Scripture: Matthew 5:1-12
(1) When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his
disciples came to him. (2) Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying: (3)
"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (4)
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. (5) "Blessed are the
meek, for they will inherit the earth. (6) "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst
for righteousness, for they will be filled. (7) "Blessed are the merciful, for they
will receive mercy. (8) "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. (9)
"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. (10)
"Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the
kingdom of heaven. (11) "Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and
utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. (12) Rejoice and be glad, for
your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were
before you.
- Matthew 5: 1-12
By any measure, the Beatitudes, which begin the Sermon on the Mount, are central to
Jesus' teaching. Despite their importance, the church has never known what to do with them
because, frankly, they are confusing.
Through the centuries, explanations of all kinds have been proposed. Some have tried to
turn them into new rules. "We should do more for the poor and those who mourn. We
should do more for the meek and the persecuted. We should." However, if you read
them, there's not a hint of "we must do this or we should do that" in them. But
because so many think that religion is a list of rules, some have understood them to be
another tablet of shoulds and oughts.
Others have tried to turn them into ideals toward which to strive. If we were really,
truly, thoroughly Christians, we'd be like Mother Teresa. Sell all that you have. Live
with those who are poor. Go to Calcutta. But we're not like her. We can't be like her. So
we mostly ignore them and go back to paying the bills, raising families and trying to be
decent human beings with a vague sense of guilt that we should do more because we believe
religion is about living up to the highest ideals.
Still others have tried to turn them into declarations of what should be our inner,
emotional state. Sometimes the beginning word of each beatitude is translated from the
original Greek, makarios, as "happy" instead of "blessed."
"Happy are the poor in spirit." "Happy are those who mourn. "Happy are
the meek." Some years ago, Robert Schuller, defender of the faith, paragon of
humility and builder of glass houses, in an act of biblical fidelity preached that the
Beatitudes, are the "Be Happy Attitudes."
Translating makarios as "happy" is misleading, even if it works in
Anaheim. The grammatical form of the Beatitudes is in the indicative. They declare what
is. They declare an objective reality of one being favored, privileged, in a fortunate
circumstance rather than a subjective psychological state of well-being. When Jesus says,
"Blessed are the poor in spirit" or "blessed are those who are
persecuted," he is saying this is the way things are. The poor and the persecuted and
the rest are privileged. That's the way it is.
"This is absurd," we say. Everyone knows that being poor is no piece of cake.
Mourners hurt like hell. The reviled would just as soon have the bigotry spigot turned
off. Blessed? My foot!
So for generations the church has tried to twist the Beatitudes into something more
akin to what we expect religion to be: rules or ideals or, shudder the thought, be happy
attitudes, but hardly descriptions of the way the world really is.
It turns out that beatitudes are not unique to Jesus. They are found in the Hebrew
wisdom tradition stretching back centuries before Christ. Collecting bits of proverbial
wisdom was common, as common as the Chicken Soup for the Soul series. The grammatical
form, "Blessed are those who . . ." was a typical structure for a proverb.
"Blessed are those who save wisely, work hard, and act decently, they will
prosper." "Blessed are those who earn lots of money and invest it, they will be
secure." "Blessed are those who lock their doors at night, they won't get
robbed." Beatitudes were collected bit of folk wisdom for getting along in the world,
tidbits for living the good life, chicken soup for everyday living.
Which makes it even more confounding because Jesus' Beatitudes hardly describe the way
the world works. Blessed are the poor? When a homeless person comes in the church office
looking for a hand-out, he never dances the jig. Blessed are those who mourn? When a
church member has lost a mate, a job or a dream, she rarely breaks out in song. Blessed
are those who are persecuted or reviled? When a faithful Christian finds that the church
excludes him because of the color of his skin, or the gender of her mate, I've never seen
anything but deep pain and struggle not to be poisoned by bitterness. Blessed?
Blessed are the what? In the world that I live in the rich are not only blessed but run
most of the country, eat the best food, and look the most beautiful. I would say having
enough cash is far preferable to living on skid row. In the world that I live in,
peacemakers are seen as wimps, compromisers and bleeding hearts. The world works best with
mental toughness and a well-placed laser guided bomb.
I imagine that when Jesus' first audience heard him by the time he got to "blessed
are those who mourn," half were laughing, and the others were thinking about
switching dials to someone who would deliver them health, wealth and power.
Jesus is always turning the world on its head. Those whom we think either are very slow
or maybe total idiots, Jesus calls "blessed." Those who are moral slackers or,
at the very least, losers, Jesus calls 'blessed." And though we may sympathize with
those who mourn, we sure as heck wouldn't want to trade places with them - yet Jesus
exalts them and says they are favored.
I suppose that's why the church has so contorted and twisted over these difficult
sayings. They make no sense unless you turn them into rules to break, high ideals to
ignore or suggestions about the power of positive thinking despite miserable
circumstances.
So what's an alternative understanding? First, we should probably acknowledge that the
Gospel is not all that reasonable. Matthew begins with angels floating in the sky, a
virgin birth and then proceeds to tell us things that are far more strange when he
instructs us to turn the other cheek, go a second mile, and pluck out our eye if we look
lustfully. Jesus seems to be so unreasonable and impractical. He hardly seems to be
addressing our everyday, practical concerns.
But isn't he? We come here today because some of us mourn. We've lost our fathers or
our mothers or our mates. We've lost our jobs or our identity or we're along way from home
or our innocence has been trashed a few too many times. Some of us mourn. He is talking
about you and me.
We come here today, because some of us need help with our marriages or how to get
inspiration for the week ahead or how to deal with feeling lost or what to do when someone
offends you. These are all topics he addresses in the Beatitudes and the Sermon on the
Mount. These are practical topics.
He is talking about us. When I swear at the idiot driver that cuts in front of me on
the freeway when I have a meeting in five minutes, or when he talks about his followers
who separate their sex lives from their spirituality, or when he says turn the other cheek
instead of threatening to sue, he is talking about you and me.
If then his teachings are to be practical advice to help us with our real lives, but he
isn't haranguing us with new rules or a higher set of ideals or something else, then what
is he doing with his Beatitudes and the Sermon on the Mount?
William Willimon writes, "Jesus is giving us a picture of a whole new world, a new
life, a new reality. Here is a sermon that calls us to another place where we might go
with Jesus."
Before Barbara, the boys and I moved here to paradise, we lived in the great Northeast
where the average February temperature was 13 degrees Fahrenheit. This time of the year
inspired fantasies of wanting to be somewhere else . . . anywhere else, like some place
with waving palm trees, beaches and golf everyday. The picture of an alternative reality
warmed the heart particularly as I shoveled the last snowfall from the sidewalk. The
picture in my head painted a reality of where I really wanted to go and in the fullness of
time, Evelyn Thomas, Chair of the Pastor Nominating Committee, called and now we're in
Pasadena.
When Jesus is atop that mountain in the Sermon on the Mount, he is asking us to picture
a new reality. He isn't giving us more impossible rules. We break rules. More rules won't
work. Jesus is pointing off in the distance to a new destination. He says, "We're
going on a journey." He wants us to leave behind a view of the world where we see
only what is broken and torn, hate-filled and violence scarred. He wants us to leave
behind the tangled nets of loneliness, persecution and grief. He paints a picture of a new
reality and says look over there, "That is where we are going."
"Blessed are the poor in spirit," the sermon begins. He's talking to us.
Aren't we all poor in Spirit? I'm weak in prayer some days. Some days I don't have a clue
that God is near by. I may come to worship every Sunday. I'm even paid for coming to
worship, but sometimes I don't feel close to God. I may be bitter or hurting or bored. I'm
poor in spirit sometimes. Can I be blessed in that? Jesus says, in the world I am leading
you to, you are precisely who is blessed. "Come to me, all who are overburdened and I
will give you rest." He says all of us who are tired and burdened, spiritually
bankrupt and spent will be blessed.
Jesus takes us on a journey to a new reality. "Blessed are those who mourn."
He's saying that in the new reality where he is taking us, the grieving will be heard in
their pain for as long as it takes. When this world says, get over it in thirty days,
Jesus says, in my world, you grieve for as long as you need, a year or two or five or as
long as it takes. In my kingdom tears are jewels. Each one precious. And some day you will
laugh again. In my kingdom you will laugh. Blessed are you who mourn.
In the Beatitudes Jesus pictures a new reality. He points to a world where Christians
refuse to kill, partners remain faithful, and ordinary people courageously face the dark
and hurtful places in their lives and commit themselves to healing. He pictures a place
where the reviled and the persecuted are accepted, affirmed and ordained into a new
reality, a place of healing, celebration and joy. He says, "Come on, follow me. I
will take you there."
He comes down from the mountain and we descend back down into the ordinary heartaches
and hopes of everyday living. But he knows and we know that there's a another mountain
ahead. A lonely hill on the outskirts of Jerusalem awaits him and we follow him there,
too. There on the cross, between two thieves, rests on his shoulders all the brokenness,
the grief, the violence and the hatred that the world has thrown at humanity throughout
the centuries. We are there with him. And still he says, amid all the anguish, gore and
the pain, "Look do you see what I see? "This day, you will be with me in
paradise."
Because of his love, our eyes clear and we begin to see his new reality. "Blessed
are the poor in spirit, for their's is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, those who hunger, blessed are the
merciful, blessed are the peacemakers, and those who are persecuted for righteousness'
sake." Blessed are you.
May we have the eyes, ears and the heart to see it, through the grace of our Lord Jesus
Christ. Amen.
