The Waking Dreamer: The Great Reversal

Showing posts with label The Great Reversal. Show all posts

Monday, January 02, 2023

Shepherds and Other "Undesirables"

Shepherds and Other “Undesirables”

Luke 2:1-20[1]

In the middle part of the last century, a psychologist named Abraham Maslow proposed a theory of human well-being that came to be known as “Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.” Unlike Sigmund Freud, Maslow wanted to study healthy people to figure out how we can thrive in this world. You may be familiar with the “pyramid.” At the bottom of Maslow’s “hierarchy” were basic needs for food, shelter, and safety. Then came more emotional needs for belonging and esteem. At the top of the pyramid was what Maslow called “self-actualization.” It’s a fancy word for what we know as “being all you can be.” He believed that the goal of our lives was to achieve our full potential.

If you’re like me, you grew up with the message that it was almost a “duty” to fulfill this potential. The words of then President-Elect Kennedy influenced many of us at that time: “For of those to whom much is given, much is required.”[2] He made that statement at the beginning of the 1960’s, which was a decade of great change and turmoil. But it was also a decade of great achievement. The president had announced that we would put a man on the moon by the end of the decade, and we did it. There seemed to be nothing we couldn’t achieve if we decided to try. All of this made the message of reaching one’s full potential a powerful motivation my generation.

Given that context in our culture, I wonder if our Gospel lesson from Luke this morning doesn’t leave us at least a bit confused. I think the story of the Magi coming to King Herod to ask about the one who was born as the “King of the Jews” makes a lot more sense to us. After all, we assume the birth of a king should be announced in palaces and royal courts. But that’s not what happens in Luke’s Gospel. There are no Magi in Luke’s Gospel. There is no announcement to the “powers that be,” although Luke names them in his story of Jesus’ birth. In Luke’s Gospel, the Angel’s announcement, “to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord” (Lk 2:11), is delivered not to Herod the Great, or Augustus Caesar, or even Quirinius, the Roman Governor. It was made to “shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night” (Lk 2:8). Because we’ve heard the story so many times, we might not be able to hear how strange that announcement must have been.

In the first place, we should not mistake that the “angel of the Lord” was indeed announcing the birth of a king. Jesus was to be the “son of David,” and the “Messiah.” Of course, we know he didn’t fulfill that role as “Son of David” and “Messiah” in the way most people expected. He didn’t lead an uprising to throw off the yoke of the Roman oppressors and ascend to the throne of David as the King of the Jews. He did more than that. He gave his life for the whole world, and afterwards God raised him from the dead. But finally, Jesus was exalted to the right hand of the throne of God, where he still reigns as “Lord.”

You’d think the announcement of the birth of the one who would ultimately ascend to the right hand of the throne of God would have been made to all the most powerful leaders throughout the world. But it wasn’t. Not in Luke’s Gospel, anyway. The titles “Savior” and “Lord” were reserved for God in the Hebrew Bible, and in the Mediterranean world they were applied to Caesar. You’d think the announcement of the birth of one who would hold these titles would be made to the most important religious leaders. But it wasn’t. It was made to “shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night.”

Despite our tendency to romanticize the shepherds, in that day they were peasants at the bottom of any “ladder” you could come up with. It would not be inappropriate to compare them with the “sharecroppers” of an earlier time, or the “migrant workers” of our day. They made a living, but only just. You could not say that these were people who had achieved their full potential in life. They were barely getting along by the skin of their teeth. So I would say that most people of that day would have found it incredibly strange that the birth of the “Son of David,” the “Savior” and the “Lord” would be announced to shepherds.

And yet, it’s no accident that this announcement comes to the least of the least. One of the themes in Luke’s Gospel is found in Mary’s “Magnificat”: “He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly” (Lk 1:52). It’s not just a coincidence that Herod “the Great,” Caesar Augustus, and the Roman Governor all show up in the introduction to this story. They were the “key players” on the world stage at that time. But no messenger was sent to them. The “angel of the Lord” made the announcement of Jesus’ birth to lowly shepherds.

Luke tells us that they responded to the message by going to see for themselves. And they found a helpless baby lying in a feed trough in poverty and apparent powerlessness. Again, the contrast between the “powerful” sitting on their thrones and the “lowly” comes to mind. Jesus was not born in a palace, in a place of privilege and comfort. And yet, despite all appearances, Mary’s son lying in the manger is the “Savior,” the “Messiah,” and the “Lord.” It’s telling that the angel said to the shepherds, “to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”

And it was these shepherds, the lowest of the low, the least of the least, who were able to see past appearances and recognize the truth of the angel’s announcement to them. Luke tells us not only that the shepherds “made known what had been told them about this child,” but also that they “returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen” (Lk 2:17, 20). In other words, these peasants who were likely illiterate, who were the least and the last and the left out, had the insight and the faith to believe that this helpless child lying in poverty was indeed the “Savior” and the “Messiah” and the “Lord” sent by God.

There is something more than a little ironic about all of this. But I think there is a point to it: that God’s salvation is not a “reward” for those who have achieved the heights of personal fulfillment. Rather, salvation is for everyone. Part of the irony is, as St. Paul says, the message about Jesus was offensive to those looking for someone to check off all the right religious “boxes” and it was foolish to those who prized learning and power (1 Cor 1:25). But that’s because “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength” (1 Cor 1:27). That’s why, right from the beginning, the “angel of the Lord” made the announcement of Jesus’ birth to shepherds in the field. One of the themes of the Bible is that you have to be humble enough to recognize your need for a Savior in order to be able to put your faith in him. I would say that for those of us who can get rather caught up in “being all that we can be” it means that we may need to set all that aside in order to open our hearts enough to recognize Jesus as our Savior and Lord.

[1] © 2022 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 12/25/2022 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE. For a video recording of this sermon, check out my Pastor Alan YouTube channel: https://youtu.be/U9yeNlsjXSQ

[2] John F. Kennedy, “Address to a Joint Convention of the General Court of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts,” January 9, 1961. Accessed at https://www.jfklibrary.org/archives/other-resources/john-f-kennedy-speeches/massachusetts-general-court-19610109 on 12/22/2022.

Monday, September 26, 2022

All About Mercy

Luke 16:14-31[1]

I’ve mentioned recently that we live in a world divided. That may be an understatement. I would say that our world is more divided today than perhaps at any time in most of our lives. We’re divided by race, divided by class, divided by politics. We’re divided by national allegiance, divided by language, divided by whole outlooks on life. We’re divided by our sources for the news of what’s happening in the world. We’re divided by what we believe constitutes “truth.” Many have observed that what we once believed was a “social contract” that held our world together has dissolved. In a world such as that, it’s no wonder that people are going their separate ways, positively angry toward those who differ with them on a whole list of issues.

When that division spills over into our faith, it creates some problems. Perhaps the most serious of them is that we presume to know what is in another person’s heart. Because of that we think we have a right to criticize them for their actions. That kind of backbiting is out of place in the Body of Christ! The Bible makes it clear that it’s only God who knows our hearts (Lk 16:15)! Any effort on our part to stand in judgment of another person is at best premature, and at worst we are usurping a role that belongs only to God. As St. Paul said, God is the one who “will show the real reasons why people do what they do” (1 Cor 4:5, NIrV).

It may seem like a stretch to relate all of this to our Gospel lesson for today. But the reason why Jesus told the parable of the rich man and Lazarus was because the Pharisees’ hard-hearted attitude toward those they judged to be “sinners.” Jesus had “proclaimed the good news of the Kingdom” to them and had spelled out its implications for their lives. He told them that living for the kingdom of God meant being faithful with their wealth, it meant showing mercy to “sinners,” and it meant sharing generously with all people. He ignored their petty rules about what should or shouldn’t be done on the sabbath and used the day to extend God’s mercy to those who needed it most. And they ridiculed him for it, and ultimately had him killed.

The reason for this response was that they saw Jesus’ kindness and mercy toward “sinners” as breaking God’s commands and therefore dishonoring God. Their whole outlook on what it meant to be faithful to God was centered around who was “clean” and who was “unclean.” Of course, in their own eyes they were not only “clean,” but they were also “righteous” before God because of the way they rigidly kept their own rules. Anyone who didn’t keep those rules just as strictly as they did was a “sinner” in their eyes. And they believed those whom they labeled as “sinners” were unfit for God’s grace, or mercy, or love.

In their eyes, Lazarus would have been one of these “sinners.” He was not only “poor,” he was destitute. Very likely, he was “laid at the gate” of a rich man because of some physical disability. The contrast between the two men couldn’t have been more striking. The rich man wore the finest of fine clothing, while Lazarus was covered with sores. The rich man feasted extravagantly every day, while Lazarus only longed for the scraps from his table. The rich man would have been seen as a “pillar” of the community, while Lazarus would have been judged as a “sinner” who must have done something to deserve his fate in life. And he certainly would have been excluded from God’s mercy in the eyes of self-righteous people.

But we have to remember that Jesus had announced at the beginning of his ministry that he had come to proclaim the “good news” of God’s kingdom precisely to the “poor” (Lk 4:18). It was about setting “the burdened and battered free” (Lk 4:18, MSG). It was about calling sinners to turn to God, not so-called “respectable people” (Lk 5:32, TEV). It was about being kind and merciful to others, all others, just as God is kind and merciful to us (Lk 6:36). It was about seeking and saving those who were “lost” (Lk 19:10). And, above all, it was about hearing God’s word and obeying it (Lk 8:21, NLT).

You may be wondering why I haven’t said anything about “heaven” or “hell” in connection with this parable. I’ve done that because the point of this parable isn’t about the afterlife. It’s about the way the “religious” people of that day, like the rich man and his brothers, had ignored “Moses and the prophets” and their clear teachings about showing kindness and mercy especially to the destitute. This parable is about the fact that in the kingdom of God the lowly are lifted up and the rich are sent away empty-handed (Lk 1:52-53). As Jesus said, “all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted” (Lk 14:11).

Jesus told this story to confront the religious people of his day for their hard-hearted, mean, and stingy attitude toward those they had judged to be “sinners.” This attitude was a direct result of the fact that they “justified themselves in sight of others” (Lk 16:15). And because of that, they believed Jesus’ actions toward the poor, the outcasts, the unwanted, and the rejected were an abomination in God’s sight. But Jesus was “showing the real reasons” for their attitude: their own hypocrisy. And he turned it all around on them: he said that it was their self-righteous and stingy hoarding of God’s mercy for themselves that was the true abomination! But when it comes to the kingdom of God, Jesus said, “everyone is urged to enter it” (Lk 16:16). Everyone. The kingdom of God that Jesus preached is all about mercy for the poor, the outcasts, the unwanted, and the rejected. It’s for everyone!

[1] ©2022 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 9/25/2022 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE. For a video recording of this sermon, check out my Pastor Alan YouTube Channel: https://youtu.be/r76nVDKjMmU

Tuesday, August 30, 2022

A Seat at the Table

Luke 14:1-14[1]

It has long been noted that Sunday morning worship time is “the most segregated hour in America.”[2] That view originally related to the racial separation that is still painfully obvious in most churches across the country. While there are some notable exceptions, most people worshipping on Sunday morning still divide up into congregations with people who look like them. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. observed almost 70 years ago that this situation was “appalling” and a “shameful tragedy.”[3] While we’ve certainly made progress with racial justice in this country, I’m afraid we still have quite a ways to go.

Of course, one of the changes that has happened over the last 70 years is that we have a number of ethnic congregations that enable people in this country to worship in their native languages and using cultural forms that they’re familiar with. And I would offer the idea that this is a good thing, especially for people who have only recently come to our country. We have many congregations in the PCUSA that are dedicated to serving a particular population, and I support that. But, of course, the ultimate goal of the kingdom of God is peoples of “from every race, tribe, nation, and language” joining together to worship God (Rev. 7:9, CEV).

One of the ways we still tend to separate ourselves on Sunday morning is that the members of most churches tend to belong to a particular class, both socially and economically. We have “rich” churches, we have churches that are “middle class,” we have “working class” churches, and we have churches that target the poor. But there is precious little crossing of the lines drawn by what you do for a living and how much you live on a year. I wonder if perhaps this economic segregation isn’t as much a pressing problem as racial segregation.

In our Gospel lesson for today, Jesus went to the home of a “leader of the Pharisees” for a meal on the sabbath day. Very likely he had been the guest teacher at the synagogue. And while Luke tells us that they “were watching him closely,” probably to find something they could use against him, Jesus went right ahead and jumped into the deep water. You see, then as now, meals were a “social” event. Then as now, you only invited people you wanted to come into your home to a meal you were planning. That was not only part of their way of life, it was part of their observance of ritual purity, which they believed was a way to honor God. But it really just became another way to separate themselves from people who were “beneath” them.

Once again, Jesus turned the tables on them all. In that day, the seating arrangement was all about showing off who was where on the social ladder. The better the seat, the higher you were. And this meal was no exception to that rule. So he reminded the guests who very likely had come to this dinner hoping to show off their status that in God’s kingdom, “all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted” (Lk 14:11). In the kingdom of God, your social status, your bank account, or your record of “holiness” don’t count. In the kingdom of God, what counts is putting into practice God’s mercy freely extended to all.

After addressing the guests, Jesus turned to the host. After all, this “leader of the Pharisees” was the one who had set up this dinner party. And he had invited only people who were part of his “circle of friends,” because then as now, that’s what you did. It’s a way of reassuring yourself and others of how high you are on the social ladder. And that was true not only because of the people who show up to your party, but also because you could expect to be invited to theirs. But Jesus told this dinner host to do something radically different: to invite “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind” (Lk 14:13). And he told him to do that precisely because they would never be able to throw a dinner party where they could invite him!

Jesus envisioned a kingdom that “collapses” all the barriers between sinner and saint, rich and poor, white collar and blue collar, Republican and Democrat, black, white, golden, or brown skin, and all the others you can think of that separate people today. In the process, he redefined what hospitality looks like. Jesus didn’t just talk about the kingdom as a bunch of lofty ideals. He taught those who would follow him to put those ideals into practice in their everyday lives. And he applied them to things like dinner parties. That can get pretty tricky.

We like to have meals in this church. That’s a good thing, because it strengthens our fellowship. But most of our meals are after worship, which means that we’re the only ones who show up. I’ll have to admit that this gospel lesson leaves me wondering about that. I think about our little food pantry: it’s been used so much that we have to restock it almost daily. We know that there are people here who need food. I find myself wondering what more we can do to meet that need. More than that, I find myself wondering how we can make sure everyone in this community knows they have a seat at our table. After all, that’s what the kingdom of God looks like: a seat at the table for everyone, and everyone gathered at the same table.

[1] © 2022 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm PhD on 8/28/2022 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE. For a video recording of this sermon, check out my Pastor Alan YouTube Channel: https://youtu.be/Vxiu6sSjZpA

[2] While Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. is best known for this quote, he credited the original observation to Dr. Helen Kenyon in an article entitled “Worship Hour Found Time of Segregation” published by the New York Times on November 4, 1952, p. 26. Dr. Kenyon was a former Moderator of the Congregational-Christian Churches, one of the denominations that formed the United Church of Christ in 1957.

[3] Cf. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., “Communism’s Challenge to Christianity,” a sermon delivered on Aug 9, 1953 at Ebenezer Baptist Church, Atlanta, GA; cf. also Stride Toward Freedom: The Montgomery Story 202; cf. also Interview on “Meet the Press,” April 17, 1960.

Monday, February 14, 2022

Tables Overturned

Luke 6:17-26[1]

I think most of us approach life in a way that we are trying to make the best of it. We take care of our families, we work hard, we save for the future, and we do good in the community. It’s all part of what it means to “be a good person.” And we hope that “being a good person” will translate into having a good life. I think we tend to want our faith to fit in with our ideas about life in general. Believing in God, going to church, helping those in need are part of what it means to “be a good person.” And like the other areas of our lives, our practice of faith is a matter of doing the best we can to have a good life. It makes up what we believe constitutes the way life is supposed to work

With that in mind, I’m afraid that, if we’re truly paying attention, our gospel lesson for today may sound positively shocking. And I think it’s a normal response to find ourselves feeling uncomfortable with what Jesus says here. After all, he takes our “conventional wisdom” about the way life works and even what it means to have a good life and he turns it all upside down! More than that, what Jesus says here takes our beliefs about what it means to be a “good Christian” and turns them upside down as well. It can leave us feeling confused, because none of it seems to make sense with how we approach either life or faith.

Jesus’ beatitudes in Luke’s Gospel remind us faintly of the “usual” ones in Matthew, but they take a very different turn! Here Jesus says, “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” (Lk 6:20-21)! And if that weren’t shocking enough, Jesus adds, “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” (Lk 6:24-25).

If you’re not stunned by those words, it may be due to the fact that they run so contrary to our understanding of the way life works that we simply cannot hear them properly. Here we have a very specific, very concrete statement about what it looks like when Jesus says, “the first shall be last and the last first.” Jesus came to announce the coming of God’s kingdom into this world, and in our lesson for today he was spelling out what that looks like in real life so that we couldn’t possibly miss it. The problem is that it probably leaves us feeling like the folks in the Temple after Jesus had come through and turned over all their tables.

That’s exactly what Jesus was doing in our lesson for today: turning all the tables over. And the impact of his words and deeds continues to overturn our view of the way life works. For one thing, we tend to think that what Jesus came to do was to bring us salvation, which is something spiritual. And we tend to assume that what is spiritual isn’t related to “real” life. But Jesus turns that notion over. As we saw in his sermon at Nazareth, he came to preach the “good news to the poor,” “release to the captives,” and freedom to those who are oppressed (Lk 4:18). The Kingdom of God isn’t about a spiritual reward in heaven one day, but rather it’s about changing the way this world works.

As we begin to better hear Jesus’ words to us today, we may think that the kinds of issues Jesus is addressing belong to “social justice.” That has become a label that in many cases refers to something we see as separate from the gospel and our faith. It’s a “special” kind of action, perhaps even something optional for those who feel compelled to pursue it. But on the contrary, Jesus called his disciples to follow him in the work of the kingdom of God. And part and parcel of that work was bringing “release” to all who suffer due to the way the world works now.[2] It’s what I would call the “justice of God’s kingdom.” God’s kingdom is about changing the way this world works to reflect God’s mercy, compassion, and love. If we would align our lives with Jesus, we must align our lives with the justice of his kingdom!

Of course, what makes this Scripture truly disturbing is the fact that Jesus talks about poverty and wealth. We tend to like our faith to leave our possessions alone. We believe that what we have is something that we have worked hard for and that therefore it’s ours to do with as we see fit. But Jesus says, “Blessed are you who are poor,” and “Woe to you who are rich”! It’s not that our wealth disqualifies us from participating in God’s kingdom, but rather if we would follow Jesus and align ourselves with God’s kingdom, then we cannot complacently assume what we have is ours to do with as we please. Rather, our wealth creates a responsibility for us to use our means to further God’s mercy and justice in this world.[3]

If you’re feeling a little uncomfortable with all this (or a lot!), I would say don’t be surprised. It’s hard for us to hear Jesus say these things. I’ll give you fair warning: we’ve just begun our journey through Luke’s gospel this year, and he’s not through with us! Some may even be worrying that I’m suggesting all the “rules” by which we’ve lived our lives have to change. I think that’s a fair question. And I would say that that is exactly what Jesus is doing: completely redefining the way the world “ought” to work. It may be hard for us to see because most of us benefit from it, but the way the world works now is not right in God’s sight. And Jesus made it clear that what God is doing is about more than just “saving souls”; God is working to set things right. So if we want to follow Jesus, instead of making our faith fit in with our ideas about life, we have to make our ideas about life fit in with our faith! And that means if we want to follow Jesus, who turned over lots of “tables,” we must align our lives with God’s purpose and join him in the work of making things right in this world.

[2] Cf. R. David Kaylor, Jesus the Prophet, 104: “Jesus addressed the poor, the hungry, the discouraged, and the persecuted with the message that God is on their side, supporting them in their struggle, and that God’s just will focuses on their relief. Because people opposed to God are currently in charge, God’s kingdom is not now fully present, and God’s will is not now being fully done. But it will not remain so.”

[3] Cf. Stephen Shoemaker, GodStories, 217–18: “There are only two ways you can enter the kingdom and experience its joy. One is to be among the poor, oppressed, bruised, blind, and brokenhearted; those to whom God comes as healing, comfort, justice, and freedom. The other way is to be among God’s people who are going to the poor, oppressed, bruised, blind, and brokenhearted and bringing God’s healing, comfort, justice, and freedom.”

Monday, December 20, 2021

Just As He Promised

Luke 1:39-55[1]

I think it’s safe to say that we all know what it’s like to feel “lowly” at times. In our culture, we’ve been taught to view ourselves as unique, one-of-a-kind, and special. And that’s true. God created only one of you, and he did so for a purpose. We all have something important to do in this life. Unfortunately, we may never know just what that is! The “daily grind” of our lives can easily overshadow all of that and leave us feeling very “ordinary.” Some of us may even wrestle with feeling like we’re worthless. Life has a way of obscuring just how important each and every one of us is to God and to one another. We can all feel pretty “lowly” at times.

Many of us begin life with “big dreams” about what we will do and be in this world. One of the tasks life confronts all of us with sooner or later is accepting that we may never see all of those dreams realized. We have to come to terms with the hard truth that at some point it is in our best interest to let go those youthful dreams. That doesn’t mean that we have to “settle” for a life that is “less than.” It means accepting the life we have, in all of it’s apparent “commonness,” while at the same time recognizing that we remain uniquely important. Although our lives may feel very ordinary to us, we can embrace the routine and commonplace in the assurance that God did indeed create each of us uniquely, and that we all have something important to do in this life.

Our Gospel lesson for today reminds me of this challenge. Mary, who was a peasant girl from a small backwater town in the middle of nowhere, finds herself in the position of being chosen by God to do something I think we would all agree was important: she would give birth to the boy who would grow up to be the man who would fulfill God’s promises to her people, along with all the peoples of the world! More than that, Mary’s pregnancy put her in a dangerous situation. She could have easily been suspected of doing something that the people of her village would have considered offensive enough to have her stoned to death!

And so it is that Mary calls herself God’s “lowly servant girl” (Lk 1:48, NLT). I’m sure she knew what it was to feel “lowly” simply because of her status in life: she was a young woman in a world where women had no rights. She was one of the common people, with no power or position in Jewish society. Even at a young age, I have to think she may have questioned what the meaning of her life might be. She had good reason to be “confused” and even afraid when the angel Gabriel told her about the special task God had chosen her to carry out. Despite her fear and confusion, she had the faith in response to Gabriel’s assurance that “no word from God will ever fail,” to answer “I am the Lord’s servant; May your word to me be fulfilled” (Lk 1:37-38, NIV).

And so when Mary visited Elizabeth, she blessed Mary because of her faith “that the Lord would do what he said” (Lk 1:45, NLT). Elizabeth had a much different position in Jewish society as the wife of the priest Zechariah. But as a woman who had passed the age of childbearing without having any children, she lived with a unique kind of shame herself. Although it was unfair, the “blame” for not bearing children was heaped on the women of that day. And yet, there she was, filled with joy over her own child, and not only recognizing Mary’s great faith, but blessing her for it. I think Elizabeth’s affirmation was probably just what Mary needed!

And so Luke tells us that Mary burst into a song of praise to God. She praised God for being merciful “from generation to generation,” in other words, always and forever (Lk 1:50). She praised God for “lifting up the lowly” and “filling the hungry with good things” (Lk 1:52-53). She was not only thinking about the wonderful thing God was doing through her, but also the joy that had surprised Elizabeth as well. There they were, two women whom many in that day would have looked down on as “unworthy,” celebrating the goodness and mercy that God had shown them.

But more than that, Mary had the faith and insight to recognize that what was happening through her was meant to benefit her people, and also all the peoples of the world. She said that what was happening was a matter of God keeping the promise he made to Abraham. You may recall that promise: God would give to Abraham and Sarah so many descendants that they would become a great nation (Gen 12:2). And the purpose of all of that would be that “in you all the families of the earth will be blessed” (Gen 12:3). St. Paul saw that as a promise of salvation for all people (Gal 3:6-9). And Mary’s song celebrated the faith that God was doing just as he promised in and through her.

I think our Gospel lesson is a good reminder that God delights in accomplishing his work through the most unlikely people. It’s hard to imagine anyone being more “lowly” than Mary was. She had no rights, she had no power or position or privilege. But God had chosen her to bear a son who would bring salvation to all people, just as he promised. I think there’s a lesson in this story for all of us. No matter how “lowly” or “ordinary” we may feel, God has put each one of us in this life for a reason. As one Presbyterian pastor put it, “God has something he wants to do through you, right where you are.”[2] When we feel “ordinary” and wonder what our lives are worth, we can remember that God does his best work through “ordinary” people like us. And he will use each and every one of us complete the work of bringing salvation to the world, just as he promised

[2] Adapted from Rev. Richard Halverson’s benediction.

Sunday, September 20, 2020

Generous to a Fault

Matthew 20:1-16[1]

We live in a world where the value of your labor is determined by how much someone is willing to pay for it. If we look at respective salaries for different vocations, it’s rather revealing as to what we value. We pay entertainers and athletes millions of dollars for what they do. But living in a pandemic has highlighted the fact that what we pay those who are truly “essential workers,” who do the jobs that keep our lives going, is meager by comparison. Maybe one of the changes this time will provoke is for us to re-think the way we reward a few for entertaining us and wind up paying those who do the jobs that are truly important much less, sometimes not even enough for them to live on.

Of course, we can be a very generous people. Whenever we are confronted with images of human suffering, we can be “generous to a fault.” Relief efforts for national and international disasters raise millions of dollars. “GoFundMe” drives for individuals in crisis raise tens of thousands. We clearly have the capacity to help those in need in times of crisis. I wonder what it will take for us to realize that many “essential workers” like teachers, police officers, grocery workers, nurses, and many others provide services that are in fact far more valuable than those who entertain us. Maybe it’s time we reevaluate who gets to be “first” in our world, and who is considered “last.”

This is the theme of our Gospel lesson for today. Jesus tells a parable about a man who owns a vineyard. The harvest is ready and he’s anxious to get the grapes out of the field as quickly as possible. So he goes to the market at the break of day to hire day laborers for his field. Then he keeps going back all day long, sending more workers to help with the harvest. When it comes time to pay the workers things take a surprising turn. The vineyard owner instructs that the workers be paid beginning with the last to be hired—and he pays them all the same thing! Those who worked only one hour got a full day’s wage, just like those who put in a full twelve hours!

When those who had worked all day complain, the employer simply insists that he has a right to be generous with what belongs to him. I think a big part of what this parable is about is that in the kingdom of God, the realm in which God’s grace and mercy and love defines life for all people, there is nothing to earn. In a very real sense, we are all “eleventh-hour workers,” regardless of what we may have done. We all receive far more than we deserve. In this kingdom, everyone receives grace, unconditional love, and unfailing mercy equally. And that is true simply because God is generous! As Desmond Tutu puts it, “There is nothing we can do to make God love us more” and “there is nothing we can do to make God love us less.”[2]

On one level, this comes to us as unbelievably good news. But on another level, I wonder if it makes us a bit uncomfortable. When the first are last and the last are first, it upends our expectations that life will follow the predictable pattern that those who work the hardest get the most rewards. The Kingdom of God is a strange one: those who are deemed godless gain entry ahead of those who are supposedly righteous. Little children are the example by which we all must measure ourselves, not those who are accomplished and successful. Those who serve are viewed as the “greatest,” and those who seem to be “great” are in fact viewed as “least.” For those of us who have worked hard all our lives, this may not sound like good news at all! In fact, we may perceive it as a threat to our way of life!

But then maybe that’s part of what this parable is meant to address: we are comfortable with a world in which the first are first and the last are last. Giving everyone the same grace, mercy and love regardless of what they do sounds unsettling. So does the idea that everyone receives God’s blessing equally, regardless of how hard you work. We’re much more comfortable with a life that is based on the principle that you have to work hard to earn your way in life. Those of us who have worked our way to being “first” in this world like having the “rewards” of our labor.

The truth of the matter, according to our Scripture lesson, is that in God’s sight we are all “eleventh hour” laborers. We all receive far more than we deserve. The fact that in God’s kingdom, all people have equal shares means that we all enjoy God’s grace, mercy and love freely and equally. That amazing gift is more than we could ever earn, because we can never do enough to “earn” anything from God! The Bible reminds us that this not only applies to our relationship with God, but to all of life. We cannot claim anything we have as a “reward” for our labor, because all of it ultimately comes from God. If this makes it sound like God is generous to a fault, that should lead us not to object, but to rejoice like the “last” workers in the vineyard did when they received more than they expected!

[2] Desmond Tutu, God Has a Dream: A Vision of Hope for Our Time, 32.

Wednesday, May 13, 2020

On This Day

On this Day

Psalm 118:24[1]

On this day we come together to celebrate the heart of our faith: that Jesus lives! It is something that may be difficult for us to wrap our heads around. We can understand sacrificing oneself for the sake of others. Most of us have been called upon to do just that for the sake of the people in our lives we love and care about. But none of us has any first-hand experience with resurrection—at least not literally. We may have known someone who has had a “near-death” experience. But there is simply nothing in our experience of this world that gives us a basis for grasping the idea that a person who was dead—not for minutes, but for over 36 hours—somehow came back to life.

That doesn’t bother me too much, though, because I know that there are some elements of our faith that we may never understand. But while I may never be able to explain the resurrection of Jesus from death to life, I can experience the risen Lord in and through my life. I can sense the presence of the Spirit, I can feel Jesus’ impulse to compassion, and I can enjoy the freedom of faith and hope in the God who is always here. At the end of the day, I think that’s what Easter is about. When we experience the presence and power of God in our lives, it is the same Spirit that the disciples encountered in Jesus of Nazareth. And the reason we celebrate the resurrection on Easter Sunday is because that same Spirit of the risen Christ lives in you and in me and in all who have the experience of his continuing presence.

The Psalmist celebrated a kind of death-to-life renewal. He spoke of being in distress, of being surrounded on every side (Ps. 118:5, 10-11). The Psalmist spoke of being “pushed hard” to the point of falling (Ps. 118:13). The language suggests the setting of battle, but I’m not sure we should take that literally. Whether he was at the crucial point of a battle, at the point where it could have gone either way, or simply at a critical turning point in his life, he felt as if he could have been defeated. It’s in that setting that the Psalmist affirms, “The LORD is my strength and my might; he has become my salvation” (Ps. 118:14). Like a piece of stone that had been cast aside as worthless, only to be retrieved later as the most important building block that holds the rest of the structure together, the Psalmist rejoices that he has been delivered from whatever it was that threatened him.

And so he rejoices that “This is the day that the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it” (Ps. 118:24). That’s the way most translations put it. But if we pay attention to the sequence, it seems like there’s more to this verse than just celebrating God’s hand in each day. This is a special day. The rejected one has been raised to the place of highest honor. In response the Psalmist says, “This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes” (Ps. 118:23). One of the features of the Psalms is that verses are parallel with each other. Sometimes to point out a contrast. Here, I think it is for emphasis. And so that familiar verse probably shouldn’t be read as “this is the day the Lord has made,” but rather “on this day the Lord has done it; let us rejoice and be glad in what he has done.” It’s a celebration of an act so unexpected, so unique, and so “marvelous” that all we can do is to celebrate what God has done with joy and gladness.

I think that’s what Easter is about. It’s a celebration that on this day, all those years ago, God acted decisively to break the break the power of everything that threatens to enslave or oppress or distort or destroy our humanity. It’s a celebration that, on this day, God took all our pain and sorrow and suffering and sadness and loss and death and turned it all into new life. Easter is a celebration of the new life that came into being on this day and that it will one day transform everything and everyone. It is a celebration that, on this day, God acted in a decisive way to demonstrate that he is constantly working to restore the whole creation to the place where it is once again “very good.”

Simply put, because the Spirit of Easter is alive and well in this community of faith, I believe in a God who is working to bring grace and peace and mercy and love and joy and life into every life. And we experience that “marvelous” work of God in our own lives as we know the continuing presence of Jesus in all our lives. It means that for us, “Jesus is the light in our darkness, the bread that satisfies our hunger, the vine that is the source of our life, the healer who makes us whole … .”[2] Not “Jesus was,” but “Jesus is.” Easter is like a promise that points toward a future filled with hope and joy and love and life. But it is a promise that we can all begin to experience right here and right now because Jesus is alive and well in us all. Although we may never understand all that Easter means, because Jesus is alive and well in us, on this day, we can celebrate what God is doing in and through us.

[2] Borg, Heart of Christianity, 88.

Monday, September 30, 2019

Finding Lazarus

Luke 16:19-31[1]

There are many ways in this life for us to forfeit our humanity. We are so complex and vulnerable, and life can threaten us where we least expect it. I would have to say that our comfortable lifestyle encourages a complacency that can lead us to forfeit our humanity. It’s one of the most dangerous temptations of having all the “stuff” we have: it can leave us blind to the people in need and deaf to God’s call to help them. Being able to see a person living in poverty and hunger as a fellow human being is an important part of our humanity. So is being able to hear God’s call to put compassion and mercy into practice

I think that’s why Jesus told this parable: to shock all who have become blind to the needy and deaf to the call to compassion. In fact, I would say that Jesus told this parable to address the fact that the religious leaders of his day were “lovers of money” (Luke 16:14). Their love affair with their own wealth blinded them to the real needs of the people around them. Not only did they love their money, they also “justified” themselves for it (cf. Lk. 16:15). They considered their wealth to be a sign of God’s favor. Unfortunately, the combination of their love of money and their self-justification robbed them of the ability to show compassion to fellow human beings.

I believe this is the point of Jesus’ parable about a rich man and Lazarus. For those of us who have enough it can be so easy to ignore those who are in need. And when we do so, we lose a part of our humanity. What we have to understand about the rich man is that he is not only rich, he’s very rich. He wears clothing that only kings could afford. He eats all he wants of the finest and richest foods. And what is obvious from the parable is that Lazarus is not only poor, he’s completely destitute. He is so hungry he just wants the scraps from the rich man’s table. And he’s so weak that he can’t even fend off the starving dogs that gather around him!

In the story, their situations are radically reversed. Both men die, and fate of the rich man, who was very likely a “pillar” of the community and a leader of the local synagogue, is shocking in the extreme. Instead of being rewarded in the afterlife, he finds himself in torment. On the other hand, Lazarus, who would have been despised as a “sinner” getting what he deserved, winds up in paradise, in the “bosom of Abraham.” I’m not sure we could imagine a more radical reversal of fortunes. It is a dramatic illustration of the first becoming last and the last becoming first.

It seems to me, however, that one of the main points of this parable is the fact that this man who had incredible wealth ignored Lazarus, who suffered terribly right at the very gate to his household. I find myself wondering how many times the rich man ignored Lazarus. It’s hard to say. Did the rich man ever find himself in a position of actually stepping over Lazarus? I would say that’s very likely. Did the rich man ever once actually looked Lazarus in the eyes? I doubt it. The rich man had become so complacent with his wealth and his comfortable life that he could no longer even see Lazarus. And in the process, he lost a very important part of his own humanity: the capacity to show compassion to others.

After the dramatic reversal of the two men’s fortunes, the rich man begs Abraham to send Lazarus to his brothers, to warn them not to make the same mistake he had made. Abraham’s reply is simple and to the point: “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them” (Lk. 16:29). The Scriptures have all the warning they need to learn what it means to put God’s mercy into practice toward others. But the rich man’s response is equally simple and blunt, “No, father Abraham” (Lk. 16:30). The rich man knew that they wouldn’t pay any more attention to Moses and the prophets than he had. And I think this is another of Jesus’ lessons in this parable. This man would have been respected by his community. And yet, in reality, his great wealth made him deaf to the clear and repeated call of the Scriptures to share what we have generously—especially with those who are poor, or hurting, or vulnerable, or in any kind of need.

We still have Moses and the prophets, but I’m not sure we do any better job hearing them than the rich man or his brothers. We also have Jesus and the apostles, but I think it’s easy for us to ignore them as well. So what do we have, or perhaps better, whom do we have who can teach us to share what we have generously? We have Lazarus. In fact, we have many Lazaruses all around us. But the question we face is whether our humanity is still intact enough that they can help us. In the parable from our Gospel lesson, in spite of the fact that the rich man begged for Abraham to “send Lazarus” to help him, Abraham explained that he could not help. We might say that the rich man already had his chance to learn from Lazarus, and he ignored the lesson. But we still have a chance to learn from the Lazaruses of our world.

So how can the poor, the hurting, and those who have been cast out in our world teach us how to share ourselves generously? They are our prophets and apostles because they teach us that the life that is truly worth living always has been and always will be characterized by compassion and generosity. Although Lazarus could not help the rich man who ignored his plight, I think perhaps he might help us. I think he can point us to the Lazaruses all around us, poor and oppressed and outcast people who represent opportunities for us to share our mercy and compassion. When we take the time to notice them and do something to help them, we have the chance to be converted to a life of sharing with those in need. When we “find Lazarus” in the least and the lost and the left out among us, we have the chance to recovery our own humanity.

Thursday, January 03, 2019

Looking for Love

Psalm 80:1-7; Luke 1:46-55[1]

In my experience, most people spend their whole lives looking for love. I know it may be a cliché, but we really do have a way of “looking for love in all the wrong places.” We look to a significant other to fill our longing for love. Many of us are lucky enough to spend our whole lives with that person. But if we’re honest, we have to admit that no human being can truly fill our deep longing for love. Others of us may turn to our families to find the love we’re looking for. While families are wonderful, they are just people. While we may derive great joy from our families, they cannot fill our deepest longings for love. The truth of the matter is that even the good things in this world leave us at time still looking for love.

St. Augustine recognized this centuries ago, when at the very beginning of his Confessions, he said, “you have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you.”^{^[2]} It’s a lesson that is difficult to learn. In order to truly grasp the message that only God can fill the longing in our hearts, I think we have to have our hearts broken, maybe more than once. We have to come to the place where we recognize that those we look to in this life to fill our longing for love simply cannot do so. We have to learn the truth that we are made to find our longing for love filled by God, and God alone.

The message of our Psalm for today resonates with this theme. Although there is no specific confession of their sin, the people have strayed from God once again and have experienced the consequences of turning away. They have eaten “the bread of tears” and they have had to endure the scorn of neighbors and the laughter of enemies (Ps. 80:5-6). The Psalm proceeds to speak of Israel as a vineyard whose wall has been broken down and left to be ravaged by the wild animals (Ps. 80:13). For those who considered themselves to be the people of God, God’s chosen ones, experiencing such devastation had to have shaken their faith.

And yet, the very fact that they turn to God and cry out for him to save them implies quite a lot, in my opinion. I think it implies that they realize that they have strayed from God. More than that, they are making the attempt to repent and return to God. The central refrain of the Psalm is, “Restore us, O God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved” (Ps. 80:3, 7, 19). The request for God to “restore” the people could be translated “cause us to return.” That suggests to me that there is at least an awareness that they have strayed. They are seeking to return and are asking God to help them do so.

This prayer acknowledges that God is the one on whom their restoration depends. It is only as God comes among them and “lets his face shine” that they will know his salvation. The prayer recognizes that God alone is the source of their life and their well-being. The presupposition to this prayer is that they are addressing the one who has promised to love them with a love that will never let them go. They recognize that the love they need to be “restored” is the love that comes from the God of “steadfast” love: a love that is unconditional and irrevocable. That is the only love that can truly satisfy them.

The other side of this restoration is found in Mary’s “Magnificat.” Mary’s song is called the Magnificat because that is the first word in the Latin version. In her song she sings with joy over God’s work of restoration. But the way she describes that restoration might sound strange to our ears. God’s work of restoration would come about through what some have called “The Great Reversal”: the proud humbled, the powerful pulled down from their thrones, those who are stuffed sent away empty-handed, while those who are disempowered are lifted up and those who are hungry are filled with good things (Luke 1:51-53). Mary describes the overturning of the current system of destruction and oppression and violence by the ways of God’s kingdom: mercy, justice, and love.

How we respond to Mary’s song of restoration depends on where we find ourselves. The only way for those of us who are “full” and “rich” here and now to sing Mary’s song with the same kind of joy—the joy of the “lowly” being lifted up—is if we actually join with God in his work of restoration. As one contemporary prophet puts it: “There are only two ways you can enter the kingdom and experience its joy. One is to be among the poor, oppressed, bruised, blind, and brokenhearted; those to whom God comes as healing, comfort, justice, and freedom. The other way is to be among God’s people who are going to the poor, oppressed, bruised, blind, and brokenhearted and bringing God’s healing, comfort, justice, and freedom.”^{^[3]}

What may not be readily apparent is the fact that both of these expressions of restoration reveal God’s unfailing love. Both the prayer that looks to God to restore a wayward people and the song that rejoices in God’s “great reversal” reveal a God who will not leave us to our own devices when we have strayed from him. Whatever alternate sources of love we look to in this life instead of God, God remains the one source of love that will never fail us. While it is true that our hearts are restless until we find our rest in God, I think it’s also true that God does not rest until he wins our hearts over with his love. In this season of looking for God’s salvation in Jesus, it is a time to be reminded that all the substitutes we use to satisfy our longing for love will never fully satisfy us. We have been created in such a way that we will only find our life fulfilled as we look to him to fill our longing for love.

[2] Augustine of Hippo, Confessions, I.1.

[3] Cf. Stephen Shoemaker, GodStories, 217-18

Monday, October 01, 2018

Last of All

Mark 9:30-37[1]

We don’t much like not being first. For most of us, there seems to be some situation or other where not being first gets under our skin. And we certainly don’t like being last. That can be downright humiliating. It’s embarrassing. We associate being last with “losing,” and most of us don’t like to lose at anything. Some of us really don’t like losing! We associate being last with being worst, and that really gets under our skin. In the right settings, the ones that really push our buttons, being last can seem like a threat to our very sense of self. That kind of threat to our well-being is something that many of us will actually fight to avoid. Being last of all is a bitter pill to swallow for most of us.

I think one reason for this is we are such a success-oriented people. The very idea of being last just doesn’t make sense to us. We assume that those who are last in this world got there because they never really tried hard enough. By contrast, most of us spend our whole lives trying to be first and best. We’re a “go big or go home” kind of people. It feels powerless to be last, and we don’t like feeling powerless. It strips us of our self-worth. It generates shame, which is more intense than guilt. Shame is the feeling there is something wrong with us at a basic level. It calls into question our very existence. Being last equates in our minds to the feeling that we’re just not good enough.

Our Gospel lesson for today brings together several episodes that may not seem to go together. It begins with Jesus, whom Peter has already confessed to be the Messiah, telling the disciples that he is going to be killed. In their minds, Messiahs don’t get killed; they conquer and liberate their people from their oppressors. The idea of a Messiah being killed simply made no sense to them. Messiah’s don’t get killed; they usher in the Kingdom of God on earth. I think when the Scripture says, “they did not understand what he was saying” (Mk. 9:32), it may be an understatement!

Hence the fact that in Mark’s Gospel, right after Jesus gives his disciples this somber news, they are engaged in an argument about “who was the greatest” (Mk. 9:34). In this context, the Scripture doesn’t specify the greatest at what. It simply says they were arguing about who was the greatest. Set alongside Jesus’ prediction of his impending death, that in and of itself seems odd. Matthew’s Gospel brings the disparity into sharper focus: there they asked Jesus outright, “Who is the greatest in the Kingdom of God?” (Matt. 18:1). It seems clearly implied that they thought the “greatest” had to be one of them! More than that, it illustrates their total lack of understand about what Jesus was trying to accomplish.

Jesus’ answer to them makes it clear that they had missed one of the most important lessons he tried to teach them: “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all” (Mark 9:35). And to emphasize the point, Jesus seeks to correct his disciples’ misguided ambition by embracing a child, and saying, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me” (Mark 9:37). We might see that as a “cute” or “warm and fuzzy” experience, because that’s the way we see children. But for most of human history children have been seen as having no value in society. They were simply mouths to feed and were put to work as soon as possible. They were the least and the last of all in that day.

But Jesus not only said to embrace the children—who represented the least and the last of all. In Matthew’s Gospel, he told his disciples they had to become like children in order to enter the Kingdom of God (Matt. 18:3). Again, we make this “sugary sweet” by thinking he’s talking about the trusting nature of a child. But the disciples would have not found the idea of becoming like the child very inviting. The role of a child was one that was precarious in the ancient world. A child was someone to whom an adult could do just about anything and get away with it. They had no recourse, because they had no legal rights. They were the most vulnerable, the weakest, the lowest, and the last of all in the world of Jesus’ day.

In holding out children as an example for his disciples to follow, I think he was saying the same thing he had tried to teach them in many ways. I think he was telling them that if they wanted to follow him they had to become the least, the lowest, and the last of all. That’s about as contrary to our way of life as you can get. We praise ambition and we honor those who are “winners” and those who are first. These attitudes are woven into the very fabric of the way we live our lives. But while we spend our efforts seeking to be “on top,” the “best,” and first of all, Jesus calls us to a very different path.

Jesus calls us to a path of self-sacrifice, a path of making ourselves vulnerable, a path of giving up the ambitions that call to us from this world. Instead of pushing and shoving our way into first place, Jesus calls us to a path of taking last place. It’s a path that not only leads us to care for those who are most vulnerable in society. It also leads us to take our place alongside the weakest, the lowest, and the last of all. Although it goes against the grain of everything that is instilled in us from childhood, that is the path Jesus calls us to walk if we would follow him. It’s a path that leads us to give up striving to be first and best, and instead take our place with him as servant of all, and last of all.

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Because We're Blessed

Because We’re Blessed

Matthew 5:1-12[1]

I’m not sure we can hear much when we listen to Jesus preaching the Beatitudes. For one thing, I think it’s hard for some of us to hear them because we cannot possibly accept that we are “blessed” in any real way. Life is hard, and it disappoints us in many ways. Beyond that, it can feel at times like life crushes us beyond our ability to bear. Some of us have been so thoroughly broken by life that we may not even be able to get out of bed in the morning. Being told that we’re “blessed” sounds like someone speaking a completely foreign language at us. We can see that they’re talking, and we know they’re saying something, but we simply cannot grasp it

On another level, it’s hard for us to appreciate how radically different the Beatitudes are from our perspective on life. We believe that the “first” come first and the “last” have to go last. Jesus said, “the last will be first, and the first will be last” (Matt. 20:16). And in the Beatitudes he painted a picture of what that looks like. But we are people who believe in pulling ourselves up by our own bootstraps, so talk about being “poor in spirit,” or “meek” doesn’t really compute. We’re too busy out there working harder to achieve more, because it’s the only way to get ahead. That’s the way life works.

Despite these very real obstacles to our understanding, there Jesus is, declaring that we are blessed. I think Jesus knew that all who would try to follow him would desperately need those words. I think he knew that those of us who find it impossible to think of ourselves as “blessed” would need to hear that we are supported and surrounded by God’s grace every hour of every day of our lives. And I think he knew that those of us who feel like we’re doing just fine on our own, thank you very much, would need to hear that the only source we have for a life worth living is the God who loves us.

And so it is that in our gospel lesson for today, Jesus makes clear the gift of God’s amazing grace because he knows how overwhelming his call to follow him is going to be. Make no mistake about it; his call to follow him demands a great deal of us. That’s why Jesus starts his most famous sermon with a striking reminder of how much we truly are blessed. He was spelling out for us the many ways in which we benefit from the gift of God’s grace. He was describing the blessings we find when we align ourselves with God’s purposes in this world: the blessings of a life that finds all we need in God and God alone.

It might not be obvious that the Beatitudes are even addressing us at first glance. The kind of reality that they describe is so very different from anything we know it may seem like Jesus is talking about an impossible dream. We just cannot relate to what he’s saying in any meaningful way. And yet this is part of what makes the Beatitudes so powerful for all who hear them: Jesus turns the world upside down![2] He says that those whom this world deems unfortunate are the ones who benefit from God’s gift of grace. He says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 5:3). I like the way the Message translation puts it: “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.”

Immediately after the Beatitudes, Jesus is going to tell us how very demanding it is to actually put his teachings into practice. But there’s a pattern runs throughout the Bible: before the demand comes grace. Before the call to obedience on Mt. Sinai, God was moved to compassion and acted out of his great love to set his people free from slavery in Egypt. Before there even was a people of Israel, God made a promise to Abraham, a promise that came from grace and from grace alone. And before Jesus taught his disciples to follow him by loving their “enemies” as well as their neighbors, he “went throughout Galilee, … proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and sickness among the people” (Matt. 4:23). [3] That good news is that God blesses us all with his grace.

And yet, while the Beatitudes are filled with the grace that God freely offers, there’s a subtle shift that focuses on our response. Jesus also says, “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. …Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God” (Matt. 5:7, 9). These statements imply action. The Beatitudes shift from describing the blessing for those who know how much they need God’s grace to describing the blessing for those who put God’s grace into action. That is also a pattern that runs throughout the Bible. Those who receive the blessing of God’s grace are called to put that grace to work in the way they live their lives.[4]

We have plenty of obstacles that keep us from recognizing that we are the ones who are in need of God’s grace. It can be hard to believe that there is any grace in a life that can be as difficult as this one. It can be hard to admit that we are the “poor in spirit” who have nothing apart from God. And most of us prefer that our faith not make demands that challenge us the way Jesus does. Yet gift of grace brings with it a clear demand: we are called to extend God’s mercy to the left out and beat down in this world. We are called to seek to establish God’s peace and justice for those whom the world despises and rejects. We are called to share God’s grace with those in our world who need it the most precisely because we are blessed with that grace.

[2] Cf. Patricia Farris, “Be Happy (Micah 6:1-8; Matthew 5:1-12),” The Christian Century (January 26, 2005):18. She says that “the Beatitudes turn the world upside down with their shocking promise of hope to the hopeless, comfort to the bereaved, power to the powerless.”

[3] Cf. Fred B. Craddock, “Hearing God’s Blessing (Matt. 5:1-12)” The Christian Century (January 24, 1990): 74: “If the blessings were only for the deserving, very likely they would be stated at the end of the sermon, probably prefaced with the conditional clause, ‘If you have done all these things.’ But appearing at the beginning, they say that God’s favor precedes all our endeavors. In fact, all our efforts at kingdom living are in response to divine grace.” Cf. also W. D. Davis and Dale C. Allison, Matthew 1-7, 440, where they argue that the function of the Beatitudes in the structure of the Sermon on the Mount is “to put grace before imperative, greeting before confrontation, blessing before demand.”

[4] Stephen Shoemaker, in GodStories, 217–18, says, “There are only two ways you can enter the kingdom and experience its joy. One is to be among the poor, oppressed, bruised, blind, and brokenhearted; those to whom God comes as healing, comfort, justice, and freedom. The other way is to be among God’s people who are going to the poor, oppressed, bruised, blind, and brokenhearted and bringing God’s healing, comfort, justice, and freedom.”

The Waking Dreamer