Beatitudes

Blessings, Woes, and Wawa

Luke 6:17-26

[Jesus] went down with them and stood on a level place, with a great crowd of his disciples and a great multitude of people from all Judea, Jerusalem, and the coasts of Tyre and Sidon. They came out to hear and to be healed of their diseases, and all those who were troubled by unclean spirits were cured. All in the crowd were trying to touch Jesus, because power came out of him and healed all of them.

Then Jesus looked up to his disciples and said, “Blessed are you who are poor now, 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 exclude you and persecute 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 your ancestors did to the prophets.

But woe to you who are rich now, for you have receive your consolation. And 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. And woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what your ancestors did to the false prophets.


Pastor Cogan confirmed a rumor we’ve heard about that new construction going on at the southeast corner of U.S. 40 and Mt. Comfort Road these days. Apparently, it’s going to be a WaWa – another convenience store/gas station out of Philadelphia. WaWa also has food, with enough of a menu that you can get breakfast, lunch, and dinner, as part of your gas station experience. But that’s also true of the Speedway across the street and the Leo’s just up the road on your way to Greenfield. (I was hoping for a restaurant NOT attached to a gas station and something without a drive-thru, but no one asked me.)

But did you know there’s some marketing and social science behind the decision to put a gas station across the street from another gas station? That there’s a logic to the capitalistic tendency to put a Lowe’s hardware store very near to a Home Depot; to build a CVS kitty corner from a Walgreen’s; to put a Burger King next to a McDonald’s, next to a Wendy’s, next to a Taco Bell, next to a Chik-fil-A?

The logic, as I understand it, is that it changes the questions that potential consumers ask themselves as they drive around town. When only one potential option presents itself, the question is simply, “Do I need gas, or something from the hardware store, or something to eat?” Those are simple, yes/no questions and easier, cut-and-dry decisions to make.

But when there are similar options available to us, our minds are more inclined to engage the nuance of the potential decision before us. We no longer wonder so much about WHETHER we want or need a particular thing – a simple yes/no question. Instead, we wonder WHICH ONE of the available options is more appealing, and are more inclined to choose SOMETHING, accordingly, whether we need it or not. Sneaky, right? Clever, don’t you think?

It could very well be just me – and my struggle with the Beatitudes whenever they show up – but I feel like Jesus might be up to something similar with this portion of his “Sermon on the Plain,” today, and all of his talk about “Blessings” and “Woes.”

Blessed are you who are poor, who are hungry, who are weeping …

If Jesus ONLY gave us the blessings to wonder about, it would be easy for each of us to see ourselves as recipients of the healing, hope, comfort, joy, and favor, he promises. Who among us doesn’t or hasn’t wished for “more,” to the point that, without some perspective we might think we know what “poor” feels like? And who among us doesn’t know what it is to weep, or to hunger for something other than food, or to be left out, excluded, and misunderstood where faith – or something else may be concerned?

I’ll take that blessing every time and I’ll live in that hope whenever and wherever I can find it, thank you very much.

But Jesus gives us more than one option to think about – more than one perspective to consider – this morning, doesn’t he? To use my gas station example, Jesus sets up this little shop of BLESSINGS right next door to this little factory of WOES, does he not? He proposes this litany of BLESSINGS right across the proverbial street from that other list of WOES so that it’s harder to just drive on by, encouraging us to think more deeply about how they show up in our lives – whether we may want to go there, or not.

And, truth be told, I’m equally – if not more – convicted by the woes than the blessings in Jesus’ beatitudes. I’m not wealthy by the standards of many, but I am rich in ways most of the world cannot fathom. (Woe to me.) I am filled to overflowing – literally and figuratively – and have never known the kind of hunger – literal and figurative – with which so many struggle. (Woe to me.) I find opportunities for joy and light and laughter in this world, even though there is so much to be dismayed about and despairing over, for sure. (Woe to me. And to most of you, too, from what I can tell.)

So, again, if Jesus merely presented us with the WOES as he lays them out today, I could easily wallow in that shame, guilt and sadness, like a pig in slop. Woe, is me.

But, again, Jesus builds this house of WOES, right next door to this little gift shop of BLESSINGS, and inspires me to do more than just drive on by, or to say “yes” or “no” to my first instinct or inclination about how they apply to my life and faith in this world.

And it’s important to notice that this is a conversation and that these are choices meant and made, very specifically, for Jesus’ disciples. Yes, there were multitudes there from all over Judea, from the big city of Jerusalem, and from the coasts of Tyre and Sidon. But when Jesus looked up and started saying these things in particular, we’re told he was speaking directly to his disciples – to those who wanted to follow in his footsteps, to do his bidding, to walk in his ways.

And that’s you and me on our best days, right?

Our lives are a swirl of blessings and woes so extreme that they can be difficult to reconcile – and God knows that. And God knows, too, that we find ourselves on either end of the spectrum of these blessings and woes, depending on what day or minute or moment we decide to take a good, hard look, as Jesus invites us to do, today.

How can we look at the world around us and not wonder who are the rich and privileged? (Global Refuge, which used to be Lutheran Immigration and Refugee Services, had 97% of their funding frozen in the last week or two, leaving refugees stranded instead of saved, as planned. They’ve laid off ¼ of their staff and couldn’t make payroll this week, either so it’s not getting better anytime soon.)

How can we see the poverty of food and the scarcity of resources that exist for so many and not wonder how we might pray and advocate for something better? (The recent halt to USAID funding will impact everything from AIDS testing and education to contraceptive healthcare to food and medical assistance for some of the most vulnerable people on the planet – including our friends in Haiti.)

And how can we see the weeping and mourning of others and not do whatever we can to provide comfort, peace, and hope in its place? (This is why we plan things like advocacy training workshops around here so that we might make a difference on behalf of people without homes in our own neck of the woods.)

See, I think Jesus lays out these two competing realities – these blessings and woes – side by side before us, as he does – so that we won’t just go about our lives of faith asking simple “yes” and “no” questions, like blind, happy capitalists, on our way to the gas station, or the drive-thru, or the voting booth, or even to church on Sunday morning.

I think Jesus knows and wants us to assume that most of us will have blessings and woes aplenty in this life. And he wants us to wonder about how our blessings impact the woes of others, and vice versa, so that we will see our wants and needs, our blessings and woes, in the context of and in connection with the multitudes of neighbors – all children of God – in the wide world around us.

And I think Jesus wants us to ask better questions. Not merely IF or WHETHER we’ll step up and step out in faith to love our one another, for God’s sake, but WHEN and WHERE and HOW. And he wants to watch us do something to turn the tables – to create more blessings where there seem only to be woes – for us and for others, on this side of heaven, in his name.

Amen

Comfort for the Mourning

Matthew 5: 1-12

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.


Say the name, toll the bell, light the candle. It may seem like a strange tradition, at least from the outside. But the church has been celebrating this day, in some way or another, for over 1700 years. Meta Herrick Carlson writes movingly about this day in her book Speak it Plain and I share her words, call it a prayer or poem, with you this morning.

She writes,

“I listen for it tolling from steeples in the sky. The bells stir the air between here and heartache. For a moment, the mystery satisfies, and we are all together.

I hang onto memories and promises with my fingernails just barely - not because I am certain, but because it is all that’s left. Because if I let go, I will fall and break apart.

Perhaps, someone will speak of my Beloved today and then I will not be so alone. Hearing the name aloud makes it real, shares the weight like a new song I think I’ve always known.

There are candles to light, the quiet resistance of remembering.”

It is comforting to hear something so accurately describe what or how you feel. Carlson does that for me with her description of mourning: it’s sad like heartache, it's a heaviness that weighs on you until tears or tiredness take over; its the griping of memory for dear life, its a loneliness we can’t quite shake.

Yet Jesus says blessed are those who mourn. That’s the thing about a beatitude… it's contrary to what we think its going to say or should say. Blessed are those who mourn is not what we expected.

Mourning doesn’t feel like a blessing. You don’t need me to tell you that. You have lost a loved one before, maybe it was this year or the last or 20 years ago; regardless of when, the mourning is still there. We all mourn but we might not all mourn the same. Maybe you’ve been on the receiving end, hopefully not here, of someone saying “its been x number of years, don’t you think its time for closure?” But that's not really how it works is it? The feeling of loss may not ever leave.

Today though is about the promise of comfort Jesus talks of. Today is a day set aside to speak about your beloved, to remember them, and by doing so, receive a little bit of comfort in the midst of mourning. Remembering may seem insignificant, a way of living in the past and not present in the hear and now.

Frederick Buechner says there are two kinds of remembering. “One way is to make an excursion from the living present back into the dead past.” Like a longing to live in the days already gone.“The other way is to summon the dead past back into the living present. The young widow remembers her husband, and he is there beside her.”

That’s the kind of remembering Jesus had in mind when seated at the last supper, he said to his disciples and to all of us, do this in remembrance of me. In our remembrance of that night, of that meal, Jesus and all the company of heaven, all those we have lost, including your beloved, are right beside you at this meal.

That’s the kind of remembering we are doing today when we say their names, ring the bell, and light the candles. So often we don’t ask about someone else’s beloved, the people or person they’ve lost because we think it’ll make them upset, that it will draw back unwanted memories, that it's salt in a still healing wound. But here, in this community, on this day, to speak the name is not salt but a soothing salve. Because when you say to someone, tell me about your beloved, and a story is shared, we who mourn are less alone. When you say, I remember when they did that or when they said this, you help the weight of grief be shared with another set of shoulders.

“Perhaps, someone will speak of my Beloved today and then I will not be so alone.”

That’s one of the reasons I find funerals so moving. This may sound morbid, but I don’t intend for it to. Some of the most formative, insightful, grace-filled moments in my first year here at Cross of Grace have been the funerals and memorials. I never met Jim Smith, or Chuck Hershberger or Janis Janelsons. And I met with Bev Bancroft and Mike McCoy too few times. I did not have the pleasure to know them as many of you did. Yet, leading up to and at their funerals, I heard many stories and memories, about when they were a child or a young adult, about what led them here and what they did for work, what and who they were proud of.

It gave me a fuller picture of not only that person, but of those who loved them and a deeper understanding of this community. On those days we are unafraid to speak their names and share their stories. And those gathered were comforted.

That's the promise; blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Of all the beatitudes, this is one where you can make that promise happen, here and now.

You can help give someone else that comfort, if even for a moment, simply by speaking of their beloved.

So today ask someone else about their beloved. Invite someone to share that memory they are holding onto with just their fingertips, and share the weight of mourning. Even better, make this a practice throughout the holiday season. It may seem early to talk about the holidays, but don’t act like some of you don’t already have your Christmas decorations out. You know who you are (we do too).

In this season the weight and loneliness can feel acute and overbearing, but you can be the promised comfort Jesus speaks of to someone else. In doing so you too will get a fuller picture not only of that person, but of those who loved them. And if that sounds like you receive a lot of joy in being that comfort for someone else, consider being a Stephen minister. If you need that comfort, consider getting a Stephen Minister, thats what they do!

And while that comfort may only be temporary, today is also about holding on to the promise that one day, we will receive the full comfort of being reunited with all our beloved ones, forevermore. As Meta wrote, our quiet resistance to death is remembering. But Jesus’ quiet resistance was his work on the cross, where, as the spiritual reminds us, he never said a mumblin word. And it’s through his work that we are forgiven and the promise to be with God and loved one’s is made ours.

Receive that promise as a gift this morning. That your beloved is a saint, not because they lived a nearly perfect life, but because as Luther liked to say they are a forgiven sinner. In our tradition that’s what makes a saint, and we can trust that all saints now rest with God and one day so will you. That too is the promise of comfort Christ makes to us in this beatitude.

Today is not simply saying the name, tolling the bells and lighting the candles. It’s much more than that. It’s holding on to our memories, to our beloved, and to Christ’s promise with all we have, if even by the tips of our fingers. It is the practice of quiet resistance to death and all that separates us from God and one another.

So I invite you to practice the quiet resistance of remembering. Who is your beloved? As we sing our hymn of the day, come light a candle for them, remember them, and be comforted by the promise that you, dear saint, will be with them once again.

Thanks be to God. Amen.