PEACE IN THE DESERT

Abba Anthony said, “Hate the false peace of the world and cling to the true peace of God.”—from The Life and Teaching of St Anthony of the Egyptian Desert

After the Great Prayer of Consecration during the Mass (called the “Canon”), we recite the Lord’s Prayer. At its conclusion, the practice of the Church for more than 1,000 years was for the priest to break the Bread and say to the people “The Peace of the Lord be always with you.”

It's a time of the greatest solemnity during the Mass—God is present with us and active, doing what He most intends to do—draw us into the Oneness of communion and love which the Father eternally gives to His Son, and which the Son forever returns to His Father. The Bread is broken, a sign of the Sacrifice of Christ, of His complete self-giving, first to His Father, then to us. This incorporation of you and me, creatures, into the Uncreated Love of God is the reason you and I exist. God made us for this communion. The Peace of God is the gift He gives us of Himself.

The priest blesses us at the end of Mass, saying “The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God…” He prays that God's Peace will be present in our daily lives, set in the midst of a turbulent and unpeaceful world.

“Hate the false peace of this world,” Abba Anthony growls.

In the old Russian text from which I drew the quote for today, the 18th century commentator wrote: “The unpeace of this world is the anti-peace of God.”
You’ll remember the “anti-Christ”, if not from the few references to it the New Testament, then by the many that are the stock-in-trade of old radio and television evangelists. Even in our lifetimes, the anti-Christ has been the Soviet Empire, the PLO, and not long back, Osama bin Laden.

When we refer to the “anti-Christ,” we mean that person or thing which is “against” Christ. That’s okay as far as it goes, but we miss the power of the words we use if we don’t know their meaning. In Greek, anti doesn’t mean “against”—it means “instead of.” The anti-Christ is not merely the one “against Christ,” it’s the one chosen “instead of” Christ.

In the same way, the “false peace” Abba Anthony warns us about—in fact, tells us to hate—is the “anti-peace,” the peace of the world, the peace chosen instead of the peace of God.

This “anti-peace” is the seductive whispering (often heard in loud, obnoxious shouts) of the world. It’s the promise that happiness can be found, the goal of your existence can be met, with what the world has to offer. St Thomas Aquinas lists these enticements—pleasure, power, fame, wealth. He goes on to say that these things aren’t evil in themselves, but become soul-twisting when we make them the ends for which we live. Abba’s “false peace” is anything you and I make to be the One Important Thing in our lives, the Thing we enshrine in place of God. We purchase that Thing at the price of our souls.

Abba Anthony says “hate it.” Hate the thing that entices you from God. Hate the thing that lures you to love yourself more than God.

Surely, though, God wants me to love myself. Oprah says so. Every best-selling psychologist says so. Common sense says so.

Thing is, we love ourselves plenty already. Even the most psychologically damaged among us loves himself too much. The problem is we don’t know the difference between “ourselves” and all the stuff we’ve filled ourselves full of. We often don’t know where the “we” stops and the love of pleasure, power, wealth and fame we’ve so completely embraced begins.

The Peace of God and “anti-peace” of the world are at war. The battle ground isn't some plain in Armageddon. It’s in our hearts. Lent is a time to arm yourself for the fight.

Pax.