The holding cross in the photo is made of olive wood, and was given to me as a gift at a time when peace was hard to come by.
Holding it this morning and praying for the peace of Jerusalem and Gaza, I'm aware of the contested soil on which this wood was grown, and long ago, the soil on which stood that one cross amongst the countless thousands Rome manufactured and utilised as instruments of terror, oppression and control.
Over the years the cross has shaped itself to my hand, or perhaps my hand has simply become familiar with its shape, weight and texture. Either way the cruciform shape, gripped in praying hands, is an acknowledgement of the world's anguish and the pain of God in Christ.
"For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross. (Colossians 1.19-20)
Those words – "Making Peace", are the title of a remarkable poem by Denise Levertov. Wisdom, compassion, moral courage that defies despair with words of hopefulness – Levertov at her very best. This is the poet as prophet of peace.
Making Peace, Denise Levertov.
A voice from the dark called out,
imagination of peace, to oust the intense, familiar
imagination of disaster. Peace, not only
the absence of war."
But peace, like a poem,
is not there ahead of itself,
can't be imagined before it is made,
can't be known except
in the words of its making,
grammar of justice,
syntax of mutual aid.
A feeling towards it,
dimly sensing a rhythm, is all we have
until we begin to utter its metaphors,
learning them as we speak.
A line of peace might appear
if we restructured the sentence our lives are making,
revoked its reaffirmation of profit and power,
questioned our needs, allowed
long pauses. . . .
A cadence of peace might balance its weight
on that different fulcrum; peace, a presence,
an energy field more intense than war,
might pulse then,
stanza by stanza into the world,
each act of living
one of its words, each word
a vibration of light—facets
of the forming crystal.
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