The Sign of Peace – a reflection of who we are

Q: 
Archbishop J, why have we ‘become Asian’ with the Sign of Peace?

We were having a perfectly normal conversation when the question emerged:“Why have we become Asian with the Sign of Peace?”

The reference was to how our way of exchanging the Sign of Peace has changed—before, during, and after Covid.

Before the pandemic, the Sign of Peace in many of our parishes was a joyful, Caribbean affair. We would move all over the church, hugging and kissing everyone we could reach. If we saw someone we hadn’t met in a while, we stopped for a warm smile and a quick word.

The music played on—upbeat, engaging, irresistible. There was movement, laughter, and a sense of welcome in what some might call disorder but was, in truth, an expression of communion before we received the Lord.

I remember Archbishop Edward J Gilbert walking down the centre aisle of the Cathedral, shaking hands with people on both sides. It was warm, inclusive, Caribbean. We were greeted, hugged, kissed. We were loved.

Then came Covid

Overnight, everything changed. The hugs and kisses were replaced with the clasped hands and bow of greeting familiar in Asian cultures. We no longer moved around; we barely extended ourselves beyond our immediate pew neighbours. The touch was gone.

In came the hand sanitiser—first from liturgical officers stationed along the communion line, then from our own personal bottles carried in handbags and pockets. The new ritual of sanitising sent a very different message: even in worship we needed to keep our distance.

Years after the official end of the pandemic, this habit lingers. We might call it ‘long Covid’—not the medical condition, but the social after-effects that have reshaped our behaviour.

A curious duality

What strikes me is that outside of church, we have mostly returned to normal. In the car park, in the supermarket, on the street, we hug, kiss, and shake hands freely.

But inside church, we switch codes. Our behaviour changes—more reserved, quieter, less expressive.

This is not entirely bad. In the house of God, reverence is fitting. But the change has gone beyond reverence.

This duality has intrigued me for years. In a fete, a social event, or a family lime, we are in full voice. But in church—where the joy is eternal and the love is divine—do we hold back?

David’s dance and Michal’s contempt

Scripture gives us a striking example in the Second Book of Samuel. When the Ark of the Covenant was brought into the city, there was liturgy—“And David danced before the Lord with all his might… So David and all the people of Israel brought up the Ark of the Lord with shouts of joy” (2 Sam 6:14–15).

David’s worship was wholehearted, bodily, exuberant. But not everyone approved: “Michal… looked down from her window. When she saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord, she was filled with contempt” (v 16).

This is our paradox. We admire David’s zeal yet fear Michal’s scorn. In our culture, we let ourselves go in Carnival, in parties, in sport. But in church—where joy is eternal—do we hold back?

The purpose of the Sign of Peace

The Church teaches that the Sign of Peace serves a profound purpose:

1. Peace and Unity
2. Ecclesial Communion
3. 
Preparation for Communion

The General Instruction of the Roman Missal (GIRM) says:

“The Rite of Peace follows, by which the Church asks for peace and unity for herself and for the whole human family, and the faithful express to each other their ecclesial communion and mutual charity before communicating in the Sacrament” (GIRM 82).

The tradition is ancient. The Synod of Bishops (2004) recalled:

“The risen Lord appeared in the midst of his disciples, offered them his peace and prepared…‘the table of peace.’ The peace and salvation of souls given in the Eucharist is Christ himself” (The Eucharist: Source and Summit, 42).

For St Cyril of Jerusalem, the Sign of Peace was reconciliation itself:

“This kiss blends souls one with another… banish[es] all remembrance of wrongs… Greet one another with a holy kiss” (Catechetical Lecture 23).

This is not a casual greeting. It is a sacred act in which we embody Christ’s peace, extend forgiveness, and prepare our hearts to receive Him.

Culture meets Liturgy

The GIRM allows bishops’ conferences to determine the form of the gesture “in accordance with the culture and customs of the peoples,” with the caution that it be “sober” and limited to those nearby.

Here lies the tension: Our Caribbean warmth is life-giving and communal. But the Sign of Peace is also a moment within the Eucharistic sacrifice—sacred, intentional, oriented towards the altar.

Before Covid, we leaned into warmth but sometimes lost sight of the liturgical centre. Now, post-Covid, we lean into sobriety but risk losing the human warmth that makes peace tangible.

Finding the balance

The challenge is not to choose between culture and liturgy, but to integrate them. Caribbean warmth can coexist with liturgical dignity. The Sign of Peace should feel like an authentic expression of who we are and, at the same time, a sacred act of unity in Christ.

Perhaps that means restoring physical contact—handshakes, embraces—within reasonable bounds. Perhaps it means teaching again what this moment signifies, so that even a simple handshake is charged with meaning: reconciliation, unity, love.

It certainly means avoiding extremes. We do not need to roam the entire church as if at a wedding reception. But neither should we reduce the gesture to a nod that feels cold or perfunctory.

The deeper invitation

Jesus says in John 14:27: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives.” This is the peace we exchange—His peace, not ours. It is not merely good manners; it is a sacramental sign of what we are about to receive in the Eucharist.

When we offer the Sign of Peace, we become instruments of that peace. We look the other person in the eye. We mean what we say. We receive their peace in return.

This is the deeper invitation: to bring our whole selves—our Caribbean heart, our reverence for God’s house, our openness to Christ’s peace—into one unified act. Not a ‘church face’ and a ‘real-life face,’ but the same joyful, reverent heart in both spaces.

Key message:

The Sign of Peace is an ancient and sacred rite that expresses unity, reconciliation, and love before we receive the Lord. In the Caribbean, it should carry our cultural warmth and dignity, reflecting both who we are and who we are becoming in Christ.

Action Step:

The next time you offer the Sign of Peace, be conscious that you are an instrument of God’s peace. Offer it with warmth, dignity, and the awareness that you are preparing to receive the Prince of Peace Himself.

Scripture reading:

John 14:27