Epiphany 4

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" height=82 BGCOLOR="#CCCC99" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="/Pics/0408dfe1esnpes.jpg"> <div> <FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#336666" FACE="Arial" ><B>Holy Cross Monastery</B></FONT><B>     </B><B>|</B><B>     </B><A HREF="/index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Holy Cross Monastery"><U><B>home</B></U></A></div> <div> <B>Epiphany 4</B>   |   <A HREF="/Meditations/Sermons/2001/id45Sermon3Advent.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Sermon for Third Sunday of Advent"><U>Sermon for Third Sunday of Advent</U></A>   |   <A HREF="/Meditations/Sermons/2001/id57Sermon1Lent.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Lent I"><U>Lent I</U></A>   |   <A HREF="/Meditations/Sermons/2002/SermonGoodFriday.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Good Friday"><U>Good Friday</U></A>   |   <A HREF="/Meditations/Sermons/2002/SermonEasterIII.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Easter III"><U>Easter III</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="/Meditations/CommMed.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Community Meditations"><U><B>Meditations Home</B></U></A></div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" height=398 BGCOLOR="#CCCC99" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="/Pics/0408dfc3.jpg"> <div> <I>Epiphany 4</I></div> <div> Lectionary Readings:</div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="/Meditations/Sermons/id66LectionMicah.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Micah"><U>Micah</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="/Meditations/Sermons/id67.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Corinthians"><U>Corinthians</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="/Meditations/Sermons/id68.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Matthew"><U>Matthew</U></A></div> <bR> <bR> <div> The Beatitudes are a passage not often quoted when people are busy telling us What the Bible Says.  This is for a reason, since whatever we <I>say </I>we believe, our real beliefs in this country are somewhat different:</div> <bR> <div> <I>Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven?  </I>Get real!  Blessed are the <I>rich, </I>for they shall get to boss everyone else around.</div> <div> <I>Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted?  </I>Try rather, Blessed are those with a grievance, for they shall get to take revenge on everyone and everything.</div> <div> <I>Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth?  </I>Ha!  Blessed are the assertive and self-willed, for they shall walk all over the meek.</div> <div> <I>Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled?  </I>Not likely!  Blessed are those who work to subvert the laws of the nation and the morals of the society, for they shall become rich and powerful beyond their wildest dreams.</div> <div> <I>Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God?  </I>Sorry!  It is more like, Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall get to watch a mushroom cloud envelop the earth.</div> <div> In this beautiful passage, Jesus is speaking a language that almost makes sense; perhaps we might make out what he is really saying, if we listen hard enough.</div> <div> Blessed are we when people revile us and persecute us and utter all kinds of evil against us?  Blessed are we, when we are persecuted for righteousness' sake-for ours is the kingdom of heaven?  What's that?  What could Jesus possibly mean?  Has Osama bin Laden blessed us by blowing up the World Trade Center and part of the Pentagon?  Worse yet, have <I>we</I> blessed <I>him </I>by our attacks on the Taliban and Al-Qaeda?</div> <div> We should not fret ourselves because of evil-doers?  We should be poor in spirit?  Meek?  We should mourn?  Have I missed something?  I do not see that we in this “great Christian nation” are doing any of this.  In fact, the world's conventional wisdom makes all this wonderful rhetoric sound quite foolish, doesn't it?  But let us reflect a moment on where our usual response is taking us.  Does it seem to be anywhere we enjoy going?  Or anywhere that might be truly profitable to us?</div> <div> When we compare this scene as the various Gospels describe it, one thing we notice is that Matthew spiritualizes this passage, whereas Luke literalizes it.  As Dietrich Bonhöffer points out in his discussion of today's Gospel, we cannot read Jesus' words literally and ignore their spiritual meaning; nor can we spiritualize the text, and thus free ourselves from having to deal with its literal meaning.  Whether interpreted literally or spiritually, Jesus is calling us to a radical trust in God.  Naturally, to the world this appears to be a skewed sense of priorities, but as Saint Paul reminds us, what appears to be God's foolishness is still wiser than the best of human smarts.</div> <div> The problem, however, is that we cannot get there from here:  the Beatitudes are hard enough to follow when we are taking them only literally <I>or </I>only spiritually.  It is next to impossible to hold both understandings in tension and fully live them out simultaneously.  But somehow we have to make a beginning:  to abandon all we hold dear and become poor in spirit; perhaps even to let our possessions go, as well.</div> <div> It is as well to remember that being materially poor is not necessarily an aid to being spiritual, except that sometimes it can be easier to avoid attachment to possessions when we have none to tempt us.  It is all too easy, though, to allow envy of others' possessions to consume us.  Neither is wealth necessarily an obstacle to spirituality, since it can sometimes be easier to hold possessions of little account when our standard of living is comfortable enough to spare us the daily struggle to subsist.  But then, of course, it is easy to get carried away by greed and pride.</div> <div> No, if we are to succeed at all, God's grace is essential.  In fact God's grace is the whole point.  The radical trust in God to which Jesus calls us is best expressed in the Psalmist's words:  “I will trust in the Lord and not be afraid; for what can mortals do to me?”  Again this is a case of divine foolishness <I>versus </I>human wisdom; for example, can you imagine how our Director of Homeland Security might react if someone were to assure him that we need not worry about our domestic security since God will protect us?</div> <div> In <I>Reaching Out, </I>Henri Nouwen points out that one of the elements of spiritual growth involves our moving from the illusion of power into prayer and trust in God.  The issue, at base, is one of control:  who's in charge here, God or us?  This is a very subtle question, since it is so easy to convince ourselves that we are asking for God's will, and still secretly keep on insisting on our own way:  “Here, God, I leave this matter in your hands . . . (but this is how things should work out, okay?)”</div> <div> In fact, the illusion of power is so strong that it takes catastrophic circumstances to wake us up:  hitting bottom with an addiction; a life-threatening illness; the divorce that comes when we had no idea that the relationship had gone so wrong; the death of a loved one despite all we could do to stave it off; the realization, at the birth of one's child, that this fragile new life is at the mercy of a capricious and dangerous universe.  Any lesser circumstance usually lacks the intensity to break through the denial wrought by our illusions of power and control.</div> <div> The intensity of the pain involved is why trying to do God's will often proves so uncomfortable.  We often have to come to the point of trusting that even when things are by no means “right,” they may nevertheless be how God wants them to be.</div> <div> The commentaries are pretty well divided on whether Jesus intended the Beatitudes to be prescriptive for the community of disciples, a statement of ideal Christian behavior, or a list of entrance requirements for salvation.  Only one writer had the insight to speculate that possibly all three could be true-or perhaps none of them, for that matter.  For myself, and following the lead of Brother Bede Thomas, o.h.c., in his sermon at my first profession, I prefer to think of this passage as a road map for the journey that is the Way of Christian faith.</div> <div> <I><B>Poor in spirit </B></I>can certainly describe how we are when we surrender to our powerlessness and lack of control.  Moreover, there is a great deal to <I><B>mourn </B></I>in the process of surrendering:  not only does the surrender of the old self, the old ways of operating, feel very much like a kind of death; but also, after the change, we must still mourn the loss of ourselves as we used to be.</div> <div> The word <I><B>meek </B></I>in this context refers not at all to an attitude of passivity and mildness, but rather to the abandonment of all efforts of our own will, <I>even the effort to surrender to God.  </I>We must come to trust that our situation-and we ourselves-will change in only God's time, if ever.  The good news in all this is that we can indeed trust that our hunger to become righteous-<I>i.e.., </I>to live in harmony with God's will-will eventually be satisfied.  That is the promise.</div> <div> <B>Mercy </B>is a quality that results from the radical reorientation brought about by our new life in Christ.  Here we need to remember, however, that to obtain mercy, we must be merciful, and to obtain forgiveness, we must forgive those who sin against us.  This is by no means any kind of <I>quid pro quo, </I>but rather living in harmony with God's will for us.  We do not purchase mercy or forgiveness with merciful or forgiving acts.  It is rather that people with merciful and forgiving hearts seem to attract mercy and forgiveness for their own behavior.  The mercy and forgiveness exhibited by such people is an outpouring from hearts overflowing with love.</div> <div> Christ thus makes mercy the basis of all ethical behavior:  seeking justice and forgiveness rather than vengeance and putting others' welfare even before our own (<I>e.g.</I>, to use recent scandals from the life of our nation:  placing the good of my nation and just dealings with others before my campaign plans; before my political ideology; before other objectives when framing my tax policy; before my desire for power, money, vengeance against others, approval, sex, affection, <I>etc.</I>)</div> <div> <B>Purity of heart, </B>what John Cassian called “discretion,”<B> </B>is the ultimate destination of this journey, and it consists basically of detachment from our desire for results, our insistence on our own way.</div> <div> Reaching this destination has certain consequences.  One is what Jesus calls <B>peace-making, </B>which means largely having an awareness of the effects of my own behavior in the situation, when trying to call others to account-a principle that is largely forgotten in our national discourse even more than it is in our private lives-and also forswearing vengeance in the name of peace and harmony.  Another consequence of the journey is detachment from self, which finds its ultimate expression in our acceptance of persecution for Jesus' sake.  </div> <div> One final thought that we need to bear in mind:  As Jesus points out, the reward of our journey lies in heaven, not on this earth.  What this means is that our reward (the benefits gained, or the resulting circumstances, or the final outcome of the situation) will not be what we expected going in, but appropriate to our condition at the end of the journey.  In fact, the visible result may not feel much like a reward at all; it may appear to be nothing but pain, even anguish.  The real reward, like our surrender, comes in God's time and in God's way; it is the blessedness of being in right relationship with God, with others, and with all of creation.</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <I>Br. Benedict Littlefield, o.h.c.</I></div> <div> <I>Holy Cross Monastery on February 3, 2002</I></div> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>