the cessation of war or violence.” Though in the back of my mind, I clearly understand this definition, I’ve never associated it with Advent.
To be a little blunt, I thought Advent was about rest and family. It certainly surprised me when I was told it is actually about longing, waiting, and expectation. I’ve been fortunate enough to consistently feel like I am at a “quiet tranquility” during past Advent seasons, but I find myself continually longing for “cessation from war or violence.” How can it be that I am at peace, but also yearn for it?
“I’m for peace / but when I speak, they are for war” (Psalm 120:7 CEB). I kept hearing this verse over and over again as I was brainstorming for this post. I’m for peace, but I look around and the world looks like a battlefield. I see neighbors hating neighbors, husbands hitting wives, and politicians manipulating constituents. I see families starving, children fighting wars, and honest people crying “I can’t breathe.”
But, somehow, I’m for peace, and I also see teachers educating students, sisters guiding brothers, and strangers welcoming those who are lost. I see people laughing, bonding, laughing some more, and being so very human.
This is where I struggle. I recognize the problems we face, but I’ve been privileged enough to experience being at peace. Never wondering if I was going to be able to afford dinner, never wondering if my (parents’) credit card would be denied, and never wondering if I would be able to access medical care if I was hurt. It seems I’m for peace, but I look around and my world is, perhaps, good enough.
I think this is a struggle that every privileged person faces. On the surface, everyone’s for peace, right? Peace is a nice and simple idea but getting there is clearly not.
So how do we achieve peace? I don’t know. But I’m reminded of one of my favorite writers, Elie Wiesel, who so fervidly implores us in his Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech:
“We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”
Wiesel reminds me that being for peace means that you have to be willing to give up being at peace.
The dichotomy between being at and for peace is vast. One seemingly negates the other. Being at peace, however pleasant, can unfortunately lead to a veil of ignorance that indirectly undermines true peace. We must not mistake inner tranquility for a freedom from war and violence.
The longing for peace I struggle with reminds me that my brothers and sisters are suffering, while I am still grappling with letting go of my inner tranquility that is so painfully deceiving. In a way, writing this blog post has offered some clarity for an issue I’ve been struggling with for longer than I’d rather admit.
Though it’s easy to convince ourselves otherwise, I believe our world is not good enough if we still allow our sisters and our brothers to suffer. Because, I’m not sure how I can truly be for peace, while millions are not at peace. This Advent season, I invite you, readers, to take the longing you may be feeling and let it inspire you—not to be neutral, but to stand for peace.