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The first in a four part series of relfections on the Beatitudes in the Gospel of Matthew.
The Beatitudes found in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke are among some of Jesus’ most beloved teachings. In them we find great comfort and promise, and we also find validation for those who seek to walk the Christian Way. But in them we also find many questions. Because like so many of Jesus’ most famous teachings, they seem to take conventional wisdom, and turn it completely upside down. For instance, conventional wisdom in our culture would say that it’s the wealthy and happy people in the world who are blessed— not the poor and grieving. It would say that it’s the rich and powerful-- not the poor and meek-- who will inherit the earth. To say ‘blessed are the poor in spirit,’ ‘blessed are those who mourn,’ and ‘blessed are those who are persecuted,’ sounds pretty darn strange in a world where we avoid things like poverty, sadness, and persecution at all costs. And so the beatitudes are not just these nice pithy sayings meant to comfort us in times of trouble. They are also words that are meant to challenge us to live differently— not in accordance with a world that is often competitive, greedy, and harsh, but rather in accordance with God’s kingdom of love, justice and compassion. In other words, the Beatitudes are meant to teach us how to be disciples.
And so we are not meant to simply hear the beatitudes— soaking up the truth within them as nourishment for our spirits alone. We are also meant to live them out. For this reason, we will spend the next few weeks taking a more in depth look at these famous sayings of Jesus in order to discover how we might find ways to live them out in our world today.
This morning we begin with the first of the Beatitudes: “blessed are those who are poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” And already we find ourselves in a quandary. Because for those of us who know the version of the Beatitudes from the Gospel of Luke, we know that it’s slightly different. In Luke’s gospel it simply reads: “blessed are those who are poor, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Absent from Luke’s version is the qualifier—poor in spirit. So which is it? Is Jesus talking about spiritual poverty? Or is he talking about material poverty?
One could certainly decide to privilege one version over the other and come to two very different conclusions about who it is that is actually blessed, and therefore what it means for us to live out this teaching in our lives. Some might hear Matthew’s version and say that one’s material wealth— or lack thereof— has nothing to do with it. That to be poor in spirit is about spiritual humility, it’s about not thinking of oneself more highly than one should.
Others might hear Luke’s version and point to Jesus’ famous interaction with the rich man who asks him how to get into heaven. Jesus tells him he must sell all his possessions and give the money to the poor, because in Jesus’ words, “it’s easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to get into heaven.”
So which is it? Certainly if we look at Jesus’ entire life and ministry, it’s clear that he often pays special attention to the poor and grieving, and that he never hesitates to cut down the wealthy or elite of his society. But it’s not because being poor, in and of itself, automatically gets you into heaven, or even that being rich automatically keeps you out. I think it has more to do with the fact that worldly wealth and security often gets in the way of becoming true disciples of Jesus. Scholar Stanley Hauerwas has written that “to be poor does not in itself make one a follower of Jesus, but it can put you in the vicinity of what it might mean to discover the kind of poverty that frees those who follow Jesus from enslavement to the world… too often we fail to recognize our accommodation to worldly powers because we fear losing our wealth, independence, and security.”
A number of years ago, I spent a year in a faith and social justice internship that took me to the city of Los Angeles, where I shared a small three bedroom apartment with 5 other people and lived off the meager sum of $500 a month. Believe me when I tell you that in Los Angeles, that doesn’t exactly go far. The idea was to enter into a sort of voluntary poverty and radical simplicity as I and my roommates all worked full time jobs with agencies where our clients had even fewer materials resources than we did. And I have to admit that when I started off that year, the thought did cross my mind-- once or twice-- that living with so few material comforts would most definitely grant me some serious bragging rights when it came to living the Christian Way. So much for spiritual humility!
But very early on, I learned something quite surprising. First of all, I learned it wasn’t about having bragging rights. More importantly, however, I found that even though I was living with fewer material comforts than I ever had before, never had I experienced such a deep sense of God’s abundance. It was in fact the very lack of material wealth that forced all of us to rely upon one another and to care more deeply for one another. We simply weren’t able to go it alone— and that was perhaps one of the greatest luxuries we gave up that year. The illusion of independence and self sufficiency was broken down in front of our very eyes, but in it’s place was a wonderful feeling of deep community and care.
The other thing that began to happen during that year of living simply was that the lines between us and the people we were serving began to blur. Those cultural barriers that separate the haves from the have-nots, the fortunate from the less fortunate, began to break down, as we discovered that the stories clients had to tell were stories that we desperately needed to hear. I remember one man— I’ll call him William— was a former drug addict. He spent years out on the streets, in and out of prison, on and off drugs. But when I met William, he had been clean and sober for years, and was finally moving out of the shelter and into his own apartment. In the years since he had become sober, he had become deeply involved with substance abuse support groups such as NA and AA. He traveled locally as a motivational speaker for 12 step groups, churches, shelters, and other local service agencies. Now William would be the first to tell anyone that going through those years of pain, suffering, and poverty is not something he would recommend or wish for anyone. The point is not to seek out poverty or suffering for its own sake. But it was through that experience that William’s eyes were opened to the image of God in people that most others would simply ignore or turn away from. For William, there was dignity and grace and the possibility for restoration in every person— no matter how messed up they were. He knew this for a fact because it had happened to him.
These are the kinds of stories that changed us the most. And by the end of the year, as we learned to stop relying on ourselves for everything we needed, we were opened up to the people around us in a new way. We realized we needed these people just as much or more than they needed us. Hearing the stories of their bravery, their persistence, and their struggles through difficulties we could only imagine was truly humbling. And it was then, perhaps the first time, that any of us really understood what it meant to be poor in spirit.
Personally, I think that the two versions of this beatitude that we find in Matthew and Luke are simply two sides of the same coin. It is through our material and spiritual poverty that we come to the realization that we are not meant to live our lives in isolation from one another, but rather that all of us are deeply connected and interdependent, and that we can only make the kingdom of heaven a reality on earth if we recognize the image of God in every person-- whether they are among the wealthiest on the planet, or whether they are among the poorest of the poor.
So what does it take to live this beatitude? I recognize that not all of us have the luxury of moving to LA for a year and joining some experimental Christian community. So how do we become poor in spirit where we are, here and now, so that we might experience the kingdom of God?
This morning I would suggest two things as a way to begin. First, that we continue to examine our own lives to see where it is that our accommodation to worldly power and comfort is keeping us from following in the Way of Jesus Christ. What are we clinging to—either materially or emotionally— that is holding us back from true connection with others? Where do we need to give up the illusion of independence in our own lives in order to experience God’s full and true abundance?
Second, we make every effort we can to break down the walls of division between the so called haves and have-nots-- recognizing that all of us are equal in the eyes of God. I believe that this is especially important for us in this country right now, as the lines between the rich and poor seem to be growing ever more quickly into battle lines manufactured by pundits and politicians, with voices on both sides of the aisle crying out “class warfare!” Well let me tell you something-- we have news for them. They may be in a war, but we are not. They may want to create division, but we do not. Instead, we reach out. We create opportunities to hear the stories of people who are not like us. We find ways to reach across social boundaries of class and economic status—just like Jesus did. Serve a meal to a hungry person. Talk to someone on the street. Notice that person that you usually ignore. Start small, and see where it takes you.
Blessed are those who are poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Amen, and let it be so.
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