Sabbath Devotional :: Efforts in Peacemaking

The principles that anchor my own efforts and the work all of us do at MWEG are the Six Principles of Peacemaking, each so important and insightful that we probably aren’t supposed to have a favorite one. But over the last few years I’ve developed a love for the Third Principle: “Peacemaking demands great tolerance for people and none for injustice.”

Having grown up in a family full of strong-willed relatives, I didn’t always have a “great tolerance for people,” and so I feel drawn to this idea because it has not been one of my strengths. But as I have become more involved in MWEG’s peacemaking efforts and through my own personal study of the Savior, I have gained a testimony of the importance of Jesus’ admonition to love and do good to all (Matthew 5:44) — to shift my intolerances away from people and toward unjust practices and ideas. While I am not perfect at remembering this, I believe that even the least tolerable person is a beloved child of God, and God wants them to find joy and peace in their life, too.

However, in recent months as I have felt heavy from the weight of so many tragic national and international events, I have been increasingly drawn to the Sixth Principle of Peacemaking: “Peacemaking believes that ultimate peace is not only possible, but sure.” I have found myself asking, “How is it possible? How is it sure? How can I promote peacemaking by loving all of God’s children, no matter their opinions, decisions, or actions?”

A guest essay published in the New York Times just before Easter offered to me new perspectives on both principles. The essay, titled, Imagine a Bible With No Moses, No Story of the Exodus, and written by Rabbi Sharon Brous, explains the power of the Exodus story as one of an “eternal promise” that applies both historically and in the present day.

The Exodus story is one of hope, “which can itself be seen as an act of spiritual resistance,” Brous writes. Freedom for the Israelites came after centuries of waiting and suffering. The ten plagues that prompted Pharaoh to release the Israelites from slavery are often seen as punishment, but Rabbi Brous shares another interpretation:

One medieval rabbi, Sforno, argued that the plagues were actually brought to awaken the conscience of the oppressor, ‘to increase the chances that Pharaoh would finally see the light and become a genuine penitent.’ In other words, what God desired was a true change of heart. God wanted Pharaoh and his people to take responsibility for the injustices they committed. Tell the truth. Make amends. Offer reparations. Chart a new course, together with the Israelites.

In this reading, the objective of the redemption story was the liberation of not only the Israelites but also the Egyptians. They needed to be liberated from the morally perverse mind-set that justified their cruelty in the first place. True redemption requires the transformation of the oppressed as well as the oppressors.

American Jews read this story year after year in a beautiful and broken country, one that strives toward its loftiest aspirations even as it balks at contending honestly with its own past transgressions. One that remains wedded to the same supremacist thinking that has fueled the most shameful chapters of our shared history.

The story of the Exodus leaves us with a moral imperative: Our perpetual challenge is to build a society in which every person is treated as an image of the Holy One, living in full dignity. Redemption is possible for us all.

“True redemption requires the transformation of the oppressed as well as the oppressors.” This is why peacemaking offers “great tolerance for people but none for injustice.” Transformation and redemption are available to all, without exclusion. They are available to our “enemies” and to our flawed institutions.

Our efforts in peacemaking — backed by the surety that ultimate peace is promised — are an “act of spiritual resistance” and a bridge to redemption for everyone. What do we resist as we strive to create peace? Enmity. Cynicism. Despondency. Division. Complacency. As we love our neighbors and see them as God does, we acknowledge their humanity and invite them into the process of building the beloved community. We don’t give up hope that the promise of our country is one that can still be fulfilled, and that peace can come as we strive to build a more “just and ethical world,” one relationship at a time.

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https://www.nytimes.com/…/passover-exodus-story…