And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. ~ Philippians 4:7
Etty Hillesum was a Jewish woman from the Netherlands who was killed by the Nazis at Auschwitz in 1943. The end of her life seemed the very opposite of peace or freedom, as she and her family were transported from one concentration to another before all of them lost their lives.
And yet what Etty was most known was not her death or imprisonment. It was for her letters and diary entries that showed a life filled with hope, love, joy, and peace despite her suffering.
She did not at all deny the terror and evil happening in Europe by the Nazis, but she nevertheless wrote about the freedom – the peace - that the Nazis could not take from her.
“The more peace there is in us, the more peace there will also be in our troubled world.” She wrote in one diary entry.
And in another: “The sky is full of birds. The purple lupins stand up so regally and peacefully; two little old women have sat down for a chat; the sun is shining on my face – and right before our eyes, mass murder.”
For Etty, despite physical imprisonment and unspeakable horror, she was free. There was beauty that she saw in her daily life that gave her hope. There was a dawn that was still going to come in the morning.
And she found peace in that. She found freedom in that.
There is something in the light of dusk or dawn that opens us up to the possibility of peace in a way that brightness or day or darkness of night cannot.
That gives us a way to rest in the idea that the peace of God is freeing despite being beyond our comprehension. And despite a world around us that may feel anything but peaceful.
We can’t explain it. But we know when it happens.
A view of the dawn breaking over a mountaintop.
Enemies laying down their arms.
A brilliant sunset calming a stressful week.
A shepherd finding God’s saving peace in the face of a newborn who will bring light to the entire cosmos.
An enslaved people trudging through the wilderness finding freedom in being blessed by God.
Strangers, foreigners, enemies, migrants, politicians, prisoners, workers, families, rich, poor, finding peace by knowing that all – ALL – are members of the household of God.
In Advent we've seen light that is the faintness of a candle, the brilliance of a supernova, and the excitement of fireworks.
But sometimes the light is diffused sunlight that opens our eyes to the possibility of a new day after a long night, or clears up our image of the world around us after the harsh light of day has faded.
And when that happens, the darkness lifts, no matter our circumstances, and the cycle begins again.
Prince of Peace, Come. Bring your light and love to this hurting world. Amen
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