Peace be with you.
I’m pretty sure I just heard you say, “And with your spirit.”
Catholics are generally very good at habitual responses. But when it comes down to it, what is this peace we give and receive every time we go to Mass?
The Gospel passage for the Second Sunday of Easter recounts Christ’s appearance to the Apostles in the upper room after his resurrection. The Apostles were still unsure of what was happening and were hiding in fear. Despite the locked doors, Jesus appeared and gave them something essential: his peace.
“Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’ When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you’” (John 20:19).
Not only does Jesus offer his peace twice in rapid succession, St. John tells us he offers it again eight days later in the same room. He returns to show his resurrected body to Thomas, who had been missing the first time, proving that he has indeed risen.
Why are these words of peace so important that they are the first thing Jesus says to the Apostles? He is assuring them that they now have access to the source of peace. They are afraid because of all the uncertainty they perceive, but Christ is telling them that fear is no longer necessary—he has conquered sin and death. He has opened the gates of heaven.
Those of us who grew up shaking hands at the Sign of Peace during Mass may have gotten so used to the gesture and its words that the concept of Christ’s peace has lost meaning for us. Do we really have Christ’s peace if we fall apart when our world is upset in some way? If we lose our cool arguing online about politics or election results, where is our Christ-given peace then?
This peace isn’t about a serene feeling, or even never getting angry or sad or lonely. Christ’s peace doesn’t erase human emotions, but it does allow us to have a deeper anchor in times of trouble. The peace of Jesus Christ comes from being able to rest in the knowledge that our Lord is an infinite source of mercy, love, and eternal life.
St. Catherine of Siena, a 14th-century trailblazer in the Church whose feast day is celebrated on April 29, was well acquainted with needing the peace of Christ. “Let us go forward in peace, our eyes upon heaven, the only one goal of our labours.”
Going “forward in peace” sounds easier said than done. We may be tempted to dismiss St. Catherine’s advice because she didn’t have to deal with the world as it is today, with all its peace-stealing characteristics. While it’s true she didn’t have to endure what’s being called the most pivotal election in Canadian history—along with the constant barrage of social media commentary—she certainly faced her share of attacks on peace.
St. Catherine held a lengthy correspondence with more than one pope, including Pope Gregory XI, one of the “Avignon” popes who had moved the papacy to France, causing major upheaval in the 14th-century Church. But instead of letting this steal her Christ-centred peace, St. Catherine travelled to Avignon to personally petition the Pope to return to Rome. She never relented in her pursuit of what was best for the Church. She did hard things. She was vocal and broke countless cultural barriers in order to protect Christ’s precious Church. She did all this rooted in prayer and in the unshakeable peace of Christ.
I pray that no one has lost sight of Easter peace due to the recent political campaign or any other upheaval. As Christians, we are called to radiate peace to the world, never letting anyone or anything steal the peace that comes from Christ. This is the good news, after all. Whether we are in the middle of a high-stakes federal election or convincing a pope to return to his diocese, our peace remains in Christ, the Alpha and the Omega.
As St. Catherine so aptly described the key to maintaining Christ’s peace: “He will provide the way and the means, such as you could never have imagined. Leave it all to Him, let go of yourself, lose yourself on the Cross, and you will find yourself entirely.”
Lazzuri writes from her home in Nova Scotia, where she lives with her husband, four of her six children, and her mom. She can be reached at clarelazzuri@gmail.com.
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