The first word

 Whatever house you enter, first say, “Peace to this house!” And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide ... Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, “The kingdom of God has come near to you.” (Luke 10:5-7a, 8b-9)

For decades, I have closed notes and emails with a single word, “Peace.” It always was and remains a prayer for myself and for what I want to prevail between myself and the person to whom I am writing. I sometimes use the grace of this blessing and hope as my parting word in conversation.

It’s a good final word, but perhaps an even better first word. It is the word Jesus placed in the minds of those he sent into a world every bit as conflicted, dangerous and cynical as our riven era.

“First, say peace,” he told them. Some will welcome you. Some will not. Don’t worry about them so much, he counseled. Stay and share blessings with those who welcome you, for the kingdom of God’s peace will appear around their tables.

And you will feel it. No, Jesus doesn’t explicitly say that, but I know it to be true.

I have known its truth around tables and while sharing meals sitting in the dust of every continent where I traveled and reported. I’ve felt it in the presence of souls so much more loving and alive than my own. And I know it to be true in common moments of human sharing, even an evening ago as my beloved, Dixie, and I sat at a table over wine and cheese with our friends from Germany. Their son fast asleep upstairs, we talked, just talked, sharing bits and pieces of what had happened during the three years an ocean separated us.

In the midst of conversation about families and children, DIY projects and pitfalls, the kingdom of God’s hospitality settled over us. We felt it, surely, knowing God’s presence as the Love who swept us into its flow, breathing life into our mortal flesh, lifting us into the peace of eternity as heaven came to earth and hovered around the Formica of a kitchen table, making us glad to be alive.

Who knew it could be so? Jesus knew. He sent his friends and followers into a frightening world filled with foreign dominators and injustice, giving them only a first word, a word to speak and be, Peace.

He knew what we can still discover by entering each moment, each encounter with a word of peace, a gesture of grace, knowing the kingdom of God’s love is closer and more wonderful than we imagine.

We don’t make it happen. We just open ourselves to the possibility with a single word, Peace. The rest is all gift, a gift God is breathlessly eager to give. 

David L. Miller