Peace on Earth—Christmas talk 12/17/06

Peace on Earth—Christmas talk 12/17/06

We are all familiar with Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem, “Christmas Bells”—we know it better as Hymn #214 “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.”  Sister Julie Franklin, a professor at BYU, gave a Devotional speech this past December 5^th in which she provided some background to Longfellow’s writing of the poem.  “Christmas Bells”  was written in 1864, during the Civil War.  Longfellow’s son, Charles, had enlisted as a 17-year-old to fight in the war and had been sent home critically injured two weeks before Christmas.  With war raging and his son beginning to recuperate from his wounds, Longfellow penned the words we sing today of “peace on earth, good will to men.”

[Read Hymn #214, verses 1 & 2]:

I heard the bells on Christmas day

Their old familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet the words repeat

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

I thought how, as the day had come,

The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along th’unbroken song

Of peace on earth, good will to men.    

In Longfellow’s original poem the verse we know as verse 5 comes next, with two more verses that are omitted from the song: [Read verse 5, then the two omitted verses, then vs. 3 & 4]

Till, ringing, singing, on its way

The world revolved from night to day,

A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,

Of peace on earth, good will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth

The cannon thundered in the South,

And with the sound / The carols drowned

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

It was as if an earthquake rent

The hearthstones of a continent,

And made forlorn / The households born

Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head:

“There is no peace on earth,” I said,

“For hate is strong and maocks the song

Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

“God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,

With peace on earth, good will to men.”

Over 140 years have passed since Longfellow wrote, “The wrong shall fail, the right prevail, with peace on earth, good will to men.”  Longfellow had faith in the words of Luke describing the events surrounding the birth of Jesus Christ:  “And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.’”  (Luke 2:13)  But anyone who listens to the news today might also bow his head in despair and wonder—where is this peace that was promised with the coming of the Savior?

I would like to turn to an unlikely story in the Book of Mormon that might help us.  When Enos went into the woods to hunt, he had time to reflect on the state of his soul.  He wrestled in prayer for hours, seeking for a remission of his sins:  “And there came a voice unto me saying: Enos, thy sins are forgiven thee, and thou shalt be blessed.  And I, Enos, knew that God could not lie; wherefore my guilt was swept away.  And I said: Lord, how is it done?  And he said unto me:  Because of thy faith in Christ, whom thou hast never before heard nor seen.  And many years pass away before he shall manifest himself in the flesh…” (Enos, vs. 5-8).  Enos sought for the kind of peace that comes when one is right before God, and he received it through his faith in the promised Savior.

Joseph Smith, who had seen the resurrected Savior, felt this same kind of peace on his way to Carthage Jail when he said, “I am going like a lamb to the slaughter; but I am calm as a summer’s morning; I have a conscience void of offense towards God, and towards all men.” (D&C 135:4)

There is another kind of peace of mind that the Savior gives to us during our times of sorrow and trial:  “I will not leave you comfortless:  I will come to you…Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you.  Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” (John 14:18 & 27)  When Longfellow wrote his poem, his heart was most likely troubled, not only over his son’s injuries and the war, but also over other circumstances in his life.  He had lost his first wife, Mary, years earlier when she miscarried in her sixth month of pregnancy.  He remarried and had five children with his second wife, Frances, called Fannie.  One of those children, Fannie’s namesake, died when she was only 17 months old.  Then, in 1861, the year the Civil War broke out, his wife Fannie was cooking when her dress caught fire.  Henry was burned trying to extinguish the flames, but Fannie was quickly engulfed and she burned to death.  Surely, he had reason to feel despair, but instead he wrote, “God is not dead, nor doth he sleep.”

Let’s go back now to the story of Enos.  After the Lord tells Enos his sins are forgiven he says, “…wherefore, go to, thy faith hath made thee whole.” (Enos, v.8)  Enos had received his own personal peace, but as we read on, we see that he isn’t satisfied to leave it at that.  “Now it came to pass that when I had heard these words I began to feel a desire for the welfare of my brethren, the Nephites; wherefore, I did pour out my whole soul unto God for them.” (Enos, v. 9)  Enos wants the circle of peace to be expanded to include his brethren—his family, his community—those he feels an affinity with.  What parent of young children or teenagers doesn’t wish for a little “peace and quiet” in the home or on a long road trip?  What bishop doesn’t feel sad when he sees ward members who refuse to speak to each other?  Who doesn’t get tired of negative political campaigns and ranting talk show hosts, religious and racial intolerance and divisiveness in this, the “United” States? 

Where can we find peace within our families and communities?  Again, we can turn to the Savior for help.  In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells us how to feel peace with our brethren:  “Therefore if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath ought against thee; Leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.” (Matthew 5:23-24)  We “come to the altar” every week when we partake of the Sacrament.  To feel the peace promised by the Savior there, we must strive to forgive each other of our weaknesses—in our families, among our church brothers and sisters, and among all those we come into contact with.  There can be much to divide us in all of these relationships—personality differences, political differences, racial and ethnic differences, religious differences.  There is no peace in divisiveness, and so we not only need to forgive each other of offenses, but we also need to learn tolerance, and even charity toward those who are different from us.  One of my favorite Christmas stories tells of such charity.  It is told by the Mormon poet, Emma Lou Thayne, about her fellow church member and friend, Jan Cook.  Jan’s husband’s work brought them and their three children to Africa, where they lived for three years.  There were no members of the church anywhere near.  [Read story, p. 19 in Making Peace, by Eugene England]:

By their third Christmas, Jan was very homesick.  She confessed this to a good friend, a Mennonite; Jan told her how she missed her own people, their traditions, even snow.  Her friend sympathized and invited her to go with her in a month to the Christmas services being held in the only Protestant church in the area, saying that there would be a reunion there of all the Mennonite missionaries on the continent.

It took some talking for Jan to persuade her husband, but there they were being swept genially to the front of the small chapel.  It felt good, being in on Christmas in a church again.  The minister gave a valuable sermon on Christ; the congregation sang familiar carols with great vitality.  Then, at the very end of the meeting, a choir of Mennonite missionaries from all over Africa rose from their benches and made their way to stand just in front of Jan and her family.  Without a word, they began singing.  Without a leader, without music, without text, they sang, “Come, Come Ye Saints.”  Every verse.

Disbelieving, totally taken by surprise, Jan and her husband drenched the fronts of their Sunday best with being carried home on Christmas…When they finished, Jan’s friend said simply, “For you.  Our gift.”

Jan’s Mennonite friend had sent to Salt Lake City for the music to the hymn that she knew Jan loved, had had it duplicated and distributed to every Mennonite missionary in Africa;  they in turn had learned it very carefully to bring the spirit of Christ to their own reunion where foreigners to their faith would be waiting to hear.”      

Let’s make one last visit to the Book of Enos to see how far this circle of peace can expand.  After praying for his own people, the Nephites, Enos declares, “…my faith began to be unshaken in the Lord; and I prayed unto him with many long strugglings for my brethren, the Lamanites.”  (Enos, v. 11)  The Lord promises him that the records will be preserved to be brought forth at some future day for the salvation of the Lamanites.  Only then does Enos say, “And I, Enos, knew it would be according to the covenant which he had made; wherefore my soul did rest.” (Enos, v. 17)  Enos could not rest until the promise of peace extended beyond himself, beyond his own people, to include his enemies, the Lamanites.

At the beginning of his earthly ministry, 500 years after Enos sought peace for his enemies, the Savior taught this principal at his Sermon on the Mount:  “Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine enemy.  But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them which despitefully usse you, and persecute you…” (Matthew 5: 43-44)  He also taught in the same sermon, “Blessed are the peacemakers:  for they shall be called the children of God.”  (Matthew 5:9)  Is this too much to ask of us?  It’s hard enough to keep peace with those who care about us—is it really even possible with those who actually hate us and want to do us harm? 

Ask the Amish community that lately lost their young daughters to a brutal, suicidal killer in a rural one-room schoolhouse.  They were able to forgive this man and when funds poured in to help the grieving community, they turned around and gave some to the widow and children of the killer.

Ask the soldiers in the frozen mud of the trenches of WWI about the spontaneous Christmas truce of 1914.  On Christmas Eve… [Read from Internet book review of Silent Night, Holy Night: The Story of the Christmas Truce, narrated by Waltar Cronkite]:

...soldiers on both sides rose from their trenches and greeted each other in “No Man’s Land,” a field littered with barbed wire and frozen corpses.

For two days, the guns of war were silent as men who had shot at each other only hours before, after defying officers, laid down their weapons to exchange gifts and traditions.

The truce ended, the killing resumed on orders from the generals, but for a short time the hatred had ceased, the killing had stopped—peace and good will toward men was not an impossibility.

Peace in our hearts, peace within our families and our communities, peace between nations—all come from following the example of the Prince of Peace.  Love, mercy, forgiveness, compassion, and reconciliation—all these are extended to us by Jesus Christ.  And this is how he asks us to live.  This is how peace on earth will come.