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.

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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

It's Not About the Fish

Luke 5:1-11

Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets.

He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, ‘Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.’

Simon answered, ‘Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.’ When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break.

So they signaled to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink.

But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, ‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!’ For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, ‘Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.’ When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.

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My dad was a car salesman when I was growing up. He worked an odd schedule: 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. one day and 2 p.m. to 8 p.m. the next. One summer when I was about seven, he bought a little jon boat with an old motor.

On the days he didn’t have to go in until the afternoon, my dad, my brother, and I would strap the boat in the bed of the truck and head to Shadyside Lake for the morning. It was always a competition to see who would catch the most fish.

My dad usually came in last, though he’d tell you it was because I didn’t like taking my fish off the hook. It didn’t matter anyway because Chad always seemed to outcatch us. But our time fishing was never really about how many fish we caught.

We fished for sport, of course—just time for a father and his sons to be together, like every father wants. But for Simon Peter and the others, fishing was their job, their livelihood, a central part of their identity.

Their boat would have been one of, if not the most, important things they owned. So I wonder if Simon hesitated when Jesus asked him to put it out a little way from the shore so he could preach to the crowd pressing in on him. Whatever the case, Jesus went out on the lake, sat down, and preached.

When it was over, I’m sure Simon was ready to shake Jesus’ hand and say, “Great sermon today, Rabbi. Thank you very much. Let’s get you back to shore.” But that’s not what Jesus wanted. No, Jesus said, “Let’s go back out. I want to fish. I know where you should go.”

Do you think that’s what Simon really wanted to do? He had been out all night away from his family. He still had to wash the nets, and to make matters worse, he had caught nothing. No fish meant no money. No money meant all sorts of questions—how would he feed his family or buy the necessary supplies to keep his business afloat? So Simon responded, “Master, we were at this all night and caught nothing.” In other words: Jesus, take it from me—there's nothing out there.

I wonder how many times Simon rowed his boat ashore with empty nets. This likely wasn’t the first time. And think for a moment how hard that must have been—how it would leave Simon feeling. This was the thing he was supposed to be an expert in, the thing he’d done all his life. Like me, he spent many days fishing with his dad. So I imagine each time he spent all night on that boat and caught nothing, his inner critic was loud:

“You’re not a good fisherman, which means you’re not a good provider or husband. You don’t really know what you’re doing. You’re incompetent. You fail at this just like you do everything else.”

I have no doubt that voice left him feeling like he wasn’t good enough, smart enough, or rich enough. What he felt was despair. And when you feel that way, the last thing you want to do is go back out and try again.

Surely you know what that’s like—not for your nets to be empty, but to fail at the very thing you’re supposed to be good at. Or for your expertise to let you down. I have to believe you are no stranger to that inner critic telling you that you are not good enough, smart enough, or rich enough. If you are anything like me, you hear it nearly every night, saying you didn’t do enough today. You should have done more or done it better—because if you had, maybe people would see your worth. Maybe God would too.

Maybe your inner critic replays each encounter you had throughout the day, making you question what you said or did. Or perhaps it reminds you of all the mistakes you’ve made and why you aren’t worthy of love or joy.

How do we not fall into despair and self-doubt when we hear this?

But then Simon changes his mind and says to Jesus, “Yet if you say so.” Those five words are what being a follower of Jesus is all about. I’m not sure about this, God, but I’ll give it a go. I’ve got my doubts—about this and about myself—yet I trust you. I really don’t want to do this, Jesus, yet if you say so.

Simon says those five words and does as Jesus says. You know the story from there: the disciples catch a whole school of fish, and their nets begin to tear. So they call over their partners to bring another boat. Once help arrives, both boats are swimming in so many fish that they begin to sink. Now, it would be easy to get caught up in the fish, to think they are the most important, most miraculous part of this story. We could even twist this story to mean that if I am obedient to Jesus—if I just do what God says—then I too will get a miracle.

You likely don’t want a literal boatload of fish, yet you might hope for some miracle of abundance.

But don’t focus on the fish; that’s not the point of the story. If we do, we miss the most miraculous part—namely, that the Savior of the world is on board with them. The fish simply point to what’s most important: sitting beside them on their little boat is God in the flesh!

Everyone who saw the catch was amazed, but it is Simon who realizes what it means. So he turns to Jesus and says, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” In other words: I am not worthy for you to be on my boat. I’m not worthy because I doubted you. I’m not worthy because I’m just a fisherman, and not a good one at that. If you only knew me and my sin, if you heard my inner critic, then you too, Jesus, would know I’m not worthy.

But that’s exactly why Jesus got into the boat. He didn’t get on that boat because Simon had earned it. Clearly, it wasn’t Simon’s fantastic fishing skills that lured Jesus. If anything, it was the opposite. If anything, it was because the nets were empty. It was because Simon hadn’t caught any fish. It was because of the self-doubt and despair this so-called fisherman must have been feeling. If Simon had hauled in a huge catch the night before, what need would he have had for Jesus? It’s all grace that Jesus was on Simon’s boat. It wasn’t merit—because that’s not how the kingdom of God works. Jesus was there because Simon was in need.

The best news for all of us who hear that inner critic, who are familiar with despair and self-doubt, is that the same is true for us. God is in your boat—not because you are worthy, not because of your merit, not because what you think you are good at. It is because our nets are empty. It is because we have failed. It is because we are in need that Jesus gets on board. If we never doubted, if we never failed, what need would we have for such grace? It is grace that silences the inner critic, telling us that we are enough, we are worthy, because we are loved.

“Do not be afraid, from now you will catch people”. That’s our job, too. All around us people are falling into despair and self-doubt from the words of their inner critic, all of it amplified by the world we live in.

We are tasked with catching them by offering the same grace we have received in Jesus Christ. It’s getting on board with them when their nets are empty. It’s helping them—not because they’ve earned it, but because they need it.

Just as with my dad and brother, it’s not about the fish. It’s about recognizing that, as unworthy as we are, Jesus is on board with us, guiding us where we should go and what we should do. And even when we are unsure or unwilling to follow, may we have the strength and courage to respond: “But if you say so.”

Amen.