Reflections on the Beatitudes

From Penny Adams, Co-chair Justice & Advocacy Team

May I begin with a little reflection on the Beatitudes in general?  Recently, I saw a comment to the effect that while we pray the Nicene Creed and The Lord’s Prayer every Sunday, we visit the Beatitudes maybe twice a year, depending on the lectionary cycle.  Most of us know the Creed and the Our Father by heart, but I don’t think I’m the only one who would struggle to recite more than three of the nine off the top of my head.  We don’t really pay the Beatitudes much mind in our day-to-day lives.  

This is curious in a way, because while the Creed announces heartily our belief system, it doesn’t speak to action, and in The Lord’s Prayer we ask for the Kingdom to come to earth as it is in heaven, but there is no explanation of what that Kingdom would look like or how we are to get it here.  The Beatitudes, on the other hand, are pretty much a prescription from the Man himself for how we are to act and think in the Kingdom.  So this Lenten examination of the Beatitudes might prove to be eye opening and quite helpful.  I’m wondering what might come should we recite them regularly, or craft Prayers of the People with them as guidelines.  Anyway…

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

This first Beatitude sets the stage for all of them by establishing that all spiritual blessings begin with humility.  Humility is a tough one for many of us—especially as we are steeped in the idea of American individualism.  Humility suggests helplessness, which is an anathema to many of us.  We want to be strong and self-sufficient.  But here we are being asked to let go of pride and arrogance, and recognize we have nothing to offer God for our salvation, that we rely completely on His mercy, His love.

Some would say that this Beatitude points us to the eschatological reward—be virtuous and you will be rewarded in heaven; or the reverse--if you are poor now you will be rich in heaven.   I personally don’t think the Beatitudes are a checklist of heaven-entry requirements.  And I don’t think Jesus was ever talking about a successful arrival in the afterlife.  He was steering us toward the way to bring the Kingdom to our lives here and now—his message was equally for first century Israel and 21^st century Richmond.  When God reigns, the poor get a better deal.

So we look toward the poor—the dispossessed, abandoned people of the world, wherever they may be.  They have lost hope, they are despondent.  How does our humility fit in here?  I think that when we admit and own the truth, that we rely entirely on the mercy of God, it isn’t hard to remind ourselves that we can and should extend that very same mercy to everyone around us, most particularly those who are poor, lost, hopeless.  Compassion is the only answer we can come to if we look at ourselves as poor in spirit, that is, empty and in need of God.   

Penny 

image of the Sermon on the Mount from Penny & Jim's trip to the Holy Land

From Beth Wentworth, Chair Raise to Renew Team

Matthew’s account of the ministry of Jesus recalibrates in book five. In earlier books, Matthew recounts Jesus’ baptism by John in the Jordan River, his recognition by God as his beloved son, his forty days of suffering and temptation in the wilderness, and the beginning of his ministry. That ministry involves teaching in the synagogue, healing the sick, and walking through the Galilee, attracting disciples and enormous crowds of followers. When we meet Jesus in chapter 5, the crowds are so large that Jesus goes up a mountain, sits down, and waits for the disciples and the crowd to reach him. In those few moments of peace, perhaps Jesus decides that the miracles are no longer enough. What follows is the first of Jesus’ five sermons in Matthew that strive to teach his followers what it means to live so that they may build and live in the kingdom of God. In contrast to the “thou shalt nots” Moses brought down centuries earlier from another mountaintop, etched in stone, demanding obedience and warning damnation, Jesus’ teaching begins with nine “Blessed ares,” nine gentle reminders of the blessing God promises to those who suffer. 

The second beatitude reads, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Hmm—present tense then future tense. It seems that in the present, during the mourning, the blessings already exist: in the future, the sufferer will be comforted. Perhaps the key to receiving comfort depends on how we respond to the blessings, starting with whether we even notice that mourning brings blessings,

Today, when we speak of those who mourn, we usually mean those who have suffered the loss of a loved one. If I pay attention to the footnote in my Oxford Bible, I might also include those who have sinned and failed to repent. In the teachings of Edna (my mom), those sinners have separated themselves from God and cannot be comforted. Mourners are overwhelmed by powerful emotions: guilt, sadness, anger, loneliness, hopelessness, loss of purpose, and doubts about one’s faith. When a mourner is part of a close knit community of faith, others offer support: words, meals, hugs, flowers, memories, and compassionate companionship. This is our calling.

The faith community also provides a formal ritual in the burial of the dead where space is made for the expression of grief. Think for a moment about our episcopal ritual that begins “I am resurrection and I am life.” Consider the silences, the prayers, the scripture, and the hymns in that ritual that open up space to confront our feelings and doubts, that allow time for the turbulent emotions to be expressed and then subside, that allow the Holy Spirit to enter. I think the message in this beatitude might also be that those who mourn don’t have a timetable; the suffering may diminish — or not. Perhaps the memory of the loved one will become a comfort. Who can say how faith may change once the tiniest glimmer of the Holy Spirit finds a place in the heart? Blessings are revealed and grow as a result of the mourning all of us must experience. And the comfort? I don’t know if comfort comes in this life, but I do believe it comes.

Beth

image courtesy Pixabay pjes

From Rev. Sarah Kye Price, Priest Affiliate

In the power-grabbing, influencer-driven, survival of the fittest culture in which we live, meekness gets a bad reputation.  In fact, if I did a person-on-the-street poll, I might find that the majority of people think that “meek” in synonymous with “weak.”  But it is not so!

The word we translate as “meek” comes from the Greek πραΰς (praus) which doesn’t have a perfect English translation.  It’s a both/and kind of word, an active show of strength that is not of one’s own making.  We allow God’s strength to move through us without getting ourselves in the way.  It is the exact opposite of a show of force inflicting power over someone or some thing.  

Meek is NOT weak.  Meekness is its own kind of strength.

Jesus tells us that this meekness (πραΰς) in our lives of faith is a blessing.  It is a contrast to the harsh and oppressive powers of this world that step on others or abuse their human-powered authority.  There will always be winners and losers when power is wielded like a hammer.  Someone is always going to get hurt.

Jesus suggests another tool entirely to show God’s grace and love to the world.  We are invited to set aside the power-brokering and to allow God’s love and grace to flow through us into all the corners of God’s world, permeating all of our selves and all of creation with that love and grace. Jesus’ framing of meekness as a blessing is a reminder to us that our choice to be steadfast and to allow God’s love to flow through us into the world is a gift of divine vision outlasting the powers of this world that may rise but will also fall. 

And as an editorial comment: thank God for that.

But in all seriousness: God is steadfast in caring for all of God’s creation.  The meek know this; they source their strength in it and act as an extension of God’s love and grace.  The meek see false power for what it is and do not choose to participate in that game.  The meek choose a different way, designed by God for the benefit of all God’s beloved people.   

The meek embody God, and the meek will inherit the earth that God has made.

Allow πραΰς to be a virtue that you embody in this season.  We can so easily be colluded by the “fight or flight” of the times that we are in.  But as we learn to embody strength sourced in God’s love and grace, we may find that what flows through us is something far more powerful than the world can ever throw at us.  

Blessed are those who are steadfast in the strength of God flowing through them; for they shall live, now and always, in the fullness of God’s love and grace.

Sarah

image from the Walk for Peace FaceBook collection

From Karen Franklin, Chair Pastoral Care Team & Food Pantry Coordinator

Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled (Matt 5:6)

Blessed are those who do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they will be filled (NRSV Matt 5:6)

To hunger and to thirst represent two basic human needs. When I am hungry and thirsty, I usually am going for something quick and probably not too healthy. Striving for righteousness is what keeps us healthy as individuals and as a collective. We are reminded throughout the bible to care for others. Jesus’ words “ for I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me… Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

We are faced daily with challenges and are witness to many atrocities done to others. Our inherent connection with the one that refreshes and revives is what keeps us moving forward. We stay in the fight so to speak, not because we are so noble but because we have put our faith in Jesus and believe that he is with us every step of the way. I included the second translation because to me the emphasis on will be filled, made it sound like a definite result. How many times have you helped someone, even in the slightest way and it took you out of your own troubles? To me this is the blessing of fulfilling that hunger and thirst for righteousness. 

Karen

image from the church archives

From Malinda Collier, Director of Lay Ministry & Formation

A little over a year ago an Episcopal clergy woman spoke these words from her pulpit:  In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now.

The Right Reverend Mariann Budde, Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington DC made this call upon the most powerful man in the world, the newly re-elected president, Donald Trump.

Her words were a pastor’s call for the care of the many - for those unable to care for and more importantly unable to advocate for themselves.  She called his and our attention to those around us who while we may all walk the same sidewalks, drive the same streets, shop at the same stores, work in the same buildings, live very different lives.  Some now governed by fear and loss and uncertainty.

Mercy is a gift from God. A gift from a merciful God. 

Mercy however can be in short supply.  

For most people the first century world was a hard one.  There was no social safety net.  If you were poor, it was your fault, if you were enslaved well make the best of it, if you were sick, it wasn’t my problem… The Roman Empire ruled through and by laws laid down by the few for the many.  The great Roman Pax (peace) was kept through oppression and subjugation. The Roman pantheon of gods were a capricious bunch – most of whom one would want to appease and stay out of the way of.  You did not pray to god for help, you brought offerings to stave off harm.

So, when Jesus comes along and preaches a way of life, a kingdom ruled by fairness and justice, caring even - and he speaks of a merciful God, well it would turn heads.  And hearts.

Jesus and Bishop Budde call us to look.  To see.  To feel.  To act.  To heal.

I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now.

Take time to be kind and show love.  Take time to be patient – with yourself and others.  

Be merciful and mercy-filled.

No matter all hurt of these days - I still believe in the power of mercy in a seemingly merciless world on fire.  And I hope you do too.

Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God (Micah 6:8)

This is the full text of the last paragraph of Bishop Budde’s sermon:

Let me make one final plea, Mr. President. Millions have put their trust in you and, as you told the nation yesterday, you have felt the providential hand of a loving God. In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now. There are gay, lesbian, and transgender children in Democratic, Republican and Independent families, some who fear for their lives. And the people, the people who pick our crops and clean our office buildings, who labor in poultry farms and meat packing plants, who wash the dishes after we eat in restaurants and work the night shifts in hospitals. They, they may not be citizens or have the proper documentation, but the vast majority of immigrants are not criminals. They pay taxes and are good neighbors. They are faithful members of our churches and mosques, synagogues, wadara and temples. I ask you to have mercy, Mr. President, on those in our communities whose children fear that their parents will be taken away and that you help those who are fleeing war zones and persecution in their own lands, to find compassion and welcome here. Our God teaches us that we are to be merciful to the stranger for we were all once strangers in this land. May God grant us the strength and courage to honour the dignity of every human being, to speak the truth to one another in love and walk humbly with each other and our God for the good of all people. The good of all people in this nation and the world.

Malinda

image from FB altered in Canva

From Rev. Benjamin Badgett, Rector

This morning our household woke up to one of our favorite traditions: Birthday Cake for Breakfast! Today, we celebrated one of our children’s birthdays bright and early at 6:15 a.m. before the school bus pick up.  

As we celebrated this birthday, it took my memory back to those early years of all my children’s birth stories.  And as my mind wandered through their various stages of physical/social/emotional development I remember one age in particular: late elementary school.  It was at this stage, that one of my sons, all of a sudden was worried about what his hair looked like.  

That may seem like a strange memory to hold onto, but for me, it was watching a turning point in his development when he began to care and notice what other people thought of him (and what he thought of himself).  He was finally beginning to perceive, to imagine outside eyes watching him. The world began to crack open in a way it hadn’t for him yet. 

We have all come through that stage at some point in our lives when our mind’s eye begins to open up.  One interpretation of the story of Adam and Eve, in Genesis chapters 2-3, when they eat from the “tree of the knowledge of good and evil,” is that this story is about the archetypal awakening that is inevitable in human development.  Meaning, that the human experience naturally involves a reckoning with our innocence and the world around us.  Like watching a child, grow, seemingly blissfully ignorant of the foils of the world until the day they are not. 

When I consider Jesus’ teaching: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God” it makes me think of those who live in the freedom of their child like state. The intimacy with God, can be as close as it was in the garden of Eden.  And, yet, once we “leave the garden” it seems near impossible to return: we cannot unlearn what we learn of this world.  Our heart and our head begin to diverge. 

Today, we live with the perpetual evidence of a world that no longer lives in blissful paradise. We live in a world ravaged by wars, abuses of power, indifference to the suffering of others, and so many other sinful elements which draw us further from God, our self and one another.  Oh, to live in simpler times! Oh, to retreat to the nostalgia of a previous age in our lives! 

Like Nicodemus (John 3), we are left scratching our heads about how one is to be born again, born from above. We cannot reenter our mother’s womb, and start over in the state of infancy.  So, we must find a new way to come back into relationship with God, our self, and others. 

I miss the days when my son was oblivious to the fact that he had a hair out of place or peanut butter and jelly smeared across his cheek.  But, I am grateful for the days that he can now wash his own face and brush his own hair.  But even further, as I watch him (and all his siblings) grow, I see evidence of the ability to empathize, to see himself in someone else’s shoes.  Perhaps this is the gift needed to reconnect the head and the heart. 

As these humans that I live with grow out of their childhood and into their adulthood, they are reminding me of the hard work that is required to cultivate empathy. They may not be returning to the previous “Garden,” but they are learning to create a new one. 

And just like them, we all encounter real moments when we must try to see that the world does not revolve around us; and that there are other people in this world who, like us, need every bit of love and compassion and empathy that we can offer.  

As we grow, we must now train our heads and our hearts to be in communion together. The heart of our child-self, and the head of our adult-self need not live separate lives.  As we move from birthday to birthday, age to age, we are to take all of our self along for the journey; and as we do so, we pray for the grace to see the image of God in one another.  

Benjamin 

image courtesy Pixabay: pexels

From Nora Thompson, Vestry person and Zoom host

Peacemaker. Blessed are you.

I imagine Jesus looking out over the crowd with great compassion, welcoming the broken, the tired, the wealthy, the confused—everyone in their humanity. Not perfect or sinless people, but people like us. Humans who misplace their keys, lose their temper at times, doubt, and forget a friend’s birthday. Humans who are overworked and rarely get a break. Jesus is calling us blessed, just as we are.

Peacemaker. Blessed are you.

For us to become peacemakers, it seems best to begin with ourselves. If we nurture nonviolence within our own hearts, peace can begin to grow. I cannot stop war in Iran, but I can examine how I personally contribute to violence in my own thinking. I can choose to live in community with others who are also seeking to practice nonviolence. Together we can allow ourselves to be used by God’s love and remain open to the power working through us to bring peace to the world around us.

Part of nurturing nonviolence in myself includes studying how Jesus lived as a peacemaker. I am learning to take time to read, pray, and listen to God with an open heart. For me, it also means facing the old resentments, anger, and hurts that surface during quiet reflection. It is healing—though difficult—to speak face to face with those I have hurt. To grow a peaceful spirit, I must forgive others and believe that every person carries Christ within them. I must also forgive myself for the hurts I have caused.

“Yes, it is love that will save our world and our civilization, love even for enemies.”

—Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Peacemaker. Blessed are you.

When I was a teacher, a small group of four-year-olds were talking about a new student who was absent that day. The child had difficulty speaking clearly and was sometimes hard to understand. The children were imitating the way he talked and making fun of him when another little girl approached the group.

She asked, “Why are you making fun of his talking?”

One child replied, “He is different from us. We talk better than him. He is not like us at all.”

The girl paused and then said, “Everyone has ways they are the same. Everyone has a name. Everyone likes a color. Everyone has a family.”

In that moment, she was a peacemaker—reminding them of our shared humanity.

Blessed are you when you do your best to live in a nonviolent way as you learn to be a peacemaker in a world that sorely needs you.

Yes, you.

You are needed.

Nora

image from Nora's school classroom

From Ryn Kennedy, Young Adult and Youth Leader

I recently found myself attending St. Paul’s John Shelby Spong Speaker Series, where one of the speakers happened to be Bishop Robinson, the first openly gay bishop in the Episcopal Church. This, itself, was an incredible witness and testament to our Church’s history.

However, what really spoke to me was the conversation around Matthew Sheppard and the entrustment of his ashes at the National Cathedral in Washington DC. 

I am familiar with Matthew Sheppard through the Laramie Project (a play documenting the murder of a gay college student, Matthew Sheppard, in Laramie, Wyoming); but I had not realized his connection to the Episcopal Church, nor that his ashes were interred in our National Cathedral. Thanks to God, Matthew's resting place will never face desecration nor destruction. 

“Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,

   for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Rest in Peace Matthew Sheppard.

Ryn

This is a link to the St. Paul's conversation with Bishop Robinson

From Karen Hardison, Co-chair Justice & Advocacy Team

Throughout this Lenten season we have been reflecting upon the Beatitudes as found in Matthew 5. Today we will conclude this exploration with the 11^thverse, a verse that perhaps traditionally has not been included, but that scholars increasing agree is indeed a part of this teaching.

As I have read and re-read the Beatitudes this season, many questions came to mind: Why are these verses so beloved? Why the differences between Matthew’s version and that found in Luke? Why is there any question about whether verse 11 “belongs”? How does any of this make sense? And the questions can and do go on and on. The one that has stuck with me this season however, is fairly straightforward: What does it mean to be blessed?

We often hear the word blessed in a context where it is used synonymously with words like lucky or fortunate. We are “blessed” when things go our way or we get an outcome or a material good that we wanted to have. God may have very little to do with us being blessed in this context, but if there is any sense of God having a relationship to the blessing, God is generally reduced to simply being the one who doles out the reward we were hoping for.

If that’s how we understand blessed and blessing, then the beatitudes are a tough read. At best they speak to things that are hard for us to do and be, and at worst they highlight circumstances we typically go out of our way to avoid. Yet, each verse tells us the we are blessed when… So, what does it mean to be blessed?

Maybe the passage resonates more fully if we consider that in Hebrew Scripture, and to a first century Jew like Jesus, to be blessed was not to be really really, lucky. The Beatitudes are a reminder that in all things, God’s people are blessed when they remain in relationship with God, aware of God’s presence and care in all things, in all circumstances. Jesus is speaking to people and reminding them that when they live in relationship to God that their inner peace flourishes independent of the external circumstances.

When we are told in verse 11 that we are blessed when people revile us and persecute us and utter all kinds of evil against us falsely on account of God, it’s not nonsense and it’s not being in denial about just how miserable or devastating that may be. It is a reminder that even in circumstances such as this, even in the worst of times, we are not alone, and we are not abandoned. Even then, we are the beloved of God. Even then we are embraced and upheld. Even then we are neither crushed or defeated. Even when we are broken and despised by this world, we are enough. We are blessed by God. We are God’s beloved. We are loved.

And knowing that, believing that, we can breathe. We can experience peace & wholeness, even when. That is love and that is grace and that is blessing indeed. I hope we will all claim the blessing.

Karen

image courtesy Pixabay, John Hain