Matthew 5:1-12

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain, and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. And 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 the sake of righteousness, 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.

We’ve all heard that experience is the best teacher. Some of us have stories confirming that to be true… but maybe others don’t agree with the age old adage. For example, experience is the best teacher doesn’t seem to hold up well with most if not all of the beatitudes. Blessed are the poor in spirit, the mourning, the meek, the merciful. These are not characteristics or situations our culture celebrates.

Afterall, there’s no scholarships for those who show mercy or are gentle and content! There are no greeting cards that say “hooray, you're mourning!” And if you’ve ever been or felt poor in spirit, felt like you were in despair and totally hopeless toward your inner life: your thoughts, feelings, confidence, and you beg God to help because you are completely unable to help yourself, if you’ve felt that way, did it feel like a blessing?

I think of the neighbors of the church I served in Glendale, AZ. By neighbors I don’t mean the families in the houses surrounding the church, but our neighbors who slept on our campus under the bushes out front or in the breezeways. Most, if not all, struggled with addiction, and with undiagnosed or unmanaged mental illness. Many had lived on the streets for years, some more than a decade.

As I got to know them, I listened and heard their feelings: despondent, helpless, begging God to help break their addiction, for the system to work, to feel loved. They were poor and spiritually poor, but I'm not sure I’d called or they would call themselves blessed.

Maybe Jesus is wrong on this one, maybe these things, these beatitudes just aren’t right and true. If that’s the case, Jesus can chalk this one up to inexperience: he just doesn’t know any better, he doesn’t know the way the world works yet. He hasn’t experienced how the merciful get screwed over, or the one’s who fight for justice don’t see the fruition of their efforts,

or the peacemakers pale in comparison to the violence of this world.

Afterall, he’s still young… What is he? 29? Maybe 30? Heck, this is his first sermon!

And coming from a 29 year old about to have a child, I feel very confident that there certainly is more I don’t know or haven’t experienced compared to what I do know and have experienced. If experience is the best teacher, then maybe Jesus needs a little more.

But that’s not the case. Jesus is speaking from experience, it’s just not included in the part of the text we read today. Just before Jesus climbed the mountain, he had been off in Galilee, and Jerusalem, and beyond, where he’d been “curing every disease and sickness among the people.” As he traveled, people brought the sick and the lame, people with all sorts of diseases and demons, pains and paralysis.

And we have to remember, that to be one of these people in the time of Jesus didn’t mean you were just sick: you were an outcast, viewed as a terrible sinner who deserved their plight.

You were poor, likely unable to work, and forced to the margins of society. These people were the poor in spirit, the meek, and the mourning.

These were the people who hungered and thirst for justice because they’ve been starved by injustice. After calling his first disciples, these are the people Jesus goes to; Not the rich in spirit, not the joyful, not the ambitious, but the opposite.

If experience is the best teacher, no wonder Jesus preaches with such potency. And if experience is the best teacher, no one knows or has lived these beatitudes more fully than Jesus himself. He’s the poor in spirit who cries out in abandonment asking “why, God?!”,

the one who mourns a world full of oppression and sin, the meek one who put all people before himself, the one who hungers and thirst for justice in every land, the giver of mercy to the least deserving, the pure in heart who sees God’s will and does it, the peacemaker who overcomes death not with violence but self-sacrifice, the persecuted and reviled One who willingly went to the cross. Like my neighbors in AZ, I, and most people, wouldn’t call that blessed.

Which is precisely the point. In the beatitudes, Jesus isn’t just describing reality, he makes reality. When Jesus speaks, the Word creates what it declares. In other words, The beatitudes are promises, promises to all who find themselves in these situations. You are and will be blessed. Not because of what you have done or didn’t do, but because of what Jesus has done, is doing, and will do through the cross.

In that way, those who are poor in spirit, persecuted and reviled, they are blessed because Jesus is there beside them and makes it so. My neighbors in AZ, they are blessed because Jesus promises to be there with them. And it’s not blessed as in lucky, wealthy or successful, but blessed as in favored by God because that’s where God is at work. Hopefully, there is some comfort in knowing that no matter how helpless or desperate or mournful you feel, Jesus has felt that too. And we see that most clearly in Christ crucified.

Now I want to be clear. These beatitudes are not imperatives. They don’t command you to become poor in spirit or meek or mournful as if that would save you. They aren’t goals you can check off. On the cross, Christ became all these things, each beatitude for you, giving you grace. So the beatitudes are not demands, but a warning and a promise. A warning to potential disciples back then and to followers today.

Picture yourself on that mountainside and it’s as if Jesus is saying:

“because you follow me, because you will speak and act and live in ways different from the culture around you, you will find yourself poor in spirit, meek and mournful, hungry and thirsty. You will be merciful and people will take advantage of you. You will attempt peace and you will be a lonely voice. It will be hard. You’ll feel pain, maybe even despair. But I promise, you’re blessed because I am there with you”.

As followers of Jesus, heed the warning and trust the promise.

Know it won’t take very long and we won’t have to look very hard, till we find ourselves in these situations, like: mourning the brutal killing of Tyre Nichols; hungering and thirsting for justice for our black and brown siblings; acting meek by refusing to take part in violent and unjust systems; making peace in our own families and communities.

May experience be the best teacher and may you be blessed.

Amen.

Matthew 5:21-37

“You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire. So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away; it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to go into hell.

“It was also said, ‘Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.’ But I say to you that anyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of unchastity, causes her to commit adultery; and whoever marries a divorced woman commits adultery.

“Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord.’ But I say to you, Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. Let your word be ‘Yes, Yes’ or ‘No, No’; anything more than this comes from the evil one.

I’m an all-or-nothing kind of guy in a lot of ways, and it’s come to my attention in the last couple of weeks, yet again, much to my chagrin. I was reminded of it most recently when I got onto a health kick and began to get into an exercise routine, which I started again after some time, a few weeks ago.

And if I’m going to exercise, I’m going to run, not walk. And if I’m going to bother, there’s going to be some distance involved – a few miles, at least – even if I haven’t stepped on a treadmill for, say, 6 months or more. And if I’m going to exercise, I’m also changing my diet. There’s no sense bothering with all of that time and energy, sweat and tears, and so on if I’m just going to undo it all with a large fry. So I cut calories and do without sugar and drink water by the gallon and so on and so forth.

And then I’ll hurt myself – strain my back, let’s say – to the degree that I can barely walk or stand up straight without groaning or find a heating pad hot enough to take away the pain, whatever. And I’ll have to stop running…or walking, for that matter… because why bother? And if I’m not running who cares about what I’m eating…so back come the calories and the candy and the snacks and the sugar and all the rest.

And this ridiculous character flaw shows up in other ways, too. If I can’t clean the bathroom from top to bottom, why bother just scrubbing the shower, even though it could use it? (So I don’t do either, often enough.) If I’m not going to move all of the furniture to get at every inch of carpet, why run the vacuum at all? (So I don’t.) If I’m not going to cook a full-fledged meal for everyone to sit down and enjoy, why not just grab some chips and salsa and call that dinner? (Which I do, far too often.) It’s a character flaw. And it can be ridiculous. And, as you might imagine it’s not one of my wife’s favorite things about me.

Anyway, when I read Jesus’ words from this bit of his Sermon on the Mount, I feel like he’s describing some kind of an Olympic-level regimen for discipleship and faithfulness. And it makes me tired and it wears me out and it makes me not even want to try. It seems impossible; it’s certainly unlikely; it may even be downright unfair to expect this kind of dedication, this sort of complete devotion, this total, all-or-nothing commitment to the ways of God as he describes them.

After all, he sets the bar of faithfulness so high in what we get for today, who could live up to his standards? In verses 21-26, he lumps anger and insult into the same category as murder. In verses 27-30, he puts a wandering eye under the same umbrella as adultery. And in verses 31-32, he makes divorce and adultery one-and-the-same – as far as many people I know are concerned, anyway. And, of course, the corresponding punishments for not living up to it all are extreme – tearing out eyes and cutting off hands, and so forth. Most of us are in some “deep kimchi,” as my high school history teacher used to say.

And I know we can’t minimize this. We surely can’t disregard it out of hand, like my all-or-nothing attitude tempts me to. (If I can’t honor all of it … in full … with perfection … why bother?) But we can’t believe, either, that Jesus is advocating we actually lop off our limbs and pluck out our eyes or otherwise punish ourselves with guilt and abuse every time we falter or fail.

See, I don’t think Jesus means to be holding up an impossible standard, just for the fun of it. And I don’t think Jesus is testing our willingness or ability to actually be perfect as some Christians might be inclined to suggest. I don’t think Jesus is setting the bar for faithfulness so high in order to see who can endure the most intense, grueling, deprived life of discipleship. Nor do I think Jesus ever means to make faith like an exercise in something we can fail at or succeed in. Where would the grace be in any of that?

What I think Jesus means to do, is to encourage us and challenge us and inspire us in as many ways as possible so that we’ll live faithfully in ways that bless us and that bless the world in return.

I think Jesus – in this moment with his disciples on the hillside – is like a loving parent…like a trusted partner…like a model coach who pushes his most trusted followers in ways and to places that they – and we – might not get to without some encouragement and challenge. What he’s calling us to are lives that shine the light of God; that usher in the Kingdom; that bring to bear upon the world, a better way of grace. And that kind of kingdom-living isn’t easy, pretty, or perfectly managed – but it doesn’t mean we don’t try… that we don’t set a high standard for ourselves and each other, nonetheless.

In other words, for people celebrating and searching for the kingdom of God among us, we can’t let murder be the minimum standard by which we govern our anger – what we post on Facebook or whisper behind backs matters. We shouldn’t let adultery be the standard by which we measure faithfulness to our partner – the way we talk about and treat women matters. The way we talk about and treat men matters. And we shouldn’t let divorce come as an easy solution to problems in a marriage – because love and forgiveness and reconciliation are worth the work.

So, Jesus holds up a higher standard, not because he wants to see us fail – or because he knows that we will – or because this life of faith is an all-or-nothing endeavor. What Jesus does is raise the bar of faithfulness for us because he knows that we and the world will be blessed by every effort we make at living into those faithful hopes and expectations, even when it’s hard; even when we don’t do it perfectly.

It’s why we do what we do together as believers in the church. I think our life together here is meant to be a training ground for grace and discipleship that helps make us fit for the kingdom of God we’re called to experience and bring to bear on the world out there.

When we talk about praying it’s not to get the words just right so we’ll get what we want or all we think we need. When we miss the chance to pray as we should, it doesn’t mean we refuse pray as we ought when the next opportunity arises.

When we encourage and challenge each other to give our money away, it’s not just to pay the bills or to build a building. It’s to grow generous people. And just because we can’t give it all, doesn’t mean we don’t give any. Just because we can’t give as much as so-and-so, doesn’t mean we don’t give as much as we can or know we should.

When we talk about practicing our faith, in any way, as children of God, it’s not because we are – or ever could be – done, or perfect, or better than anybody else in the eyes of our creator. It’s because we will be blessed…and able to bless others; it’s because we will be fulfilled…and able to fill the world; …and it’s because we will be forgiven, even when we don’t.

Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount – and today’s words, as hard as they sound on the surface – are all about living, as disciples, in ways that aren’t always easy, or comfortable, or popular. And we will fail…, or come up short…, or leave so much left undone, more often than we’d like. And, it might be tempting to wonder “Why begin?” or “Why bother?”

But in those moments our answer is an “all-or-nothing” kind of thing, only it has nothing to do with our efforts, or our energy, or our success, or our failure. It has everything to do with God’s effort and God’s energy and God’s faithfulness in Jesus. The only “all-or-nothing” that matters here, is God’s “all-or-nothing,” which says always says “no, no” to our sin and brokenness and failure, and “yes, yes” to our forgiveness and love and second-chances in all things by amazing grace.

Amen

"Experience, the Best Teacher"

All or Nothing Faith