The Peaceable Kingdom

The marvelous vision of the peaceable Kingdom, in which all violence has been overcome and all men, women, and children live in loving unity with nature, calls for its realisation in our day-to-day lives. Instead of being an escapist dream, it challenges us to anticipate what it promises. Every time we forgive our neighbor, every time we make a child smile, every time we show compassion to a suffering person, every time we arrange a bouquet of flowers, offer care to tame or wild animals, prevent pollution, create beauty in our homes and gardens, and work for peace and justice among peoples and nations we are making the vision come true.

We must remind one another constantly of the vision. Whenever it comes alive in us we will find new energy to live it out, right where we are. Instead of making us escape real life, this beautiful vision gets us involved.

(With thanks to the Henri Nouwen Society)

I find this from Henri Nouwen deeply moving and hopeful. The realisation, some years ago, that we can begin our lives in the Peaceable Kingdom right here, right now transformed the way I understood everything about the way I lived. I was farming then, and the thought came to me that, if we as Christians were in fact living in eternal life now, in this present time, then not only did everything we do have its eternal significance, but the way we lived, the way we related all the rest of Creation, human and otherwise, was a way of bringing that eternal life in Christ into actual being in the world. Moreover, there was something sacramental in the way we related to Creation.

In my case, it began to be increasingly clear to me that my own relationship with the animals I had to care for had something quite profound to say about God's relationship with me. More than that, perhaps it in some way showed forth that relationship, and the extent to which I could manage to embody that relationship in my care for my animals, in my willingness to give myself - my time, my energy, my ingenuity and my love - to their care reflected the extent to which I was truly living in the relationship God offered to me in Christ through his Spirit. In the accident that finally brought me out of farming to where I am now, I came close to giving my life. I can't claim to have done that consciously - it was after all just that, an accident - but I very willingly took the risks that every modern farmer or herdsman knows are part of the job.

I am really grateful to Henri Nouwen for this passage. I certainly hadn't forgotten that insight more than 10 years ago, but I had forgotten to write it down. I'm aware that most of my readers won't have had my experience of caring for a large dairy herd; but I don't think that alters the point I'm trying to make. This sacramentality of care extends to all walks of life: a mother with her child, a daughter with her dying mother, a father with his wild teenage son, marriage partners with each other, monastic people with their sisters or brothers. You have only to watch that stunningly beautiful film Into Great Silence to see what I mean, in the deeply loving care the Brothers have for each other, though most of their lives are spent in solitude and silence. Or visit a maternity ward, and watch a young mother with her first child, which seems the right thought to end with, as Christmas approaches!