A Sermon for
Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church
22 January 2023, 11.00am
Mount of the Beatitudes, Galilee, 2022.
Micah 6.8
Matthew
5.1-12
In Monty Python's memorable take on the sermon on the mount,
in the film
'The Life of Brian',
we get to see the response to Jesus' preaching
by those
stood at the back of the crowd,
barely
able to hear the preacher on the hilltop in the distance,
and
misunderstanding his words to great comic effect.
If you haven't seen it for a while,
your
homework this week is to watch it with my blessing.
The exchange includes everything
from
blessings on cheesemakers rather than peacemakers,
to a
discovery that it's the meek and not
the Greek who shall inherit the
earth,
which,
as Mrs BigNose points out,
‘is
nice, isn't it, because the meek have a hell of a time’.
After a brief fight, the characters agree to head off to
catch a stoning,
and as they
leave one of the Jewish revolutionaries is heard to mutter,
'Well, blessed is just
about everyone
with a vested interest in the status
quo, as far as I can tell.'
To which his friend replies,
'Yeah. Well, what
Jesus blatantly fails to appreciate
is that it's the meek who are the
problem.'
And I suspect it was ever thus,
that those
at the back of the crowd are ideologically, as well as geographically,
distant
from the voices at the centre.
Of course, what the Python team have intuitively picked up
on
in their
version of the sermon on the mount,
is something that we see throughout Matthew's gospel:
which is
that some people, just a few,
get
the truth of the message that Jesus is proclaiming;
whereas
others, the majority, are distant from him
and
react badly to what they think they have heard.
This is almost certainly a reflection
of the
situation facing the community that Matthew was writing for,
some
fifty years after the time of Jesus,
where those
in the small struggling congregations of Jesus-followers
were
finding that most of those
with
whom they were trying to share the good news of their faith
were
disinterested at best,
and more often actively hostile to
the challenge
that
the message of Jesus brought to their world and worldview.
And so Matthew gives his readers the sermon on the mount,
with its
memorable opening lines known now as the beatitudes,
to succinctly capture the force and energy of the preacher
on the hilltop,
whose voice
continued to echo down the decades to their own time,
offering
comfort and challenge in equal measure
to
any who would dare to take the time to listen.
And it has ever been thus.
Radical Jesus-following has always been a minority sport;
and I would
suggest that those times where Christianity
has
done a deal with power to get its message heard more widely
have always
resulted in a dilution of the message
away
from its radical core.
In any form of Christendom,
the
beatitudes become a blessing, as Python put it,
on just about anyone with a vested
interest in the status quo,
and the
heart of it all gets lost once again.
And the problem is as real for us today
as it was
for Matthew's community in the first century;
the beatitudes of Jesus are all too easily reduced to the
platitudes of Jesus,
as
statements of revolutionary challenge
become aphorisms
of anodyne comfort.
Do you remember that the Bible reading at Donald Trump’s
inauguration?
saw Revd Samuel
Rodriguez read the Beatitudes
from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount.
It seemed to me to be almost beyond irony
that the
inaugural speech of Jesus’ ministry
should be set in such stark contrast
with the
inaugural presidential speech that followed it;
and yet I suspect for many of those listening,
who saw in
their new president a voice
for their pro-life, religiously
conservative agendas,
there was
no irony at all.
The radical revolutionary message of Jesus
is all too
easily domesticated to powerful agendas,
and we need to take care to hear it afresh,
lest we too
miss the demands it makes on us and our own lives.
And what does this blessèd word ‘blessèd’ mean
anyway?
I mean, it's all very well asserting that the meek and the
mourning are blessed,
but one has
to wonder what earthly use is that to the person crippled by grief,
or
too timid to speak up or out?
A few years ago, in an attempt to get to the heart of the beatitudes,
I thought
I'd have a go at re-rendering them.
The paraphrase I created is in the foyer,
and you may
well have read it.
But I’d like to read it again for you now.
I want to make it clear that I'm not, here,
seeking to
re-write the words of scripture;
rather I'm offering a reflection on the words of Jesus that
Matthew gives us,
to help us
engage with them in fresh ways.
Blessèd are those who refuse
the lie that one life is worth more than any other,
for theirs is the future of humanity.
Blessèd are those who have
stared long into the abyss,
for theirs is honesty beyond grief.
Blessèd are those who resist
retaliation,
for the earth will never be won by force.
Blessèd are those who would
rather die for truth than live with compromise,
for the truth will outlive all lies.
Blessèd are those who forgive
the unforgivable,
for they have seen the darkness of their own souls.
Blessèd are those who know
themselves truly,
for they have seen themselves as God sees them.
Blessèd are those who are
provocatively nonviolent,
for they are following the path of the son of God.
Blessèd are those who choose
to receive violence but not to give it,
for the future is born out of such choices.
Blessèd are you when you
stand up for truth
and hell itself decides to try and destroy you.
You're not the first and you won't be the last.
I'm telling you now, nothing makes any sense unless you learn see it
differently,
and then choose to live that alternative into being.
So firstly, I wonder, what does it mean to be blessed?
It’s not a
word we use a lot, really, is it; at least not in its archaic form
of
two syllables with an accent over the second ‘e’ – bless-èd
It has resonances of Shakespeare and the King James Bible;
and it’s
modern pronunciation of ‘blest’
has lost much
of its depth of meaning in contemporary usage,
often
reduced to a vague assertion of feeling fortunate.
As in, ‘I’m
blest to have you has a friend’.
It’s further popular rendering as just ‘bless’ has robbed it
of almost all meaning,
becoming little
more than a patronising response to someone who has tried,
but
failed, to achieve anything worthwhile.
As in,
‘Look at that drawing she’s done, Bless!’
Ugh.
Anyway, I wonder if we can find a way to bring it back to
relevance,
to
rediscover the force of what Jesus was doing by proclaiming a blessing
on the
meek, the mournful, and the merciful.
In the Jewish religious context of the first century,
one of the
great theological debates
was that of
who was worthy to receive the blessing of God?
The Jews held that they were God’s chosen people,
called from
among the nations,
and blessed
by God with the gift of a ‘special relationship’ with him.
But within this general calling and blessing, there was a
further level of disparity
between
those who were regarded as blessed, and those who were not;
and there
was much discussion as to what God’s blessing looked like.
If you think that the prosperity gospel of health and wealth
is a new phenomenon,
and
unique to Christianity,
then think
again, because the ancient Jews got there first.
There was a school of thought that held that if you were
obedient to the covenant,
you would
experience the blessings of God as a reward for your faithfulness.
These blessings might be financial,
or related
to health, or to family life, such as having lots of children.
It’s not quite, ‘touch the screen, and you’re gonna be
healed’,
but it
comes from a similar place,
in terms of seeing God’s blessings
as linked
to human obedience and sacrifice.
Jesus wasn’t the first to challenge this idea,
and, for
example, the book of Job is an extended piece of theological reflection
on why bad things happen to good people,
questioning
where God is in the face of human suffering.
Again, these are not new questions…
The prophet Micah, who we heard from in our first reading
this morning,
also
questioned the nature of the sacrifice that God might require,
in order
for his blessings to be dispensed.
He asked,
“Shall I come before him with burnt offerings?
Will the LORD be
pleased with thousands of rams,
with ten thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my
firstborn for my transgression,
the fruit of my body for the sin of
my soul?"
And the
answer that he hears to this question is radical:
He has told you, O
mortal, what is good;
and what does the LORD
require of you
but to do justice,
and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?
It is in this tradition of Micah and Job,
that Jesus
started proclaiming blessings
on those
whom others would despise.
Many voices told people that their vulnerability was a
curse;
Jesus,
however, proclaimed it as a blessing.
And so…
Blessed are those who
refuse the lie that one life is worth more than any other,
for theirs is the future of
humanity.
This really is the
great lie,
it is the
great deceit of Satan.
Because the moment any one of us starts to believe
that one
life is more precious to God than any other,
then the door is opened for all manner of evil to take root
and flourish.
Against this, the radical message that Jesus proclaimed
was that
the kingdom of heaven
belongs to
those with a poverty of spirit;
to those with an un-inflated view of their own self-importance;
to those
who know that any value they have in life comes from God,
and not
from any achievement or status they may hold.
But so many of the messages of our society
fly in the
face of true poverty of spirit.
From the advertisers’ mantra that ‘you’re worth it’
to fevered assertions
of America, or indeed any nation, First,
and the nationalistic protectionism that comes
from a
mindset of ‘my country right or wrong’.
Friends, we need to recover a Godly sense of our own value,
and to
discover in that, the value of those others
whom we could
otherwise so easily diminish.
And so the challenge continues:
Blessed are those who
have stared long into the abyss,
for theirs is honesty beyond grief.
Bereavement can sap all hope, but there is hope here:
that those
who have learned to live with great loss
may discover through their grief the
brutal honesty of human mortality,
in ways
that others will never grasp.
The comfort for those who mourn is not won easily, or
quickly;
and it
comes through pain and tears.
But in a world which despises weakness,
and which
denies the transience of life,
the ability to out-stare death is a blessing known only to
some;
and yet is a
great gift that they bring to humanity.
We each of us, in our own way, one day,
will look
death in the face,
and on that day we will need those who have seen that face
before,
and learned
to live with its reality.
And so the challenge continues:
Blessed are those who
resist retaliation,
for the earth will never be won by
force.
We can build walls and missiles to our heart’s content,
securing
our borders with Mutually Assured Destruction,
and ever
more stringent restrictions on movement.
We can make our pacts and alliances,
and stand
in solidarity with countries of like-mind.
We can love NATO or hate it.
But, says Jesus, the earth does not belong to those with
guns, or missiles,
it belongs
to the meek;
it belongs to those who resist retaliation,
to those
who will commit themselves
to alternatives to the spiralling
violence
that generates strike after
counter-strike.
The future belongs to those who will build bridges and not
walls,
to those
who turn swords into ploughshares
and guns
into statues.
We will need creativity and courage
if we are
to stand against the prevailing mind-set of retaliation.
But it is a fight that is worth the effort,
because all
other paths lead to death.
And so the challenge continues:
Blessed are those who
would rather die for truth than live with compromise,
for the truth will outlive all lies.
We live in a world of fake news,
and
alternative facts.
We live in a post-truth world,
where the
lie wins the argument if it’s said loud enough and often enough.
We are constantly invited and cajoled to abandon truth,
and follow
the herd.
And yet where in this is righteousness,
where in
this is truth?
The answer, to quote the X files, is that the truth is out
there,
we just
need to seek it out, and then speak it out.
And this is not easy – it is hard, thirsty work, seeking the
springs of righteousness,
but we must
not abandon the quest,
and we must
resist compromise.
And so the challenge continues:
Blessed are those who
forgive the unforgivable,
for they have seen the darkness of
their own souls.
Many years ago I heard the late Jill Saward speak at Greenbelt,
you may
remember her, she was a victim of the Ealing vicarage rape attack.
And the courage with which she faced the crime that had been
done to her,
and her
willingness to speak language of forgiveness as a path to wholeness,
had a profound effect on me.
And in my pastoral work I speak sometimes
with those
who have been greatly wronged,
victims of
abuse of all kinds,
and I have never found it appropriate to tell anyone
that they
must forgive their abuser.
But when someone comes to the conclusion
that the
path from victimhood
lies
through the dark valley of forgiveness,
and when they realise that despite the wrong done to them
they share
common humanity with those who do wrong to others,
something profound can shift,
and a
moment of blessing can emerge.
But when we think of this on a global scale,
when we
bring to mind the terrorist atrocities of all the years,
from Isis
to the IRA and beyond,
and when we see the historical scars of un-forgiveness
written
across whole societies and nations,
we can begin to see why mercy is a blessing that cuts both
ways.
And so the challenge continues:
Blessed are those who
know themselves truly,
for they have seen themselves as God
sees them.
Socrates famously said
that ‘an unexamined life is not worth living’.
And I find myself wondering more and more
whether the
journey of discipleship in Christ
is
primarily a journey into the love of God,
which takes shape in our lives
as we learn
to see ourselves not as we want to be seen,
and
not as others see us,
but as God
sees us.
The challenge here, is that God sees us with the unflinching
gaze of love,
and we so
resist the idea of being loved.
We live with such suppressed guilt, such internalised
self-hatred,
that the
idea of being loved, of being truly forgiven and accepted,
is as alien
to us as our long lost childhoods.
And yet, and yet God loves us,
and
forgives us,
and
when we learn to see ourselves as God sees us,
we
discover purity in place of pain,
and we find
the face of God in the midst of our complex existence.
And so the challenge continues:
Blessed are those who
are provocatively nonviolent,
for they are following the path of
the son of God.
The path of peacemaking is not supposed to be
straightforward.
It’s never
just a passive pacifism that lays down and dies
when
confronted with violent opposition.
Christ-like nonviolence is something far more creative,
something
far more subversive.
Jim Gordon, former principal of the Scottish Baptist
College,
wrote that
the
Followers of the crucified Lord have a long tradition of resistance
through revolutionary
love, bridge-building hope,
perseverance in peace,
and joy in trumping injustice.[1]
And those of us who are watching with concern
as violence
escalates on the international stage,
will need to be provocatively nonviolent
if we are
to speak out a different, more Christ-like narrative,
for people
to learn to live by.
And so the challenge continues:
Blessed are those who
choose to receive violence but not to give it,
for the future is born out of such
choices.
It is a truth that there are many places in the world
where the
followers of Jesus face persecution
because
they will not compromise on what they know to be right.
The temptation to turn an experience of persecution into a
quest for vengeance
is ever
before those who have been wronged,
and those who make the choice to receive, but not to give
out,
find
themselves walking the path of the cross,
and setting
a new direction for those who follow.
And so the challenge continues:
Blessed are you when
you stand up for truth
and hell itself decides to try and
destroy you.
You're not the first
and you won't be the last.
I think that too often Christians have their Earth-Heaven
trajectory
the wrong
way around.
The dawning of the kingdom of heaven
is not
about us going to heaven,
it’s about
heaven coming to us.
Jesus taught his disciples to pray,
‘your kingdom
come on earth, as it is in heaven.’
Do you get it?
Can you see
it?
Most can’t, and won’t,
and that’s
the truth of it.
But those of us who can,
those of us
who are close enough to the one at the centre
to hear his
voice and heed his words;
we get it, we get the kingdom,
and we must
then live that kingdom into being.
We must live as if it were true,
until it is
true.
I'm telling you now,
nothing makes any sense unless you learn see it differently,
and then choose to live that
alternative into being.
thankyou Simon, glad to see I'm not alone in the world though it often feels that way.
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