The Passing Of The Peace And Hospitality

The simple gesture of greeting one's fellow worshiper in the name of Jesus paints a profound picture of the love of Christ and his church. It signals the commitment of each worshiper to each other and embodies reconciliation in the body of Christ. This article elaborates on the meaning of this simple ritual gesture and provides an example of how the thoughtful worshiper can approach every action in Christian liturgy.

Before the liturgy was reformed by the Second Vatican Council, Roman Catholic Christians used to kiss just about everything during a solemn Mass except each other. During a Mass at which the bishop presided (in preconciliar days), vestments were kissed as they were put on; the altar was kissed; the censer was kissed; the book was kissed; the cruets were kissed; the paten was kissed; and at Communion time, the prelate's ring was kissed as he delivered the bread to each communicant. But when it came to human beings, the so-called "?kiss of peace?" in the old liturgy was a push-away, at-arms-length gesture that resembled rather a ritual of rejection, than one of reconciliation. Today, happily, the greeting of peace has been restored in a recognizably human form. People look one another in the eye, smile, embrace or shake hands, exchange a kiss on the cheek or a word of warmth and welcome. Sure, that moment in the liturgy gets a bit untidy sometimes; and there are always a few unruly worshipers who want to work the crowd by greeting everyone in the assembly. But by and large the greeting of peace has become a treasured part of Sunday's human face in our parishes. If we as Christians pass for a moment from the level of simple observation to the level of meaning, we may find it a little more difficult to say exactly what the greeting of peace signifies. Is it simply a bit of "?huggy-bear-kissy-face?" that is tolerated in the liturgy because it promotes neighborliness? Is it (as some critics charge) a ritualization of middle-class values of "?togetherness?" and "?membership in approved groups?"? Has it been restored to the liturgy simply because it is an ancient and traditional gesture that responds to the gospel mandate to "?go first and be reconciled?" before laying gifts at the altar (Matt. 5:23–24)? Before we suggest answers to questions about what the greeting of peace means, we need to remember a few things about liturgical ritual. Ritual, as Gabe Huck has written recently, "?is the rehearsal of life,?" the embodiment in sound and gesture and all our arts of who we mean to be. Because they are rehearsals, rituals have more to do with "?training for a way of life?" than with fleeting moods or surface feelings. As a ritual gesture, the greeting of peace is not so much about "?how I (or you) feel,?" but about what we mean to and for each other in the assembly of faith. The greeting of peace does not invite us to engage in shallow conviviality—still less does it try to manipulate us into "?feeling good?" about being at worship or being in one another's presence. The sign of peace is a ritual sign that points to our shared meaning as God's agents of reconciliation in the world (2 Cor. 5:18). For Doris Donnelley states in these moving words:

Reconciliation is God's dream for the world. It involves restoring broken relationships, healing our deepest wounds, and transforming hearts in the peace of Christ. Reconciliation cannot happen unless we come to terms with the alienation we experience with our divided selves, with each other, and even with God.

God's Dream for the World Whenever we exchange the greeting of peace, therefore, we rehearse God's dream for the world. This dream of God's links each human to all others around a table where all are equally nourished and the presence of the "?greatest?" does not diminish the importance of the "?least.?" This is the dream that dominated Jesus' religious experience, fueled his preaching, and prompted his scandalously "?irregular?" vision of a new human community. This community would be one in which mutual acceptance and shared values override competitive categories that divide people into haves and have-nots and so lead to rivalry, repression, hatred, and violence. Jesus' vision radically redefined the way humans relate to one another and to God. He torpedoed the notion that God has an ego that somehow competes (with whom?) for loyalty and attention—for strokes. In its place, Jesus proposed a God who is known and loved only in and as one's neighbor. The consequences of such a view are revolutionary. Since God has no ego to be massaged, humans need no longer base their relationship with the divine and with one another on a basis of shame and guilt. Since God's love for the human family is absolute, and absolutely unconditional, we are free to experience and celebrate our lives as pure forgiveness. Here, forgiveness does not mean canceling a debt, or absolving a sin, but rather God's "?giving forth,?" that is, God's self-bestowal, God's blessed arrival in the present moment of our lives. To experience life as forgiveness is to experience nothing less than God's own vitality and energy poured lavishly and passionately into our waiting hearts. When we exchange the greeting of peace, we welcome one another into this world of unconditional acceptance and forgiveness. We invite one another to share God's dream of a world healed and reconciled. The world dreamed by God is a world without weapons, walls, or wedges that drive us apart. In such a world, the call to love God becomes a call to enact justice, mercy, and charity for those "?least ones?" whom it is easy to despise or ignore. In such a world, God's power is experienced as empowerment for the down-and-out; and God's will becomes our willing good, our willing peace, to all who feel broken, bored, or burdened by life's arbitrariness. Once again, our ritual act of greeting one another with the sign of peace is not a statement about how we feel, but a rehearsal of what we mean to be for each other. Love That Is Vulnerable There is yet a further dimension to the sign of peace we exchange in the liturgy. In welcoming one another to the world of God's dream, we also make ourselves vulnerable to others' needs. Our ritual sign is not an empty, idle gesture. It is our pledge to keep faith with one another, to care—actively and prayerfully—about one another. This is especially important in an era when the needs and concerns of other people are routinely dismissed as "?not my problem.?" While it is true that each of us must accept responsibility for personal issues and choices, it is also true that in the Christian perspective, our hearts and our destinies are deeply interconnected in the being of God. As Quaker theologian Douglas Steere has noted, there is a "?metaphysic of vulnerable love?" that challenges us to take the risk of truly caring for another, of believing that "?when we love someone in the presence of God, our prayer does make a difference and does lower that person's threshold to awareness of God's love and infinite caring.?" Our exchanges of the greeting of peace means that we commit ourselves to "?being there?" for each other. The "?willingness to assume the spiritual costs of entering into a measureless involvement in the caring for another,?" writes Steere, is a part of that costly grace to which we commit ourselves in the community of faith. "?If someone wants your coat, give your cloak as well; if anyone forces you to go one mile, go two?" (Matt. 5:40–41). In the Christian dispensation, our caring cannot be limited to words, even the holy words of liturgical prayer; it has to take flesh, blood, and bone in acts of service. For Steere notes:

Apart from the psychical cost of this vulnerable involvement for others … [our caring] almost inevitably involves us in physical responsibilities for them, whether we meant to do that or not … this may consist of time for visits, gifts of food, books, letters, and often many forms of physical support. These simply go with the ticket. If you care enough, nothing will be held back.

So our exchange of the greeting of peace opens us to the demands of vulnerable love, renews our covenant of service for one another, and welcomes all into the world of God's dream for a reconciled humanity. When we open our arms and hearts to one another, holding nothing back, we rediscover the paradoxical truth that lies at the center of the Christian message: we can only keep what we are willing to give away; we can find ourselves only when we abandon ourselves for another's sake.