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February 15, 2004
Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time
On The Level
Today's reading from the Gospel According to Luke describes the descent of Jesus from a hillside where he has spent the night in prayer. He comes down from the mount to a level place. It is the beginning of his call to ministry and Jesus has gathered a small band of twelve who are committed to follow after him. As Jesus comes down the mountain with his disciples to this level place, a large crowd awaits to greet him. Like a politician surrounded by an entourage disembarking from a private jet, other supporters have gathered from the regions of Judea and Jerusalem, and as far away as the coasts of Tyre and Sidon. This crowd has come to hear his Word and to be healed from every disease. Let us pray…
God of Blessing, we are a crowd of people with a multitude of needs. We have come from Hiawatha, Robins and Marion, from Cedar Rapids and the Amanas, Solon and Shueyville. Some of us are troubled about many things. Some of us hold only a handful of hope for a cure from a disease that disables us. Over the years this disease has crippled or maimed us in some way, physically, emotionally, or spiritually. Some of us are here because we have become numbed to the everyday routines of our lives and we desire to be touched, really touched, by the prayers, the music, the liturgy. May your Word spoken through this broken vessel of human flesh, enrich our poverty, fill our emptiness, and release our sorrows into unbound joy. Amen.
Since childhood I have often been known as "little Margaret." As the youngest of four siblings in my immediate family and nearly the youngest of 14 cousins, the term "little Margaret" was not a matter of degradation, but one of designation in an extended family of several relatives also named Margaret. At large family gatherings I was identified not as Great Aunt Margaret, or Aunt Margaret, but "little Margaret." Perhaps because of my physical size, my lingering childhood shyness, or admittedly my own paranoia, there are still moments when I still perceive myself as "little Margaret." Sometimes feeling a bit lost in a crowd, especially a crowd of my peers, I often gravitate to short adults or people who look like they might take me seriously. There is something comforting about seeing a person eye to eye, or face to face, especially on an issue of importance.
In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus ascends a mountain to address the crowd. We call this section of narrative in Matthew the Sermon on the Mount. Perhaps it is only a matter of perspective, but in Luke's gospel Jesus teaches on level ground, on par with his disciples and the gathering crowd. Luke actually specifies: "He came down with them and stood on a level place." In Luke's Sermon on the Plain, Jesus is "on the level," eye to eye, with his disciples and the others who have come to listen. With his divine nature encased in human flesh, Jesus came down and took notice of each individual, even in the midst of the multitude. For in verse 19 Luke tells us that "all in the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them." The crowd came to hear. They came to be healed. They came for peace of mind. They came to be blessed by the presence of God in their midst.
Here in Luke is a moment of blessing for all who were present. For the crowd? Most likely. But for the disciples? Definitely. For they were specifically and irrevocably called. Leaving their nets by the lakeside, their profitable careers at the tax booth, and their loved ones in the care of others, these first disciples were called out to become the charter members of the church of Jesus Christ. According to F.R. Maltby, Christ promises every disciple three things. One, they will be completely fearless. Two, they will be absurdly happy. And three, every disciple will be in constant trouble. I believe this to be an insightful biblical summary of what it means to be blessed.
In the Sermon on the Plain, in the midst of the large crowd, Jesus levels his gaze on the disciples themselves. Like a primary school teacher in front of a class or like a parent kneeling in front of a young child, Jesus is checking for eye contact before giving instructions. Once he has their undivided attention he begins to teach them. But also like a favorite teacher and a loving parent, Jesus begins with the easy stuff. Today's lesson is how to be "absurdly happy." The Bible calls this the art of blessedness.
The first word Jesus utters — eye to eye — with his disciples is blessed. This word has a rich history in scripture. The Hebrew word for blessing in the Old Testament is beracah. In English this word can be translated as "to kneel" or "to bless." The psalmist places this word "smack dab" in the middle of the book of Psalms. "O come, let us worship and bow down, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker." So aptly put it in the words of the first Psalm, to live a life of blessing would be to have our "delight in the law of the Lord, and on his law to meditate day and night." We would be like trees planted by streams of water, yielding fruit in just the right season. Plums in late spring. Cherries in summer. Apples in the fall.
The similar word for blessing in the Greek New Testament is makarios and it is translated as "happy" or "blessed" or "fortunate." When Mary learns she is to bear the Christ-child, she uses this word to describe herself. "Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord." Given the less than ideal circumstances surrounding the birth of her baby, Mary is "absurdly happy" indeed! Can you remember a time when you felt absurdly happy? When was the last time you received a blessing? Table graces said over a holiday meal do not count in this case. Nor do the blessings that sometimes follow a sneeze. I am talking about a time when you experienced a real blessing that came with the full and certain knowledge that you were loved and cherished beyond all imagining? When have you had a deep, inner satisfaction that you are who you are supposed to be, you are where you are supposed to be, and doing what you are supposed to be doing, and doing it with a deep sense of fulfillment and gratitude. When was the last time you felt, not a fleeting moment of happiness, but a true sense of joy? Can you remember such a time? If you can recall it, call it the "absurd happiness" of God.
The statements of blessing in both Matthew and Luke are called the beatitudes, the Latin word for "blessing." Both authors borrowed these sayings, possibly from the same source, a source that has not yet been discovered. But each writer, Matthew and Luke, used Jesus teaching on the beatitudes to serve their purposes for the original audience for which they each wrote. Luke's beatitudes are a short list of four and they "cut to the chase." Listen to them. "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of heaven. "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 when they exclude you, revile 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 their ancestors did to the prophets."
Matthew's account of Jesus' teaching is a collection of nine beatitudes that include, for lack of a better term, a "spiritual insertion." Three of them are similar to Luke's, and a fourth is almost identical. Listening closely to Matthew's beatitudes, as compared to Luke's, to see if you can hear Matthew's insertions. "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 those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. 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."
Did you hear the added insertions in the first three? It sounds as if the poor are only spiritually poor and not economically destitute. It sounds like the ones who mourn and weep will at least receive some comfort in this life. And what a relief to know that a few hours of self-righteous church attendance every now and then will satisfy that gnawing spiritual hunger we experience, especially around Christmas and Easter. I like Matthew. He makes it clear that there are a few things I need to work on, a few goals I could write down in my planner. But overall he sounds nurturing. If he were one of my seminary professors he might say, "Oh, Maggie, you didn't have time to study for the test today? Don't worry about it. Go over to the Coffee Shop for awhile. Just come back by the end of the period and I'll go over the test with you right after class. Oh, and by the way, you can take the test home tonight in order to finish it. If you get it to me before class in the morning, I will grade it and give it right back to you." Yep, Matthew is my kind of professor.
Okay, it's time for a reality check. Back to Luke. His beatitudes are not written in quite the warm fuzzy style of Matthew's. According to biblical commentator William Barclay, Luke's beatitudes are not blessings. They are "bombshells." The beatitude itself rises with a flare like a firecracker on the Fourth of July, but after bursting in mid-air in glorious shafts of beauty and light Luke's beatitudes crash back into our world with a heavy thud hitting the ground, causing upheaval where we live. Isn't it scandalous to say the poor will be rewarded and the hungry will be fed without working a day in their lives to earn bread? And can you believe that those who cry themselves to sleep night after night are going to be laughing their heads off in heaven?
And as if that is not shocking enough Luke adds insult to injury with a list of corresponding woes and curses that counterbalance each beatitude. I don't know about you, but my high and holy expectations of heavenly happiness have just dipped below sea level. "But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. "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. "Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets."
OUCH. I think I want to transfer my church affiliation from Luke's church to Matthew's. Fewer demands, softer pew cushions, better tasting coffee, shorter sermons.
This past Monday was one of those "drizzle days." It wasn't raining, but you know the kind of gray-mood day I am talking about. Someone makes an irritating comment, you forget an important appointment, or you receive a letter with news that makes your heart fall to the ground. When I have days like this, it helps to have a child nearby. One of the perks of my job here at First Presbyterian is the frequent ability to connect with children.
On my way into a meeting this past Monday night I stopped by the church nursery to greet a few of "the least of these" of First Presbyterian. Placing three year old Katharine Cummings upon my knees I heaved a big sigh that can only come from within the deep, dark recesses of a slightly jaded grown-up. With a ½ teaspoon of cynicism I asked her, "Katharine, How is your life today?" She looked right at me with her blue eyes, blue eyes deeper than any sorrow I could ever bring into the room. Then she smiled a smile that can only come from the deep-welled spirit of a child who is thoroughly loved and cherished at the core of her being. Katharine replied; "My life? I like it!"
Intuitively, Katharine Cummings has the confidence that she is a beloved child in the kingdom of God. She knows she is rich beyond compare. And because of this knowledge she is full of joy! Living in a state of utmost bliss, Katharine is blessed. She is like a tree planted by a stream of water, she delights in the life God has given her, and she gives forth fruit in its proper season. From Katharine on Monday night I received the exact kind of fruit I needed to sustain me through the week.
I believe what Luke has set plainly before us at our own eye level, no matter how short, tall, or myopic we may be is the risen Christ, the Christ who bends the knee, kneeling to bless us in ways that we cannot grasp or save or hoard. If we can allow ourselves to receive the abundant blessings intended for the human community, feasting is possible, even now. And a life of "absurd happiness" will be ours.
Amen.
Margaret E. Snyder is the Christian Education Director at First Presbyterian Church and is a third year seminary student at the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary in
Dubuque, Iowa
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