Saturday, February 5, 2011

Snapshot

Taking pictures has gotten both easier and harder than it used to be. It is easier because you don’t have all that film any more, you don’t have to take it to a developer and wait for the pictures to come back to remember what it was that you took pictures of. You just take them and immediately can look at the back of the camera and see the picture. If you don’t like it, you can delete it and it is as if it never happened. If you do like it, then you download it onto your computer and there it sits, a collection of electronic signals. You can print it, or send it, or just sit and look at it. Or forget that it is there.

That’s the harder part. I’ve got folders and folders of pictures on my computer. Some that I took, some that people sent me, some that I found on the internet somewhere and liked. Most of which I forget are there until I stumble across them looking for something else. We usually put a somewhat current picture of the kids on our Christmas letter. So, I went looking for pictures to use, and got lost in the remembering of what they used to look like. There were pictures there that I forgot I took. There were pictures of a time I didn’t remember. There were pictures of times that seemed so long ago, a lost innocence we’ll never reclaim. There were pictures of people we barely resembled any more.

I suppose you could argue that it has always been that way. The whether the pictures are filed away in boxes in a closet somewhere or tucked away in an album the gathers dust they are just as inaccessible as the ones hidden in folders with cryptic names you can’t decipher anymore. But it seems worse somehow, even more insubstantial, less grounded in reality than a faded photo you can hold in your hand. But either way, recognizing yourself as you were, or thought you were can be a daunting task.

We launch a new sermon series this weekend, one that will take us up to the beginning of the season of Lent. Easter is very late this year, so we have another five week block to fill. The Gospel readings in the lectionary (which is the tool that some churches use to follow a guided reading throughout the whole bible - or most of it - every three years) for these weeks all come from the fifth and sixth chapters of Matthew. These chapters make up the bulk of what we have come to call the “Sermon on the Mount.”

The Sermon on the Mount has been called the “quintessential Jesus,” the true center and core of what he was about. It was both his message to those who would follow and a description of himself. If you want to know what it means to be a Christian, some argue, you have to wrap yourself around the Sermon on the Mount. One commentator called it “The Jesus Manifesto.”

I liked that, so I decided to use it for the title of this series. Taking a pseudo political slant, I’m inviting the community at Aldersgate - the online latenight bible study community - to pledge allegiance to the Jesus Manifesto, to vote for the platform of the Jesus Party. Oh, don’t worry, I intend to conduct this campaign with civility. None of the usual rancor and mudslinging we have become used to. In fact, as we take a look at how the sermon starts, we will discover that anything less than a civil discourse would be a denial of the very message itself. Take a look:

Matthew 5:1-12 When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. 2 Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying: 3 "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 4 "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 5 "Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. 6 "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. 7 "Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. 8 "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. 9 "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. 10 "Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 11 "Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. 12 Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Someone said that in all the furor to post the Ten Commandments in courthouses and on city lawns, that perhaps what we ought to post in our courts of law would be the beatitudes instead. “Blessed are the merciful” might read differently on the wall of a criminal court, don’t you think? But then, we couldn’t do that, some would argue, that would simply be impractical. It wouldn’t fit in that place, that is a place of law, not grace.

And that is just the problem with the Beatitudes. They aren’t really practical. Some argue they are impossible. How in the world are we supposed to live up to that kind of standard? It is not within us to capture all these elements, no matter how great our desire. So, do the beatitudes function like the law? Do they simply show us how far short we fall from what we are supposed to be? Do they layer guilt upon guilt on us so that we turn in utter despair to the savior confessing our complete worthlessness?

That is how some have presented these verses. A measuring rod for entrance into the Kingdom of God. But if that is true, then why did Jesus introduce each verse with the word “blessed”? Actually the word is Maka,rioi (makarioi) which can also be translated as “happy.” You’ve seen that before. Happy are those who... It could even be translated as “blissful”. It doesn’t seem to me that Jesus would set us up for layers of guilt and then use the word “blissful” to describe the condition we can’t reach.

So, maybe these aren’t law. Maybe the beatitudes are something other than a challenge to better living, or - as some have presented them - a psychology of happiness. Maybe they are something more.

What if Jesus began his teaching ministry with a word of encouragement instead of an impossible standard to attain? In the previous chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, before the Sermon on the Mount begins, an amazing amount of events transpire. Chapter four begins with the temptation in the wilderness, where Jesus declares the kind of Messiah he intends to be - to himself, to God, to Satan, to all of us. Then he returns and calls together the community of followers within which he will work his earthly ministry. Finally he teaches and heals and draws increasingly larger crowds. And then chapter five lets us know his teaching. But in between the wilderness and the calling of the disciples he makes this statement: "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near." (4:17) And “repent” in this case isn’t “shame on you” but rather, get on board, turn around and follow me.

What if the beatitudes were a snapshot of the community of faith instead of a measuring rod? What if Jesus was saying, blessed is the community who makes room for peacemakers? Blessed is the community who makes room for the meek, for those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, who are poor in spirit. Blessed is the community who makes room those who mourn at the brokenness of the world, who are unstained by the impurity of the world. Blessed is the community who knows persecution is inevitable and still decides to make room for those the world thinks are unimportant.

Jesus was getting out the albums and inviting us to look again and see who we are, see what is among us. He was opening those folders we had forgotten and showing us our true selves. Sure, there is a call here as well, I’m not dismissing that. But it is not an impossible call because it is already among us in the community of faith. We learn from each other because we are gifted, we are blessed in different ways.

So, take a look at the snapshot of the community of faith. You might be surprised how blessed you are.

Shalom,
Derek

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