November 17, 2024

Today’s Gospel reading comprises the well known “beatitudes” from Jesus’ sermon on the mount.  They’re called beatitudes because they are all regarded as statements of blessing (or “beatification,” if you will).  Nine of the verses begin “Blessed are . . .”  I’d like to offer a new rendition of the beatitudes – one that’s a little more realistic, and based on life as we know it to be:

When the leader saw the poll numbers and market potential, he went on television; and after he sat down on the set, the cameras started to roll.  Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:

“Pitiful are the poor in spirit, for they fail to take pride in themselves and in their heritage.

“Pathetic are those who mourn, for their lives aren’t happy like they’re supposed to be.

“Ridiculous are the meek, for they will be crushed beneath the feet of the strong.

“Clueless are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they haven’t figured out that it’s all about wealth and power.

“Gullible are the merciful, for they will be unlikely to receive mercy themselves.

“Delusional are the pure in heart, for no one is pure any more, and we all know it.

“Naive are the peacemakers, for they will fall victim to the guns and bombs of the war makers.

“Hopeless saps are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the fate of all starry-eyed believers.

“Justified in righteous indignation are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely.  Strike out and get revenge, for your reward will be a sizable settlement for damages and mental anguish, for in the same way they persecuted others and got away with it, but not any more.

Now, doesn’t that sound a little more like it?  I mean, let’s get real – “The meek . . . will inherit the earth?”  Just exactly how is that supposed to transpire – if we all just bow our heads, and shuffle our feet, and shrug our shoulders, the terrorists are going to stop bombing us and give us flowers and kisses instead?  Give me a break.  How un-American can you get?

When was the last time you felt “blessed” because you were “poor in spirit, mourning, meek, or persecuted?”  I daresay, most of us have felt cursed when those things befall us.  How in the world did Jesus get his values so upside down?

Well, as I’m sure you can guess, I think it’s not Jesus whose values are upside down.  Here’s the big question for us: how do we get from where we are in this world, to where Jesus is?  If I could answer that question in fifteen minutes, I’d go on TV myself.  But I do have some thoughts to share with you that just might help kick-start your own thinking about it.

The first observation has to do with the reward Jesus is offering to the “poor in spirit” and those who are persecuted.  He says, “theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”  He doesn’t say that they’ll get into the kingdom of heaven, or even that they will have the kingdom of heaven.  It’s present tense, possessive case.  In other words, these people have the kingdom of heaven.  All the other beatitudes have a future tense reward: “they will be comforted . . . they will inherit the earth . . . they will be filled . . . they will receive mercy . . . they will see God . . . they will be called children of God.”  But when it comes to the Kingdom of heaven, the poor in spirit and the persecuted have it.  What does it mean to have the kingdom of heaven?  I can’t say what it means to you, but here’s what it means to me.

Heaven may have something to do with life after death, but it’s the heaven in the here and now that means the most to me.  Jesus said the kingdom of heaven is, depending on how you translate his words, “within you” or “upon you”, or “in the midst of you.”  That doesn’t mean life is a blissful romp through the daffodils.  You and I have been around the block enough times to know that’s not the case.  I think it means that existence is perfect – it’s perfectly magnificent.  Yes, I know, there are 367 different kinds of suffering, and evil sometimes overwhelms us; reality bites, but, as Woody Allen said, “it’s the only place to get a good steak.”

When I was divorced, many years ago, I was devastated.  I had lost my family, I had lost my home, I had left my job.  I have never felt so alone in my life.  I was fortunate enough at the time to find a very wise therapist who didn’t try to rescue me from that loneliness, but pushed me deeper into it.  Groping around in that darkness, I discovered a resource I never knew was there – it was the comfort of simply being – being alone in my own presence.  I made an amazing discovery in that time. It is that existence is a magnificent thing, and it doesn’t require of you that you be happy in order to drink of its joy.   Pain, and aloneness, and depression, and darkness, and evil, and all the other things we fear most, are not ultimate things.  They’re part of the mix – along with pleasure, and beauty, and passion, and meaning.  And to be part of it all, to exist, to embrace existence without having to fight it or flee from it, that’s perfection.

I think that’s why the “poor in spirit” and the “persecuted” have the kingdom of heaven.  Because those on the other side, the proud and the persecutors, are so engaged in trying to hammer existence into a form that suits their fancy that they entirely miss the heaven that’s “upon” them.

Jesus is, I believe, calling us to a deeper kind of living, a kind of “submarine life’ that rides beneath the froth and foam of distractions, pleasures, and pursuits that fill our hearts.  I believe he’s calling us to an entirely different set of values than we are accustomed to.  He lifts up those who are “poor in spirit,” the “meek,” the “merciful,” the “peacemakers” as models.  He says that these people ‘get it.’  Can you imagine how far a political leader would get today advocating the values of the sermon on the mount?  He’d be driven out of office – laughed out of town.

This sermon preached by Jesus on the mountainside is his inaugural address.  It’s his “state of the Kingdom” speech, offered at the very beginning of his ministry.  And he begins it by giving us a new set of values.  They are not the values of sexual propriety, or having a nuclear family with 2.5 children, or striking down indecency on television, or defining in absolute terms the beginning or end of life.  No, what Jesus offers us are attitudes – attitudes that transcend our preoccupation with pleasure, and power, and self-protection, attitudes that reflect a deep appreciation of being.  They are “be – attitudes” if you will – attitudes of being meek and merciful, poor in spirit, hungering and thirsting for righteousness, and being peacemakers.  To develop and hold such attitudes is to move gracefully into the art of being, and to have the kingdom of heaven.

I’m sure you’ve all noticed that I usually offer an appropriate quote from Frederick Buechner in the bulletin.  He’s a great resource for inspiring and creative thinking and writing.  He died just over two years ago, and today, if you’ll bear with me, I’d like to take the opportunity to share with you some rather lengthy, but worthwhile thoughts from Buechner on the Beatitudes.

He writes: “If we didn’t already know but were asked to guess the kind of people Jesus would pick out for special commendation, we might be tempted to guess one sort or another of spiritual hero—men and women of impeccable credentials morally, spiritually, humanly, and every which way. If so, we would be wrong. Maybe those aren’t the ones he picked out because he felt they didn’t need the shot in the arm his commendation would give them. Maybe they’re not the ones he picked out because he didn’t happen to know any. Be that as it may, it’s worth noting the ones he did pick out.

“Not the spiritual giants, but the “poor in spirit,” as he called them, the ones who, spiritually speaking, have absolutely nothing to give and absolutely everything to receive, like the Prodigal telling his father “I am not worthy to be called thy son,” only to discover for the first time all he had in having a father.

“Not the champions of faith who can rejoice even in the midst of suffering, but the ones who mourn over their own suffering because they know that for the most part they’ve brought it down on themselves, and over the suffering of others because that’s just the way it makes them feel to be in the same room with them.

“Not the strong ones, but the meek ones in the sense of the gentle ones, that is, the ones not like Caspar Milquetoast but like Charlie Chaplin, the little tramp who lets the world walk over him and yet, dapper and undaunted to the end, somehow makes the world more human in the process.

“Not the ones who are righteous, but the ones who hope they will be someday and in the meantime are well aware that the distance they still have to go is even greater than the distance they’ve already come.

“Not the winners of great victories over evil in the world, but the ones who, seeing it also in themselves every time they comb their hair in front of the bathroom mirror, are merciful when they find it in others and maybe that way win the greater victory.

“Not the totally pure, but the “pure in heart,” to use Jesus’ phrase, the ones who may be as shopworn and clay-footed as the next one, but have somehow kept some inner freshness and innocence intact.

“Not the ones who have necessarily found peace in its fullness, but the ones who, just for that reason, try to bring it about wherever and however they can—peace with their neighbors and God, peace with themselves.

“Jesus saved for last the ones who side with heaven even when any fool can see it’s the losing side and all you get for your pains is pain. Looking into the faces of his listeners, he speaks to them directly for the first time. “Blessed are you,” he says.

“You can see them looking back at him. They’re not what you’d call a high-class crowd—peasants and fisherfolk for the most part, on the shabby side, not all that bright. It doesn’t look as if there’s a hero among them. They have their jaws set. Their brows are furrowed with concentration.

“They are blessed when they are worked over and cursed out on his account he tells them. It is not his hard times to come but theirs he is concerned with, speaking out of his own meekness and mercy, the purity of his own heart.”1

I think Buechner put his finger on it. And here’s what I believe with all my heart: if I could, and you could, and followers of Christ around the globe could actually adopted these attitudes of being, it

1Originally published in Whistling in the Dark and later in Beyond Words

 

 

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