Peace with justice:
Stop throwing stones.
Sit down and listen.

I was six years old when my grandfather taught me to skip a smooth stone on a forest pond. Skip, skip, skip, splunk it went across the black water and into the leaf-covered bank on the other side. My grandfather's strong, coalminer arms could have skipped me across the water, but instead his calloused hand gently surrounded mine as he showed me the proper way to hold jagged red-dog slate.

He also taught me how to sit still at the edge of the pond and listen for deer, birds, and other crea- tures that came to drink the cool, clear water. It was important not to startle the creatures as they sipped. After all, they probably walked farther than we did to reach the water's edge.

Each Christmas my family and 30-plus other rel- atives and friends — and usually a few dogs — gather at my grandmother's house to celebrate the season. My grandfather died some years ago, but his lesson of throwing rocks and compassion stay with me.

Admittedly I have always liked to throw rocks more than listen. Listening takes time, for goodness sake. Who has that to spare with the whole wilderness calling your name? As I grow older I realize that I like to throw rocks of all types, and I have become pretty good at hitting my target. Oh no, not just red-dog slate, but also silky-smooth political rocks, quasi-religious quartz, and of course, that self-righteous slag that is so very easy to find.

Throwing rocks is fun for a while, but the most cherished moments occur when the creatures arrive. True peace at the pond happens when those who can throw rocks sit down and listen. So many of God's creatures thirst for water and have none, and yet even the nearsighted skunk deserves a little sip.

The world is thirsty for peace at the pond. Behind the nuclear banter of North Korea I hear a voice that is desperate, defensive, and thirsty. The sectarian violence in Iraq is radically more vio- lent, frantically desperate, and equally thirsty. The growing economic divide in my own backyard is painfully obvious, and yet, as a church we often are silent when we should throw rocks. Many of God's creatures have had to walk a long way to the water's edge. Can we offer peace enough to drink?

The Prince of Peace said, "Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone." My hand is stayed and my ears are open. It is a lot easier to throw rocks, but peace comes through compassionate listening, a just sharing of resources, and bold faithfulness in the face of the impossible.

Christmas has come and gone once again, but any day is a good day for peace on earth to begin. It can happen. I have seen it at the pond.

The Rev. Hanshew is chair of the Peace With Justice Committee and associate pastor at Fountain City United Methodist Church.