The Beatitudes

If today’s Gospel reading sounds oddly familiar, that’s probably because it is. But this is not quite the sermon on the mount: this is the sermon on the level plane – however these are the Beatitudes: beatitudes which we find in both Matthew and Luke although in subtly different forms. Matthew’s are more expansive, more focussed on blessing and, in many ways, more Jewish in their approach to righteousness and the reinterpretation of the list of blessings for obedience found in Deuteronomy. Some have argued that Matthew’s set of beatitudes are more spiritually-focussed while Luke’s are more pragmatic. But Luke also includes a hint of the Deuteronomic blessings and curses parallel – not only listing ‘beatitudes’ (blessings) but also ‘woes’ to those who fall foul of them.

Luke’s are more incisive and, in some ways more challenging in the shorter form we find here today. Contemporary scholarship is undecided on whether these two versions of the beatitudes come one-from-another, share the same source or even come from two different occasions of Jesus’ teaching using the same material. But what is abundantly clear, is their purpose.

The Beatitudes are supposed to be memorable – they are supposed to act as reminders to the governing principles that we should live by. They are supposed to turn the world upside down and they are supposed to highlight the tension between the way that those who ‘have’ and the way that those who ‘have-not’, live now and will find their consolation at the end of time. They highlight the tension between those who are poor, hungry, weeping and reviled … and those who are rich, full, laughing and spoken well of. They highlight the tension, but they refuse to resolve it for us.

The Christian faith might be a faith with a simple message at its heart: but it is not a quick fix or sticking plaster to smooth out the inequality of the world. There is one Jesus and one message of hope; but what is required to realised that hope in the lives of each of us, will find very different expressions according to our circumstance. For some the beatitudes will be an encouragement; for others they will be a wake-up call.

Salvation for me will have the same outcome as salvation for you, but if we are starting in different places then our routes, though ultimately heading to the same point, will take different turns or require different actions from each of us along the way. And, as it is for different individuals, so it is for different cultures, sub-cultures and communities. The book of Revelation is just one example of this, where each Church is given individual guidance on how to amend its corporate life in the light of the judgement of God.

Today, the Churches Together of Great Britain and Ireland mark ‘Racial Justice Sunday’. And this is an opportunity for us to ask hard questions of ourselves, our churches and our society about the actions required by each of us in order to live out a beatitudinal faith – where those who have been marginalised are raised up, and those who are rich, full, laughing and spoken well of, heed the warning to do something about the injustice which stares us in the face.

I wonder who you most readily identify with? Because if, like me, life is rather too cosy at times then today is a reminder, especially for the White Church, to check our privilege. Today is a day for those us to think carefully, about what actions are required of us to make the Church and the other institutions to which we belong, more Kingdom-shaped. There is no sticking plaster or quick fix.

Simply saying ‘all are equal in the eyes of God’ does not excuse us from committing to shape the world in a way which reflects this reality for our Black and Asian siblings and our siblings from other minority ethnic backgrounds. I, as a white Christian, especially one with the privilege of a pulpit, cannot excuse myself from critiquing my own prejudice or the bias embedded in the structures of the institution I love. Because if I love the institution more than I love my neighbour, or I try to pretend that there is little need for reform because the status quo suits me, then woe be to me because I will have failed my neighbour and failed to follow Christ.

We are all of equal value, but we are not all exactly the same. We each have different backgrounds, stories, gifts, troubles and life-experiences. And as the Black theologian Anthony Reddie reminds us: ‘God is not colour blind’: God sees our rainbow of colour and delights in it. We are each wonderfully and fearfully made and God delights in our diversity.

The Church should never be a place where you feel you need to hide or tone-down who you are or your heritage, it should be the place where you can be loved and known as your fullest expression of self: each wonderfully different, each treasured, each with equal opportunity and access to our community and to leadership within it. And it should be a place where, through our fellowship, we can help each other become more like the one we worship. Part of the human condition is to want to homogenise in order to make sense of things. Whether we want to homogenise the two accounts of the Beatitudes, or to homogenise the experience of individual people who have been oppressed by the very Church which should liberate them.

We must resist naïve generalisation, lest we fail to listen to the individual stories, longings, needs and gifts of God’s people or to assume that those, who have historically held the power, might know what is best for others. Any time we diminish the humanity of others, by insisting they conform in order to protect our own power and positions, we are not showing the face of Christ to anyone. The people came to Jesus in the introduction to the Gospel today to touch him because ‘power was going out of him’ and healing them.

Our God is a God who chose to divest his power and who become human so that we might know salvation and be raised in dignity. Christ’s humility was not an accident, but a choice. If we profess to be the Body of Christ, then we too must follow Christ’s example and be prepared to divest ourselves of positional, financial and institutional power wherever it oppresses other people. Perhaps then people will flock to the Church, like the crowd flocked to Jesus, when we start pouring out our power for healing; instead of holding on to it for our own gain.

The Church of England has slowly begun this work and they have begun by listening to just some of the stories of those who have been oppressed by the sin of racism in our churches. Telling our story of trauma for the benefit of another’s learning is an exhausting exercise and I am hugely grateful to those who have used their own experience and energy to make resources available to help educate those of us who have often been complicit by our silence and ignorance, in perpetuating racial injustice. Listening is an essential part of the process, but it is not the whole process.

Our commitment to racial equality cannot end with listening to and lamenting our failure, it must move us to action. What action we take, will depend on our situation. It will depend on our story and on the opportunities we have in the relationships and contexts in which we find ourselves. And if you want a framework for bold, visionary, accountability in this task, then we need look no further than the beatitudes and be prepared to evaluate ourselves in the light of them… Because the tension will not be resolved until we choose to divest our privilege and ensure that everyone is treated with the equal dignity which Christ commands. Amen.