The promise of peace
’Tis the season of peace. Though with at least 32 live conflicts around the world right now (according to the Council on Foreign Relations) it’s pretty hard to feel chill.
But this year—more than many others—I’ve somehow embraced the holidays. I lit candles all eight nights of Hanukkah, about half of them with my Jewish love interest who was inspired to buy a Menorah for my visit. I exchanged holiday gifts with my coworkers. And, inspired by the snow in the mountains, I attended a Christmas Eve service with lifelong friends.
Surrounded by stained glass and fidgety children, I sang the hymns and choked back tears. I remembered attending midnight mass with my Catholic mother, while my Jewish father stayed home. She died some 25 years ago—right about the time I converted to Judaism. I did it to please a fiancé’s family who believed only in matrilineal descent, but I already knew what I was. I was sorry that my father, who died a decade before, never knew.
So I sang like no one was listening. Because no one was.
Joy to the world! I love it! But The Lord is come…Let Earth receive her king…? Those lines, regardless of what (or whether) religion I practice, are hard to spit out. I’m far too literal to believe in immaculate conception. Or in the peace that supposedly follows.
But between the songs there was the sermon.
As though he read my mind, Nicholas, the minister, said this: The challenge of Christmas isn’t believing in Jesus. It’s believing that peace is possible. Peace is within our reach, if only we do the work.
So I’ve been thinking. What is this work? And how might we each make the promise of peace come true? For ourselves and for the ones we love.
Here are a few things I’ve been exploring during my year-end holiday break. Maybe they’ll also help you.
Rediscover awe. In his book Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How it Can Transform Your Life, Dacher Keltner reminds us to appreciate not only natural beauty, but also moral beauty—which are the acts of kindness and courage of others. His research shows that awe inspires creativity, activates collective effervescence, and even reduces inflammation and makes us healthier. That’s pretty awesome!
Reciprocate kindness. If feeling gratitude and expressing it out loud has become routine, maybe it’s time to take things up a notch. For me, that meant throwing a party for a large number of friends. Through the planning and cooking and cleaning, I was reminded that entertaining is hard, even for people who make it look easy. Creating an inclusive environment means knowing and caring what each individual wants and needs. Feeding guests, and sending them home with leftovers, is an act of love. Generosity is next-level gratitude.
Read a made-up story. While we can learn a lot from reading nonfiction, research shows that immersion in fictional characters, plots and settings makes us more empathetic. People who read fiction are shown to have higher emotional intelligence, which means we’re better able to manage our emotions, communicate effectively, and resolve conflict. Reading literary fiction requires us to slow down, take in lots of information, and even change our minds—about what’s right and wrong, what’s acceptable, what’s believable.
Which brings me back to the promise of peace, the awe many feel at Christmas, and the minister’s sermon.
Whether the Bible is a book of literal truth or the greatest work of fiction ever written, we may never know.
But if peace is as Nicholas described—a state where we know no fear, a place of forgiveness, and a place where love flows freely—then it’s certainly a promise worth making.
It’s also a promise worth keeping.
