Sunday marks the second Sunday of Advent. It is the halfway point of this quick season of anticipation and preparation for the celebration of Christmas and Christ’s return. If your church uses an Advent wreath, as mine does, it will likely light the second candle of Advent to reflect on our need for peace.
Peace is an often misunderstood word. We often use peace in the context of hostility. In this way, peace is the absence of hostilities between different groups in such a way that leads to reconciliation. Peace is a desired state as we contemplate the divisions in our society and the wars taking place in Israel and Ukraine. Yet, there is more to peace than just an absence of hostility.
The Hebrew word for peace is shalom. It often carries the meaning of “make something whole.” Shalom is truly about seeking the well-being of an individual’s whole life. Understanding this meaning adds depth to our prayer of “let there be peace on earth.” When we pray for peace, we desire for each person to have what they need to thrive and live.
Seeking wholeness and the fullness of life for every person, I believe, has implications for individuals with hidden disabilities and their families who often deal with systems, institutions, and a society that is not made for them or truly considers what it means to seek their well-being. The experience of true peace as wholeness and well-being would be life-changing for my autistic son and even for me, not simply as his father but as someone who struggles with anxiety and depression.
Peace as the experience of well-being would mean that my son would have full access to support services in his school and throughout society to work with him. It would mean the exclusion of practices that seek to normalize an autistic individual, which does more harm to that person’s life. Instead, it would also seek to include practices that help a person thrive in who they are and help them to learn and grow.
Peace as the experience of well-being would mean that every church would strive for the full inclusion of individuals with disabilities by considering their needs as valid. It would not see acts of accommodations as “intrusive” or “harmful to our budget,” but instead as the things necessary to ensure that everyone has a place at the table of fellowship.
Peace as the experience of well-being would mean that society would work to help adults transition into society. Transition can happen by providing work-based accommodations and learning more about a person’s needs. It also can happen by doing away with laws that prevent individuals with a disability from earning a fair and equal wage for their labor. It also means doing away with practices that allow for workplace discrimination against individuals with a disability.
Peace as the experience of well-being would mean providing care and support for families and caregivers. We would no longer dismiss families with the words of “You have too much on your plate.” Instead, we would desire to walk alongside families to help them carry the load. We would be encouragers and supporters instead of the often-felt distant names and faces.
Peace as the experience of well-being would mean putting our concern for mental health into action. It would mean giving people space to be themselves while also being supported and encouraged by friends and colleagues. It would mean having counseling resources available in the workplace and every church.
Peace as the experience of well-being would be life-changing.
As we light the candle of peace on Sunday, I pray we will recognize that there is more to our desire for peace than simply seeking an end to hostility. To seek true peace means making sure everyone has what they need to thrive. For communities like the disability community that are often ignored or overlooked, seeking wholeness would bring true peace and comfort to them.
Truly, then, let there be peace on earth for all.
Shannon Blosser 