This is a Blessing?
Matthew 5:1-12
The Blessed’s (Beattitudinal) Response
Blessings you have heaped upon me
like this pile of unwashed laundry.
It grows with each discard:
the jacket on which I dripped
this morning’s muddy cup—blessed
are those who hunger and thirst;
the sweaty tube socks I wore
all last week—blessed
are the meek;
these frayed and faded jeans so stiff with dirt
(mom would say) they can stand by themselves—blessed,
blessed are the poor.
This pile’s stench intensifies as none ever come
to separate it into loads: lights and darks, delicate
and permanent press (who has the coin for all this?)
And still you toss on blessing
upon blessing—the mourners,
the merciful, the pure of heart—
until this moldering mount strains high
enough for you to step up and preach
your sermon.
Clearly I have a difficult relationship with this passage from Matthew—
and it’s cousin in Luke, for that matter.
I’ve had several people offer their interpretation of this poem, and all the meanings they’ve derived are
different from my original intention… much, I imagine, as Jesus’ words have been interpreted with infinite nuance, depending on our experience and hearing in the moment.
Blessings you have heaped upon me—
Imagine a homeless man staying at the Open Door Mission
listening to Jesus’ sermon on the mount,
astonished at how flippant the teacher is being in regards
to his dirty garments, the change he’d begged for a hot cup of coffee;
ticked off that all he gets is a blessing in some
unknown future time when “thy kingdom comes.”
Imagine him retorting, “mine is the kingdom of heaven?
Well that’s just great! When do I get the clothes to go with it?”
Blessings you have heaped upon me—
Or perhaps it’s not a poor man, but someone like any of us.
Someone with enough affluence to actually be able to complain about a pile of laundry;
and the free time to wonder about these blessings Jesus tosses out;
are they as impossible as they seem that God’s reign can come “on earth as in heaven.”
Blessings you have heaped upon me—
are these blessings—the beatitudes of Matthew or Luke—actually for us? Do we consider ourselves
lumped in with the “blessed are those”?
As I said: I have a difficult relationship with these beatitudes given in Jesus’ sermon.
~~~
You may remember Matthew’s version is slightly different from Luke’s telling of this scene.
Matthew puts Jesus on a mountain to talk to the crowds,
and Luke shows Jesus on a “level place” or plain.
Matthew’s blessings are for the “poor in spirit” and “those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,”
while Luke states the harsher reality of “the poor” and
“those who hunger and thirst” period.
Both Gospels, however, agree that God’s kingdom on earth (what some call God’s Shalom)
will entail a steep reversal of fortunes.
Mourners shall be comforted.
The merciful shall receive mercy.
Really?
This is what I struggle with as a person reading the sermon 2000 years after its preaching:
the merciful still get kicked around. As they say, “no good deed goes unpunished.”
And the poor? What’s there to say about that blessing?
How long do they have to wait before theirs is God’s Shalom?
So that’s my first challenge to this passage: when? how?
is it another “by and by” message for some people to
just deal with their given lot, suck it up and they’ll get their reward in heaven?
No, that’s not what Jesus is saying—he means on earth!—
but I still say: when? how?
My second challenge with this sermon, truthfully, comes from Luke’s more economic-justice-y version
with its reversal of blessings. To the beatitudes in Luke, Jesus speaks aloud an already implied list of woes or warnings:
“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.”[i]
If Jesus intends the blessings to be during our life on earth, then he intends the woes as well—not in some fire-brimmed hell. But many of his hearers died as wealthy and well-fed and satisfied as they were the day he preached that sermon. So again: when? how will the reversal happen?
But then: these are questions to which I, personally, do not really want an answer.
I do! But I don’t.
Because I am one who—in this world—is wealthy.
Perhaps not by your and my standards of wealth, but in relation to most of the world, I am rich.
And my life is good enough that laughter outweighs the tears.
Woe to me?
I don’t want to know the when of that—and I imagine you don’t either.
And yet! And yet these reversals will bring the good that we strive for as Christians seeking justice.
Reversals: that’s the kicker we most often want to gloss over.
The good of all means some must let go of some of our privileges.
If the poor are to be lifted up,
then the rich need to let go of some of what we’ve become accustomed to.
Balance.
In women receiving equal pay,
someone higher is going to have to take a bit less.
In caring for our environment for all people and the planet,
those of us with convenient transportation are going to have to curtail our individual freedoms and travel a bit.
In someone else having enough food & shelter & the necessities of life,
we’re going to have to give a little bit more of what we’ve “rightfully earned” by working hard.
Why would Jesus say that some will laugh while others weep?
Only because we’re having to let go some of the
comforts and advantages we’ve known.
And others will not be laughing at that loss,
but will be celebrating their blessings,
that they are no longer hungry or persecuted or mourning.
This is the blessing of God’s Shalom.
I want these blessings! …and yet I don’t. But I do!
~~~
Last week I heard a vivid example of privilege vs. blessing on NPR’s Morning Edition[ii].
A congressman was explaining his vote to repeal President Obama’s healthcare effort.
The congressman described how his mother had had a tumor removed the day before, by“great doctors in an excellent hospital.”
He said: “when it comes to the health of my mother, I don’t want…
[anyone else] making decisions for my loved ones.”
His strong emphasis was on the word “my.”
Not our—not the meek and those who mourn—
not his neighbor’s child born with spina bifida whose story was also told—
they are not “mine” to advocate for.
If they receive, “I” will surely lose.
Yes. We will lose some privilege;
and those who would have formerly forgone chemotherapy or specialized surgery or medications
will be laughing at their good fortune—their blessing;
while some of us who have had greater choice will mourn what we think we’ve lost.
BUT: in this scenario, the congressman’s mom will not lose treatment when all are able to receive it!
The treatment will, however, be more equal.
~~~
I know this is an over-simplification of a many-faceted issue,
but it is an example of what I mean when I say
a part of us very much wants “thy kingdom come” … and yet we don’t.
We want these blessings to manifest for the hungry and the merciful…
but it means so much change—for me! for you!
Woe indeed.
Blessings you have heaped upon me—
upon all of us.
Do we want these blessings?
I think we need to consider the question,
facing our deepest selves and the ambivalence
we may feel in the face of God’s Shalom:
do we want these blessings?
Today at our annual congregational meeting, we will be considering our mission and ministry for 2011—not just money and where we’ll spend it—but how we will choose to live and learn and share the ministry of Christ.
The Council has worked hard to discern the promise and peril of what discipleship looks like
for Plymouth Congregational UCC this year.
It is now our turn to prayerfully reflect on what we give up and what we take on
to serve God’s Shalom—God’s kingdom come on earth.
Sometimes the Good News of Jesus Christ is
more challenge than comfort.
Some days I don’t know if I’m up to the challenge…
but I pray we can face the blessing together.
Amen.
[i] Luke 6:24-25.
[ii] You can find that story here: http://www.npr.org/2011/01/20/133071571/GOP-Wont-Give-Up-On-Dismantling-Health-Care-Law?sc=emaf
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