February 12, 2007

sermon for 6 epiphany, year c

Today’s Gospel lesson is by far one of the most dangerous passages in the New Testament. It has long been used to oppress and keep the poor in their place. In Latin America, for example, the government was tied up so deeply in the church that preachers told their congregations over and over again that they should be happy with their place in the oppressive structures because Jesus said, “blessed are you who are poor.” Devout Christians heard their priests, trusted them, and found themselves powerless to overcome the oppression for fear of their own salvation. Inherent in this system of oppression is a reading of today’s gospel with an understanding that Jesus was only concerned in the world to come. Put into context, however, we will see that while Jesus was concerned with the world to come, he was just as interested in life here and now.

The Christianity given to these Latin Christians assumed that Jesus was coming back immediately. You see, if Jesus comes back tonight or tomorrow, there is no need to change things for the better here and now. But what if he isn’t? What if his words, “blessed are you who are poor… blessed are you who are hungry now… blessed are you who weep now… blessed are you when people hate you, exclude you, revile you, and defame you” are meant as much as promises of the age to come as they are to change the here and now?

Just prior to today’s lesson we find Jesus on the top of a mountain discerning who he would call “apostle.” He has been up all night in prayer with God the Father coming to terms with what it would mean to live as a follower of the way of Jesus, a way that would ultimately lead to the cross. This list of beatitudes, taught to the newly formed group of twelve are these qualities – they are the means by which Jesus called his new disciples to come before God. As he returns to the crowd to share this message, Jesus is ripe with understanding on how we are to approach God.

“Blessed are you who are poor…” As we’ve come to learn by way of Costa Rica and the Millennium Development Goal forums, the poor of this world move closer and closer each day to the edge of survival. It is an unfortunate truth in our world today that the poor are still emblematic of what it means to come to God totally dependent on His grace. Even here, in our own country, in this vastly rich metropolitan area we see them. Hands outstretched hoping for anything you might be willing to share, totally dependant on the other. Look again at their physical stance; hands out stretched in utter dependance. Does it remind you of anything? Each Sunday we approach the altar rail, kneel as able, and stretch out our hands for the bread and the wine. What is the motivation for this reaching out? Do we come with a sense of entitlement? That we some deserve God’s grace? Or, do we come, in the image of the beggar, utterly dependent for our very survival on God’s grace, infused in the elements? “Blessed are you who are poor…”

Jesus goes on, “Blessed are you who are hungry now…” With the advent of a worldwide 24 hour news culture, we have been both privileged and burdened with the ability to see things never before available to us. Following the flooding of New Orleans we felt that burden acutely as we saw images of 20,000 people lined up in front of the New Orleans Convention Center hoping for help, for food, for water, for life. These people trusted their local, state, and federal government to help. As helicopters flew overhead they stared up at they sky expecting to be rescued. Unlike human institutions like governments, God is always ready to give aid. We come before God, seeking His blessing in many different ways. During the prayers of the people we are standing, elsewhere in our lives we find ourselves sitting or kneeling. Whether standing, sitting, or kneeling we usually bow our heads and fold our hands. “We show, by bowing our heads and closing our eyes, that our immediate surroundings were not as important as God. By folding their hands during prayer we make a statement that we wish to hold onto nothing when we are praying.”[1] For some these traditional ways of coming before God are inauthentic, instead they find themselves feeling more like Katrina survivors, starving for God. They raise their eyes to heaven stretching out their arms in expectant hope of food, of water, of healing, of rescue. “Blessed are you who are hungry now…”

The list continues with, “Blessed are you who weep now…” Like the poor and the hungry, we all too often come across those who, for whatever reason, have been brought to tears by the actions of the world. My clearest recollection of people weeping is from my days at Young Life camp. Every camp would end the same, the altar call. Watching guys and girls my own age, 16 or 17, heading to the front, tears pouring from their eyes from the realization of their own sinfulness and in joy for the saving love of God in Jesus Christ remains with me to this day. We can learn a lot from our evangelical brothers and sister, not the least of which being their openness to come before God weeping. Weeping for their destructive decisions, weeping for the others they’ve hurt, weeping tears of joy for the love of God. And lest we forget, Episcopalians have an altar call too. As we approach the altar this Sunday to be fed by the body and blood of Jesus Christ, will we be able to self-empty to the point of tears of sadness and joy? “Blessed are you who weep now…”

The list ends with “Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you…” As I’ve mentioned in sermons past, it is difficult for us to understand being hated for being a disciple of Jesus. Our culture is used to Christianity, and we hold a comfortable place in our world. This comfort, however, is clearly not what Jesus had in mind for his followers. On Tuesday we will celebrate the feast day of Absalom Jones. Jones was the first African American priest in the Episcopal Church, ordained in 1802. Born a slave he bought his freedom and that of his wife, he petitioned, with friends the Congress of the United States for equal rights, preached revivalist sermons, and had many, many detractors. Absalom Jones knew what it meant to be blessed when people hate, exclude, revile, and defame. Some 200 years later, the world has changed. While most of us know what its like to be excluded or disliked, it is rarely because of our faith in Jesus; often it is because we are the boss or because we are mom or dad. Clearly, though, Jesus wants us to know what it means to be misunderstood for his sake. Taking a stand based on convictions as disciples of Jesus against the war, against the genocide in Darfur, for tax cuts for families, for the Millennium Development Goals, or better yet for a centrist voice in the church and political arena probably won’t make us all that unpopular. Yet, in taking a stand for the will of Jesus Christ, we can get a glimpse of what it means to be blessed. “Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you…”

As you well know, Jesus was a radical thinker. While he was in many ways interested in the life to come; his ultimate concern was with the here and now. He called his new disciples, he called the crowd, and he calls us to be practitioners of a different kind of life. A life that assumes Jesus isn’t coming back tonight to save us all. A life that is other focused; God focused, holiness focused. A life that brings us to the foot of the cross arms outstretched as a beggar, eyes lifted to heaven expectantly, weeping with tears of both great sadness and great joy, having taken a stand based on our Christian convictions for the betterment of God’s people here on earth. Won’t you join that life? Won’t you rejoice to be called blessed? Amen.

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