Blessings and Woes
The Rev. Eyleen Farmer
February 11 , 2007
The Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany
This sermon is also available in audio
Every so often, several times a week at least, Andy, George, Bonnie and I are called upon to respond to the needs of street people who present themselves to us for help. The prevailing wisdom of those who have a lot of experience is that we should never hand out cash. We make an assessment, refer them to agencies equipped to help, and send them on their way. A cup of coffee, prayers, an occasional check made out to Greyhound Bus Lines is about all we have to offer.
I cannot speak for my colleagues, but for me, this is about the most challenging part of my work here at Calvary. I try not to show it while listening to the hard luck stories of the poor, but what I am usually feeling is guilt, confusion, and helplessness. Guilt, because my life is so comfortable compared to theirs; confusion, because I’m not sure what to do; and helplessness, because I know that whatever I do, it won’t be enough.
Did you hear the gospel lesson? Were you paying attention? What was going on inside you as you listened?
Imagine if you can the scene that Luke describes. We’ll need to go all the way back to last week’s lesson where Peter, James, and John are fishing and read about everything that happens between last week’s lesson and this week’s. Beginning with the miraculous catch of fish, we can follow along as Jesus heals a leper, a paralytic, and a man with a crippled hand. He eats with tax collectors and violates the Sabbath. Word about Jesus spreads throughout the region, and crowds follow him wherever he goes. Meanwhile the reaction of the Pharisees to Jesus escalates—from curiosity to complaint to open hostility.
Imagine Jesus in the middle of this brewing storm. On one side the unrelenting pressure of crowds of people trying to get near him, hoping for a cure, a fix, a solution to their problems. On the other side, the absolute fury of the Pharisees, who by this time, are hatching a plot to get rid of this troublemaker.
At the start of today’s lesson, Jesus has been up on the mountain all night, and now, finally, he comes down to a level place where a great multitude has gathered. It’s a dramatic moment. The air is practically crackling with electricity; a hush falls over the crowd. What is this Jesus going to do? What is he going to say?
The beatitudes, as they are called, are so familiar that we hardly hear them. They are some pretty words all right, but they might as well be on a Hallmark card or a cross stitch sampler for the hold they have on us. None of us is poor—not really. And anyone here who is feeling hungry right now knows that within forty-five minutes they can be at Paulette’s ordering Bloody Marys and Eggs Benedict.
Furthermore, most everyone here enjoys the positive regard of friends, neighbors and colleagues. We may know a couple of people who have suffered for their beliefs, but mostly being a Christian in this culture is about as risky as being a member of the Rotary Club or the PTA.
That leaves only one of the four beatitudes that Luke’s Jesus spoke to the people on the plain that day. “Blessed are you who weep.” We can at least get on board with that one, for even though we hide it from each other pretty well, you can be sure that there is plenty of grief and sorrow right here in this sanctuary.
If our seeming exclusion from Jesus’ blessings is not bad enough, there are those terrible warnings. “Woe to you who are rich; woe to you who are full; woe to you when all speak well of you.”
What is going on here? What are we who are well-healed, well-fed, well-thought-of to make of this? Do we have to give away all our possessions to get in on the blessing? There’s no denying that for those of us who take the Christian life seriously, that story about the homeless and this story about Jesus create an uncomfortable tension. On one side there is the desire, sincere and deeply felt, to live out our lives in faithfulness to the Christ we love. On the other side, there is the nearly irresistible pull of what culture tells us we need in order to be valued and accepted.
There’s no escaping the fact that the Good News as Jesus announces it turns the whole world upside down. The beatitudes are shocking, unexpected. They didn’t fit with how the real world worked back then and they don’t fit with how the real world works now.
But there they are, and so, we who are Christian live within that tension. What may help, if we are willing, is to keep our eyes on Jesus. If we pay close attention, taking into account the thread of the whole story, we can see how Jesus manages the opposing pressures in his life. The pressure of the crowds on one side. The pressure of the religious authorities on the other. You might think of it as the tension between the deep desire within the heart of Jesus to carry out the work God has given him to do and the powers that would prevent him from doing that work. When you think of it that way, our situation really isn’t all that different. What is different is what Jesus does with that tension.
Twice, in this one, short section of Luke’s gospel, we are told what he does. “He would withdraw to deserted places and pray.” That comes at the end of last week’s lesson (5:16). And right before this week’s gospel: “He went out to the mountain to pray; and he spent the night in prayer to God” (6:12).
We have no way of knowing what it was like for Jesus out there in the wilderness or on the mountain. But we can see that his responses to the competing pressures in his life flowed out of an intimate relationship with God. The compassion with which he addresses the crowds, the courage with which he meets his detractors.
I wonder what would happen in our lives if we regularly withdrew to deserted places to pray? If we spent all night, even one night, in prayer to God? Would we grow in compassion? Could we be more courageous? Would the tension of the gospel feel less tense?
The point of my musing this morning is this: the beatitudes are not meant to mystify or confuse. They were not spoken or written down to create guilt or despair. It’s not the words of blessing that matter nearly so much as the compassion out of which they came. When I view this scene in my mind’s eye, I imagine that Jesus, just down from the mountain and looking out on that sea of suffering, felt a surge of tenderness, and out of his deep compassion, spontaneously, flowed words of reassurance. “Blessed are you poor people. Blessed are you sorrowful people.”
Likewise, it’s not the woes that matter so much as the invitation to a deeper life with God that they imply. I do not know what is in your hearts. I barely know what is in mine. But if Jesus were here today, speaking to those of us who are not poor, perhaps he would say, “Blessed are you who struggle with the hard teachings of the gospel. Blessed are you who come to me, as suffering people always have, aware of your poverty and need. Blessed are you who are listening, even today, for my claim on your life.”
Copyright ©2007 Calvary Episcopal Church
Gospel Reading:
He came down with them and stood on a level place, with a great crowd
of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem,
and the coast of Tyre and Sidon. They had come to hear him and to
be healed of their diseases; and those who were troubled with unclean
spirits were cured. And all in the crowd were trying to touch him,
for power came out from him and healed all of them. Then he looked
up at his disciples and said: "Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will
laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude
you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice
on that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven;
for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets. But woe to you
who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who
are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing
now, for you will mourn and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of
you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets."
NRSV (New Revised Standard Version)