Shalom, a way forward

The peace that is also justice; the peace that surpasses understadning.

The Hebrew word shalom is superficially translated as "peace," but its meaning is deep. Shalom is a state of fulfillment, wholeness, and harmony. Pastor Randy Woodley points out that there is a similar concept across Native American traditions. It bears similarity to the African concept of Ubuntu, and I think you can find it in many major traditions around the world. (It's also widely alluded to in NDE literature.)

The idea is that shalom has both an individual aspect and a systemic aspect. Each individual has a capacity to achieve some amount of a personal state of shalom, but true shalom occurs only when all beings are in a state of shalom. Randy Woodley is quick to point out, then, that at the societal level shalom is most tested at the margins: how it exists for the poor, and the weak, and the otherwise marginalized. This is why in Judaism, there is an emphasis on care for the orphan, the widow, and the foreigner -- those who, in ancient Jewish societies, would have been among the most marginalized and vulnerable.

(It's also being tested when about a third of a nation feels that the only possible political solution is to increasingly shatter democratic norms in favor of authoritarianism. Shalom suggests in such a time that the thing to do is to to strengthen in resistance, per se, but to strengthen in wisdom.)

The idea is that shalom is not a blithe phenomenon that comes and goes on its own whims. There is an implication of lawfulness to it. Shalom is achieved when beings align with a cosmic order. It is gained through certain applications, and it is lost through error. Whether or not it is ever a shameful thing to make the error is up for interpretation. The point is that we can get up and try again, because it's out there for us to find.

In theistic traditions, there opens the possibility that shalom is actually God's intention for creation. This has the most salience for me, as it suggests that the supreme creator of the universe has a desire that creation be in a state of well-being, and that we are not only called to it, but called to it with the intimate participation of those forces that are already there, and whose help is continually available to us if we will only make use of it. In a letter to the early church in Philippi, the Apostle Paul (who, notably, did not study with Jesus in the flesh) alludes to shalom provocatively as something transcendent, "the peace that surpasses all understanding." All of this feels real and true to me.

Wherever the concept of shalom or something like it exists, it is clear that it is an emergent phenomenon. It is not wrought by human will or design; it is found. It is something that arises as beings align with an order that wholly includes themselves and is entirely larger than themselves. It precedes every narrative, and it succeeds every narrative. It pre-exists.

Shalom is obviously not easy. Life is complicated, and the ways to lose sight of shalom are numerous. But it seems to me that the approach to life at all levels is profoundly different if we believe that shalom is possible and we hold it as a goal, or if we don't believe it is possible, and don't aim for it.

If we believe it is possible, then it's clear to me that we are called to seek it. I didn't always understand this. There have been long periods of my life when I was hurt and angry pretty much all of the time, and I felt that there was little to be done to change that. I don't feel that way anymore. Now I believe in shalom, even for myself personally. I realize that there is a large part of its attainment that is not up to me and, also, that there is an essential, non-negotiable part of it that is entirely up to me.

I got closer to shalom when I admitted more deeply that I had a role in setting my own fires. I asked for cosmic help, and then I went looking for people who were connecting with cosmic forces in the most powerful ways I thought someone could. I also surrendered my grip on pretty much everything in my life. I let pretty much everything float while I was looking for a clear line of communication with God. Not everything moved in my life, but I was entirely willing to let everything move.

This is not unlike the path of the Twelve Steps. I did not formally go through the Twelve Steps myself, but I think the Twelve Steps have much, much more general use than some people realize.

A friend of mine recently pointed out that sometimes a good way to achieve shalom is to withdraw from where you have extended yourself into the world -- perhaps more than you'd naturally do. This was part of what has worked for me. The world is a crazy place, and I think especially so right now.

After you have achieved some amount of a personal experience of shalom, there is the remainder of one's own churning self to encounter, and there is the whole rest of the churning world to encounter, and that encounter can be extremely painful. In the Christian tradition, one metaphor for this encounter between the peaceful and the not-peaceful parts of existence, either within ourselves or without, is the cross.

It hurts. It's also clear to me that it is the work we have to do.

But the good news is that, as shalom is a meant to a collective phenomenon, the individual pursuits will not pull against each other. Ultimately, they converge.

In all the roil in the world today, I can think of few more essential concepts than the concept of shalom. Especially after one shooting or another -- just the punctuation in long sentences of disaster and disarray, people remark, "What's happening to us?"

At the risk of oversimplifying, it seems to me that a good place to begin is to say that we have lost the ways that lead to shalom, both individually and collectively. To no small extent, we have forgotten that is even possible.

We await the arbiters who will mediate all of the chaos, to separate the good from the bad, and articulate the paths that lead us all to more peace and light. But the truth is we can begin to navigate this ourselves, in cooperation with marvelous forces, if we slow down, get sincere, and look.

To no small extent, what we await is ourselves, growing wiser and more aligned.

I don't think anybody should feel ashamed if there is not enough peace in their lives. But if peace itself starts to seem like privilege, then I think it should be clear that we are being alienated from our imminent, perhaps most essential birthright.

We can seek more that that. We can find more than that. Both individually and collectively, in all of our systems.