Jeremiah 17:5-10; Luke 6:17-26
Really Jesus? Woes? I love the Beatitudes—the blessings—the way Matthew tells them. But this, the way Luke says you said it— it’s kind of stark, kind of harsh, even a little bit extreme. I’d like to blame it all on Luke and say that Matthew got your words right, but I’ve come to recognize that you are often kind of stark and harsh and extreme.
That’s a bigger issue. In general, I wish you’d word things more gently so I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable, and so I wouldn’t worry about making other people uncomfortable when I read your words aloud. That bigger issue aside, let me tell you what bothers me about these particular words.
Did you really need to include the “woes?” Isn’t the world already divided enough without splitting us into the blessed ones and the woe-deserving ones?
I get it, the attack on the rich, but what do you mean by rich? There’s the point 1%, and it’s kind of fun to point fingers at them. Who else are you including? I don’t think of myself as rich, but by global standards, I am. Is that woe meant for me? Am I excluded from the kin-dom of God? Do you make an exception for rich people who do good things with our money? What about the rich people who supported you and your disciples? You can’t keep accepting their hospitality and then diss them in public!
And what’s this about “woe to you who are laughing now?” I thought Christianity is supposed to be a religion of joy. In this world, where we are so overwhelmed with bad news, we desperately need to laugh. Would you really deny us that sacred gift?
The “woes” are disturbing; I also have trouble with your blessings. “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.” Did you have any idea back then how those words would be interpreted? Sometimes we use them to romanticize poverty—conjuring up images of the happy poor who aren’t encumbered by all those burdensome things like having enough to eat. I have never been poor, but I have tried to listen to people who are struggling financially—and it’s not a very romantic way to live. There’s anxiety, assaults to dignity, and overwork. It doesn’t sound like a blessing to me.
The other way this line gets interpreted is even worse—to tell poor people that they should be content with their lot. Your reward is in heaven, so you don’t need to fight for a fair reward for your work here on earth. Don’t challenge the system; be a mild, meek, patient, poor Christian. Is that really what you had in mind?
So there it is Jesus, my rave for the day. What do you have to say for yourself?
***
Decades ago, I learned a journaling technique that involves writing a dialog with Jesus. I resisted. Wouldn’t I just be putting words into Jesus’ mouth, getting him to say what I want to hear? A wise friend pointed out that there is no fool-proof, human-distortion-proof way to hear the voice of Jesus. Even scripture perplexes us, as we try to figure out how Jesus’ words apply today. My friend reminded me that we believe God is within us. This is simply a technique for helping us listen for the voice of God—or Jesus—within.
So I tried it. I discovered that the dialog did allow me to listen more deeply for the wisdom within. Was that voice Jesus? I don’t know, but the process opened me to insights that felt holy. Over the years, dialog journaling has become a helpful way to deepen my connection with Jesus.
This rave isn’t exactly like those dialogs. Still I’m going to be bold in imagining how Jesus might respond to me. Some of it I will get wrong; hopefully a few insights will emerge. Listen with me for what I hope might be hints of Jesus’ voice:
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Okay, Debbie, I imagine Jesus saying. I don’t mind a good rave every now and then; at least I know you’re paying attention. And I love getting people provoked—I want you to wrestle with who God is and how God wants you to live. So rave on, as long as you’re willing to have your rave challenged.
I’m with you in your frustration at the way people have twisted my words as justification for keeping others in poverty. The one about accepting your lot in life because you’ll be rich in heaven especially angers me. I wasn’t talking about what happens when you die! I was talking about what was happening right then— what’s still happening right now!
I was talking about the basiliea of God—what you translate as the kingdom or realm or even the kin-dom of God. All around us was the empire of Caesar—power that came from the sword, greed glorified as King Herod built swimming pools while ordinary people struggled to survive. Some of it was because of Rome; some of it was just the ways of the world: might makes right, accumulate as much as you can, protect yourself from people who seem different.
That’s what everyone saw on the surface—but something more was happening. To recognize it, you had to slow down and watch and listen more deeply; you had to try to attune your life to God’s sacred spirit.
I could see it. It was a different kind of kingdom breaking in—God’s love breaking through with a different kind of power. All those healings that happened: that was the power of God’s love breaking through despair. All those meals with strangers: that was God’s love breaking down walls of hatred and fear. I wasn’t talking about heaven; I was talking about God turning things upside down right then and there.
I was on fire. I saw the power of God’s realm in the ways people’s lives were transformed. I felt its power moving through me. I wanted everyone else to see it and feel it for themselves, to come be part of it, to help bring it into its fullness.
Some did. Often it was the most desperate people—the poor, the hungry, the grieving—who were the first to understand. They knew they needed God’s help. They yearned for something more. And so they were open to God’s spirit healing and transforming their lives.
You are absolutely right: it is not a blessing to be poor or hungry or grieving. In the midst of poverty and hunger and grief, though, there can be a blessing: awareness that we can’t do it ourselves, openness to help from God and from our neighbors.
What I noticed—not surprisingly—was that rich people had a hard time looking past their own comfort to see the realm of God breaking through. Sometimes it was because they just didn’t care: the kingdoms of this world were serving them quite well. Sometimes they were so focused on the riches they were accumulating that they couldn’t see anything else.
Some of them actually could see what was happening, but they wanted nothing to do with it. They saw that, in this new kin-dom, no one has more value than anyone else—-and they had staked their identities on seeing themselves as more valuable. In the kin-dom of God we help each other; everyone gives as they can and receives as they have need, and there is abundance. But they were too invested in holding tight to what they had to join our feast.
When I said, “Woe to you who are rich,” I wasn’t saying they were going to burn in hell. I was saying: God is breaking into our world with something more wondrous that you can possibly imagine, and you’re missing out on it. You are choosing riches that will leave you empty instead of a kin-dom that will fill your life with joy.
That was then. I know what you’re really concerned about is now. Are those woes meant for you? Yes. They are meant to goad you to look at your life, to pay attention to what you might not be seeing.
Do you buy into the illusion that, with enough money and insurance and security, you can rely only on yourself? Then woe is you–because you can’t, and because pretending you can keeps you from the joy of this kin-dom where we help each other. Do you think you are better than people who are struggling, that you deserve an easy life while they don’t? Then woe is you, for life can change in an instant. If you define yourself by what you have, who will you be when your fortunes change? Is your laughter based on shutting out the pain of the world? If it is, then it is brittle and will ultimately shatter.
So yes, the woes are for you–not an accusation but a challenge to ask the hard questions, to let go of your delusions of self-sufficiency, to awaken to the kin-dom in your midst.
The woes are for you, and so are the blessings. When you struggle— to put food on the table or because you are grieving or lonely, sick or in pain–I am with you. I am walking beside you, and I am pointing you to the hidden blessing in your struggle. As you awaken to your need, awaken as well to the kin-dom. It is a place of healing and compassion, a place filled with people like you offering our imperfect expressions of God’s love. Come be part of it.
The kin-dom of God is not like the kingdoms of this world. There’s no wall at the border, not even a guard checking credentials. The only barrier is the one you create for yourself. When you become focused on your own riches, when you fool yourself into thinking you have it all, when you shut out the pain of others, you exclude yourself. When you acknowledge your need and your shared humanity, when you dare to trust in the power of God’s love, when you open yourself to giving and receiving, you are part of this kin-dom. You don’t have to have it all figured out; you just have to keep trying.
***
Okay, Jesus, I will keep trying. We will keep trying. Amen.