point toward that love. There’s no bushel that can hide such a love.
Questions for Reflection or Discussion:
What are some ways we can be light in our world today?
Where are places we hide light away, put it under a bushel? And why do we do so?
Are We Sure We Want Transformation?
Sixth Sunday After the Epiphany
Luke 6:17–26
Jeremiah 17:5–8
Whenever we talk about the beatitudes or the sermon on the mount, we’re almost always talking about the version found in the gospel of Matthew. The version from the gospel of Luke, which people usually refer to as the sermon on the plain, given that Jesus clearly stands on a “level place,” doesn’t receive the same discussion. That lack of interest might be for practical reasons, in that the version from Matthew is much longer and covers a wider range of topics. Also, the list of beatitudes in the sermon on the mount is longer and more detailed; not surprisingly, it has become the one people both inside and outside of Christianity seem more interested in.
There might be another reason for the lack of interest in the sermon on the plain, though. Not only are these beatitudes shorter, they’re also much more focused on tangible poverty. While the version from Matthew talks about people who are poor in spirit, the gospel of Luke talks about people who are poor. The sermon on the mount discusses those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, while the sermon on the plain is interested in people who are hungry. The longer version seems to provide us with more of an excuse not to do anything practical in this world. We can say we are working to help make the world more just by focusing on righteousness or people’s spirits, more abstract ideas. This passage, though, makes it clear that the people who are poor or hungry on a literal, concrete level are the ones we should be interested in.
Such an approach is in keeping with the gospel of Luke, as this author is clearly concerned about those on the margins of society. He emphasizes women and Gentiles, the prostitutes and tax collectors, and, as here, the lower classes, those whom the religious establishment largely ignored. Mary’s Magnificat comes in the opening chapter and sounds strikingly similar to this sermon on the plain, so it seems Jesus paid attention to his mother’s prophetic utterings about the kingdom of God and is sharing those ideas with a larger audience.
One other major difference between the sermon on the mount and the one on the plain is that this version includes woes in addition to blessings. Those woes are also clearly focused on material success, as Jesus makes it clear what the rich and the full and the laughing can expect in the future. They should enjoy what they have now, as they’re not going to have those material possessions or full stomachs in the future. This part might be another clear reason why we tend to ignore the gospel of Luke’s portrayal of this sermon.
We often work diligently in the American church to avoid talking about wealth. We are certainly willing to discuss money, especially when it comes to finding ways to helping the poor, and we will definitely talk about stewardship to the church. Even there, though, we tend to talk about time and talents, in addition to money, mainly to avoid creating guilt for those without much money. We simply assume those of us who have money can interpret what we mean, and those of us who have spent any amount of time in the church definitely do so.
We ignore the numerous passages like this one where Jesus (or God in the Old Testament) talks explicitly about what the wealthy can expect in the future. We immediately find ways to explain away whatever the literal meaning of the passage is, finding refuge in some sort of metaphorical reading. We try to connect this passage with the sermon on the mount and argue that Jesus is not really discussing financial wealth here or literal hunger, but that he is talking about some spiritual truth that we’re simply having trouble discerning. Almost no one stands up and preaches on this passage and says quite simply that Jesus makes it clear that the wealthy and the full and the laughing will one day not be any of those.
The reason we don’t talk about wealth is obvious: many of us are wealthy. Even those of us who are at the bottom end of middle class still have a great deal of wealth compared to the poorest in our society, not to mention throughout the world. We have possessions people fifty years ago would have defined as luxuries, whether that’s televisions or smart phones or home internet access or video games or multiple cars. On average, we eat out multiple times a week instead of making all of our meals at home, and we raise almost none of our food. We think nothing of driving twenty to thirty miles for activities or even to attend church, ignoring the gas we are using in the process (not to mention the effect on the environment).
Many of us in progressive churches, though, are not at the lower end of the middle class, and we should be honest about that. Financially, on average, members of progressive churches do quite well. Thus, we tend to avoid these passages because they make us uncomfortable. We are the people Jesus is speaking to here, and his words are not comforting. We like Mary’s Magnificat because it talks about the powerful, and we don’t feel that we have power in that way. Here, though, Jesus talks about what we do have, and we don’t like it.
It’s easy to talk about turning a world upside down or transforming the world until we realize what many of us will have to give up in that process. In Flannery O’Connor’s story, “Revelation,” Mrs. Turpin (a woman who consistently ranks people in society to make sure of her place above blacks and poor whites) has a vision of this reversal, and she cries out, “Put that bottom rail on top. There’ll still be a top and bottom!” Jesus is not arguing for that result; rather, he’s arguing for radical inclusivity and equality, and that means most of us will have to give up what we have. If I want other people to have more of something—food, money, power, shelter—I will have to give up some of each of those. If I want people to have more equality, I will have to give up my privilege. If I want those who are different than I am, whether in sexual orientation or gender identity or ability, to live the life I do, one where they don’t have to worry about their safety in all the meanings of that word, I will have to give up some of what I have, and that reality, when I’m honest, worries me.
The only way we can take such a radical step is to take the approach from Jeremiah’s prophecies. The author reminds us that those who trust in other people or in our strength will have no lasting roots and will wither away, while those who trust in the Lord will be like the tree planted by water with roots that spread out and give it life. As long as we trust in wealth, in our own ability to provide for ourselves, we will lead empty lives. It is only when we are willing to take the privilege we have, as well as the financial wealth, and joyfully give to those who don’t have, trusting that God will provide, that we will be truly content and that we will see a greater glimpse of the kingdom.
Questions for Reflection or Discussion:
What are other reasons passages such as the one from the gospel of Luke make us nervous?
What are areas where those of us with something need to find ways to give it away? How do we go about doing so?
It’s Just That Simple
Seventh Sunday After the Epiphany
Luke 6:27–38 (see also Matthew 5:38–48)
Leviticus 19:1–2, 9–18
Most of what we learn in the church, whether in worship or in some sort of Christian education program, is not actually something we didn’t already know. That’s especially true for people who grew up in the church, but it’s also true for those who came in as adults. The reason is simple: there’s just not much to Christianity. We spend much of our time complicating the simple
