On January 1, 1953, Mildred Norman, of Pasadena, California, set out, on foot, to walk for peace. She began this journey after having experienced what she called a “spiritual awakening,” and she vowed to “remain a wanderer until mankind has learned the way of peace; walking until given shelter and fasting until given food.”1 Everywhere she went, she shared her basic message, which was that the way of peace was to overcome evil with good, falsehood with truth, hatred with love.
Her goal was to spread peace at every level, which to her meant, “peace among nations, peace among groups, peace among individuals, and the very, very important inner peace.” She felt that if people did not have inner peace, then word peace would not be possible. Mildred walked for 28 years, and during her years of walking, she took on the name of Peace Pilgrim, and walked around the country with only the clothes on her back. She took shelter only when it was offered, and she fasted until food was provided. And she always had enough.
Today is the Second Sunday in Advent, and the theme of the day is Peace. Advent is that time of the year when we both prepare for the birth of the Prince of Peace, and we also prepare our hearts for the Second Coming of Christ. There is a dual purpose in these days, both to make us excited and hopeful so that we might remember that sense of anticipation that the people awaiting the Messiah felt, but also to help us understand how it is that we can actively and effectively wait for the Second Coming of Christ.
To wait actively and effectively requires that we engage in action. That we are part of the process of Christ’s presence on this earth, and that we are not merely passive listeners to the Gospel of Christ.
Several years ago, one of the priests I know was preaching about this dual nature of Advent, and expressed this thought about the anticipation of the Second Coming of Christ, and which speaks to our involvement in the expectation and hope of Christ’s reign in this world. He said, “The Second Coming of Christ is not so much something that happens to us, but something that happens through us.” It requires active waiting, effective waiting, rather than idly watching the passing of time. Rather than stopping with the question “how can this be,” we instead continue on to say, “let it be with me according to your word,” and do and act according to what we have been promised.
One of the Saints best known for peace is St. Francis of Assissi. In many ways, Mildred Norman, the Peace Pilgrim, was a spiritual ancestor of St. Francis and those Franciscans who followed and emulated him. St. Francis left a life of luxury in a wealthy family, and instead, turned to a life of poverty and wandering about the Italian countryside, preaching peace, and accepting food and shelter in exchange for work. Francis and his followers came to expect miracles with God as they shared their message of peace among the people. And God provided. For centuries the Community of St. Francis, the Fransicscans, have sought to care for the poor and the sick, and to provide peace in troubled times. Even, as much as it boggles the mind, violence or the threat of violence from those opposed to peace. Francis, and Mildred, knew the best way to deal with this: Disarm them with love and compassion.
Now, most of us are unlikely to be called to walk across the United States for 28 years, nor are we likely to give up everything we own to work for the poor and the sick, but we can all become instruments of peace. Actively working for peace means not turning a blind eye where others are sowing discord, lies, and hatred. It means actively working toward reconciliation among our own relationships, encouraging peace among groups, nations, and ideologies. Actively striving for peace means standing up against evil, calling out lies where we see them, and responding to hatred with love. It happens when we respond with compassion, and a desire to understand the other, because at the root of all hatred is pain and anger, and almost all hurt and anger comes from misunderstanding. And so, when confronted with hatred and evil, we “disarm them with love and compassion.”
St. Francis, who on his many travels encountered people who cared nothing for the poor, the sick, or for the work he and his fellow monks were doing, had this prayer, which I leave you with today:
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
[This sermon was delivered at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church in Wickenburg, AZ on December 8, 2024.]
