„Come, let us awaken peace…“

Drascha for the ecumenical closing service of the Peace Decade in the Luther Church in Radebeul on 19 November 2025

Dear congregation, dear friends,

We have gathered here today at the end of the ecumenical Peace Decade, on a day that in Saxony is traditionally dedicated to pause, reflection and contemplation. A good day to talk about peace. A good day to awaken peace.

The title of this service is: ‘Come, awaken peace...’ This sounds as if peace is not simply there, ready and waiting, as if it were something that is asleep, buried, forgotten. Something that people sometimes no longer feel within themselves. Something that needs to be awakened. And indeed, peace can never be taken for granted. Peace is never simply there. Peace is always a task.

In the Jewish tradition, this week we read the parashah Toldot, the story of Isaac and Rebecca, of Esau and Jacob. It is not a simple story. It is a family story full of tension, rivalry and hurt. Two brothers who cannot find common ground. A father who loves one. A mother who loves the other.

At first glance, Toldot is anything but a story of peace. And yet it contains a profound image of the challenge we face today: how difficult peace is when people live past each other, when mistrust grows, when stories are not told honestly, when old conflicts are passed on like heirlooms.

And then there is a small, often overlooked episode in the parashah: Isaac moves to the land of the Philistines and digs up the old wells of his father Abraham, wells that had been blocked and buried. The sages ask: Why does the Torah tell us this? Why should we care about a few wells full of sand?

According to Hasidic teaching, the digging of wells is used as a metaphor for the patriarchs' search for the divine, that is, for water in material reality, in the earth. Abraham had the privilege of encountering God in the world, that is, water, but after his death, this path was blocked. Isaac had to resume his father's path and search for water in order to attain the enlightenment that had been granted to his father. The Philistines closed the wells because they knew only material reality. Isaac's digging of the wells symbolises his efforts to resume his father's path. Parallel to returning to the path of his father Abraham, Isaac dug other wells, that is, he discovered other ways of serving God, in accordance with his unique nature and character. The moral of the story is that everyone must dig their own well, that is, find the path that suits them in serving God, in accordance with their unique nature and character.

Isaac had to dig wells three times. The first two times, the Philistines quarrelled with him over the wells, and only the third time was he able to enjoy the water in peace. These wells represent peace. Peace does not come about by stamping something new out of the ground. Peace comes about by uncovering the old, removing what is blocked, bringing what is suppressed to light. Peace comes about when you search beneath the surface and find the water that gives life.

Perhaps this is an image for our world, in which we too often see only the conflicts, the violence, the cries, the headlines. But deep below, another water flows: the human capacity for kindness, for encounter, for mutual understanding.

Peace must be awakened, just as Isaac awakens the wells by reopening them.

There is a famous image in Hasidism: a small spark of the eternal burns in every human being. It may be buried, hidden, forgotten, but it never goes out.

Rabbi Nachman of Breslov said, ‘Look for a small point of goodness in every person. And when you find it, it will grow.’ Perhaps this image is the spiritual counterpart to the wells of the Torah. This spark also exists in the world. It also exists within ourselves. Sometimes it sleeps. Sometimes it seems to be extinguished. But it is there, and it can be awakened. Peace begins where we see the spark in others. Even where we do not want to see it immediately. Even where history is difficult. Even where the relationship seems broken, as between Jacob and Esau.

A few weeks ago, here in this church, we had the special opportunity to participate together in a project that is very close to my heart: writing a new Torah for Dresden. Many of you wrote a letter yourselves or supported a letter. And we have an exhibition here, which ends today, in which we were able to show how the Torah is created, letter by letter, section by section. The Zohar states: Every soul of Israel has a letter in the Torah. And just as a single missing or damaged spot can render an entire Torah unkosher, a single rift in the relationship between people can hurt an entire community.

But the reverse is also true: when a community comes together to write letters, something healing emerges. Connection emerges. Mutual trust emerges. Peace is created. The fact that this process, the writing of a Jewish sacred text, was allowed to take place in a Protestant church in the middle of Saxony was itself a sign. A fountain that was reopened. A spark that was awakened.

I would like to thank you all on behalf of the Jewish community.

Special thanks to our friends Pastor Christoph Heinze and Achim Elicker, who made this possible. This cooperation shows that peace is possible when people open up spaces for each other.

We are living in a time when wars are raging again, when hatred is on the rise, when Jewish people in Germany are once again afraid to show themselves. It is a time when many feel that peace is truly asleep: deep, heavy, perhaps too deep.

But this Decade of Peace reminds us: peace can be awakened. Peace must be awakened. Not through grand words alone. Not through political programmes alone. But through small, concrete, persistent steps:

• by looking at the wounds of the past,

• by uncovering the wells,

• by recognising the spark in others,

• by listening to one another,

• by acting together.

The story of Jacob and Esau does not end in enmity. After many years have passed, they meet again. Jacob is afraid. He expects revenge. He expects conflict. But Esau throws his arms around him. And Jacob says one of the most beautiful sentences in the entire Torah: ‘To see your face is like seeing the face of God.’ That is peace. Not forgetting the past. But overcoming fear. Rediscovering the spark of God in others.

Dear congregation,

Today we call out together: ‘Come, let us awaken peace...’ May we have the courage to uncover wells again. May we recognise the spark in others. May we here in Radebeul, in Dresden, in Saxony, in Germany, in the whole world be people who not only desire peace, but awaken it. For peace is not a state. Peace is a calling. A task. A path. And we can only walk this path together.