Where is God? Advent, Week One

Our readings today are so powerful, but this Advent I’m resolved to make my Sunday reflections first of all practical, so I want to look more deeply at the reading from Isaiah 64. This reading comes from someone who feels that God has abandoned them, which may not seem like the most inspirational reading for us today—until we watch CNN of course. We see violence and oppression and injustice on every continent, and even though we know that Christ has already won the victory, sometimes we wonder. We feel very much alone.
Sometimes it even feels like that at church, like having faith is a give and take kind of thing with us doing all the giving and the church doing all the taking, and meanwhile God is nowhere to be found. Maybe we feel that God isn’t at all interested in our life? That we’ve been left alone to work through the challenges of child-rearing, job-hunting, caretaking of elderly parents all by ourselves. Not that we haven’t tried to locate this absentee God. We’ve looked up and down I-69 for a gian billboard from God, assuring us that He’s still here, all too happy to look after us and support us, but we’re just not seeing it. God seems very remote and far away.
The one who prays in Isaiah 64 has done the same things: he’s looked high and low for God, and now he is frustrated and angry. Angry that God hasn’t “proved” true in the real world of being a student and a parent and a retired person with increasing physical limitations. Angry that when he needed God most and knocked on the divine door, the sign said, “Gone fishing.” From a historical stance, it’s understandable because at the time Isaiah was written, the entire country had been ransacked and plundered—the memories of watching enemy combattants invade, the sounds of the screaming neighbors as violence ensued. How could any forget the humiliating six hundred mile forced march from their home town to a distant land?? For sixty years this displacement has continued, and the God they once seemed so sure of seems absent. So the person who prays in Isaiah 64, decides one day that he’s done praying the “Our Father who art in heaven” kind of prayer: instead, he’s going to get real with his praying. And it’s going to be brutally honest and it’s going to carry all the pain in his heart.
“God, rip the heavens apart limb by limb and come down and help me!” The imagery is violent: slash the heavens, rupture them open, explode them apart, snap and shatter the clouds. The person praying wants God to come onto the scene in a dramatic way, in a way that everyone will notice.
Wouldn’t it be great if God would do this kind of thing every once in a while for us? All the kids would be talking about it come Monday morning during the homeroom announcements.
“Hey, did you see on CNN what happened at Mr. Holland’s place Friday night?”
“No, what?”
“OMG, dude, God came down and really kicked some butt!”
There was a time when that kind of praying was the norm, when Christians prayed, “Thy will be done” and really meant it because there was no other kind of prayer possible: no vaccination for polio, no dialysis machines, no bypass surgery, no transplants.
I’m not saying those were the ‘good old days’ by any means, but when it came to issues of faith, it was far easier to believe then that God was right there in the fray with us, with his apron on, sleeves rolled up, doing whatever needed to be done to accomplish God’s will. When we felt we couldn’t go any further, when we felt that there was nothing left to live for, suddenly we just knew that God was with us. And we found that we could go on after all. We felt somehow that it all made sense.
Like the Prophet Isaiah, we might at first try to blame God for abandoning us, for being the source of all our problems, but at some point we will come to acknowledge our own responsibility in what the world has become:
WE have sinned
WE have transgressed
WE have all become like one who is unclean, and our high-sounding phrases like “liberty and justice for all” look like little more than a dirty dish rag.
WE have all faded like a leaf on a tree in November because we’ve been swept away by the consequences of our collective and individual choices.
The prophet acknowledges this, too, and wonders if maybe God hasn’t found another chosen people, a people who are better behaved, who make better choices, whose actions are in harmony with their words…And just like that, the prayer changes: gone are the demands for violence and anger. So we come to the deepest truth, the most profound yearnings of the human heart. When we have exhausted every strategy from blaming God to imagining the good old days to having temper tantrums, we come at last to a place of integrity and truth: “God, I guess the most important thing is that no matter what, you are my parent, my mom and dad. Left to myself, I am a lump of unshaped clay; but in your hands I know I am a masterpiece. So whatever I am and wherever life will take me, I now know that you are the sculptor of my life. And I surrender all that I am to you, all that I will ever be.”
We once whispered a prayer to God: “Lord, speak to me, please.” And an early spring robin sang in the tree behind our garage, but we didn’t hear it.
So we got more insistent and yelled: “God, speak to me right now!” And the sunlight caressed our cheek and a gentle breeze moved through our hair. But we weren’t listening.
Then we got frustrated and we demanded, “God, if you exist and are really with me, let me see you!”—not even noticing a universe of bright stars dancing above our heads.
And then we shouted, “God, if you’re out there, show me a miracle!” and all around us new life was being born in abundance—we didn’t notice a thing.
So, we burst into tears and we cried out in despair, “If you love me, touch me, God and let me know your presence!” And God reached down and touched us, but we brushed the butterfly away and kept sobbing.
And in the dark of the darkest night, we cried, “God, I need your help!” as an email from a friend arrived with loving words of encouragement, but we thought it was probably spam, so we deleted it and spent another sleepless night…
Isaiah’s prayer is a reflection of our own Advent yearnings, and these yearnings often take a winding journey toward integrity and responsibility, but first they go through the desert of confession and repentance in order to come to place of trust and renewal. And suddenly we get it.
The fact is, God has been with us all the time. We just forgot to check upstairs in the spare closet. God has touched us on the shoulder as many times as an impatient student’s interruptions. And all the while we were complaining and doubting God’s presence, complaining about God’s absence, God was continually trying to reveal Himself to us in order to show us that we were the ones who were absent, and that He had been there all the time, and in the most surprisingly ordinary places.

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Trimming the Tree

While trimming the trees in the rectory this past weekend, I had another opportunity to review my own personal history as reflected in the various ornaments I placed on the family tree. There is, to be sure, one tree decorated in period-appropriate decorations of a more rustic nature, in keeping with the historic provenance of the house. But there is also another tree that bears in minature, all the phases of my life from childhood to the present. Each year another special ornament is added, with a brief explanation attached to its storage container, so that I never forget the person or story behind the ornament.
Since all of these ornaments are one of a kind and irreplaceable to me, it struck me this year that preparing the house for Christmas can be more than a vehicle for self-expression: it can be a form of meditation on the deepest level. Carefully hanging a bird seed on eggshell ornament can be a prayer. Energetically hanging multi-colored lights is a way of remaking the world into something beautiful. Putting the angel treetop from my childhood is like hitting a high note while singing a song, reminding me to continue to release my fears and keep reaching fornew heights in my life. Each small aspect of decorating for Christmas carries with it the possibility of personal transformation: it only needs awareness and intentionality.

Decorating or doing arts and crafts, painting, writing, or any creative activity requires us to become fully present during the process of creating. This means we are less obsessive about what the outcome of our project will be and more focused on the “now” of the activity. As we do this, we can release any preconcieved notions or inhibitions or ideas about what needs to happen, and then God’s own creative energy (which is surely the source of all our own creativity) can flow freely through us. Whether we are writing or singing or making Christmas ornaments or trimming the tree, we bring to light a very real reflection of our innermost self in a particular time and place.

This is definitely the season of decorating our homes for the holidays, so if you’re the kind of person who thinks that “regular” meditation is something that doesn’t appeal to you, maybe think about trimming or creating something and allow that process to be your Advent meditation this year. You might even sing the old carols out loud as you bring the beauty of who you are into being as you trim your tree or home.
When I look at the finished Christmas tree that holds all the family ornaments, I see all of my personal history: the glass ornaments brought from Germany by my father’s family at the turn of the previous century; the plastic ornaments from the 1940s that were made using “new” technology that hung on my grandparents’ tree; the shiny snowmen that I purchased when the boys were babies; the American flag ornament Gayle and I bought after 9/11; the numerous Nutcracker ornaments from when I danced with Fort Wayne Ballet; the birdseed and husk ornaments Gayle and I made the first Christmas we lived in the house; the vacation ornaments from Key West,Ocean City, Paris and New Orleans; the numerous ornaments from students I’ve received over the years; the egnraved First Christmas ornament from each of my son’s first Christmas. It’s all there: a Christmas tapestry of triumphs and tragedies, wins and losses, good days and hard times, laughter and tears. The annual act of trimming that tree becomes much more than just one more crazy act of preparing the holiday: it’s a prayerful meditation of gratitude for everyone and everything that has brought me to this place.
Some years I feel more caught up in the holiday spirit, other years less so. But in every case I find the time to put up the trees and after Midnight Mass, when the house is dark and quiet, I sit with a glass of wine in front of the lit tree and I remember everyone and everything. Sometimes there’s a tear or two. Often a smile or two. But there is always an overwhelming sense of peace because, in the light of that Christmas tree, God shows me every year just how blessed I am to be alive.
Wishing you a week of mindful trimming,
Fr. Michel

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Back to Basics: Christ the King Sermon 2014

When the Green Bay Packers’ Vince Lombardi, the eminently successful coach in the 1960s, was asked how he produced winning teams, he explained that any group of football athletes could win more games than they lost if they simply concentrated on the “little things,” the fundamentals of the game. After a narrow victory for the Packers, Lombardi called a special session for Monday morning because he felt his players were losing sight of the small details that guarantee victory. Standing before his players, he held a football above his head and announced: “Men, we need to review the basics of the game. This is a football.”
In the passage we heard from Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus has gathered his team, his disciples, around him for one of the last teaching sessions of his career. Throughout his ministry he has been trying to get his team to understand the meaning of the Reign of God—what it is, who is part of it, what is expected of those who want to part of it. He returns to fundamentals, and in the process he helps us to understand how the game of life is to be played.
One of the things he says is that discernment is part of the process because there comes a time when our choices and actions will be discerned as either worthy or unworthy. He says that nations and people come before the King, and there is a separating of people as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. But this judgment scene actually is taking place in our souls right now because we carry the Divine Presence within and we already know the answer. Engaging in discernment now allows us a chance to see what we’ve done with gthe gifts God has given us, and we can use that to advantage for the Reign of God. One morning in 1888, Alfred Nobel, the inventor of dynamite, the man who had spent his lifetime amassing a fortune from the manufacture and sale of weapons of destruction, awoke to read his own obituary. The obituary was an error, of course, because it was actually his brother who had died. But Mr. Nobel was profoundly disturbed to read the headline that said the “Dynamite King,” had died. It was clear that this was how he was going to be remembered, and nothing else he had accomplished was even listed in the obituary. Nobel resolved to make clear to the world the true meaning and purpose of his life. And through the final disposition of his fortune, he established the most valued and prestigious prizes given to those who have done most for the cause of world peace, the arts, and sciences. For him this was the moment of discernment. Jesus reminds us that we must all give an accounting.
Jesus goes on to say that the discernment or judgment process results in surprise for some because some people are told that they had been rendering service to the King himself without even knowing it. Often we are not aware that an act of caring or compassion has any effect beyond our immediate view. We may never meet the family we helped by donating to the food bank. We might never shake hands with the man standing in his new shoes and belt, proud to have gotten his first job after having been incarcerated. We may never even see the woman dying of AIDS who, thanks to our generous giving, was provided with food and personal care items when even her family and friends were nowhere to be found. If you’ve never read the book, “The 5 People You Meet in Heaven”, I suggest you read it because as the book makes clear, one day we will all be surprised to discover whose lives we have impacted.
Jesus assures us that great noble acts aren’t what he’s talking about: it’s the small things. Food, shelter, the gift of our companionship. Our opportunity to please God will not be the result of some benevolent act that impacts all of humankind. It will be a small act of caring directed toward an individual.
Loving service is another part of the Reign of God. “I was sick and in prison,” says the King, “and you came to me.” We are sometimes challenged to do for others what they cannot do for themselves. Henri J. M. Nouwen, noted theologian and author, chose to leave his post at Harvard Divinity School to becoming one of the staff at Daybreak–a residential community for developmentally disabled people. A typical day at Harvard might have included lecturing to packed auditoriums, outside speaking engagements, interviews with magazine editors, and some quality time spent writing another book or magazine article for publication. At Daybreak, the day began by helping others out of bed, bathing, feeding, and clothing them. Tending to their physical, emotional, and spiritual needs as part of a ministry team fills the day. Nouwen shares what led to this change. “Most of my past life has been built around the idea that my value depends on my accomplishments. I made it through grade school, high school, and university. I earned degrees and awards, and I made my career. Yes, with many others, I fought my way up to the lonely top of a little success, a little popularity, and a little power. But as I sit beside the slow and heavy-breathing Adam (a resident of Daybreak), I start seeing how violent that journey was. So filled with desires to be better than others, so marked by rivalry and competition, so pervaded with compulsions and obsessions, and so spotted with moments of suspicion, jealousy, resentment, and revenge.” In serving those who cannot help themselves, Nouwen heard the voice of Christ: “Just as as you did it to one of the least of these, you did it to me.”
Jesus has been talking about the Reign of God, and it might sound like he’s saying,”Well, if you do enough good things, then God will let you in.” That’s not what he’s saying at all. He’s not sharing with us a magic formula of how we save ourselves by our own good deeds, rather, he’s giving us a description of how people who have pledged allegiance to God above all else live out their commitment. Acts of caring and compassion toward the least and loneliest demonstrate that people are already living inside the Reign of God, even when they don’t realize the impact their actions have. Small acts of kindness, even when we think they are invisible, are ways the Reign of God becomes more visible.
When Ignatius Loyola and his band of nine followers went to petition Pope Paul III in the 16th century to form the Society of Jesus, the Pope was unimpressed. Although the men arrived in Rome with their degrees, their doctorates in divinity, the Pope was unimpressed Then came the winter of 1538, the most desperate in Rome’s memory. These ten men took upon themselves the burden of the city’s destitute. They put the sick into their own beds, begged straw mattresses and food for the rest, and at times had as many as three or four hundred crowded into a ramshackle residence, which was all they could afford. So spectacular were their efforts that the Pope decided he could no longer ignore them, so 1540 he granted them the right to call themselves a genuine religious brotherhood–the Society of Jesus (Jesuits). Their actions indicated to whom they belonged.
Undergoing discernment, being open to surprise, not overlooking small things, involving ourselves in simple acts, serving “the least of these,” acknowledging God’s Rule–these are the fundamental ways we come to recognize God’s Reign and give evidence that we are part of the change. In time, others will notice that the Kingdom has come close to them. They may not know what to call it, but they will know that something has happened that makes life better. To that, Jesus would say “Amen! As you did it to one of the least of these I gave you, you did it to me.”

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The Thanks Behind the Giving

One of the things my family always did around the Thanksgiving table—which annoyed me to no end—was to compel everyone to list something for which he or she was especially thankful. It never really worked the way my mother imagined it would because 1) it felt so artificial and forced and 2) it reduced the idea of gratitude to listmaking. Needless to say, I did not continue this awkward tradition with my own sons when I became a parent!
I am not saying we don’t need to practice being thankful, and I’m not saying that the process of thinking through a list of blessings isn’t a good thing. It’s great to enumerate our blessings, to acknowledge all the wonderful people God has sent us, to inwardly treasure all the things and places that make up our slice of reality. It’s even good to be grateful for whatever good fortune we have managed to accumate. But authentic thankfulness is so much more: it stems from a powerful comprehension of the gift of simply being alive. When we feel that insight and come to embrace it, we feel gratitude all the time, regardless of our circumstances. In this deepest state of gratitude, we recognize the purity of the experience of being, in and of itself. We are one with the awesome life and Spirit that make up the myster of life itself—and we bow our hearts in humble joy and gratitude.
It is difficult for most of us to access this level of consciousness on a daily basis. This is because we get so caught up in the ups and downs of our experiences and we make the mistake of thinking that our story—the things that happen to us—is the only thing that defines us. We forget sometimes that the world is basically unreliable: it ebbs and flows, expands and contracts, gives and takes. It is always in a state of flux. If we only feel gratitude when it serves our desires,(or when our mom puts us on the spot around the dinner table!) this is not true thankfulness. Since none of us is exempt from the twists and tragedies of life which could, at any time, take our possessions, situations and people we love so dearly away from us, we should seek to find gratitude even then. Ironically, it is sometimes those kinds of loss that can awaken us to a thankfulness that goes deeper than just being grateful when things go our way. Regardless of our addictions, struggles, shortcomings, health challenges, we are all truly blessed to be alive.
So, this Thanksgiving, let’s not wait for life to shake us up with sudden losses to come into a full experience of being genuinely thankful. Let’s take time, especially during this Advent when so many of us are running around like crazy people to just take a deep breath and make an effort to be fully present and living in the moment. If we discipline ourselves to do this for a set period of time each day we will quickly see how much easier it is to connect with true gratitude. We can also awaken ourselves with the intention of Jesus himself, who promises us that he comes to “…bring life and bring it to the full.” This surely is his way of teaching us to learn gratitude at all times, celebrating the divine life force that flows through us regardless of our circumstances or personal stories.

Wishing you a blessed and authentic experience of Thanksgiving,

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Through the Jello

One of the things many of us struggle with is the question of what God is calling us to do right now with our lives. We go to work in the morning, we interact with our colleagues and friends and family on the weekends, we support our parish family with time, treasure and talent—but there seems to be a deeper calling within us and we wonder what it means. I like to think of spiritual direction as helping someone wade through a swimming pool of lime jello (yes, lime would be Father’s favorite!) with no clear sign of what step to take next. By looking over our shoulder, however, seeing how our life has unfolded thus far, we can perceive a possible trajectory for what has to happen next. In my experience, this is the typical way of moving forward.
There are other times in our lives when all the signs seem to be pointing us in a particular direction. Our thoughts and dreams are echoed in the songs we jam to in the car on the way to Kroger. Our desires are expressed on the pages of the novels we read and stories we hear at work. Our vision is expanded and our heart strings are pulled through the various media we encounter. Through all it, a message becomes clearer. Maybe that message doesn’t even seem to make sense. Maybe the message has no discernable “real world” application, nonetheless in the deepest part of us these plans and urges feel right. Maybe we feel like we are being invited to relocate across the country to create a new life, even though everything is going well right where we are. Or maybe we feel the desire to pursue a new direction in our career when it never really interested us before. Or maybe God is tickling our fancy with the thought of a fresh way of serving others that we hadn’t even considered before. When we spend time in the Silence, getting in touch with our higher soul-self, our intuition sends us messages that are meant to lead us into becoming our most fulfilled selves. The first step is to become open enough to hear the message; the next step is to simply decide to take action and make a move.

Curiously, once we make the decision to pursue these inner urgings or desires, the whole universe that God has created begins to set into motion all the right means for the details of God’s plan to come to fruition. Where we were once stressed about the insecurity and fear of change, now a sense of peace comes over us, because we know that our questions will no longer make us wonder if God’s call is possible, rather, we will find ways to make that call’s vision really happen. Instead of deterring us from our goal, these new questions only serve to clarify our focus as we move forward. This is not about “throwing caution to the wind” in order to pursue some wild dream, rather it’s about trusting that the God who planted these deep desires within us will certainly guide and direct us. It’s the move from fear to loving trust: the shift in our soul’s energy will then affect everything around us in a positive way. Like a tsunami of grace, that energy can then go ahead of us, clearing any debris from our path so we can move forward to embrace the dream God has given.
Like all the great dreamers in our Scriptures (Samuel, David, Joseph and all the Prophets) we will find that our new attitude will attract to us all the help we need, including likeminded people. Sometimes even the most unlikely angels arrive at just the right time to help us with the information and nurture we need. Whatever our dreams are, wherever we are feeling drawn to make them come to light, it all begins with a simple surrendering of our fears in order that God can help us take that first step. Taking action is the difference between dreamers and workers.

Wishing you a week of fearless dreaming and great daring,

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Squirrel Sermon

The winds are blowing as I sit in the dining room of the rectory today; the few leaves that remain attached to the trees are being ripped away, the daylily beds are yellow and brown, and only one rose bush continues to defy winter’s approach by continuing to open it’s cherry red blooms in an elegant act of defiance and faith. And then there are the squirrels. I swear there are more squirrels running around the yard today than I’ve seen all spring and summer. And right now, as I look out, one of them is clutching a nut of some kind in his front paws, sitting on the privacy fence as he looks me right in the face. He can see me as clearly as I see him, and I realize that Brother Squirrel has a lesson for me today.
I’m not completely off my rocker, you know. Native Americans and many other cultures considered all living beings as brothers and sisters that not only shared this precious planet with us, but they had as much to teach us as we had to teach them. By observing and listening to these other family members, we could learn great lessons: how to work in harmony with all that is, how to enter into the flow of nature’s cycles, and in the case of Brother Squirrel, how to prepare and conserve during periods of plenty for the times when nourishment might become scarce. Today Brother Squirrel sits to remind me to set aside a portion of my most precious resources as an investment in the future. As a North American who lives in the wealthiest country on the planet, this surely includes my financial resources and perhaps my food and drink, but I suspect there is a deeper lesson.
We are all busy people, expending our energy on a variety of projects, ideas, people and things. Our energy is made manifest in a plethora of ways because we have so many of these things. Sometimes we run the risk of depleting ourselves, of becoming spread so thin that our energy is diffused to the point of our becoming exhausted. We can begin to feel like we are always focused outward with precious little energy expended on ourselves or on the things we most value. This is because it’s easy to allow ourselves to be distracted from the most important things. There is another way.
We can conserve the valuable asset of our creative energy by being aware of the choices we make and choosing only those that nurture and sustain us. This is not about being self-centered or selfish because even when it comes to engaging in ministry, we can easily get involved in hundreds of “good” things. When we take time to pause and consider, however, we occasionally realize that we are called to do the “best” things instead of a hundred “good” things. This same principle extends to the natural resources of our planet as well, using what we need wisely with the future in mind.

Saving and conservation might sound like they are a reaction based on fear of scarcity or not having enough of something—this is not the case. Saving is a clear affirmation of an abundance yet to be made manifest. Brother Squirrel is quite clear on this point: nuts are buried as part of the cycle of life, allowing one to face winters with enough faith that spring will surely and eternally come once more. Knowing that change is part of life’s grand cycle, we can choose to create a safe space, both spiritually and physically, that will support us in the present and sustain us in the future. This means not filling our space with things, or thoughts, that do not serve our highest interest. Without hoarding more than we need, we keep ourselves in the cyclical flow of life when we donate our unnecessary items to someone who can use them best. This allows for more even abundance to enter our lives, because even Brother Squirrel knows a life of abundance involves more than mere survival.

His lesson to the priest clearly presented, Brother Squirrel jumps nervously off the fence, quickly buries the nut, and chases around the yard with some of his kin. This conservation business takes some effort, but squirrels are never too busy to have a little fun. They see to be great communicators, and by helping each other watch for danger and nosy clergymen, they do not seem to allow worry to consume their energy. Instead, they allow their curious nature to lead the way, staying alert to opportunities and learning as they play. For you and me, it’s clear that we’re meant to enjoy the journey of life’s cycles even as we plan and prepare for an amazing future, taking time to pay attention to life’s lessons and to play along the way.
Wishing you a week of listening to the voices of wisdom without getting too nutty,
Fr. Michel

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All Saints Day 2014

“God bless you.” We say that fairly often, don’t we? If someone sneezes in church or if they tell us about some struggle that they’re facing, those are words we use right away. “God bless you.” It’s nice to believe in a world where saying those words makes a difference, that God might, in fact, bless us—and He does. In fact, God’s first Word to us is always one of blessing – of promise. Martin Luther, reflecting on the Ten Commandments, writes that even when God gives us a command, it is always attached to a promise. The promise always comes first. Often we think it’s the other way around: if we’re good, or if we repent, THEN we’ll get the promise. As if we have to do something to earn God’s blessing, like maybe God is like us—reluctant to just “give away” free stuff. The catch is we’re never good enough to earn anything from God, it’s all grace. That’s where Jesus starts today. As Jesus delivers the Sermon on the Mount, the crowd gathers below Him. He sees them all – the sick, the lame, the wounded, men, women, children – ordinary people, like you and me. Not the powerful, not the religious leadership – most of those kind of people wouldn’t be caught dead with the kind of people who are gathered around Jesus now. These are just ordinary people, struggling to get by the best they can. Jesus sits down, and sets out to instruct them. He opens His mouth, and the first thing that He says is, “God bless you!”
This reminds me of the pastor who was preaching on all the sins of world that were, in his opinion, destroying the younger generation. He railed against gambling, and one older woman in the church yelled out, “Amen! You tell them, pastor!” And then he preached against alcohol, and she yelled out, “Hallelujah! You tell them pastor!” Then he preached against gossiping, and he paused, waiting for her. Everything was quiet for a minute, then her voice was heard, “Now you’ve gone off preaching and gone into meddling!”
Did you ever notice that Jesus never preached fire and brimstone to those who had been labeled “sinners” by the religious establishment? The only ones he hit with fire and brimstone were the religious and political leadership, those who had contempt for ordinary people. But to these ordinary people, Jesus says simply, “God bless you!”
The Gospel that was read just last week at my installation was the same one from John that was read at my ordination 7 years ago. Jesus tells his disciples, “You did not choose me, I chose you.” It was a gift of discipleship for them and for me and for all of us. We are His people. We meet the requirements for a relationship with Him, simply by being broken people who need healing. He meets the requirements of that relationship by forgiving us, breaking down the barriers between himself and us, making us all saints by carrying most of the cost of the relationship himself. Of course, the people gathered around Jesus couldn’t know that – but Jesus did. They supposed that the Pharisees and all those other good religious people were blessed, but not them. They supposed that those good Pharisees had all the answers, but not them. They supposed that the Pharisees had everything together, and that if they wanted a relationship with God, that these good, religious people were the ones who had the inside track, the ones that they should emulate, the ones who could help them. They supposed that they were like the little child, standing outside the candy store without any money, looking in the window at all that wonderful stuff that they couldn’t have. So what a wonderful surprise it is to them, to have Jesus sit down in their midst, and begin with these words: “God bless you!”
Notice the words of the blessing. Jesus begins: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” The “poor in spirit” are those who, realizing that they have nothing to offer God, depend on His grace alone. They know that they have nothing to offer – that if they are to live in His presence, that they must live only in the shadow of His love and grace. There is a God-shaped void in the middle of their life that nothing else can fill. They are empty, waiting for God to fill them. The promise is that those who seek will find. Are you “poor in spirit?” Then, “God bless you!”
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” In terms of our relationship to ourselves, God demands truth and humility. The ones who mourn are those who see the brokenness of one kind of relationship or another and they are in pain. Jesus says that they shall be comforted. The ones without power or influence will also be lifted up by the Spirit’s presence and gifts. The Spirit is the down-payment that they receive on the Kingdom. Are you the meek? Are you the one who mourns? “God bless you!”
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.” In terms of others, God’s demand is for justice and mercy. Justice means “right relationship”, – bringing about wholeness, peace, shalom, unity – fulfilling the purpose for which God created us, that we might, as Adam and Eve originally did – walk in the Garden with God. Those who “hunger and thirst for justice,” are starved for better relationships – they want them so bad that they don’t have time to carry a grudge, they refuse to think evil about another, refuse to backbite or slander or gossip. They are those who go beyond the call to be reasonable, to give eye for an eye, to do what can be expected, what is deserved or what is even allowed – to be merciful to others. They are always willing to forgive; they love without counting the cost, and so come to dwell in the heart of God. They shall receive mercy, Jesus says. Are you one of these – those who are starved for better, restored relationships? Are you the merciful? “God bless you!”
“Blessed are the pure in heart, the peacemakers, those who are persecuted for righteousness sake.” There is also a social demand in our relationship with God. That is what is expressed in the last three Beatitudes. “The pure in heart,” are those whose lives are aimed in one direction. The pure in heart don’t care what others say – about cultural values or social expectations. Their aim in life is to reflect God’s life in theirs, to mirror His concerns in theirs, to make God’s heart the sole object of their own heart. They are the peacemakers, the “shalom” makers, whose presence brings healing and wholeness and restoration to this world. They are the ones who are more willing to bear injustice than to create it, who are more willing to be victimized by the world than to allow that any of god’s children should suffer injustice. He compares them to the prophets who, in speaking for God, suffered persecution. Are you one of these – the pure of heart, the peacemakers, one who is willing to be persecuted for righteousness sake? “God bless you!”
Are you happy today? What makes you happy? What brings you joy? Do you get up in the morning, excited about life? Do you have the kind of joy that has staying power? Is your life bearing the kind of returns you want it to? Jesus says that it can. That is the promise: “Happy are you.” God has already called you to new life in Him. He has given you the possibility of a deeper, more fulfilling relationship with Him. It isn’t something you have to strive for – it is a gift for you today. You are one of the saints of God, so “God bless you!”

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