Peace is not the quiet that settles when nothing is happening. Someone buys it. The price is laid out here in animals a man could have kept and eats no more. Shelumiel drives the best of his herd to the altar because concord with what stands above him costs something. He pays in the coin of what he values. A man who wants harmony without surrendering anything has misunderstood the terms.
The offering is called peace, yet it is made of slaughtered oxen and rams. Right relation with the order of being is bought by giving up what you would rather hold. Bring the best of what you have to the highest thing you can conceive, and the war between you and the world starts to end. What you refuse to sacrifice keeps you fighting.