James R. Gorman
First of all, a word about the Sermon on the Mount. The Sermon on the Mount takes place in Matthew chapters 5 though 7. In the sermon are some incredible treasures.
Beginning with the beatitudes, of course, the sermon leads us through some extraordinary territory. "You are the salt of the earth, . . . the light of the world" (which cannot be set under a bushel). "I have not come to abolish the law," Jesus says, "but to fulfill it." There are 6 "You have heard it said, . . . but I tell you"s. "Beware of practicing your piety before others."
The Lord's Prayer in its fullest form is in Chapter 6.
"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth where moth and dust doth corrupt."
"No one can serve both God and mammon."
"Do not be anxious about what you shall eat or what you shall drink, consider the lilies of the field and the birds of the air."
"Judge not that ye not be judged" (there are certain phrases that one learns in the King's English that just won't translate into modern idioms).
"Seek and ye shall find, knock and the door shall be opened unto you."
"Do not throw your pearls before swine."
"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."
"Beware of false prophets who come to you like a wolf in sheep's clothing."
"Not everyone who says, 'Lord, Lord' will enter the kingdom of heaven."
"Everyone who hears these words and acts on them will be like a man who built his house on a rock."
Just this short review of the sermon shows that it is so well known that it has become a part of our normal everyday language, sometimes without really knowing where it came from. "Wolf in sheep's clothing," "Be sure and build your house on a rock," "Don't hide your talents under a bushel." These are all metaphors from the Sermon on the Mount, which have entered our language.
In Israel, up in the Galilee region there is a place by the sea of Galilee where they take tourists that is called the Mount of the Beatitudes, where tradition has it, Jesus preached the sermon on the mount. From the top of that small mountain (larger than a hill, but not really a mountain) you have this marvelous view of the sea stretched out before you. Off to the left, as I remember it, there is a church or shrine to commemorate the place of the Sermon on the Mount. As we stood on that mount one of the years that I went there, someone read from the beatitudes as the rest of us looked around at the incredible scenery. And my eyes fell upon a yellow object down in the valley just before the seacoast. As I focused on the object, I saw that it was an old yellow school bus that had long ago lost all of its wheels and was resting on its side; rusted, windowless and forlorn.
At first I was displeased that such an ordinary trash heap should intrude on my contemplation. But I've since thought better of it. The ordinariness of that place was made plain by this hulk of the school bus. For in the final analysis, this great sermon, the greatest of all sermons, was preached to ordinary folks on an ordinary hill in an ordinary country in ordinary and simple language using metaphors and images that an unschooled peasant could understand. It is a work of real genius that has been celebrated as such throughout the ages and on virtually every continent, peninsula and island on this earth.
And at the beginning of this sermon are the beatitudes, and the next Sundays will take up the other points in Jesus' sermon. But these beatitudes are something else again aren't they?
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad for your reward is great in heaven.
At different moments in my life, the beatitudes have struck me in different ways. When I was young and radical, I didn't like the fact that Matthew remembered Jesus saying "Blessed are the poor in spirit" where Luke remembered him saying "Blessed are the poor." But now that I have been in ministry for more than 20 years, the idea of the spiritually brokenhearted having a special place in God's heart means the entire world to me.
When Yitzak Rabin, Prime Minister of Israel, died at the hands of a zealot in the midst of his pursuit of peace in the Middle East, I was asked by the Interfaith Council to bring greetings from the Christian community at a memorial service in Temple Bethel. I ended my brief reflections with "Our rabbi has taught us, 'blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God.'"
When in the midst of funerals, especially of those who have died suddenly and tragically, I have often thought of Jesus' outstretched arms to those who mourn their loss, for in his embrace, in our embrace, they shall indeed be comforted.
Which leads one to understand the beatitudes in a special way. They are not really moral exhortations to behave in a certain way. They are rather words of hope directed to those who are in mourning, who are brokenhearted, who are meek, who are persecuted for righteous' sake, who have a certain purity of heart, who make peace against all the odds and all the voices calling for revenge and security.
And furthermore, they are words that describe who God is, as revealed by our rabbi, Jesus. God is a God who cares for those who are the least and the lost and the lonely. This is a theme which is struck again and again in Jesus' teaching and finally in his death on the cross. A theme which is foolishness to some, but for those willing to listen to this strange good news, it is a comfort and a hope.
For myself, it was only when I was in my most prodigal brokenheartedness that I found God, or should I say God found me. In desperation, I went to church in my 22nd year and there in the embrace of a community of Jesus people, I found comfort and hope.
It was there that I found a God who reached out with such a graceful embrace and said to me, and to me personally, "come to me all you who labor and heavy laden and I will give you rest." A God who is himself meek and humble of heart. It was in the bosom of this God where I found rest for my soul and I found that in the end, my yoke was easy and my burden light. It was one of those deeply revelatory moments in which my heart's cool detachment was indeed strangely warmed and I was renewed, perhaps even, dare I say it, "born again?"
Yes, I shall say it.
And I have said it many times. I make jokes about strangely warmed hearts, but mine was strangely warmed at a time when it was too commonly cold.
The beatitudes reveal to us an inviting God who finds us when we are lost, who embraces us when we are most unembraceable, who loves us most when we are most unlovable.
It reminds me of a statement about mothers who are accused of loving certain children more than others, of having favorites among her children. One mother said wisely to her children, "I am guilty as charged. I do indeed love some of you more than others. For I love the child most who is ill and in need of nursing. I love the one most who is most lost and alone. I love the child the most who has just been beaten up on the playground. I love the child the most who has made bad decisions about his life and has placed himself in a bind. I love my child most who loves herself the least."
For this, finally, is a key to understanding the central nature of our God. The one who chases after the prodigal when everyone else has given up the long search.
This is our God, who loves the brokenhearted the most, the mourner the most, the peacemaker the most, the persecuted the most and loves most the one who loves himself the least. This is our God. And this is finally the answer to the question, "why are you a Christian?" I am a Christian because my Lord has taught me that my God loves me when no one else could.
Praise God from whom all beatitudes flow.