Sunday, November 18, 2018

11-18-18 Sermon on the Mount Series: The Beatitudes Pt 2






11-18-18 Sermon on the Mount Series: The Beatitudes Pt 2


   The artwork of M.C. Escher has amazed, fascinated, and bewildered people for decades due to the seemingly impossible nature of what he depicts. Escher had no mathematical training, but his drawings have been used by and promoted in mathematical circles and periodicals for years. A close look at some of his work only further enhances the bewilderment we experience when we see something we know to be impossible depicted in such a straightforward and seemingly logical way.
   Similarly, when we consider the vastness of the universe, the distance between planets or galaxies can test our ability to even begin to comprehend. 
For example, the distance from the Earth to the Sun, as we learn in elementary school, is 93 million miles. So consider this - if we could drive from the Earth to the Sun in our car, at a constant 75 miles per hour, non-stop 24 hours a day, it would take over 141 years to arrive. 
   Intergalactic travel requires that we think, not in miles, but in light-years. A light year is the distance that light, going at 186,000 miles per second, can travel in one year. One light year equals roughly 5.88 trillion miles. The nearest star to our galaxy is Alpha Centauri, which is 4.3 light years away, or something over 25 trillion miles. At 25,000 mph - the speed of the Space Shuttle - it would take over 114,000 years to travel that distance. So, until we somehow manage to build a spaceship that can travel at the speed of light, we’re not venturing too far from planet Earth any time soon.
   These images, numbers, and distances are nearly incomprehensible to us - so far outside the limits of what we can understand that they almost seem nonsensical to us.  Rev. Matthew Kelley, in thinking about things like these, wrote, “I wonder if hearing Jesus speak had a similar ef­fect on people. In first century Palestine, everybody understood how the world worked. Might made right. They were living under the Roman Empire, af­ter all. The Romans got to rule most of the known world because they had the biggest military, the most money, and were willing to do whatever it took to secure their power base. The amount of resources in the world was finite, so you did what­ever you had to do to make sure you got as big a share as you could. But here’s this preacher from Nazareth telling an entirely different story…Here’s Jesus saying that things like meekness, being persecuted, and being merciful in a merciless world are actually blessings from God!” 
   And Kelley is correct. Jesus, in his first teaching in Matthew’s gospel, is saying things that seem impossible for us to understand, or for some, even to agree with. The poor are blessed? Those who mourn are blessed? The meek, the humble, they are blessed? That seems like logic turned on its head to many people, including many devoted followers of Christ. But it is with this message that Jesus sets the tone for all of his ministry to follow. He’s telling them and us that everything we thought we knew about the world, about wealth, about society, about God - is wrong. Like so many people who would come with earth-shaking ideas after him - that the Earth was round, that the Sun was at the center of our solar system and not the Earth, that human flight was possible - Jesus was pushing back and pushing back hard against the status quo in the world and in the church. 
   As Kelley put it, “Jesus is forcing us to radically rethink the priorities and value systems around which we ori­ent our lives. On the one hand there’s the story told by the empire (the ruling powers of the world) that says that the material realities of this life are the entirety of all creation, so material gain and success are the stick by which we measure individual worth. On the other hand, there’s the story that Jesus is telling, which tells us there is a higher reality than what we can perceive with our five senses, and that this higher reality and the priorities that flow out of its being are to dictate how we live our lives in the world.” It is through that understanding of what Jesus is trying to do here that we approach our three beatitudes for today.

“Happy are those whose greatest desire is to do what God requires; God will satisfy them fully! - Mt. 5:6 (GNT)

   I chose the Good News Translation today specifically for the wording it used in this beatitude. Not the “happy” part - as I said last week, “blessed” is the better translation to get the idea that we’re talking, not about a feel-good emotion but a state of blessedness that comes from God. No, I chose it because it doesn’t use the word “righteousness.” 
   As Richard Rohr tells us, “This Beatitude is…both spiritual and social. Most Bibles…soften this Beatitude: “hunger and thirst for what is right” or “for righteousness” are the more common faulty translations. But the word in Greek clearly means “justice.” Notice that the concept of justice is used halfway through the Beatitudes and again at the very end. [This repetition] emphasizes an important point: To live a just life in this world is to identify with the longings and hungers of the poor, the meek, and those who weep. This identification and solidarity is in itself a profound form of social justice.”
   When we hear the word “righteousness” we tend to think of “right thinking,” “right acting,” or “right belief,” or even a notion of piety. And that’s not necessarily wrong as it’s just not enough; it’s only a partial understanding of what the word translated as “righteousness” is saying to us. The word definitely is about “justice,” so while “right thinking, acting, and believing,” may also include ideas of justice, it isn’t as explicit as the original language would have us understand. The Good News translation, while not specifically using the word “justice,” does say “Blessed are those whose greatest desire is to do what God requires.” And if we go back to the passage from the prophet Micah that we read earlier - what does the Lord require? To do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God. So this beatitude might be better understood as, Blessed are those who do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God, for God will satisfy them fully.
   John Dear, who spent his life in the struggle against the injustice of violence, writes about this Beatitude: “Righteousness [as justice] is not just the private practice of doing good; it sums up the global responsibility of the human community to make sure every human being has what they need, that everyone pursues a fair sense of justice for every other human being, and that everyone lives in right relationship with one another, creation, and God.. . . Jesus instructs us to be passionate for social, economic, and racial justice. That’s the real meaning of the Hebrew word for justice and the Jewish insistence on it. Resist systemic, structured, institutionalized injustice with every bone in your body, with all your might, with your very soul,” he teaches. “Seek justice as if it were your food and drink, your bread and water, as if it were a matter of life and death, which it is. In our relationship to the God of justice and peace, those who give their lives to that struggle, Jesus promises, will be satisfied.”
   So how is it that we hunger and thirst for justice, for the things that God requires of us? We do it by making justice a priority in our lives. Not our idea of retribution as justice, but God’s sacred and global justice of restoration, so that everyone has enough.  There is no justice in this world when there is more than enough food to eat, but people die of starvation. There is no justice in this world when people continue to die of preventible and curable diseases because access to or the cost of medicines or medical care is out of reach to the poor. There is no justice in the world when people sleep on the streets while homes sit boarded up and empty in neighborhoods around the world. 
   “This Beatitude,” Rohr says, “requires us to join a grassroots movement that fights one or two issues of injustice and to get deeply involved in the struggle. 
Since all issues of injustice are connected, fighting one injustice puts us squarely in the struggle against every injustice. As Martin Luther King Jr. said over and over again, ‘Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.’ Befriend the victims of systemic injustice, side with them, listen to their stories, let their pain break your heart, [weep with them], join the movements to end injustice, tithe your money to the cause, and commit yourself to the struggle. . . While [it] may take a long time, our nonviolent persistence and truth-telling will eventually win out and bear the good fruit of justice. Truth is on our side; God is on the side of justice. ‘The arc of the moral universe is long,’ King famously said, ‘but it bends toward justice.’” 

Blessed are those who are merciful to others; God will be merciful to them!

   We need to understand that the Beatitudes are not a to-do list on how to get into heaven. Rather, they represent most fully the nature of people who have heaven in them. The beatitudes build upon one another, linking in some way to the ones that came before and that follow. Blessed are those who are merciful follows immediately after Jesus’ blessing of those who seek justice. The linking of justice and mercy in this teaching tells us that if our idea of justice is something less than merciful, we’ve gotten it wrong. 
   The word mercy shows up in the Old and New Testaments approximately 150 times, depending on the translation, with clear differences in how it is used. 
For example, in the book of Joshua, where the people of Israel are moving into the Promised Land, the word is used most often to describe the killing and devastation that Israel visited upon various nations, showing them no mercy. In the Psalms, on the other hand, with only a few exceptions, it is used in pleas to God by David or some other writer for God to have mercy on them. 
Mercy is an exercise, a tool, of power. In fact, the dictionary definition of mercy is: compassion or forgiveness shown toward someone whom it is within one's power to punish or harm.
   Writer, and researcher Brene’ Brown observes that sometimes we fall, or are pushed, into a state of guilt or shame. This is often how we respond to Sin as well. And she offers a clear and easily understood way of thinking about the difference between guilt and shame. Guilt suggests “I’ve done something bad.” Shame insists that “I AM bad, I’m a bad person.”   
   Guilt is usually something that we bring upon ourselves, shame is often heaped on us to the point that we begin to believe it. And I know you’re going to find this hard to believe, but over the centuries the church has been really good at piling on both guilt and shame to people. And one of the shovels it uses to pile on is the idea of our sinful nature - original sin. Now, I’m not going down that rabbit hole of today. Suffice it to say, I don’t ascribe to the school of “original sin,” I’m a disciple of the school of “original blessing.” God created everything, including us. God created us in God’s image and called it good and very good, and I believe it. Do we commit sins? Yes, without a doubt. But do our sins define who we are in the eyes of God? Absolutely not! Why? Because our God is a God of mercy and our sins have been forgiven.
   The angry, judgmental, fire and brimstone, condemning God we read about in the Old Testament does not in any way reflect the God revealed to us in Jesus Christ. The Hebrew Bible gives us a record of how ancient peoples thought of gods in general, and how that thinking influenced how they considered the God of Israel in particular. The lenses through which they viewed God were based on ancient polytheistic understandings. The lens through which we view God is Jesus Christ. 
   That Jesus is the fullest revelation of God is at the core of our beliefs as Christians. Whereas in the Hebrew Bible many people believed that they could earn God’s mercy by following rules, laws, Commandments, or by making sacrifices, Jesus tells us that God’s mercy is there for the taking because mercy is who God is.
   For example, in Matthew 9, Jesus is confronted by some legal experts - i.e. people who insisted that the way to God’s mercy was by following the law - because his disciples didn’t fast like John’s did. Jesus tells them, borrowing from Hosea 6:6, “Go and learn what this means: I want mercy and not sacrifice. 
  Now after this, Jesus does more teaching, preaching, and healing, and three chapters later, it is the Sabbath and Jesus and his disciples are walking through a field and some of his disciples are eating grains from the field as they walk. Jesus is again confronted, this time by some Pharisees, questioning why they’re breaking the Sabbath law by picking grain. Jesus responds, referring to what he had said to them earlier,  “If you had known what this means, I want mercy and not sacrifice, you wouldn’t have condemned the innocent.”
   The Pharisees are attempting to use shame and guilt in order to force compliance to a system of practice and belief that Jesus flatly rejects. And unfortunately, we continue to see that same thing happening today. 
But that’s NOT what Jesus did - it’s not how Jesus was.
   Another example: Remember the story of the woman who was caught in adultery? Mind you, there was a man involved too but his male privilege and the patriarchal nature of the society spared him the shaming that was piled onto the woman. When addressing her, what did Jesus say? Did he shame her? Did he agree that she should be stoned to death for her sin? No, he told her accusers that any among them who was without sin could cast the first stone, and he told the woman simply to “sin no more.” He showed her mercy. The Pharisees weren’t going to show her mercy - the woman is brought into this thinking she was about to die. When Jesus entered the story, he brought with him God’s hesed, God’s steadfast, covenant love, God’s unrequited mercy.

   Like Father Richard Rohr, I believe with all my heart that mercy and forgiveness are the whole Gospel. He writes, “The experience of forgiveness or mercy is the experience of a magnanimous God who loves out of total gratuitousness. There’s no tit for tat. Grace isn’t for sale. That is the symbolism [behind Jesus kicking over the tables in the temple. One cannot buy God by worthiness, by achievement, or by obeying commandments. 
Salvation is God’s hesed, God’s loving-kindness, a loving-kindness that is ‘forever.’ More than something God does now and then, mercy is who-God-is.” 
   So when Jesus says “Mercy is what pleases me, not sacrifice” (Matthew 9:13; 12:7) we should understand that he is speaking for and as God, and that God has made a covenant with creation that God will never break. As Rohr reminds us, “The covenant is only broken from our side. God’s love is steadfast. It is written in the divine image within us. We are the ones who instead clutch at our sins and beat ourselves [up] instead of surrendering to the divine mercy. Refusing to [accept forgiveness] is a form of pride. It’s saying, ‘I’m better than mercy. I’m only going to accept it when I’m worthy and can preserve my so-called self-esteem.’ Only the humble person, [the meek,] the little one, can live in and after mercy.” As Jesus said earlier; Blessed are the meek, the humble, for they shall inherit the earth. 
   Forgiveness is God’s ultimate entry into powerlessness. Withholding forgiveness is a form of power over another person, a way to manipulate, shame, control, and diminish another. God in Jesus never does this; God in Jesus refuses all such power. If Jesus is the revelation of the true nature of God then we are forced to conclude that God is very humble. This God never seems to hold rightful claims against us. Denying what we often think or have been taught was the proper role or nature of God, this God, as Isaiah tells us, “has thrust all our sins behind his back” (Isa. 38:17)
   When asked by his disciples how often they should forgive someone, suggesting seven times should be sufficient, Jesus replies “seventy times seven.” Seven representing wholeness or completeness, Jesus says forgive completely, fully, wholey, as often as it takes, with no limit, just as you are forgiven. 
   Rohr concludes, “We do not attain anything by our own holiness but by ten thousand surrenders to mercy. A lifetime of received forgiveness allows us to become mercy: That’s the Beatitude. We become what we receive, what we allow into our hearts. Mercy becomes our energy and purpose. Perhaps we’re finally enlightened and free when we can both receive it and give it away—without payment or punishment.”

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

   When we move further into the Sermon on the Mount we find Jesus giving example after example of what he was talking about in the Beatitudes. 
He makes the point several times that what is on our hearts, more than anything else, decides how we are with other people, that our inner attitudes and states of mind are the real source of our problems with people.
   And Jesus is trying in these verses to get us to understand that we need to root out the heart of the problem at our deepest interior levels, rather than just going through the motions of doing the right things on the surface.  As Rohr points out, “Jesus says not only that we must not kill, but that we must not even harbor hateful anger. He clearly begins with the necessity of a ‘pure heart’ (Matthew 5:8) and knows that the outer behavior will follow. Too often we force the outward response, while the inward intent remains like a cancer. 
If we walk around with hatred all day, morally we’re just as much killers as the one who pulls the trigger. We can’t live that way and not be destroyed from within. Yet, for some reason, many Christians have thought it acceptable to think and feel hatred, negativity, and fear. The evil and genocide of both [World Wars] were the result of decades of negative, resentful, and paranoid thinking and feeling among even good Christian people.”
   In considering this beatitude, I’m reminded of the old adage, “you are what you eat.” I guess I’m more pizza and french fries than I am kale salad and roasted fish. But we get what this means to our life and health. 
   Jesus is telling us we are what we think. He warns against harboring hateful anger against others, or calling people names like “fool” or “idiot,” because if we spend our days thinking of other people in that way, we’re living out of death, not life. If that’s what we think and feel, that’s what we will be - a death energy instead of the life force of salt and light that Jesus calls us to be as his disciples. Jesus warns us that we must stay connected to the love of God, the love that IS God, that we cannot afford even an inner disconnection from God’s love, because how we live in our hearts is the real and deepest truth about who and how we are in our lives.  
   James Howell equates “purity in heart” to remaining focused on the “one true thing.” So many times, he suggests, we allow ourselves to become scattered and distracted by so many different things - feelings, ideas, notions, emotions - and that we lose our focus on the one true things that matters and that will keep us moving in the right direction - the love of God. If we can remain focused on the “one true thing” - God’s love and how we are to live into that -  “we would have our hearts purified, for we are a mess of misunderstandings about God, and therefore we are a mess of misunderstandings about ourselves [and others.]”
   In the aftermath of being confronted by Nathan about his relationship with Bathsheba and the murder of her husband, King David, writes what would become known as Psalm 51 - a psalm of lament, and confession, and grief, in which, in the midst of his brokenness, shame, guilt, he asks God to Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.(Psalm 51)
   We can’t risk walking around with a negative, resentful, gossipy, angry, judgmental, critical mind, because when we do we aren’t being true to who and how God created us to be. We won’t be usable instruments for God. 
That’s why Jesus commanded  us to love. 
It’s that urgent. It’s that critical.
   Now, this is hard stuff. While we tend to make the Beatitudes sing-songy and trite, these are radically difficult teachings from Jesus and he hits us with them right out of the gate. Like thinking about the vastness of space, or considering the artwork of M.C. Escher, they go far beyond what we’re used to, they transcend the norms of what culture and society tell us is acceptable. 
They truly challenge us. In fact, they’re so hard that many people, including many who call themselves Christians, reject them. The great theologian G.K. Chesterton famously said of this phenomena, “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried.” Take a moment to consider that: “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried.” 
   You know, Escher’s art work is great because you can’t just glance at it for a moment and get it. You have to stare at it for a long time, wondering if your eyes are playing tricks on you, and marveling at the imagina­tion it must take to even think of things like this, which are impossible in real life. His art forces us to stretch the bounds of our understanding and reconsider what really is possible. 
  And when we stare into the night sky, our perspective from this single blue dot in our galaxy, fools us into thinking that all of those lights in the sky are as close the freckles on a child’s nose, when in fact the distances between them are, at this point at least, incomprehensible and insurmountable.
   The teachings of Jesus are much the same for us. They strike us as so different than what our society and culture have taught for so many years, that we’re compelled to stare at them, wondering if our eyes, our ears, even our mind is playing a trick on us. But unlike Escher’s artwork, Jesus’ teachings are not impossible. They’ve just been found difficult, and left untried. What kind of world could we have if those who claimed to follow this teacher, this Son of God, actually tried to live out what he taught? Hmm. Jesus called that world the “Reign of God.” May it be so. Amen.

Sunday, November 11, 2018

11-11-18 Sermon on the Mount Series: The Beatitudes - Part 1





11-11-18 Sermon on the Mount Series: The Beatitudes - Part 1

   The Sermon on the Mount is found in Matthew’s Gospel.  The similarly named but theologically different “Sermon on the Plain” is found in the Gospel of Luke. Both are believed by scholars to reflect not so much a specific event in the ministry of Jesus, although that is certainly possible, but a representation or composite rendering of the type and style of teaching that Jesus most often used.  We’ll be looking at Matthew’s account over the next three Sundays. 
   And in the way of a reminder and to put this passage into the proper context, Matthew’s Gospel opens with a genealogy of Jesus that traces Jesus’ lineage back to Abraham, the patriarch of Israel, in the book of Genesis in the Hebrew Bible. Following that segment is the beloved story of Jesus’ birth that includes the magi (it is Luke that includes the shepherds), followed by the family’s harrowing escape to and return from Egypt, the story of the ministry of John the Baptist and Jesus’ subsequent baptism by John, Jesus’ 40 days of temptation in the wilderness, and finally the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. It is then that Jesus calls his disciples and immediately begins healing people. 
All of what I just laid out for you takes place in the first four chapters of the gospel. The very next thing that occurs, then, is what is called the Sermon on the Mount. 
   Because Matthew wants us to think of Jesus as the new Moses, he frames his telling of this and other stories in such a way that they reflect images of the Exodus stories of Moses and the Israelites. Just as the Israelites had spent forty years in the wilderness, Jesus has just come from forty days there. 
As Moses went up Mount Sinai to learn from God, so Jesus is goes up a mountain to teach people about God. The Sermon on the Mount is found in chapters 5-7 of Matthew’s gospel, and includes some of Jesus’ most well-known teachings, including what are known as the Beatitudes.
   One of the first things we notice about the Beatitudes (the blessings) when we read or hear them read, is that some translations begin with the word “blessed,” while others use the word “happy.” While we typically use the Common English Bible, which uses “happy,” in our worship scriptures for this message I chose the NRSV because it uses the word “blessed,” and here’s why. The word translated as either “happy” or “blessed,” is in Latin, beati, or from the Greek in which the New Testament was written, makarios. In our modern society we think of the word “happy” as being an emotion, perhaps similar to joy, and thought of as being opposite to “sad.” We sing “Happy Birthday,” not “Blessed Birthday” to someone celebrating another trip around the sun. Things or events make us happy: receiving good news, seeing someone we haven’t seen in a while, grandkids, a favorite meal, getting out of church early! But “blessed” suggests a meaning that goes beyond mere emotion. It’s about God’s favor towards certain types of people that is better expressed, I believe, by the word “blessed” rather than “happy.”
   Now, every culture has its own definition or idea of what success is or what it means to be successful. In Jesus’ time, it would probably include freedom from domineering rulers, oppressive tax collectors, and capricious soldiers. It might well include the respect that comes from savvy negotiating skills in the marketplace. It would also probably, then and now, include the ability to provide for one’s family, their health and prosperity.
  
   Likewise, every culture promotes some vision of what happiness looks like that would look very similar to how we described success. In addition, our society has long promoted the goals of accumulating wealth and amassing power. Individual freedom is high on the list, as is the respect of one’s friends, neighbors and colleagues. Popularity, recognition, and prestige are also considered worthwhile pursuits. And we find this across our culture. The political debates and commercials that have, thankfully, ended for a brief time, assume that disparagement, insult, and condescension are appropriate tools to use in the pursuit of happiness -especially if happiness is defined as acquiring power, prestige, or position. Reality television runs on the premise that everyone wants to have his or her fifteen minutes of fame, as Andy Warhol famousle put it. 
Men’s magazines promote virility, ambition, and the need for rock-hard abs; women’s magazines promote an idea of perfect beauty and ideal relationships - and rock-hard abs; trade magazines promote financial success; sports magazines - strategies to win.

   And because that is what we see and hear 24/7 in the world today, the Beatitudes, Jesus’ list of things that either bring happiness or represent the signs of God’s blessedness, is jarring to us. 


There are eight beatitudes given in Matthew and today we’ll look at the first three:
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.

   Theologian Christine Chakoian points out the contrast we find between what our culture tells us and what Jesus tells us, writing,
  • “Our culture says, Happy are those with great prospects for marriage, and work, [and make money, and save for retirement,] because they will be successful.
    •   Jesus says, Happy, or blessed, are the destitute, the poor, because the kingdom of heaven is theirs.
  • “Our culture says, Happy are those whose loved ones enjoy good health, because they will not worry.
    • But Jesus says, Happy or blessed are people who grieve, because they will be made glad.
  • “And our culture says, Happy are those who enjoy power, because they will be in charge.
    • “But Jesus says, Happy, or blessed, are people who are humble, the meek, because they will inherit the earth.
   So we see that in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus proposes a definition of happiness, or blessedness, that is wildly different from anything we’re accustomed to hearing. Our culture, and cultures the world over to be frank, hold that happiness, true happiness, is found in things, in material goods, or in the acquisition of power, prestige and popularity. To be happy, they suggest, you must own this device, wear these clothes, drink this soft drink, drive that make of car, live in this up and coming neighborhood, be on that social media platform, have X number of friends, likes, retweets, or whatever. And it’s all so flighty, so conditional, so temporary, so artificial. 
  • Is it any wonder that so many people are so unhappy?
  • Is it any wonder that more and more people are in debt up to their eyeballs? 
  • Is it any wonder that so many people turn to opioids, alcohol, sex, gambling, or something else to escape? 
  • Is it any wonder that so many people are dying at the hands of men with guns suffering from PTSD or mental illness, or have otherwise come to feel like social outcasts? 
   In saying that, Blessed are the Poor in spirit (or just the poor), Jesus isn’t glamorizing poverty. “But,” as James Howell points out, “the spiritual advantage, the humility, the empty, available space, the lack of stuff to cling to, the absence of false buttresses to your self-worth” are worth being explored. 
Similarly, Jim Forest said, “Being poor in spirit means letting go of the myth that the more I possess, the happier I’ll be.” And Gustavo Gutiérrez suggests that “knowing our impoverishment, our brokenness, is the opening to life from God,” what he calls a “spiritual childhood.”
   Father Richard Rohr calls the Sermon on the Mount “the very blueprint for Christian lifestyle,” and most scholars see it as the best summary of Jesus’ teaching. 

But Rohr says “we can’t understand this wisdom with the rational, dualistic mind; in fact, we will largely misunderstand it while thinking that we got it on the first try. …Jesus taught an alternative wisdom—the Reign of God—which overturns the conventional and common trust in power, possessions, and personal prestige. To understand the Sermon on the Mount, we must approach it with an open heart and a beginner’s mind, ready to have these normal cultural beliefs and preferences changed. Most people were never told this and tried to fit the Gospel into their existing cultural agenda or point of view.
And Rohr points out that Jesus’ opening line… is [the] key to everything that follows: How blessed (or “happy”) are the poor in spirit; the kingdom of Heaven is theirs. —Matthew 5:3
   “Poor in spirit,” he writes, “means an inner emptiness and humility, a beginner’s mind, and to live without a need for personal righteousness or reputation. It is the ‘powerlessness’ suggested in Alcoholics Anonymous’ First Step. The Greek word Matthew uses for ‘poor’ is ptochoi, which literally means, ‘the very empty ones, those who are crouching.’ They are the bent-over beggars, the little nobodies of this world who have nothing left, who aren’t self-preoccupied or full of themselves in any way. Jesus is saying: ‘Happy are you, [you are blessed, because] you are the freest of all.”
   And in making this point Rohr is suggesting that “the higher and more visible you are in any system, the more trapped you are inside it. The freest position is the one [he] call[s] ‘on the edge of the inside’—neither a ‘company man’ nor a rebel…. The price of both holding power and speaking truth to power can be very great. You ricochet between being offensive and being defensive, neither of which is a…solid position. Further, you’re forced to either defend and maintain the status quo to protect yourself and the group or to waste time reacting against it.”
   “The ‘poor in spirit’ don’t have to play these competitive games; they’re not preoccupied with winning, which is the primary philosophy in the U.S. today. Jesus is recommending a [radical] social reordering, quite different from common practice. Notice also how he uses present tense: ‘the Kingdom of God is theirs.’ He doesn’t say ‘will be theirs.’ That tells us that God’s Reign isn’t later; it’s now. It’s not something we have to wait for in some “sweet by and by,” but can experience now if we open ourselves to it. You are only free,” Rohr suggests, “when you have nothing to protect and nothing you need to prove or defend. But as Eknath Easwaran suggests, “the joy we experience in these moments of [freedom], or self-forgetting is our true nature, our native state. To regain it, we have simply to empty ourselves of what hides this joy: that is, to stop dwelling on ourselves, [our image, our possessions, our pride, our power, our position].” As we forget [this] false, floating self, we rediscover our [true] and anchored self—which is not very needy at all.”

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

   In Nicholas Wolterstorff’s book, Lament for a Son, he reflects on the death of his 23-year-old son with immense heart and wisdom. Over time, his grief lightened a little, but he writes, “…it has not disappeared” (and never will).
 That is as it should be. If he was worth loving, he is worth grieving over. Grief is existential testimony to the worth of the one loved… Every lament is a love-song.”
   In writing about this second Beatitude, Richard Rohr says, “Jesus praises the weeping class, those who can enter into solidarity with the pain of the world and not try to extract themselves from it. That is why Jesus says the rich man can’t see the Kingdom. The rich one spends life trying to make tears unnecessary and, ultimately, impossible…” But he goes on, “Tears are therapeutic and healing, both emotionally and physically. Crying helps the body shed stress hormones and stimulates endorphins. Weeping is a natural and essential part of being human. 
   The Early Church diverged on this idea though. The Western Church tended to filter the Gospel through the head; the theology of the Eastern Church was much more localized in the body. They actually proposed that tears be a sacrament in the Church, one saint going so far as to say until you’ve cried you don’t know God.
   Rohr writes, “Most of us think we know God—and ourselves—through ideas. Yet [physical], embodied theology acknowledges that perhaps weeping will allow us to know God much better than ideas. In this Beatitude, Jesus praises those who can enter into solidarity with the pain of the world and not try to remove or isolate themselves from its suffering. Jesus describes those who grieve as feeling the pain of the world. Weeping over our sin and the sin of the world is an entirely different response than self-hatred or the judgment or hatred of others. Grief allows one to carry the dark side, to bear the pain of the world without looking for perpetrators or victims, but instead recognizing the tragic reality that both sides are caught up in. Tears from God are always for everyone, for our universal exile from home. ‘It is Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted’ as Jeremiah 31:15 evokes.
   Yet in our society tears seem insufficient, even a sign of weakness, and certainly present a stumbling block to some men; crying will make us look vulnerable. So many men hold back tears. Is it [any] wonder men don’t live as long as women, on average? Perhaps we need to teach and remind ourselves how to cry well, because in our culture today, we’ve banished tears and heartfelt grief to the trash bin, and replaced it with the cry emoji.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth

   Try putting “meekness” on you resume and see how far that gets you in the world today. We hear “meek” and equate it with “weak,” or we think “mild,” or “mousey,” or “shy.” Meekness is rarely, if ever, considered a compliment or an asset is it? It’s not something we typically are encouraged to strive for. 
   What Jesus means, though, is humility, or being humble. Now, these, too, are not qualities that are promoted broadly in our culture which is all about standing out, making our place, and getting our fair share, because humbleness or humility, is about powerlessness. It is the powerless, the humble, the teachable, the small and unlikely who are blessed by Jesus, because with God blessedness is not about skills and strengths, but vulnerability and brokenness. 

   And Jesus did more than just tell this story, he lived it out. The Gospels recount story after story of how Jesus spent his time primarily with those who were considered outcasts by the world, and even by the religious system. He taught, ate with, and healed all people, regardless of where they fell in the societal class structure. Jesus forced the people of his day—and us as well—to consider a different story, a differ­ent understanding of what was really possible, and to consider that all they had ever known, or could know, might not be all there is. He shocks those who listen to him when he tells them that it is they, the powerless, downcast, outcast, the rejects of the world who will inherit the earth, not the rich and powerful, or the bold and beautiful. The meek, the humble, he declares, are the heirs of all there is. 

   So in these opening verses of the most famous sermon ever preached, Jesus is saying, for all intents and purposes, forget everything you thought you knew. 
He’s saying that black is white, up is down, and in is out. THAT, he says, is what the Reign of God is like. 
Those things that are routinely taken for granted, the deep logic by which we often assume the world works is not, in fact, the way of God. Thinking ahead to when Jesus says, “You have heard it said…but I tell you this…” Jesus is in effect saying here, 
   “No. This is not how the world actually works, no matter how things may seem. On the contrary, as God has ordained the deep, emerging order of creation, the truly blessed are ultimately and actually the gentle, the merciful, the poor, the grieving, and those at the bottom of society’s ladder. It appears to be otherwise - I understand - and that is precisely why I am beginning this way, the better to dispel the commonplace illusions, to clarify reality, to declare the dawning Reign of God, and to help us find our bearings as we live into God’s future.”
   So, as we continue to explore this earth-shaking first teaching of Jesus, may his words shape our lives, our thoughts, and our actions as we take them into the world with us this week -  in practice and in thought. And may Jesus’ words help us to find freedom from those things - the ideologies, the images that hold us captive - that we might find companionship and freedom with God in the humble smallness of a life of embodied faith. Amen.


Monday, November 5, 2018

11-4-18 - All Saints Sunday - “Unbound and Let Loose!”





11-4-18  - All Saints Sunday  - “Unbound and Let Loose!”


   As I was studying and preparing to craft this message this week, I came across a reflection from Rev. David Lose that impacted greatly my thinking about this day and this scripture. His reflection forms the foundation of my message and reflection with you today. 
Let us pray:  May the words of my mouth, 
and the meditation of our hearts, 
be acceptable in your sight, 
our Rock and our Redeemer.

   Our readings for today are the traditional lectionary scriptures for All Saints Sunday, Year B.  And I say All Saints Sunday as opposed to All Saints DAY because All Saints Day is always November 1st, the day following Halloween. All Saints Day only falls on a Sunday every few years or so.I also remember that All Saints Day is November 1st because November 1st was my mother’s birthday and she was a saint - she HAD to be to have put up with my siblings… and perhaps me.
   But we may wonder, why this story of the raising of Lazarus for All Saints Sunday? And this question takes on greater urgency, and perhaps more thoughtful consideration, in light of the massacre at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburg last weekend. And it gives rise to other questions as well. 
Why does this passage matter? Or, does it matter at all? What does it say not just to this festival of All Saints but to our life in this chaotic and violent world? 
Why this quaint festival of remembrance at all, for that matter? How does what we do speak into, let alone help, in a time of such polarization, fear, and hatred?
   So as we consider together the enormity of these questions, I want to invite you to think about them from a different angle this morning, and perhaps raise some other questions as well. 

   First, why this passage on All Saints? 
And with that, which character in this story, if any, helps us understand what it means to be a saint? Is it Mary, her heart grief-stricken, who gives voice to not simply a question but a lament, even an accusation: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died!” Perhaps Mary represents all those who come to church on All Saints Sunday heavy in heart, the grief of their loss still fresh to the point of being overwhelming.

   Or is it Martha, who had asked the same question as her sister Mary only moments earlier, and then saw her question and grief transformed into a courageous confession, not simply about resurrection in general – 
“I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day” – but a particular confession in Jesus, the one who intentionally delayed coming as her brother died, yet who promised her life here and now: “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.” Perhaps Martha stands for all those whose faith in Jesus seems incredibly resilient and who serve as both witness and encouragement for the rest of us.

   Or perhaps we should focus should on Lazarus, the one Jesus called forth from the tomb. Lazarus is Jesus’ seventh, final, and – until Jesus’ own resurrection – greatest of Jesus’ seven signs recorded in John. Remember, the number seven in scripture signifies, wholeness, completion, even perfection. Lazarus stands as the promise of Jesus literally embodied, one whom death had taken…but couldn’t hold onto. He serves as a reminder of and testimony to Jesus’ power over even death and each of us has met people who have come through such difficult circumstances that they may well serve as a contemporary Lazarus for us.

   Of course, the character of greatest interest in this story is Jesus, the one who gives life, who calls us out of not just death, but even our fear of death. 
The one who weeps for Lazarus and his sisters and, I think, for those who stand by and neither understand nor believe in God’s promise of life. 
The one who, in raising Lazarus, starts the chain of events that will lead to his own death (11:53). The one, finally, whom death itself cannot contain. 
“I am the resurrection and the life,” Jesus promises Martha earlier in this story (11:25), and then demonstrates his fidelity first by raising Lazarus and then again and more fully on Easter morning.

   Any of these characters might help us understand anew the importance of the promise of resurrection that stands at the center of all our Sunday celebrations but that is perhaps even more prominent on the Sunday of All Saints. We could focus on any of them briefly, identifying with one and hearing the promise of Jesus addressed to them. We could… 

But today, I would direct our gaze to one more place at the end of this story, to one more person or, really, persons: those in the crowd who witnessed Lazarus resurrection and to whom Jesus commands: “Unbind him, and let him go!”
   This part of the story is particularly intriguing, even compelling, because it reminds us that even God’s work of resurrection is not quite complete without our participation, without our being caught up in the act itself. It’s not so much that God needs us to do God’s work of resurrection, it’s that God’s work of resurrection isn’t limited simply to those whose life is renewed in the moment - in this case, Lazarus - but finds its fulfillment as it also catches up, impacts, even transforms those who witness and are drawn into it.

   “Unbind him, and let him go!” Jesus commands. This is an invitation to be drawn into God’s life-giving work, to participate in, extend, and in some sense complete the reach of God’s mighty acts. It’s a promise that resurrection isn’t simply a matter of “then,” some point in a distant future (think of Martha’s mention of the Day of Resurrection) but is also and equally a matter of “now.” Now there is something to do. Now we find courage to live amid fear. Now we sense God’s promise of life helping us not only live in the shadow of death with confidence but also resist the power of death that we concede too, perhaps, too quickly.
   God’s promise of resurrection isn’t an invitation to deny death – the death rate is and always has been, and always will be 100% - as the sign says, “Nobody gets out alive!” But God’s promise of resurrection does grant us both the permission and power to defy it: to defy death’s ability to overshadow and distort our lives, to deny death’s threat that there is nothing else, to deny those who believe that because they have the ability to inflict death - with pipe bomb sent in the mail, by shooting up schools, Kroger stores, or synagogues - that  they are somehow the most powerful people on earth. They are not. 
In fact… they are among the weakest. This story, and the Easter story that it prefigures, promises that death does not have the last word, and therefore that we are free to live now, to struggle now, to sacrifice now, to encourage others never to give up now, to live out of love rather than hate now, and to have our actions directed by hope rather than fear…now!
   In light of God’s resurrection promise, death no longer terrifies us, not the death of the loved ones we remember on this day, nor our own. But, and just as importantly, because of God’s resurrection promise, the life we share in this world here and now no longer terrifies us either. The massacre of innocents, the incessant drumbeat of the politics of fear and division, the ongoing and on-growing rhetoric of hate – these are heart wrenching elements of our life in the world, but they. do. not. have. the. last. word. either. And they are not the final reality. 
   In the story, we read that Jesus weeps. And we may wonder why, knowing that he is going to raise Lazarus to new life in a matter o minutes. Why does Jesus weep? He weeps because he knows that the pain, the grief and loss of death, of violence, of hatred is painful to endure. He weeps because he has come alongside us in full and complete compassion for the hurt that comes with life.  
   But prompted by God’s promise of resurrection - both now and on that day - we can stand against those who wield death, fear, and hatred. We can hold onto each other even as we live amidst them. And we can offer a testimony, rooted in life and in love, that counters their broken and distorted testimony of the world.
   So this Sunday, we give thanks for those saints who have gone before us – those we remember, grieve, and for whom we celebrate their place now in the presence of God. But we also give thanks for those saints sitting here, in front of us, behind us, and beside us, who have heard the word of resurrection and now are called by that same Jesus to unbind all those we encounter who are bound by the fear of death. Called to unbind and to let go those struggling to find hope. We are invited this week – always, of course, but especially this week – to remember and celebrate that the God who raised Jesus from the dead still needs us, wants us, invites us to participate in, extend, and even complete God’s resurrection work by caring for, standing with, and lending our courage to those who are suffering and grieving, those who are most vulnerable and in need.
   We have here in our midst today, I believe, a veritable host of saints who, while you are here amongst us and not yet in heaven, have work to do, a call to answer, a resurrection life to lead - here and now. “Unbind him, unbind her, and let them go!” is both our mandate and our marching orders, for the God who answered Jesus’ prayer in bringing Lazarus forth from the tomb, the God who raised Jesus from death, the God who promises us life eternal… this God is not finished yet! And we are the instruments of God’s resurrection life, grace, and power here and now. For in Jesus Christ, we too, are unbound and let loose. Amen.