February 2, 2020

 February 2, 2020               Matthew 5:1-12                Micah 6:1-8         1 Corinthians 1:18-31

                When I came to this congregation, I had already had 7 months to grieve my former congregation that I deeply loved.  And I still grieve for them, even as I meet you and learn from you and start getting attached to all of you.  I have made an effort not to talk too much about my former congregation, to try to move on and not make you all feel awkward, however I am more and more convinced that God gives us the capacity to hold many emotions at the same time.  My pain is becoming less sharp and less frequent, but it continues and it is part of me.  And my love for you grows more and more and increasingly my mind and heart are focused on who you are and what you do here.  I believe that my love or grief for my former congregation is not something that takes away from my ability to love this congregation, but has increased it.  I feel deeply both pain and blessing and they don’t take away from each other and I am learning to appreciate both.

                The ability to experience both pain and blessing at the same time are what the Beatitudes are all about.  We are always able to experience the blessings of God.  We are constantly blessed by this beautiful world God creates, by people around us, by food and shelter and different levels of health.  Our human bodies alone are an amazing miracle of blessings—every breath, every heartbeat, every step we take.  And many of us have countless other blessings—the blessings of meaningful work, family relationships, disposable income, a rich imagination, hobbies and interests to pursue, opportunities to give and receive, a  full faith life, and vital congregation. 

                And we struggle.  Even if life isn’t that hard, it seems we are our own worst enemy, sometimes.  We imagine that people don’t like us.  We argue about things that don’t matter that much.  We worry and fret about things we can’t change.  And sometimes our troubles are very serious.  We grieve our losses.  We struggle with health problems.  We struggle with financial difficulties, debts or income loss, or unexpected expenses.  We live in this state of being both blessed and struggling.

                A lot of people, when you ask, “How are you?” respond, “Fine.”  It’s a nice greeting that is not meant to actually find anything out or share actual information.  Sometimes we don’t want to know what’s really going on with someone else, and sometimes we don’t really want to tell each other what’s going on with us.  We don’t want to be a downer.  We don’t want to pour out our little or big troubles and aches and pains and ruin someone else’s day with our problems.  And sometimes we get so invested in being “fine” that we don’t leave room for the blessings to come. 

                We want to be liked.  We want to have it all together.  We want it to be true that we are fine, and sometimes we are.  But when we have it all together, we don’t leave room for people to help us, or to hear someone else’s story about not being fine.  When we pretend to have it all together, we don’t allow that we could not have it all together and still be blessed.

                “Blessed are those who grieve,” Jesus says. We wouldn’t necessarily say that we are blessed with grief, but we all know blessing in our grief.  People have come to our side when we were grieving and ministered to us.  Our grief teaches us compassion toward others who grieve.  Our grief gives us the blessing of holding our family and friends closer because we know that life is short.  Our grief certainly blesses other people.  I have seen widows and widowers surround someone who loses a spouse and bless them.  My niece died two and a half years ago at the age of 14, and my sister-in-law and brother-in-law have started a foundation to serve families who have a child on hospice.  They meet the families, bring them items to comfort them such as blankets, books, and stuffed animals, arrange for their lawn to be mowed and yard tended, set up meals, and just be the family that family knows that has been in this completely devastating tragedy and has come through to be a blessing to others.  We would not say it was a blessing that Macey died, but blessed are the grieving, because so many people have reached out to be a blessing to my sister in law’s family, they have no doubt that God is with them, and God has turned their grief into a huge blessing for others who are hurting.

                I talked a lot last Sunday about Empire.  Empire refers to the dominating world-view, what society holds as true, that is damaging to everyday people.  The beatitudes turn the values of the Empire on their heads.  The Empire, or society, would say blessed are the strong in spirt—the spirited, the confident.  That’s who we admire.  That’s what looks like blessing to us.  That’s who gets the attention and benefits of this world.  But being poor in spirit leaves room for God’s blessing and room for other people.  Being poor in spirit doesn’t tell other people what to do, but makes room for them. 

The Empire would say Blessed are those who don’t know loss.  However, people who don’t know loss have never lived, never loved, never gotten attached.  Those who grieve are blessed to have known someone worth grieving. 

The Empire would say, “Blessed are the self-assured, the bold.”  Too often bold people have walked all over others without even knowing it.  But those who are meek make room for others, especially for God and God’s little ones. 

The world or empire would say, “Blessed are those who are full of righteousness.”  The times I am most sure I am right, I have found I have been a fool, because life isn’t about being right.  It is about relationship and compassion.  Jesus says today, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.”  They have room for righteousness, room to grow and learn.  The righteous already have everything they need, why would they need God or other people? 

The Empire says, “Blessed are the merciless.”  Those who don’t back down, who don’t give an inch.  Jesus says, “Blessed are the merciful.”  The merciless don’t feel anything for other people that will move them to action.  The merciful are affected by other people.  They are part of something greater.

The Empire says, “Blessed are those who see what they want and take it.” The world tells us the lie that this will satisfy us.  Jesus says, “Blessed are the pure in heart, those who are motivated by love.”  They know they belong to God and can act from a sense of being whole and loved and seeing the best in others. 

The Empire would say, “Blessed are the war-makers,” they will be rich and make other countries do what they want.  The Empire tells us a lie that violence will protect us.  But God knows warfare destroys the lives of God’s precious children, both the aggressor and the one attacked.  Jesus says, “Blessed are the peacemakers.”  Peacemakers refuse to use violence to get their way.  Instead, they build relationships and find commonalities. 

The world says, “Blessed are those who have never known persecution or rejection, who have never had anyone say anything bad about them,” because that feels bad when people treat us that way.  Jesus says, “Blessed are those who are persecuted and falsely accused,” because he knows that if you live by principles of love and justice, people are going to be offended and that’s ok.  It’s not your job to make everyone else happy.

                So now that Jesus has listed these off, he’s going to go off and spend 3 years living the Beatitudes.  He’s going to try to live a life of blessing.  He’s not going to insist on his own way.  He’s going to hurt and mourn, as will his disciples.  He’s going to be extremely hungry and thirsty for righteousness, for people to treat each other with love and justice.  He’s going to be merciful, forgiving.  He’s going to be pure in heart, believing good things about the people he meets, whether they be lepers or women or Roman Centurians, or grubby little kids, or idiot disciples.  He’s going to be persecuted and mocked and people are going to say that he’s trying to take Herod’s job or Ceasar’s job, that he’s trying to be made a king.  He’s going to be killed.  He’s going to be weak.  He’s going to be called a criminal. And yet we know he’s blessed. 

                There are the blessings of this world, money, health, harmony, popularity, good looks.  But they are temporary.  Jesus is handing us the insight into blessing that lasts and transcends, that transforms our lives, that connects us to each other, that makes us grow, that challenges us.

                The reading from 1 Corinthians confirms it.  The cross is pain and shame and foolishness to the Empire, the world.  It is a means of controlling people by fear, by threatening to crush whoever stands against the power of the Empire.  However, God turns it into a blessing, a way to bless people and all creation with new life.  The cross shows the power of God not to abandon those who are suffering, but to be with them, accompany them in their pain.  And it shows that the powers of this world to hurt and control and punish, mean nothing compared to the forgiveness and compassion of God which gives new life to us all.  We hang this means of death up on our wall and turn our hearts toward it.  It shows us both pain and blessing and the values that Jesus lived and died for.

                I invite you to claim your pain, your struggle, and not be fine.  I invite you to be real with your disappointments and fears.  Bring your tears and your frustrations.  God can take it.  Your church family can take it.  Bring your joys and thanksgivings, too.  Let’s learn together to hold both this realities side by side, pain and blessing, just as Jesus did, so that God can transform our lives to ones of truth and depth, connection and love. Let us live by God’s values, the Kingdom values that truly lead to new life.