Monthly Archives: February 2025

Are You Listening? A Sermon for Epiphany 7C, 2025

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Are You Listening?

7 Epiphany C:

February 23, 2025

Are you listening?

A few weeks ago, I found myself in a conversation with fellow clergy. One of them asked if we could tell whether our congregants were paying attention to our sermons. One, an African-American, laughed that she could tell, because in that tradition, it’s common for members to respond verbally to the preacher. Others of us, from white traditions were less confident. Sometimes, it’s easy to tell. Everyone is focused on the preacher; there’s very little fidgeting. But other times, well, you know. I know; that often I will find myself letting my gaze wander off; I may still be paying attention but I’m looking elsewhere; other times, I look, trying to divert my attention from the preacher, because well, let’s admit, sermons can be boring. It’s not just preachers. I know from personal experience that teachers and professors can see attentions wandering. 

In my sermon last week, I pointed out that Luke described three concentric circles of people to whom Jesus was preaching this sermon on a level place. There were the apostles, the twelve, then the “great crowd of his disciples” and third, a “great multitude of people who had come to hear him and be healed. But now, Jesus makes a further distinction: “I say to you that listen…”

It’s a telling shift in tone or presumed audience. Elsewhere in the synoptic gospels, Jesus will say something like: “Whoever has ears to hear, listen.” Often in such instances, it seems to be that Jesus is signaling that his words have a deeper meaning—with parables, for example. Here, though, I think there’s something else that might be going on. For most of us who are regular public speakers, to say something like: “I say to you that listen” or just “Listen …” may be an attempt to recapture the attention of an audience that is drifting away, because of boredom? Or maybe because what he is about to say isn’t going to go over well, that what he has to say is difficult to hear. Difficult for his first-century audience, and difficult for us.

Last week, as we listened to the beatitudes; Jesus’ blessings on the poor, the hungry, and his condemnations of the wealthy and the satisfied, we were on solid ground. We knew where we stood. Perhaps we’re poor, well, ours is the kingdom of God; if we’re wealthy or comfortable, well, he’s not talking about us because we have nothing like the wealth of Jeff Bezos or Elon Musk, and woe to them!

Now Jesus shifts gears, and the ground under our feet shifts as well. For instead of allowing us to position ourselves comfortably, Jesus’ words strike home uncomfortably, challenging the distinctions we make, upending our assumptions, our attitudes, breaking down the lines we draw between “us” and “them” between those who belong to our group, deserve our love and compassion, and those on the other side of the border, our enemies, outsiders.

Whether or not we find Jesus’ words believable, or relevant, or possible, the challenge to love our enemies, turn the cheek, to give one’s shirt as well as one’s coat, to lend expecting nothing in return confronts us with questions of personal worth and value, the relative importance of self and other, and yes, sheer survival.

But these words challenge us in other ways. For those of us with privilege and status, they pierce the armor of our wealth, gender, color. For those of us without, they work very differently. It’s important for us to be conscious of how they have been used and interpreted over the centuries and even today—how they have been used to oppress and to maintain structures of injustice. Even today, how many pastors counsel victims of domestic violence to turn the other cheek and passively accept the blows of their husbands or fathers or partners?

What if, instead of commands, these words are meant to unsettle and de-center us, to move us away from the certainty of our existence and the world we know into a journey toward a new world, where God reign’s and where God’s love is the model for all of our relationships and for all of human community? Jesus came down from the mountain to a level place where he taught a vision of a new world order, coming into existence in the community of his followers. It is a vision of a community with no barriers or boundaries, no distinction between rich and poor, friend and enemy.

To love one’s enemy is not easy. In our cultural and political context where the lines are sharply drawn between opponents, and the rhetoric demonizes those with whom I disagree, even to attempt to love one’s enemy may seem like a betrayal of our deepest values. How can one love someone who thinks I am beyond contempt, un-American, perhaps even not fully human? 

As hard as it is for us to imagine, or even to articulate, there is yet one more step to take. When we view these words as commands, we place our behavior on a continuum of obedience: Should I turn the other cheek? Did I turn the other cheek? And if in a particular instant we choose not to, because of fear or threat to life and limb, or simply because our anger overwhelms us, we may judge ourselves and feel shame and guilt for falling short.

Luke, in his compassion and concern for his readers, offers hope and consolation even on such occasions. In Matthew’s version of these sayings, Jesus concludes with the admonition: “Be perfect, as your Father in heaven is perfect.” Luke’s version is quite different, “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.”

Using this as a lens by which to read Jesus’ statements offers us a new way of seeing, a new world of possibilities, the reign and realm of God—where the neat calculus of debt and repayment, crime and punishment, eye for an eye no longer is operative. And that’s true not only for the specifics that Jesus talks about but also for us. We need not use this calculus on our own lives and actions. God is merciful and invites us to receive God’s mercy and in turn to offer it to others and to the world.

The instructions which Jesus gives his listeners on the level place are instructions that address our actions towards those who act violently or unjustly against us (love your enemy, turn the other cheek) and address our actions towards those with whom we are already in relationship (if you love those who love you). But the heart of the matter seems to be that whether friend or foe, our actions should not be guided by how others treat us but rather by how God treats us: Be merciful as your Father is merciful.

It may be that we often interpret God’s disposition toward us in terms similar to how we act towards others, loving friends, hating enemies experiencing guilt, expecting punishment when we sin. But God is merciful and forgiving. Receiving God’s mercy and grace gives us the power to share that mercy and grace with others.

It may also be that among the most important things to consider is that in these tumultuous times; remembering that God is merciful is not only helpful in thinking about and responding to others; it may be that we need to extend that mercy to ourselves. When we hear Jesus’ words here, or when we think about how we should respond to the needs of the world, we may think that we need to do more; that taking a stand, fighting the good fight is not only important but necessary. Maybe, just maybe, we need to be merciful to ourselves, to accept our limitations, our fears, our sheer exhaustion. Maybe we need as much mercy as everyone else. 

Blessed are you! A Sermon for 6 Epiphany C, 2025

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Blessed are you:

February 16, 2025

Back when I taught New Testament, one of the exercises I always gave my students was to compare and contrast the two versions of the Beatitudes in the gospels. We heard Luke’s today: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the Kingdom of God.” Matthew’s is probably more familiar to you; but to jog your memory, it begins “Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” After we went through all of the differences I would ask them, “Which version do you prefer?” or, and this is really the same question, “Which do you think is closer to what Jesus may actually have said?” 

While there would be someone occasionally, a non-conformist or provocateur who would answer “Luke’s” invariably my students, comfortably upper middle-class suburbanites would say “Matthew’s.” And that’s to be expected because Matthew’s is more accessible more inclusive, if you will. Anyone can be “poor in spirit” but we all know, don’t we, the obvious differences between rich and poor.

 Now, there’s no escaping it. Luke’s version of the beatitudes is more challenging. Jesus is addressing his audience directly: “Blessed are you poor!” There’s a corresponding set of woes: “Woe to you who are rich for you have received your consolation.” Which, among other things, suggests that there were some rich people in his immediate audience. On the surface, what we hear is divisive and off-putting.

But before delving into the content of Jesus’ words, let’s look at the setting. First, like the version in Matthew, which begins the Sermon on the Mount, there’s a mountain in this story as well. But the differences are worth noting. The lectionary doesn’t include it. We’re told that Jesus went up to the top of a mountain to pray; then he called his disciples to him and chose twelve as his apostles, and with them, came down from the mountain to a level place. Thus in Luke, it’s called the Sermon on the Plain. But note the audience, something of a series of concentric circles. There are the apostles, the twelve; then the disciples, a much larger group that included both men and women; and finally the crowd: a great multitude from Jerusalem and Judaea; and even the region of Tyre and Sidon. They had come, not only to listen to him teach, but to be healed.

But let’s think about another aspect of this context. As I mentioned, in Matthew, Jesus speaks these beatitudes, blessings, from the top of a mountain—a place associated with divine revelation, Mt. Sinai, for example. Level places were perceived differently.. Often, they were seen as places of suffering, of mourning, hunger, and misery. At the same time, in the prophetic tradition, God renews the level places—remember Isaiah’s prophecy quoted by John the Baptist?

“Prepare the way of the Lord,
   make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled,
   and every mountain and hill shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight,
   and the rough ways made smooth;

The Authorized Version, the KJV, reads “the rough places plain”

We get the connection between God and mountains—a mountain top experience; MLK Jr’s “I’ve been to the top of the mountain” but God working in level places, in the messiness of life, that might be something else.

And we see that messiness in the text. For unlike Matthew’s beatitudes which pronounce blessing on the poor in spirit, the meek, those who mourn; Luke’s Jesus in addition to blessing the poor, the hungry, those who weep, the persecuted, he also issues condemnations: against the rich, those who laugh, etc. That both groups, the poor and the rich were addressed directly suggests that like the messiness of life itself, the crowd listening to Jesus consisted of “all sorts and conditions” of people, as the old collect says.

It’s also worth considering the fact that those listening were at very different places in their lives and in their relationships with Jesus. There were the 12 who had been singled out by Jesus, chosen as his closest companions, symbolic of the 12 tribes of Israel, God’s chosen people. There was the wider circle of disciples, followers of Jesus who had been with him for a time, and some would continue to follow him right up to the end to Jerusalem and the cross. And there was the crowd, the multitude, who had come out of curiosity and perhaps desperation, to hear, and to be healed.

It’s not really a message that’s intended for everyone, is it? How do you think a wealthy person would have responded to Jesus’ words. How did you react when you heard them? Did you think about your own relative wealth and prestige compared to the abject poverty of so many in the world? Did you begin to squirm? Did you think of those others who are so much richer than you, and thought that perhaps, Jesus wasn’t speaking to you? 

Last Sunday, we heard scriptural readings about call and response.  In today’s gospel, we might intuit that Luke sees in Jesus’ audience for his sermon, different responses to his call. As I said, there are the twelve, the wider circle of disciples, and the crowd. Those words might have hit those groups differently, just as they might hit us differently, depending on our life circumstances and where we are in relationship to Jesus calling us.

Some of us may be all in for Jesus, some of us may be wavering for all sorts of reasons. Think again about the blessings Jesus pronounces. They conclude with an especially powerful one: “Blessed are you when people hate you, and revile you and exclude you….” The idea that Christians in the West, in the US might be persecuted has long been something of a fantasy or a mind-game. Yet The ways in which Christianity has been coopted in this country to buttress wealth, power, and division threatens our witness and threatens the gospel.  We wonder whether we will be able to express our faith in Christ openly and to practice the sorts of justice work that we believe is a natural outgrowth of our faith—feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger and refugee and the like. But in our fear and anxiety, Jesus’ words are words of promise: “rejoice in that day and leap for joy!” I hope we can claim and experience that joy whatever might come.

Some of those who heard Jesus’ call; some like Simon Peter, James and John, left everything behind and followed Jesus. But there were others listening to Jesus. Perhaps they were his disciples as well. But they responded differently to his call and to his words of promise and blessing. Perhaps they were on the fence, feeling the tug of his words, a yearning for deeper relationship with him. Perhaps you might imagine yourself in that crowd, wondering where you are standing, in that nearer circle, or further away?

The way of life that Jesus proclaims; the way that he followed and toward which he leads us is not an easy road. It is full of hardship and challenge. It ended for him on the cross. But it is also a way of joy and peace in which all are welcomed and embraced, where true community is found, and where his followers leap with joy. Wherever we are on our journeys, wherever we are as we listen to his words, may we seek to follow him and as we do, may we learn the joy of dwelling and walking with him.