Day of the Church Year: 6th Sunday after Epiphany
Scripture Passage: Luke 6:17-26
Our Jesus story today comes from the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, but at the very end of the gospel of Luke, on Easter Sunday, the day Jesus rises from the dead, the women who had all along accompanied Jesus in his ministry travel to his tomb. When they are told by two men in dazzling clothes that Jesus is risen, the women run to tell the disciples. All but Peter believe theirs is an “idle tale.” The disciples have spent at least a year with Jesus, traveling with him as he healed people, listening to his teaching and preaching, getting the inside scoop on his miracles and parables, and even they don’t get it in the end. Their confusion is understandable. For, as one theologian asks, if the dead can’t even stay dead, what is there to count on?
And so, today, when Jesus preaches his first sermon in the gospel of Luke, the sermon on the plain, to the crowd gathered, including the disciples, no wonder it doesn’t make sense. Particularly in the gospel of Luke, Jesus preaches an upsidedown kingdom and an upsidedown vision of human community. In a kingdom where the dead don’t stay dead, people living in poverty, people who hunger, and people who weep know the blessing of God. In a kingdom where the dead don’t stay dead, people who are rich, full, and laughing are told to “pay attention,” which is a more accurate translation of “woe to you” in the original Greek. At first glance, we too may believe Jesus’ upsidedown vision is an idle tale, one less believable even than a God who becomes flesh, lives among us, is crucified, and raised from the dead.
I can believe Jesus is raised from the dead but not his blessings and woes!
We assume Jesus is just playin’. He can’t really be serious.
If we have been hungry, we know the pain.
If we have been or are currently poor, we know it’s a struggle.
If we have mourned or are currently mourning, we know it’s hard to get out of bed.
How is it that the kingdom of God belongs to us who are hungry and poor and mourning?
Conversely, if we are full, we are satisfied.
If we are rich, we have few material worries.
If we are laughing, we are at ease.
Why is it that Jesus calls us who are rich, full, and laughing to pay attention?
Isn’t the Sermon on the Plain an idle tale?
I thought so. I sometimes still wonder. Suffering is not romantic. It’s not pretty or glossy. Poverty, hunger, and grief are raw, real, and gritty.
When I was 22, I worked for a year at a shelter on the west side of Chicago. Going to work each day was like looking at the world upsidedown. A couple times a week, I would lead a morning devotional time called Morning Prayer. Most days, I would open up the prayer time, and people would pray aloud for those who were still on the street, for other folks at the shelter, for the world at large. Almost every person’s prayer would begin with words of gratitude for the day, for God having woken them up, for strength in their arms and legs. One day, I had the great idea of encouraging people to pray for themselves. After all, every resident of the shelter had no permanent housing and was healing from an injury or illness. Nearly every person had yet to find a job and was healing from active addiction. Many people were struggling with mental health concerns on top of everything else. Of course, everyone would want to pray for themselves; they were in such great need, I thought. But when I invited the group to pray for themselves that day, a silence descended on the room. Finally, one woman spoke up, and she said, “Miss Sarah, I feel like God has already answered all my prayers.”
I suspect the awareness of her need opened her up to the blessing of God. I suspect all of us more easily grasp the gifts of God in our lives when we do not take them granted. But when we are rich, full, and laughing, we are at risk of missing what God is doing in us and in the world, so “pay attention,” Jesus says.
This past week, I attended the downtown poetry slam at the Latino Cultural Center. A small crowd of us gathered to give our complete attention to the 20 and 30-something year old poets who stood at a microphone and shared their original work. In a complete reversal of our culture, not a cell phone could be seen among the audience, so focused was our attention on the pouring out of emotion and experience by the brave poets. The poems they shared told stories of addiction, abuse, body-shaming, racism, unrequited love. Each poet spoke of times of need, desperate need, words that drove to the heart of despair and isolation and brokenness. Yet, strangely, every poem revealed resilience and hope and even joy too. Well-turned phrases of deepest truth elicited supportive snaps, and as each poet left the stage, we burst into applause. In between sets, we flocked to the poets to bask in their light and courage and hope. As brilliant poet Adrienne Rich entitled one poem, these poets were “diving into the wreck” of their lives and paying greatest attention to the blessings in the midst of despair.
In a right-side-up world, we see those who are rich, full, and laughing as blessed, and that’s true, they, we are. We’re blessed by God. God loves us. God is at work in our lives. But we who are poor, hungry, and weeping are blessed too. God loves us too. God is at work in our lives too. And we know it. When we are poor, hungry, and weeping, we know it. We know God is at work. And so blessed are us who are poor and hungry and weeping for ours is the kingdom of God. Amen.