City of Peace

by Henry G. Brinton

  Paul certainly thought so. Harley returned to his desk and looked down on the Bible. “Who will rescue me from this body of death?” asked Paul. “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” The words “rescue me” seemed to be important here, and it occurred to Harley that God had sent Jesus to earth on a rescue mission. His objective was to save people from an alien force that had taken control of their bodies. Suddenly, Paul’s letter to the Romans seemed more like the plot of a summer science fiction movie than a passage of holy scripture. Body of death. Rescue mission. Liberation from the alien invader! The wheels turned in Harley’s head as he started to think about how to present a message to the congregation.

  He tapped on his laptop for an hour, crafting an imaginative sermon that turned Paul’s letter into a blockbuster sci-fi adventure. Following the preaching style of Jesus, Harley tried to communicate through parables—stories from everyday life that contained spiritual truths. He liked to hook people with an illustration that grabbed their interest and got them wondering about where he was going with his message, and then end the sermon by pulling practical lessons from the interplay between his story and the Biblical text.

  Writing was a pleasure for Harley, an activity that allowed him to escape from the administrative hassles of ministry and create something that had real value for his congregation. He felt good about the approach he was taking, and quickly he had a few pages of text that would help people to understand sin’s hold on them in a whole new way. But then he got to the point where he needed to offer a real-world application of his insight, and there he got stuck. How do I turn the corner from science fiction to daily life, explaining how God really frees us to live a sin-free life? This was the toughest part of the sermon, comparable to the challenges that a pilot faced when trying to make a difficult landing. After all, flying was easy—it was the landing that was tough. After a few minutes of staring at his computer screen, Harley decided that he needed a coffee.

  The day had become only hotter since Harley entered his air-conditioned office, and as he stepped outside he wondered if coffee was the best idea. Maybe iced coffee, he thought. He walked up the hill to Auntie’s, climbed its creaky wooden stairs, entered the pie shop and ordered his drink. He looked around, wishing he could enjoy it in the cool of the shop, but unfortunately there was no indoor seating. The place was jammed with baked goods and craft beers and wine, with not a single stool or chair. Taking his iced coffee onto the porch, he found a seat on one of the benches running along the front of the building, and as he sat down he saw Tawnya Jones coming up the steps.

  “Tawnya,” he called out. “How are you doing on this fine Saturday?”

  “Reverend Camden,” she said with mocking formality. “Look at you, enjoying a cool drink on a hot day.” She looked fantastic, as usual. Although in exercise clothes, she was totally made up with nails done and not a hair out of place. “I’m here to get a pie, but it is a sweet treat to see you.”

  “Please join me,” Harley said, motioning to a spot on the bench next to him.

  “People will talk,” she said with a toothy grin. “But I suppose it’s okay, in a public place.”

  Harley was happy to see her, at least in part because he was working on his sermon and he needed a sounding board. When she sat down, he mentioned that he had been getting to know her father, and she said yes, she had been told all about that. Then he asked how Clyde was doing.

  “He is fine. Cutting the grass, although I asked him not to do it in the heat of the day.”

  “Sounds like he’s a man on a mission.”

  “He is,” she admitted. “When he gets a task in his head, he has to conquer it, no matter what.”

  “I used to be that way, when I had the house up in Sterling. But I have to say, I don’t miss it. Living in a townhouse with no yard suits me just fine.”

  “More time for your boat, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So what are you up to today,” asked Tawnya, “besides drinking coffee?”

  “Writing my Sunday sermon,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m wrestling with Paul’s letter to the Romans.”

  “The one who is righteous will live by faith?”

  “You know your Romans,” said Harley, offering his hand for a high five. He liked to talk with Baptists because—unlike more liberal Protestants—they knew their Bibles. “But no, the seventh chapter, all the stuff about sin and doing the things that we hate.”

  “That is a tough passage,” Tawnya admitted. “Tough but true.” Giving him a smile, she said, “You don’t go easy on your congregation in the summer, do you?”

  Harley shook his head. “No, they need it. They are a sinful bunch. Very wicked people.” She laughed and told him to be nice.

  “I get what Paul is saying about sin being a controlling force, like an addiction or an obsession,” Harley said. “Paul understands human nature, for sure. But how does Jesus actually come in and free us? What does Paul mean when he says, ‘Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!’”

  Tawnya thought for a second. “I guess it has to do with the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross, taking our sins on himself, dying so that we can be forgiven.”

  Harley nodded. “Yes, I get that, and I believe it. Forgiveness is possible because of the cross. But that doesn’t seem to be the same as being freed from sin. After all, we can sin, be forgiven, and then sin again.”

  “True that,” said Tawnya. “Forgiveness is not the same as freedom from sin.”

  “I’m really struggling with this, because I need my sermon to end with a strong message. I want to be clear about how God frees us.”

  Tawnya looked out over the parking lot at Riverside Methodist. “I remember that I asked my grandfather about sin after church one Sunday. He showed me a vase that had been in the family for generations, one that he had broken accidentally and then repaired. He said that when we sin, we shatter our relationships with God and each other. Then Jesus comes along and glues us back together through forgiveness. I thought about this for a minute, looked closely at the vase, and then said, ‘But Grandpa, I can still see the breaks.’”

  “That’s it,” said Harley. “That’s the key question. How do we fix the cracks?”

  “I think that comes from the Spirit,” Tawnya offered. “Do you have your Bible with you, Pastor?” Harley shook his head. “Well then, give me your phone.” She quickly pulled up an internet Bible, and typed in Romans 8.

  “You know your Bible, Ms. Jones.”

  “Comes from being in church every Sunday,” she said. “Here it is; ‘But you are not in the flesh; you are in the Spirit, since the Spirit of God dwells in you.’ That’s in the chapter right after the one you are preaching on.”

  “So Jesus rescues us from sin,” said Harley, thinking aloud. “And then the Spirit lives in us. The Spirit heals the wounds.”

  “That’s how I understand it,” Tawnya agreed, handing Harley’s phone back to him. “Paul talks somewhere else about ‘the new life of the Spirit.’”

  “We Methodists are probably not as tuned into the Spirit as we should be,” admitted Harley. “The Spirit is wild and unpredictable, and that makes us uncomfortable. Reminds us of faith-healing and speaking in tongues.”

  “But that’s not all the Spirit does,” said Tawnya.

  “You’re right,” said Harley. “I have felt the Spirit. It has calmed me and guided me.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “I also believe that the Spirit pulls us together, all of us, and makes us the Body of Christ in the world.”

  “Sounds like a healing power to me,” Tawnya said. “Christ forgives us and the Spirit unites us. And I like what you are saying about the Spirit being active in the community, the church, the Body of Christ.”

  Suddenly, it hit Harley that he had been fighting too many battles alone. Over the past year, whether he was calling for global justice or nursing his own personal wounds, he acted in isolation. He was a lo
ne voice in the wilderness, a bitter man holding on to his resentments. But these efforts usually ended in frustration and loneliness, because they ignored the presence of something much bigger than himself.

  Harley had always believed that God worked most powerfully through communities, but he had been neglecting this truth since the deaths of Jessica and Karen. His pain simply wouldn’t allow it. Now, he felt a sudden sense of relief that he didn’t have to be alone in his grief and anger and frustration, because the Spirit was with him, really with him. That same Spirit was with Dirk and Matt and Tawnya as well, stirring in them all, offering comfort and healing and help, if only they would let it work through them. Feeling another moment of flow, Harley realized that he needed to switch boats. Instead of doing the exhausting work of rowing all by himself, it was time for him to jump into a sailboat and allow the wind of the Spirit to push him forward.

  “Thanks, Tawnya,” Harley said. “I think you’ve given me the end of my sermon.”

  “Happy to help,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “Hope it’s a good one. Now, I better get my pie and head home.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Is it a robber? That was the first thought that came to Harley as he was pulled out of deep sleep by his doorbell. Pushing aside the curtain of the front door, he saw a young woman in a hijab standing in the early morning light—Sarah Bayati. With her round face and brown eyes, she was a mid-twenties version of her mother, Fatima. Harley invited her in. She apologized for waking him and said that they needed his help.

  “About an hour ago, the front window of our bakery was smashed by a rock. We do not know who did it, or why. What should we do?”

  “Please sit down,” Harley said, pointing her to a seat at the kitchen table. “A rock, you say? A note or anything?”

  Sarah shook her head. “No, just a rock. It woke us up, and really scared us. There is a large hole in the window and glass all over the lobby. My mother sent me here to get your advice. You have been so good to us, visiting my father, helping my brother, giving us the donation for the lawyer.”

  Harley thought immediately of the Woodbridge guys, who might be trying to intimidate the Bayatis or flush Omar out of hiding. But then he realized that there were many residents of the area with strong anti-Muslim bias who might want to make the Bayatis miserable.

  “Have you called the police?”

  “No, not yet,” said Sarah. “We wanted to talk with you first. Would the police be a good idea? After the attack at the farmer’s market, Omar said that we should not press charges.”

  Sitting back in his chair, Harley thought about the delicate balance that had been struck between the Bayatis and the Woodbridge guys, and what the involvement of the police might do to this equilibrium. But then he remembered his sermon for the day, and the point he wanted to make about the power of the Spirit in community. He sensed that it was time to stop working in isolation, and start reaching out to others.

  “Yes, I think you should call the police. You don’t know who did it, so I think they should be allowed to investigate.”

  Sarah nodded. “Yes, I think you are right. I will recommend that to my mother.”

  “Be sure you leave everything as it is,” advised Harley. “Don’t touch the rock or the broken window. Let the police do their work.”

  “We already picked up the rock. We wanted to see what it was.”

  “Well, put it back where you found it. They will want to see the whole crime scene.”

  Sarah thanked Harley and said that she should get back to her mother. “We are grateful for all of your help, and my mother wants to ask you to thank the anonymous donor. Their generosity made our hearts feel very full.”

  Harley agreed to do so and showed Sarah to the door, secretly glad that Omar had behaved like a typical teenager and slept through the whole visit. Realizing that his own sleep was done for the night, he made a pot of coffee and took a cup upstairs to drink while he dressed.

  As he put on his shirt and tie, he realized that his prepared sermon would sound shallow and disconnected from reality after the attack on the Bayati bakery. He decided to abandon his manuscript and simply speak from his heart. The scripture lesson from Romans was going to be a tough one to riff on, however, so he thought of another passage on the Spirit that would be easier for him to handle. “There are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit,” said the apostle Paul in his first letter to the Corinthians. “To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.” That will challenge the congregation, thought Harley, especially in light of the events of the day.

  As Harley left his bedroom, he heard footsteps upstairs. Omar was awake and moving around, so Harley called him down for breakfast. The young man was shocked to hear about the rock attack, and immediately pushed aside the bagel that his host had made for him, wanting to jump into action. But Harley encouraged him to calm down and remain in hiding, saying that the attack might have been done to draw him out.

  “The best reaction from you is no reaction,” said the pastor. “Don’t let anyone know you are still here in town.”

  “But I’m worried about my mother and sister!”

  “They’ll be fine. They are calling the police, so nothing bad is going to happen to them.”

  “Yeah, right,” he replied, sarcastically. “The police are always on our side. But I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t go out. At least not yet.”

  After Harley said that he would have to leave for church, Omar picked up his bagel and took it to the guest suite upstairs. “If you see my mother,” he called over his shoulder, “tell her I am okay.”

  Standing before the congregation, which was surprisingly large for August, Harley read the scripture verse from First Corinthians and admitted that it was not the passage printed in the bulletin. “I changed my scripture and sermon because of what happened this morning at the Riverview Bakery. As some of you may have heard, our neighbors were attacked once again. The Bayatis had a rock thrown through their window.” A murmur went through the congregation, and Harley saw looks of concern. As his eyes went to the back of the church, he was surprised to see Dirk sitting there looking completely drained of life. Harley couldn’t tell if his expression was related to the news that had just been shared.

  “I have chosen First Corinthians,” he continued, “because we are a congregation with ‘varieties of gifts.’ Some of you are teachers, some are doctors, some are builders, some are analysts, some are caregivers, some are civil servants. There is virtually no challenge in our community that we cannot tackle and overcome, as a group. But I am afraid that we sometimes forget this, or at least I do. We try to face problems as individuals, forgetting that our skills and our strengths are seen most clearly in a united community. That is why the apostle Paul says that there are ‘varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit.’ Our many different gifts are connected to one united Spirit. I am convinced that we have not yet tapped into the power of this Spirit.”

  Harley sensed that he had their attention, with many starting to wonder where he was going. Talk of the power of the Spirit was not always welcome in Methodist churches, where people were not comfortable with worship that felt out of control.

  “Here is the thing about the gifts of the Spirit,” Harley continued. “Although we often think of speaking in tongues or faith-healing, the gifts of the Spirit are much broader. They include any skill or talent that advances Christ’s work in the world, and they are given to everyone. Paul says, ‘To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.’” Harley saw a few nods in the congregation but also some confusion.

  “Do you know what ‘manifestation’ means?” There were a few more nods, but also some blank looks. “I didn’t,” he admitted, “so I had to look it up this morning. Manifestation means ‘an action or fact that clearly shows something.’ Each of us is given a gift from God that clearly shows the reality of the Spirit to the world. It is through each of us that people can see the presence and
the power of the Spirit. They see it in our teaching, our healing, our building, and our caregiving. They even see it in our civil service—I’m talking about you, Mary Ranger.” The postmistress was surprised to be called out, but she smiled. “And here is the most important thing about these gifts: ‘to each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.’ Each and every one of these gifts support the common good. If they do not serve all of God’s people, they are not true gifts of the Spirit.”

  Harley went on to say that charismatic leaders had gifts—in fact, the Greek word charisma was used in First Corinthians and it meant “gift.” But there was a dark side to charismatic leaders, and it usually involved tunnel vision, isolation and arrogance. Such leaders felt that they were above the community and its standards, with freedom to pursue their own agendas, and they rarely pursued the common good. Harley talked about cult leaders who convinced their followers to commit suicide, and terrorists who inspired their underlings to engage in suicide bombings.

  “I have felt the consequences of this dark charisma very personally. My wife and daughter were killed by a man who blew himself up in an act that would be considered abhorrent in the wider Muslim community. But because he was influenced by isolated extremists, he destroyed himself and my family.” The congregation sat still and riveted.

  “Terrorism is a manifestation of evil,” Harley concluded. “It is an act that clearly shows the reality of hatred in the world. I have seen it and felt it. I know it. But fortunately for us, there are gifts available to us that are manifestations of the Spirit, gifts that advance the common good. Two of our neighbors—a Christian and a Muslim—recently gave a monetary gift that will help with Muhammad Bayati’s legal defense, a gift that will help him to get a fair trial here in Prince William County. If you want to contribute to this defense fund, I can help you to do that—just let me know. I have found that when we work together as one community, using the full variety of our gifts, we act in ways that show the reality of God’s love to the world, a love that drives out darkness, a love that undermines hatred, a love that actually conquers evil.”