Blessed are the Peacemakers

by David Miller

It was a beautiful December late afternoon in Jerusalem. I was looking out my hotel window overlooking the northern end of the city of Jerusalem watching a magnificent sunset. Ultra-orthodox Jewish neighborhoods sprawled like a carpet on the left side of my view while the Muslim Arab neighborhoods of East Jerusalem lay at my feet. Between them, at the base of my window, was the four-lane road that divided the western and eastern parts of the city which, prior to 1967, had been a no-man’s land between two separate, warring countries. 

I had just returned with the group I was teaching from a day in Bethlehem and surrounding area. Bethlehem is an Arab city in the Israeli occupied territories, formerly 80% Christian but now about that percentage Muslim and has been under complete Palestinian control since the Oslo accords in 1993. We had left the bus in the city bus parking garage and walked up the hill toward the church, walking through the usual kaleidoscope of shops, hawkers, tourists, and traffic. A Palestinian policeman stood at the front of the church, as always, to make sure I was a licensed guide and to record my information. These policemen often exude a hostile attitude toward the Israeli guides, myself included, but I understand it and don’t take it personally. I try to be kind, speaking the little Arabic that I know, but it usually does nothing to defrost the attitude. This day, however, I had an incredible surprise. This policeman seemed to remember me and gave me a warm greeting, sincere, not like the “warm” greeting I would often get from shopkeepers who want my business. I didn’t remember him then, but now I will never forget him.

As I stood at my hotel room floor-to-ceiling length window with music in the background I reflected on the day. I had Casting Crown’s song, “I heard the bells on Christmas Day” on repeat. It was the Christmas season and we had just been in Bethlehem. It seemed appropriate. The song laments the fact that although the bells on Christmas day are ringing “Peace on earth, goodwill to men” there is no peace on earth and no goodwill, just hatred. As I listened and reflected, I began to meditate on what it meant to be a peacemaker, a follower of the Prince of Peace, in this fallen world. 

The group I was leading was particularly interested in the political situation in Israel and the Palestinian territories. It is not a topic I care to focus on when guiding my groups. Every group is different, with different interests, and fortunately, most of my groups have been focused on deepening in biblical truth with only a passing interest in the politics of the region. Most of the questions this group posed, however, were related to politics. They wanted a quick version of the complexities so they could come to conclusions, deciding who was in the right and who was in the wrong. 

How many times have I seen well-meaning Christians think that coming to judgments of right and wrong, loudly proclaiming and condemning the latter, is what it means to be a peacemaker! How many the Christians have I seen over the years who, in the name of justice, have unwittingly and unwisely sowed animosity and increased hatred and partisanship! How often I have met Christians who have some limited understanding of the complexities of the Arab-Israeli situation but seemed to have all the answers! How my heart has grieved! Is this what it means to be a peacemaker? I don’t think so.

And so, my meditation continued. I thought back just a few days to when we had been in Galilee, staying at my favorite Kibbutz guest facility on the shores of the lake. My wife and I had the opportunity a year earlier to stay at that facility for a week as I was teaching a student group resident in the country for a semester. During that time, we became friends with a worker there, a Bedouin Muslim Arab and Israeli citizen, who, according to his words and evident from his actions, loved the Jewish people.  We had time during that week to get to know him well and we became good friends. When I was there with my group just a few days earlier, I saw my friend, Mohammed, again, and we took time to update and renew our friendship. 

As the sun continued to set, my thoughts broadened to my relationships with Arab Christians and Muslims, whether Israeli citizens or Palestinian residents in the occupied territories, from casual encounters with taxi drivers to long term friendships. I recalled the time I spent several days in government offices attempting to help a Palestinian Arab acquaintance who I thought had been the victim of unjust eviction, only to discover that it was his brother who had sold the property and done so legally. I also thought about a friend we had not seen in a long time with whom we used to spend almost every Sunday. When the Israeli ministry of the Interior wanted to deport him I called some other Jewish  believers and we fasted and prayed for him. He was able to remain in the country.

I have been enriched by these relationships, from the casual contact to the longer term friendships. These relationships across a political gulf have been a mutual recognition of our common humanity, being a peacemaker in a one-on-one relationship, bridging the gap, non-political but life-giving.

I am sitting now at my desk four years later, my “office,” in the corner of our bedroom. Again, I am looking out a window on a winter scene in December, this time looking out on a Pennsylvania woodland. Again, I am writing in the context of division and problems; it is 2020. COVID-19 is in full swing and the US elections have just passed, but the strife and division associated with them have not. This was the year of the meteoric rise of the political group Black Lives Matter and media focus on social justice. The nation is deeply divided as is the church. Again I ask, as I did four years ago, what does it mean to be a peacemaker?

In a few days we will have our dear friends over on Christmas day. They are a black Muslim refugee family from Darfur who have settled in our region. We became acquainted shortly after their arrival in the US because they spoke no English, but speak Swahili, which my wife and I also speak. It has been a few years since we first met. We were their helpers then; now we are their friends. Their children, who are like part-time grandchildren to us will spend Christmas eve night at our home. 

Our knowledge of Swahili has been a great gift to us, opening doors to many black refugee families who have needed our help and who since become our friends. I was in inner-city Harrisburg visiting one of our refugee friends a few months ago at the peak of the Black Lives Matter movement and the rioting taking place in many cities throughout the country, Harrisburg included. As I got out of the car, possibly the only white within many city blocks, the city seething with racial tension, it seemed perfectly natural for me to be there. I didn’t attend the rallies; I was visiting my friends. 

I am a follower of Jesus, the Prince of Peace, who said, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” My life and the rich relationships I have experienced demonstrate my understanding of what that saying means. When I consider the environment in which Jesus lived, it, too, was a political hotbed abounding with hate, a Jewish hatred of the political oppressor Rome. And when I consider Jesus’ life, his refusal to engage in political debate and his compassion for the Roman soldier whose son was sick, I think I may be on the right track.