The Beatitudes in an Age of Outrage

(thank you to Sue Kravits for the meme)

This blog post is based on my sermon delivered on January 27, 2019, which in turn relies heavily and quotes extensively from Mary Hinkle Shore's article, "The Beatitudes in the Age of Trump," published in the Journal for Preachers, Lent 2019. This blog post is intended for reflection and discussion among the members and friends of the Katonah (NY) Presbyterian Church.

Mark is a member of a Lutheran congregation in North Carolina. By Bible Belt standards at any rate, the congregation is somewhat left-leaning. Most of the church members avoid talking openly about politics, but during the 2016 election Mark would proudly wear his "Basket of Deplorables" t-shirt to choir practice. Mark's pastor is quick to point out that Mark also regularly volunteers in the church and in the community.

Another member of that same congregation is Charlie, who sleeps with a loaded handgun in his nightstand. He is a retiree living in a modest house on a quiet street that has never seen a home invasion. Yet Charlie is vigilant. He comments to his pastor that if someone comes after him or his family he does not intend to go down without a fight. And he reports that since he decided to keep the gun close, he sleeps much better. Charlie volunteers in the church and with the local sheriff's department. Often throughout the year, you will find him spending his Saturday mornings helping to control traffic so that participants in bike rides or road runs in their picturesque, western North Carolina mountain town will be safe.

Still another member of that same congregation is Julie. Julie is on the Religious Affairs Committee for the local chapter of the NAACP. On her Facebook feed, you can keep up with the latest marches and meetings that she plans to attend. She is convening a group in her church to see how their congregation can be more involved in ministry on behalf of immigrants and refugees. These days she finds herself making a lot of snarky comments and raging at the television news, but she also takes time each week to talk to a man in the church who regularly sends right wing emails to her and about a dozen others.

Mary Hinkle Shore is a New Testament scholar who taught for 13 years at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota. Six years ago, she felt a strong sense of call to return to parish ministry, and she became the pastor of the Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd in Brevard, North Carolina. Mark, Charlie, and Julie are members of the congregation that she is privileged to serve.

As Mary Hinkle Shore observes,

Americans regularly hear that our culture is getting more and more divided into enclaves of people who think alike. Social media algorithims [tend to direct us toward opinions that more or less match our own]. And yet almost all of us who belong to a Christian congregation find ourselves in the same pew week after week with people that no algorithim would pair with us.

Each week we make a confession of sin and hear words of forgiveness. We share the Peace of Christ with one another. Christ nourishes us in the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. Mary Hinkle Shore writes that

just by worshipping together, [her congregation] resists the temptation to believe that if they only voted Mark off the island, or Julie, we would offer a better witness to the Gospel . . . The temptation of the present age is to believe that after just a little violence--the snarky joke, some deportations, the death penalty, or what the gun in the nightstand can do--we will be safe.

The Beatitudes, found in Matthew 5:1-12, make it clear that our safety lies elsewhere. The Beatitudes are the first extensive words spoken by Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew. They are the opening words to the Sermon on the Mount.

Mount of the Beatitudes, near Tabgha, on the shore of the Sea of Galilee

And how does Jesus begin his most famous sermon? With words of blessing. This point cannot be emphasized enough. Jesus is NOT saying that we need to work even harder at being meek or pure in heart. Instead, Jesus is telling us that we are already blessed.

Many of the blessings mentioned in the Beatitudes would have been familiar to Jesus' original audience and to the congregation of mostly Jewish Christians in Antioch near the end of the first century, for whom the Gospel of Matthew was most likely written. Promises about the coming of the kingdom of heaven, seeing God, and being called children of God would have been familiar from the Psalms, the songbook of Ancient Israel.

The surprise, according to New Testament scholar Robert Smith, is that these promises were usually understood to be promises for the faithful in Israel, for those who excelled in righteousness, for the successful ones. But in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says that these blessings are for the very ones who were the most insecure by the standards of the day, that is, people who lacked social standing, political power, or even spiritual power. (Robert Smith, as quoted in Mary Hinkle Shore's article in the Journal for Preachers).

The ones who are blessed are poor in spirit, mourning, meek, hungering and thirsting for righteousness, merciful, pure in heart, peacemakers, persecuted, and the slandered. This is not a list of winners! Mary Hinkle Shore says that

we read down this list and wonder whether the blessing of God is not a consolation prize awarded to those who are too kind for politics, too passive for business, and too sensitive for ministry.

But about such people, Jesus says that they are blessed now--right now!--because they will in the future have the kingdom of heaven, be comforted, inherit the earth, be filled, have mercy, see God, become daughters and sons of God, have the kingdom of heaven (note that Jesus repeats this one twice!, and finally have a great reward.

Thus, the Beatitudes are present blessings based on a future promise. Why would Jesus speak in this way? Well, when does it help to know the end of a story at its beginning? Answer: when the story is going to get scary in the middle. As Mary Hinkle Shore observes,

if, in the scariest parts of the story, we are to reject trying to get safe by violence, hatred of enemies, laying up treasures on earth, then we must know something about the nature of God and our destination. We must know that ultimately we are held in the love and justice of God. When we know that this is the end of the story, our imaginations and our lives change. Jesus' promises have the effect of pulling the future they describe into the present "ahead of time." 

Another scholar and former pastor, Richard Lischer, describes it this way:

If I am out of work and on relief, and the owner of the local grocery store promises me a job in two weeks, whether or not I now adopt a stance of hope in the world depends on the character of the one who promises. (Richard Lischer, as quoted by Mary Hinkle Shore).

Is the grocery store owner trustworthy? Does he keep promises? If so, then my life has already changed.

Now, does Lischer's would-be grocery store worker have a job yet? Technically, no. He will have a job in two weeks; even so, this afternoon he twirls his wife around the kitchen when he arrives home. Tonight he sleeps without the usual interval in the wee hours spent staring at the ceiling, wide awake. Next week, he makes sure he has something in which to pack his lunch to work each day. The day before the job starts, he lays out his work clothes. His life has already changed. All of these observable actions flow from a promise made by a trustworthy grocery store owner. (Mary Hinkle Shore).

If the word of a trustworthy grocery store owner can have that kind of impact, then how much more powerful would a word of promise be from Jesus? Jesus speaks with authority, and he speaks to our fears.

It may seem that the goal of political rhetoric nowadays is to keep everyone angry, but underneath anger is almost always fear. We are afraid of many things. Some of us fear that there is no longer a meaningful distinction between truth and falsehood; some fear that our "American way of life" os about to be lost. We fear the other, the bully, the loser, the rich, the poor. We are afraid of getting old, getting cancer, being irrelevant, being in the minority. We are afraid of dying. All this fear makes us hunger and thirst for security. (Mary Hinkle Shore).

 The Beatitudes take us in a different direction. To those who have always been utterly vulnerable Jesus speaks promises of present and eternal security. From that place of ultimate safety, the followers of Jesus are free to risk living in the ways that Jesus describes in the rest of the Sermon on the Mount.

We may risk loving those who call us deplorable, praying for our persecutors, not shouting "You fool!" at the television set [no matter how tempting that might be!]. and greeting with joy the powerful resistance that our actions will call forth from the rulers of this age. (Mary Hinkle Shore).

As we risk living such a life, followers of Jesus inhabit an alternative universe right here in the middle of this one that seems so often characterized by mean-spiritedness and the dehumanization and exploitation of others. Indeed, living into the values Jesus taught in the Sermon on the Mount has the power to transform our current realities.

Will Willimon is a retired United Methodist bishop and the former chaplain and preacher at Duke University. He remembers one Methodist congregation that was torn apart by conflict and turmoil. Pastor after pastor left, declaring that this was the meanest church they had ever served.

Today, though, that same congregation is an example of how the church can be a beacon of hope. What happened? Well, that congregation set up a safe home for women and children who were experiencing domestic violence. That ministry, welcoming outsiders, extending hospitality to strangers, helped the church members to get over themselves. 

One lay leader said, "The women and children taught us lessons in courage, faith, and love. We needed to get outside of church to learn how to be the church." (from an article by Beth Johnson, "Hospitality to Strangers," in The Journal for Preachers, Lent 2019).

We needed to get outside of church to learn how to be the church.

Hold on to that phrase for the next several weeks. Let's brainstorm together about what that might mean in our context, in our ministry to and with the community.

For the next two Sundays we will continue to explore Jesus' Sermon on the Mount. You can read the Sermon on the Mount by reading Matthew chapters 5, 6, and 7. I invite you to read it at home or on your mobile devices on the train during your morning or afternoon commute. Read through the Sermon on the Mount slowly. Let the words soak in.

In what ways do you see signs that the alternative reality to which Jesus points is already taking hold in our world?

In what ways has our congregation, Katonah Presbyterian Church, already embraced the values espoused in the Sermon on the Mount?

And in what ways might we move beyond our remaining fears and more fully embrace the promises that Jesus has already made?

All glory and praise be to our God. Amen.

Please feel free to use the comments section to this blog post as an opportunity for questions and reflection . . .

 

 

 

 

Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time . . . (again)

(thank you to Sue Kravits for the meme)

This blog post is based on my sermon from January 20, 2019.

Do you remember the first time you met Jesus?

Perhaps you grew up in the church and can't remember a time when you weren't hearing about Jesus, and, like most concrete-thinking three-year-olds, you naturally assumed that the pastor was Jesus. 

And as you grew older, you became even more aware that church was the place where they talked about Jesus. You may recall the story of a children's sermon in which the pastor asked the children, "What has two long ears, a cotton tail, and hops around?" There was a long period of silence. Finally, one child responded, "Well, it sounds like a rabbit, but since this is church, the answer must be Jesus."

Perhaps you did not grow up in the church, but there was something about a friend of yours who was a Christian that you found compelling. Perhaps this friend was an Evangelical Christian who invited you to pray what is often called "the prayer of salvation" or "the sinner's prayer," and you prayed that prayer, and asked Jesus to come into your heart, and for you there will always be this before and after moment that defines the rest of your life.

Or perhaps you were going through a very difficult time in life, many nights crying yourself awake, and then one night, as the tears ran down your cheeks, a warm presence filled the room and wrapped its arms around you.

Or maybe you were weighing whether or not to take a great risk and begin a new adventure, but you weren't sure if now was really the time or not. And in the night you had a dream. You were walking along a lakeshore at night, with a full moon, and Jesus suddenly appeared ahead of you, and said, "Follow me," and later, the next morning, you wondered whether that meant Jesus wanted you to go ahead, take the risk, and begin the adventure.

Or maybe you have issues with the premise of the question, because to you it makes about as much sense to ask someone about the first time that they met Jesus as it would to ask them about the first time that they met Julius Caesar or Cleopatra.

More than twenty years ago the late Marcus Borg wrote a bestselling book entitled, Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time. 

In that book Borg wrote,

[Jesus'] own self-understanding did not include thinking and speaking of himself as the Son of God whose historical intention or purpose was to die for the sins of the world, and his message was not about believing in him. Rather, he was a spirit person, subversive sage, social prophet, and movement founder who invited his followers and hearers into a transforming relationship with the same Spirit that he himself knew, and into a community whose social vision was shaped by the core value of compassion.

Borg, who at the time was a professor of Religion at Oregon State University, helped reignite the old debate about how closely the Jesus of History truly resembled the Christ of Faith. 

I want to be quick to say that I appreciate Borg and have learned much from his writings through the years. Nonetheless, one of the criticisms of Borg and other members of the Jesus Seminar is that the portrait of the Historical Jesus that finally emerges from their work is one that looks and sounds a lot like a professor of religion at a major university.

I suspect that most of us are guilty of trying to make Jesus into our own image.

Centuries before Borg, the Gospel writer Matthew could have written Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time. (see comments by Patrick J. Willson in the Feasting on the Word lectionary commentary).

Most scholars believe that Matthew was writing from Antioch, in modern-day Syria, near the end of the first century. Matthew was hoping to introduce Jesus once again to a Christian community that was undergoing persecution and was starting to wonder exactly what kind of Messiah they were meant to follow. Who was this Jesus, this Christ, that they were already calling, "Lord?" That's the question that Matthew wants to answer.

Traditionally, this story of Jesus being tempted by the devil in the wilderness is read on the First Sunday of Lent. Most preachers (including me) are quick to make the leap between Jesus' forty days in the wilderness to our own forty-day journey during Lent. We are quick to jump from talking about how Jesus avoided temptation to talking about how we can avoid temptation.

The gift of reading a text like Matthew 4:1-11 in January is that it takes the focus off Lent and puts the focus back on Jesus, which is what Matthew intended.

Indeed, as others have pointed out, the temptations that Jesus faced in the wilderness are really Jesus' temptations and not ours.

Have you ever been tempted to feed the whole world in an instant by turning stones into bread?

Have you ever been tempted to jump from some high place simply to prove that God would miraculously save you? (I hope not!!)

Have you ever been tempted to rule over all the nations of the world, and to gain all the wealth and power and prestige in order to give it away to the poor, the oppressed, and the needy?

No. These are all temptations that Jesus faced. Indeed, we can make the argument that we are the ones who are tempting Jesus. We are constantly tempting Jesus to conform to our own expectations. We want to follow a Christ who will do it our way, who will feed the hungry once and for all because we have grown weary of all the appeals to feed the hungry.

My friend and mentor Roland Perdue, a retired Presbyterian pastor, describes a visit he made to Christ in the Desert Monastery in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It is near Georgia O'Keefe's ranch and up the road from Ghost Ranch, a Presbyterian Conference Center.

Monastery of Christ in the Desert

The chapel has a huge glass window above the altar. Through the glass you can observe the great red cliffs of New Mexico. And as the sun moves you can see different figures, different faces. As Roland tells the story, as he viewed all the different figures, it seemed to him that every gargoyle had his face on it. And he had an epiphany. He was the one trying to tempt Jesus. He was the one who wanted to know that giving over a half century of his life to ministry had been worth it, that there would be some great reward for all that he had done. He was the one who wanted Jesus to be his kind of guy. (from a sermon preached by Roland Perdue, White Memorial Presbyterian Church, Raleigh, NC, summer 2010).

Do you remember these lyrics from Jesus Christ Superstar?:

So, you are the Christ, you're the great Jesus Christ.
Prove to me that you are divine; change my water into wine.
So, you are the Christ, the great Jesus Christ.
Prove to me that you're no fool; walk across my swimming pool.
Feed my household with this bread, you could do it on your head.


We want Jesus to do it our own way. But more often than not, Jesus says, "not so fast," and he refuses to turn our stones into bread.

The following is an oversimplification, and not entirely fair to Marcus Borg, but in some ways it seems to me that

For Marcus Borg, Jesus was a teacher of wisdom who never claimed to be the Son of God.

For the Gospel writer Matthew, Jesus is the Son of God who defies our conventional wisdom.

Matthew says to the ancient Christians in Antioch and to us, "You know about Jesus' deeds of power, but do you know about his humility? (see again comments by Patrick J. Willson in Feasting on the Word)

You know that Jesus preached about the kingdom of heaven, but have you put on the character that will enable you to live as citizens of that kingdom? . . . and that is where we will pick up next week when we talk about the Beatitudes in Matthew, chapter 5.

All glory and praise be to our God. Amen.

Questions for Discussion:

1. How would you describe the circumstances of your own first meeting of Jesus?

2. Was there a time in your life when you were reintroduced to Jesus in an entirely new way?

3. How well do you resonate with Borg's description of Jesus as a "spirit person, a subversive sage, social prophet, and movement founder"?

4. In what ways would you say that you have tempted Jesus? What would Jesus look and sound like if Jesus did conform to your own expectations?

5. In what ways has Jesus defied your own settled wisdom and upset your expectations?

 

Where Do We Find Wisdom?

On January 13th, we began a new sermon series:

with thanks to Sue Kravits for this meme

This blog post is based on the first sermon in this new series, and serves mostly as a brief introduction.

A colleague of mine recently declared that she's going to stop her habit of reading the news on her phone when she first wakes up in the morning. "It hypes me up too much, she said, "and the answers I seek aren't there."

We have so much information at our fingertips, so much information that is instantly accessible--everything it seems, except the answers we are really seeking.

We yearn for wisdom. We yearn for a still, small voice in the midst of all the clamor. We yearn to have a wise mind that will help us make wise decisions and avoid painful mistakes. Or could it be that making painful mistakes is a necessary step along the road to wisdom? And the constant back and forth, the ongoing on-the-one-hand-on-the-other-hand debates in our minds makes us yearn for wisdom even more.

Where do we go to look for wisdom?

Some of us go to the past. We believe that wisdom can be found in ancient voices. Perhaps the Bhagavad Gita has a certain appeal because it is so old. The Buddha lived five hundred years before Christ. Those of us who are here in worship listen to ancient scriptures read aloud each week.

Perhaps part of the appeal of John the Baptist was that he evoked the past. The Gospel writer Matthew says that he was clothed in camel's hair with a leather belt around his waist. We might be tempted to shrug our shoulders and say, "Well, isn't that how most biblical characters were dressed?" But that's not true. John's clothing was already ancient by first century standards. He was dressed essentially as the Prophet Elijah, who had lived more than eight hundred years before and whose return was supposed to signal the arrival of the Messiah, God's long-awaited promised deliverer.

John the Baptist, Juan de Juanes, c. 1560

The people flocked to see John the Baptist. Matthew says that the people of Jerusalem and all Judea were making the trek out into the wilderness to hear John preach. Can you imagine everyone in New York City and Westchester trekking up to some remote place in the Catskills simply to hear a street preacher? If you want to hear a street preacher, all you have to do is go to Times Square! Why trek out of the city and into the wilderness?

The Preaching of John the Baptist, by Peter Bruegel the Elder, 1566

Perhaps some people were curious. Perhaps some hoped to find fault with his sermons. Yet I suspect that many went because they were yearning for wisdom.

And then John the Baptist, this fiery preacher and wise teacher, points to a figure of even deeper wisdom. He proclaims, "I baptize you with water, but there is one coming after me who will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire."

John's water baptism symbolizes a cleansing or a washing. Jesus' baptism of fire symbolizes an even deeper transformation, like the smelting of metals.

Over the next several weeks, we will seek together the wisdom that Jesus offers us.

But please know this at the outset: The road to wisdom is through the fire and not around it.

The wisdom we seek is through the fire of deep transformation.

And whether or not it sounds like it at first, that really is good news.

Questions:

Where have you typically looked for wisdom?

Who have been the wise mentors in your life?

In your own experience, can you think of wisdom that you've gained after going through a period of deep transformation?