I looked around for a joke about the Beatitudes. This is the best I could do. It’s called the Capitalist Beatitude.

While working on a sermon the pastor heard a knock at his office door. "Come in," he invited. A sad-looking man in threadbare clothes came in, pulling a large pig on a rope. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" asked the man with his hat in his hand.  Wordlessly, the pastor indicated the chair and the man sat down in it gingerly.

The pig proceeded to sniff around the office. With one eye on the animal and one on the man, the pastor folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward, curious to hear the fellow's story. "What can I do for you?"

"My family is hungry," started the man. "So I stole this pig. But I feel that I have sinned. Would you please take it?"

"Certainly not," said the minister.

"Then what should I do with it?" asked the man. "Give it back to the man you stole it from, of course!" the pastor explained.

"But I offered it to him, but he refused to take it. Now what should I do?" asked the man.

"In that case," the minister said, "It would be all right for you to keep it and feed your family."

"Thank you for your help, sir." With a lighter step, he walked out of the office, leading the pig on the rope behind him. Later that afternoon the pastor returned home to discover that somebody had stolen his prize pig.

Blessed are the poor…..well, maybe…

At any rate, our gospel text comes from one of Jesus’ long speeches. The Beatitudes when found in the Gospel of Matthew are from the Sermon on the Mount. Today’s text from Luke is Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain. Basically the same thing—a long speech given to the disciples and a huge crowd.

Jesus offers these words in a tense context--the crushing Roman Empire.

            Power was everything.

            Taxes were so high that people were constantly losing their land, their homes, and having to sell their children into slavery.

            Corruption was rife.

            The poor were everywhere and money was constantly on everyone’s mind.

Here comes a man from the peasant class saying that God is on the side of the poor. And that those who are poor, hurting, mourning, meek, and seeking peace—all not desirables in the eyes and measuring stick of the Empire—those folks are the blessed.  And woe to the rich and powerful. Jesus started a revolution. One that got him killed

These past couple weeks have been stunning in Tunisia and Egypt and Yemen.

            People there live with huge inequalities between rich and poor.

            Power is held in the hands of a very few—rulers who have been in power for decades.          

             Corruption is rife.

            The poor are everywhere and money is on everyone’s mind.

And suddenly an uprising occurs; demonstrations break out in the streets. Countercultural messages of change and demands from the poor erupt saying this is our country and we want to see it change. A countercultural message emerges claiming that the power of truth and justice is on the side of the poor. And woe to the rich and powerful.  A revolution has started. The Tunisian president—gone. But there is blood in the streets and seventy people in Egypt died overnight last night.

I wonder why we don’t have an uprising of the poor in this country?

I mean, sure, we have democratically elected governments---

            where only the extremely rich can contemplate running for office.

And yes we have a rule of law that is somewhat free from corruption--

            until you peel back the layers of banking scandal, lobbying schemes, etc.

We have the worst, growing gap between rich and poor of any westernized nation. And the ranks of the poor are growing.

Perhaps we are waiting for the right peasant to show up and start a revolution in our streets….

Perhaps we are too invested in holding on to our place on the ladder of success. Who wants to be the poor, or the mourning or the meek anyway...?

It’s funny, the text from Luke this morning, the Beatitudes. We know it so well—though truthfully we like Matthew’s version better which reads “blessed are the poor in spirit” rather than “blessed are the poor.”

We like our poverty spiritualized.

But another problem we have is that we read the Beatitudes as if they are proscriptive.  Do this and you will be blessed. So when we hear the words of the text we look at our life and say, well, am I poor or peacemaking or mourning, or meek? Well then, I am blessed. Good. Or I am not, bad.

But that’s not what the text really says or means.  It is not about our doing something to gain a blessing. We aren’t buying God’s beneficence with our poverty.  But instead it means if you are in a state of poverty or grief, God’s blessing is upon you.  Not something you gain, but something that is.

Latin American liberation theology, which really came to the fore in the 1970’s, taught of “God’s preferential option for the poor.” Theologians who worked with the poor and destitute in the rural countryside, the slums, and those struggling against human rights abuses often with horrible consequences, looked at this passage among others and said God is with the poor and the grieving and the peacemakers in a way that is different from those living a regular existences, even a faithful regular existence. They emphasized that our scriptures say over and over again that God lifts up the poor, the downtrodden, the oppressed. God is with them.

Now the Beatitudes have sometimes been translated not as blessed are those but happy are those…

Happy are those who are poor…

Happy are those who mourn…

But there is a vast difference between blessed and happy. A pastor in my lectionary group (midrash.org list serv) wrote this reflection:

I've just spent a year in treatment for aggressive cancer. In addition to a probable recurrence in the future, I've been left with an annoying condition (lymphedema) for which there is no cure, only lifelong management.  I can tell you very emphatically that I don't feel fortunate, lucky or happy about the whole deal.

 What I do feel is blessed- to have been supported by a magnificent array of friends and family through the whole time, by a medical team par excellence, and by the presence of God through it all.

            Big difference.

Eugene Peterson in his Bible paraphrase The Message translates Jesus in this way:

You're blessed when you've lost it all.

   God's kingdom is there for the finding.

You're blessed when you're ravenously hungry.

   Then you're ready for the Messianic meal.

You're blessed when the tears flow freely.

   Joy comes with the dawn.

"Count yourself blessed every time someone cuts you down or throws you out, every time someone smears or blackens your name to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and that that person is uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—skip like a lamb, if you like!—for even though they don't like it, I do . . . and all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company; my preachers and witnesses have always been treated like this.

But it's trouble ahead if you think you have it made.

   What you have is all you'll ever get.

It's trouble ahead if you're satisfied with yourself.

   Your self will not satisfy you for long.

And it's trouble ahead if you think life's all fun and games.

   There's suffering to be met, and you're going to meet it.

There's trouble ahead when you live only for the approval of others, saying what flatters them, doing what indulges them. Popularity contests are not truth contests—look how many scoundrel preachers were approved by your ancestors! Your task is to be true, not popular.

Our task is to be true, not popular.   In that task lie the seeds of our revolution.

The President spoke to the nation this week in the State of the Union address.  He spoke to us from the position of a nation feeling itself to be in decline. Our empire is crumbling around the edges with unemployment and national debt.

Money becomes the yardstick of how we define ourselves as a nation. What do we cut and what do we save? Where do we stand? Is it with the poor, the hurting, the mourning, or the disenfranchised?

Several months ago the New York Times ran an article with spread sheet—a whole page-- saying you figure it out. The task was to cut the budget deficit. What choices would one make?

            Do you raise the retirement age

            Do you raise taxes on wealthy

            Do you invest more in children or in elderly

            Do you cut Medicaid, or Medicare or Head Start

            Do you eliminate the mortgage interest deduction

            What about agricultural subsidies

            Or Funding for arts

            Or International aid

What’s it going to be?

How shall we be judged? Is it by how we care for the poor and the vulnerable?

Recently I heard opposition voices calling for cuts to national spending back to 2008 levels, EXCEPT for military spending.

Not a blessed choice.

There are calls for more cuts to Medicaid and Medicare—the programs that heal our elderly and poor.

Not a blessed choice.

But what costs are we willing to bear for this revolution?

            Higher taxes?

             Limits on how much medical spending we individually feel entitled to?

Our faith tells us that as we wade into these hard decisions, God’s blessing goes with us. To stand for what is truth, to live a risky life of countercultural choices, is to live inside God’s blessing. And for those choices we will be ridiculed, or ignored. Or even put our life on the line.

The Franciscans remind themselves, “We are prepared not only to speak out for social justice . . . but to put these principles into practice in our own lives, cheerfully facing any scorn or persecution to which this may lead” (The Principles of the Third Order of the Society of St Francis, Day Nine)

“Thornton Wilder’s Heaven’s My Destination is a comedy about a poor soul who attempts to put the Beatitudes into practice. The results of his piety are predictably disastrous. He causes a run on the bank by refusing to accept the interest on his savings account because he does not believe in usury. Other customers, overhearing his argument with the teller, suspect that something is amiss at the bank and begin demanding their money. The implication is that adherence to the Beatitudes results either in comedy or tragedy, depending upon your sense of irony.

“As Paul says, when you hear the gospel not with Sunday-morning ears but with Monday-morning ears, it can sound foolish indeed -- tragically foolish or comically foolish, depending upon one’s point of view. (William Willimon, Christian Century March 10, 1982, p. 261) 

How do we make the transition from our Sunday morning service to Monday morning workday?

Choosing to live a life that sets one’s life as blessed is not easy. It is foolish. It makes no sense in our capitalistic society. And it can be so frustrating.

I called Mike Rogers office a couple weeks back to urge him to not repeal the new health care measures. I got a staffer on the line and said I wanted my representative to hear from me, a constituent.

He said, “uh huh.”

I explained how passionately I felt about health care and coverage for everyone.

He said, “uh huh.”

I explained why health care was the right thing for this nation and for our state. That this is how we should corporately spend our money.

“Uh huh.”

I asked would he be sure to pass along my message.

“Uh huh.”

(Sigh.)

I hung up and felt a bit like an idiot. Like I was talking to a wall.

But according to the Beatitudes perhaps I should have felt blessed. For it is not in getting my message heard, but in speaking it that matters.

For the meditation on top of your bulletin I chose a prayer said by fishermen in Breton, a northern French province, that says, O Lord, thy ocean is so large, and my boat is so small. This prayer is indeed apt when going out to sea in dangerous waters, unpredictable seas. But I think it speaks to our role as people of faith.

The monetary institutions in this nation, in this world, even in this state, seem so large, and we are so small.  

The injustice in this nation, in our world, even in this state, seem so large, and we are so small.

But the blessing of God that is woven into the lives of those living so close to the edge, and those working so hard for change, and those worn down by this uphill battle, that blessing is ours when we join the struggle.  Blessed are you when they persecute you, when they make fun of you, when they call you crazy, when what you say and how you live doesn’t fit. For that is the life Jesus lived, too.

One day a man took a drive to see a client in a part of town where he did not normally go. After he left the client’s apartment he noticed a boy sitting on the steps of the run-down apartment building across the street, just sitting there, looking at his car. The boy’s clothes were dirty and he had a set of crutches beside him and his left leg was in a brace.

“That is sure a nice car, mister!”

“Thank you. I like it too.”

“I bet it cost a lot of money.”

“I think so, but my brother gave it to me”.

“You mean, for free?” the boy exclaimed.

“Yes,” the man smiled, for free”.

“You mean, you didn’t have to pay nothing for it?”

“No, I didn’t have to pay anything at all. It was free.”

Then the boy said, “I wish ....” the man was certain that he knew just what the boy was going to say, but then the boy finished…. “I wish I could be a brother like that!”

Blessed are the poor for the kingdom of heaven is theirs…

And ours if we choose to live the life that Jesus led…

Amen.