Homily for Sixth Sunday in Easter - May 9, 2010

Some people, for whatever reason, have quite a bit of anger inside them.
The result is that much of life becomes miserable. They enjoy very little peace of mind or serenity of soul. I feel that they are to be pitied because they are robbed of so much. Often they stumble along, blindly unaware, that the roots of their unhappiness lie inside of themselves. But then you meet other people, who in spite of hardships and difficulties have this inner peace, what a difference it makes in their lives.
There is an old Irish story about two neighbors, James and John, who were ploughing in adjacent fields. The ground was hard and stony, which meant that the work was difficult. There was a hot sun and the result was that sweat ran down their faces. The place was full of flies, and with both hands on the plough, it was difficult to keep them at bay. It certainly was no picnic. Though it was exactly the same for both men, they reacted very differently to their condition.
James was in a terrible mood. He was thinking of how hard the work was and about the pain in his arms and legs. His horse would not go as fast as he wanted him to go so he lashed out at him again and again with his whip. The horse was then more stubborn and uncooperative. James was convinced that his neighbor’s wheat would grow taller than his. And every time he looked across at him, he got the impression that he was laughing at him. This made him angrier.
He was completely oblivious to the singing of the birds and the bleating of the lambs. He did not see the beauty which spring had bestowed on the surrounding Irish countryside. The work was hard, but his mood was not making it any easier. Inside of him a battle was raging. He was full of anger and resentment. And even though, at the end of the day, he had finished the work, he derived no satisfaction from it. As he headed home, he experienced a terrible weariness of body and spirit.
It was not the work that caused the problem, but his agitated state. Agitation is a symptom of the inner confusion of a soul without peace. It not only destroys the spiritual usefulness of work, but it also leaves us exhausted and depleted.
Let’s take a look at John. He was in a calm and serene mood. He worked quietly and well, in spite of the aches and pains. Every now and then he stopped to give his horse a rest. While doing so, he would look behind at the work he had done. It was good work. The sight of it encouraged him to go on. And the horse responded to his gentle promptings with an even and steady pull.
As he worked, John’s heart was lightened by the beauty that spring had brought to the world. He drank in the music of the birds and fragrance of the flowers. He looked across at his neighbor and bore him no ill will. But he could see that he was in a very agitated state. He would have liked to help him, but he knew that when he was like this, it was better to leave him alone. When John finally finished his work, he felt so good. He patted the horse on the side of the neck and gave him some grain to eat. As he headed home, he was weary in body, but felt happy and at peace with himself and the world.
In light of our gospel for today, let us look at the difference between the neighbors. The difference was not in the outer circumstances, but in their inner attitudes. John enjoyed inner peace and serenity. James had no peace inside himself. He was in a state of inner turmoil, which spoiled his life and others around him.
What about us? Do we have snatches of this inner peace? How much unrest is there in each of us? How much do we need the healing presence of Christ’s spirit of love and peace? It is so interesting to look at Jesus and to see His inner peace, which He was able to offer to his disciples. What was the basis of His peace? It lay in the loving relationship He had with His Father, which was the unshakable anchor that held him secure even when the bark of his soul was buffeted by the severest storms.
Especially during this Easter season, and at every Mass, Jesus offers us His peace: “Peace I leave you.” The peace He offers us is not a peace where we run from reality. It is the peace of what we might call conquest, something so deep inside that neither sorrow nor danger can rob us of it. In other words it is independent of outer circumstances.
We cannot give this peace to others, unless we have it ourselves. Nothing is a greater obstacle to being on good terms with others than being ill at ease with oneself. Our inner state determines how we see the outside world and other people.
An old man was sitting on a bench at the edge of town when a stranger approached. ‘What are the people in this town like?’ the stranger asked. ‘What were they like in your last town?’ replied the old man. ‘They were kind, generous and would do anything for you if you were in trouble.’ ‘You will find them very much like that in this town, too.’
Then a second stranger approached and asked the same question: ‘What are the people like in this town?’ And he replied: ‘What were they like in the town you have come from?’ ‘I was glad to get out of it. The people were mean, unkind, and no one would lift a finger to help you if you were in trouble.’ ‘I’m afraid’, said the old man, ‘you’ll find them much the same in this town.’
Why do we sometimes see people as difficult, when they really aren’t? Because a person who is not at peace with himself/herself spreads a contagion of conflict around them.
First of all, we need to have peace with ourselves and reality around us. We need to have a good relationship with ourselves. Then we can have a good relationship with other people and with God, and we will find peace there, too.
Most of us lead very busy lives. The family tracks and career tracks we run leave us rather wiped out. But, the truth be told, we’re secretly proud of our exhaustion. This sounds rather warped, but it is true. Dr. Brian Swimme is professor of cosmology at the California Institute of Integral Studies. He discussed with editors of some Catholic magazine how issues of science and spirituality intersect. In the interview, he shared his observation: “I remember when I first started as a professor; I couldn’t understand why everyone was always exhausted. Finally, it dawned on me that people were not only exhausted, they were proud of it. There’s a certain sense of making ourselves miserable because we feel that if justifies who we are.”
The idea of driving ourselves into exhaustion so that we can feel good about who we are is a false understanding of spirituality. (Phone – you must be busy, you’re important - no I am talking to you.)
Dr. Brian writes: “The human, rather, is a creature that was really created for delight, for a sense of astonishment. What would our culture be like if we took this understanding as our grounding? Our purpose and worth wouldn’t be the amount of commodities we have; it would be the way we could enter into the delight of life.”
Christ’s peace is much more than a spiritual tranquilizer or an emotional garrison we construct to protect us from unpleasant conflict. The peace of Christ is yearning for the things of God, an awareness of God’s presence in our lives, a presence that leaves us filled with delight and astonishment – and hope.
Thomas Merton, the great Trappist monk writer once said: “If you, yourself, are at peace, then there is at least some peace in the world.”
God bless you!