Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18 • Psalm 149 • Ephesians 1:11-23 • Luke 6:20-31
Then [Jesus] looked up at his disciples and said: "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets. But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets. But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you."
We heard news this week about Hurricane Thomas hitting the Hatian coast, where people after January’s earthquake have been living in nothing more than cardboard, tarps and sheets of plastic. I was reminded of a visit to a similar kind of home in Santa Fe, New Mexico several years ago. Many of us students were there learning about multicultural ministry. One of the Latino pastors there invited us to come and visit a family from her Methodist congregation who lived in a place that was nowhere on the map. This ghost village was a collection of about 100 huts, mobile homes, cardboard boxes and other makeshift houses that Mexican immigrants had built on a large plot of open land outside of town. As we drove on the rocky dirt roads we saw tents with coops of chickens next to them, and trash and toys lying everywhere on the dirt and grass. This was a far cry from the kind of home I grew up in here in Oak Park…the kind of communities we live in. It was so hard not to think to ourselves, “how can anyone live here? Could I ever make it in conditions like this? Is this possible in our country? This can’t be that much better than where they came from in Mexico…”
When we arrived at the parishoners’ home, we walked in and it was as if every room in the house had been added on at different times, with nothing more than boards and nails. They welcomed us in, though, and soon the smell of tortillas filled the home as a snack prepared for us, and the children’s eyes lit up as they pulled out a deck of cards to play “go fish.” But it was so hard not to judge, not to stare, not to feel sorry for them.Later that day, our group was de-briefing our visit, and someone spoke up, saying “Well they may have seemed poor, but did you see the status items they did own—the big shiny new truck, a large screen TV, an old but working computer? They didn’t have it as bad as we may think.” Another person pointed out that even though their home looked so decrepid to all of us on the exterior, none of us had observed a member of the family who said they were unhappy. The parents had told us that the high school youth in the family were at the top of their academic class, too. It dawned on us…that maybe there was a little less “woe” and a little more “blessing” there than we had judged. Maybe the lack of an address, the lack of consistently running water, the cobbled together home…the lack of material wealth…did not mean there was any lack of spiritual blessing, grace or hope. After our discussion that day, it was hard for us to justify and argue that we ourselves were all that much more blessed than “they” were.It is that kind of surprising God whom Jesus proclaims in Luke’s beatitudes: the God who equals the playing field, who silences us with the truth, and who surprises us with whom God blesses. When we hear “Blessed are you who are poor…who are hungry…who weep…Woe to you who are rich…full…and laughing”, Jesus turns the world completely upside down. Jesus says material accumulation does not bring blessing, contrary to our consumer-culture oriented instincts. Just when we suspect God is present only in what is tangible, in what looks flashy, glorious and triumphant, Jesus shows up to declare that God comes in what we had thought was abandoned and full of despair.
The surprising God turns out to bless not based on whether we meet the “Beatitude criteria”—on whether we have gone and become poor, hungry and hated. Jesus isn’t withholding his blessing until we become penniless and starving. Jesus’ blessings aren’t conditional. Jesus’ blessings are descriptional of what the kingdom of God is like—where God’s presence can be found. “Blessed are you…who are without anything, but for the grace of God…blessed are you whose very life has nothing else to sustain it, but for God’s gifts to us…blessed are you who cry because of who is no longer with us; God promises us new life for them.”
As we ponder today all the saints who we hold dear—the living, who guided us in our journey of faith, and the saints triumphant, those dead whose hearts are near and dear to us this day—we give thanks that they have put us in touch with that blessing that can only have come to us from Jesus. But as amazing as they are…saints are not just those who have passed what seems like Jesus’ job description of a saint. Jesus declares us saints today too. Jesus surprises us with a blessing that comes to us regardless of what we have, or what we’ve done…regardless of how well we have followed his commands: to love our enemies, to give away the coats and shirts off our backs, to give to everyone who begs. If Jesus’ blessing were based on how well we’ve done those things, none of us would have any problem admitting we haven’t earned it. But Jesus’ blessing comes free, and it comes to us, declaring us saints—no matter our achievements, our paycheck, our age, our address. Jesus says, “Blessed are you.”
It’s from that blessing, God’s blessing, that we share that blessing freely, by giving away the blessings that are not ours to begin with in the first place. On this Commitment, Sunday Jesus’ freely given blessings—Jesus’ honoring of us—renew our commitment to giving back to God who blesses us first. No matter how big or small the amount we have written on our pledge cards today—what matters is the spirit in which we offer them to God. Making a financial commitment to offer a percentage of our financial blessings to the church is different from giving to “a worthy cause” or to a charitable organization. It’s different from giving what is left over at the end of the month. Making a personal decision to commit to giving to the church can say something about who we believe has blessed us most, and about where the source of our blessings comes from. Giving first to God sets the tone for the rest of our finances, and gives us an opportunity to grow in gratitude for God’s continual, surprising choice call us saints—to bless without discrimination. We don’t give to the church…we give from a place of blessing: in gratitude for blessings already given, and those yet to come.
As we were walking out of that home down in Santa Fe, something incredible happened. It began to rain. Pour, actually. As we watched from our cars as we prepared to drive away, the kids from the family started to play around, dancing and laughing as the rain began to turn the dirt into mud. Those drops fell on us both that day as we stood there, as freely as drops of baptismal waters, falling down to drown death and lift us to God’s eternal blessing in Christ. Baptismal waters do not stop and check to see who it is who they are washing, just as freely as those raindrops fell that day. God’s blessings fall regardless, to give life to forgiven sinner and broken saint. Those waters fall as freely as the blessing Jesus showers on us today, dear living saints. We can share that Jesus-blessing as freely as it is given, in a spirit of thanks, and can grow in our gratitude and praise for the God whose surprising grace never ceases to reach us. Amen.
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