Unarmed and Disarming

Appreciating first and last words a person utters

05/20/2025

John 14:27-31a Jesus said to his disciples: "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid. You heard me tell you, 'I am going away and I will come back to you.' If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father; for the Father is greater than I. And now I have told you this before it happens, so that when it happens you may believe. I will no longer speak much with you, for the ruler of the world is coming. He has no power over me, but the world must know that I love the Father and that I do just as the Father has commanded me."

The first words a baby says and the last words someone whispers on their deathbed are always highly significant. Parents take great pride in hearing their baby say as his or her first word, “Mama” or “Papa.” And before someone breathes their last breath, family and friends lean in close so they do not miss a person’s final thoughts.

This is especially true at the birth and death of a pope. The whole world waited almost holding our breath to see the newly born (elected) Pope Leo XIV to hear his first words on St. Peter’s balcony. And even though we didn’t know it at the time, when Pope Francis spoke on Easter Sunday, those would be his last words.

And how beautiful that both the new-born pope and the dying pope both uttered the same words, namely, “Peace be with you.” Those words of peace were almost like a baton that one relay runner passes on to the next in the race. And there have now been 267 papal runners carrying the baton of peace.

Of course, we know Jesus carried this baton of peace in the first leg of the race and he will carry it across the finish line as the last leg. Jesus is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. He alone initiates true peace and he alone will one day definitively accomplish it.

In case you missed it, here are a few of Pope Leo XIV’s first words as he recalled Pope Francis’ last words. He said: “Peace be with you all!...It is the peace of the risen Christ. A peace that is unarmed and disarming, humble and persevering. A peace that comes from God, the God who loves us all, unconditionally.”

With his inaugural words, Pope Leo provided a brief study of the baton of peace that he inherited and will one day pass on as an inheritance. The baton of peace depends entirely on the power of the risen Christ, not on nuclear power, or technological power, or economic power. Thus, Christ’s peace is simultaneously “unarmed and disarming”. That is, it does not depend on a show of force, but on a show of faith in Jesus.

And I must say that Pope Leo’s presence on St. Peter’s balcony was both “unarmed and disarming.” Did you catch that? That is, he did not appear intimidating or domineering, but humble yet unwavering in his confidence in Christ. His smile, his mannerisms, his pauses, and inflections perfectly embodied that peace of which he spoke: both “unarmed and disarming.” He is not merely carrying the baton of peace, he is himself the baton of peace.

In the gospel today, we hear Jesus also explicating the baton of peace that he passes on to us. He says: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you.” Then he adds importantly: “Not as the world gives do I give it to you.” And finally he states: “Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.”

In other words, Jesus offers us – which is to say, to the Church – the baton of peace to carry for this world to see. This baton of peace will be a beacon of an utterly unique kind of peace, that is not won by wars, is not made possible by money, nor is it produced by politics. Indeed, Jesus’ perfect peace is both “unarmed and disarming”, based on faith not on force (of whatever kind).

By the way, do you know what is another towering symbol of peace here locally? It is our magnificent Gothic church. Last night Apollo and I (like most of you) were worriedly watching the news, and listening to the reports of tornadoes, and hearing the sirens blaring warnings. This morning, however, as Apollo and I went for our morning walk, I gazed up at the towers of our church pointing to the sky, unshaken in its peaceful purpose.

For 125 years our church towers have carried the torch, the baton, of peace, in the face of storms, hail, and tornadoes. And sometimes those storms are inside the church caused by us crazy pastors. Nonetheless, she stands unwavering at the head of Garrison Avenue like Pope Leo XIV stood solidly on the balcony of St. Peter’s, embodying Jesus’ message of peace and confidence: unarmed and disarming.

Praised be Jesus Christ!