The Other Beatitudes [Epiphany 6C]


The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson
Luke 6:17-26

The Other Beatitudes
                                                                                                     
“’In spirit.’ You forgot to say ‘in spirit.’”  That’s how I imagine this went.  Someone in that crowd yelled out the “in spirit.”  That’s just life on the road.  You make enough stops.  Give enough speeches.  Stand before enough crowds: and your groupies know your bits.  Someone knew, I’m sure, that the line, the opening line, of the Beatitudes, is “Blessed are the poor…in spirit.”

It might have been some kind-hearted soul who just wanted to protect Jesus, just wanted to help him out.  He was, after all, early in his ministry at this point in Luke’s Gospel.  He maybe wasn’t so used to the big crowds, “the great multitude” is how Luke describes this gathering.  There were a lot of people listening.  And you don’t get all political and start talking about people’s money on your first arena tour – unless you want to go back to working the clubs, unless you want to spend the rest of your days talking into the open mic at some seedy dive bar.  So surely Jesus meant to say, “Blessed are the poor in spirit.”  People like that one.

It’s that other version, that Matthew version, of the Beatitudes that ladies needlepoint onto pillows, that shows up on Christian bookstore bookmarks.  It’s that Matthew version that people remember and set to pretty music.  That’s the one with the “poor in spirit” and the “hunger and thirst for righteousness” and the “pure in heart.”  That is the one folks like.  There are no woes in that one.

This version, in Luke’s Gospel, it has none of the lovely spiritualized language; it lacks the universality of the other, in that there is something for everyone in the Matthew version: who hasn’t been a little poor in spirit at one time or another?  But this one, it is packed with as much woe as blessing.  And it talks about money.  Not poor in spirit, but poor poor.  And everyone knows it is not polite to talk about money.

I mean, it does start nicely enough.  Even the richest folks in the crowd probably thought, at least initially, that it was good of Jesus to say something nice to the poor people who came out to hear him speak.  They’re poor and hungry and weeping.  It was nice of Jesus to try to cheer them up.  That’s good: a good idea.

But the mood shifts pretty suddenly.  Things take a turn when Jesus starts in on the woes.  I would imagine the wealthiest attendees were caught a bit off guard.  Their opinion of Jesus likely changed rather quickly.  Stand-up comedian Bill Burr said, “There’s this new level of…selfishness when you go to a comedy club—where they’ll watch you for forty minutes and take everything as a joke, and then…you’ll hit a topic that’s sensitive to them, and then all of a sudden you’re making statements.”[1] And they are getting up in the middle of the show and walking out.  This was probably a little like that.

I think it is important to remember when we read Jesus’ words, which we do so far removed from Bible times: Jesus wasn’t killed for running around hitting people in the head with a baseball bat; he never robbed a bank or took anyone hostage.  Jesus was killed for talking, for offending powerful people, influential people with his words.  Jesus was killed for talking. 

Jesus said the wrong things throughout his entire ministry.  You might remember his first sermon, also found in Luke’s Gospel.  He is in his local synagogue and he is doing really well.  Initially his hometown supporters are whispering to each other, “How did this guy get so smart?  I mean, we know his dad, so…  How did he get so smart?”  But by the end of the sermon, and I don’t know how long Jesus’ sermons were, but this feels like a pretty fast turn-around, they are trying to throw him off of a cliff to his death.  Because of words.  Because Jesus said something that offended them.  

So in sense, these folks, gathered to hear yet another Jesus’ monologue, probably should have seen this coming.  But it was still shocking.  Because when people say, “I’m so blessed” doesn’t that mean, “I’m happy” or “I am financially secure” or at least “I’m not going hungry.”: “I’m so blessed.”  But here Jesus is calling out those who appear to be most blessed of all and raining down woe upon them.

And anyway, is there anything inherently wrong with being rich, or being full, or laughing, or being well-liked?  Do the rich people in the audience deserve to be called out like that?  Do they deserve the woe?

One of the differences between this version of the Beatitudes and Matthew’s version of the Beatitudes is that Matthew’s are in the third person; Luke’s speak in the second person.  And so instead of “Blessed are the poor in spirit,” in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus says, “Blessed are you who are poor.”  In that crowd, that great multitude, there were rich people and there were people experiencing poverty.  And Jesus is talking directly to them.  Not some generalized philosophical lecture about the nature of wealth, this was a person addressing other people, real people: blessed are you, woe to you.

Context matters.  I don’t think it was just that members of his audience were rich and that bothered Jesus because of some personal bias; I think what mattered to Jesus was that members of the audience were rich, full, and laughing at life when in the very same crowd, same village, same region others were beat down by the crushing effects of poverty.  I think it breaks Jesus’ heart to see someone suffering while another person is swimming around in a pile of hoarded cash like some Scrooge McDuck.  The woe to those who are laughing now is not because Jesus didn’t have a sense of humor; it’s don’t take it so lightly that the kids down the street from you are starving to death.  This wasn’t some hypothetical for Jesus; the wealth gap was standing right in front of him.  It is painful to see extreme wealth and extreme poverty in the scene.  Like it’s hard to hear about the threat champagne corks pose to yacht art when people are literally dying of thirst on the same planet. 

Jesus loves everyone, of course.  But here Jesus makes a special point of loving the poor.  Jesus cares so much for the poor, not because they are necessarily morally superior to the rich, or anyone else for that matter, but because it is hard to watch someone you love suffer.  And poverty is devastating.  And Jesus sees that.  Jesus sees those suffering in poverty; he sees them.  It is hard to watch someone you love starve to death or freeze to death.  And Jesus sees that.  Jesus looks at the people who are told that they are not worth much and sees infinite worth in them.  And so it breaks his heart when we don’t see the same thing.

Maybe the problem isn’t being rich or full or happy.  Maybe the problem is that being rich and full and happy breeds a kind of contented apathy towards those in need.  We feel so blessed, so superior, that we forget that Jesus said, “Blessed are you who are poor” not “Blessed are you who are rich.”

The face of poverty is a complex one.  Some people are poor because of bad choices, or bad luck; some are in poverty because of addiction, or illness – mental, physical, emotional, spiritual.  Some people are poor because they were born in the wrong time or place or circumstance or family.

The face of wealth is also complex.  Some people are wealthy because they made good decisions or because their hard work paid off or because they got lucky.  Some people are wealthy because they were born in the right time or place or circumstance or family.

Money is just a thing – an idea we imbue with meaning and morality, in which we invest our self-worth and measure the worth of others.  But it’s not worth much except that it tells God and the world what we value.  In this Gospel Jesus tells us what he values.  And it is not money; it’s not stuff; it’s not status; it is people, human beings, every one made in the image of God.

You know, it is not illegal to be rich in our nation.  You can save up billions and never give a dime to charity and the worst you will face is bad PR.  There is nothing in the Ten Commandments that forbids one from accumulating wealth.  But there is this version of the Beatitudes in Luke’s Gospel.  And while it does not tell us what to do, it does challenge us to go beyond the basic requirements of this world – to think about where we will store up our treasures: the Cayman Islands or Heaven. 

Jesus doesn’t seem to care too much here about the complexities of poverty and wealthy.  He does not qualify his statement.  He does not make a distinction between the worthy poor and the unworthy poor.  He simply says, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.”  And “Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.”

For those living in poverty, in that crowd and still today, this is a word of comfort.  A better day is dawning; those tears: God will replace them with laughter.  In the kingdom of God the weight of poverty under which they are suffering will be no more.

But for those of us who are not living in poverty, where is the grace; where is the Good News; where is the hope?  The grace, I think, is there in the challenge.  I don’t think Jesus’ goal is to inspire guilt. (What good would that even do?)  I think the point is to challenge us to be generous.  Jesus is challenging us to invest now in the future God wants for this world.  Jesus is offering to those who are rich in resources, in that crowd and still today, the opportunity to give to something that really matters, to invest in peace, to invest in justice, to invest in mercy, to invest in love, to invest in the coming kingdom of God: to make this world look a little more like heaven.  It is a limited time offer.  But the good news is: Jesus is still looking for some investors.  The good news is: it’s not too late.







[1] Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee,  20 November 2014.

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