“For from the least to the greatest of them,
everyone is greedy for unjust gain;
and from prophet to priest,
everyone deals falsely.
They have treated the wound of my people carelessly,
saying, ‘Peace, peace,’
when there is no peace.”
(Jeremiah 6:13-14)

When the prophet Jeremiah decries the false prophets who proclaim to the people, “‘Peace, peace,’ where there is no peace,” he’s talking about more than just the absence of war. Like all Hebrew words, shalom, “peace,” doesn’t align exactly with its English equivalent. Shalom does mean “the absence of conflict,” but it means something more: the presence of wellness. This is why shalom makes sense as a greeting and as a goodbye. It doesn’t simply mean “may you not be at war.” It means “be well.”

So Jeremiah’s words are in part a condemnation of self-serving leadership. It’s in the interests of those in positions of power—religious leaders no less than politicians—to keep proclaiming “all’s well, everything’s fine, nothing to see here,” when all is not well at all. They’re the ones for whom the system is already working. But the “false dealing” Jeremiah condemns is the kind of self-serving denialism you can find all over the place, “from the least to the greatest.” It is always easier, in the face of real problems, to say that everything’s all right than it is to deal with them. But this is to “treat the wound,” as Jeremiah says, “carelessly.” You cannot heal a wound that you’re pretending isn’t there.

We all want and hope and pray for peace, for shalom, for wellness. Sometimes we even find it. But often, we say to ourselves “‘Peace, peace!’ when there is no peace.” Sometimes we deny that anything is wrong because the problem (say, climate change or racism) seems too big to do anything about. Sometimes we deny that anything is wrong—especially in our personal lives or relationships—because we’ve convinced ourselves that everyone else has their act together: that their marriages or their kids or their lives are perfect. (They don’t and they aren’t.)

But God invites us into another way: not peace as the absence of conflict, not peace as perfection, not peace as denial, but peace as the result of reconciliation. God invites us into an ancient path of self-examination, forgiveness, and reconciliation. God invites us to consider where we have wronged one another, and where we have been wronged; to ask forgiveness, and to offer it; and to transform the status quo of our lives with one another from the absence of war to the presence of peace. And this way of forgiveness is a way of peace, not only between us, but for us, because it gives us a break from the need to never mess it all up.

So take a word of advice from Jeremiah this Advent:

“Stand at the crossroads, and look,
and ask for the ancient paths,
where the good way lies; and walk in it,
and find rest for your souls.”
(Jeremiah 6:16)