Blessed are those who are persecuted

We in the Western world--in the United States particularly--don't know persecution. It's not part of our daily existence to know what it's like to live in a way that fundamentally and in almost all areas of life swims against the stream and, because of this, brings persecution. Not just difficulty. Persecution.

In my experience, it just has not been part of our reality to know what it's like to create small clusters of relationships with others, hiding under the radar, using special signs or signals to remind each other of  our solidarity in Christ. We don't know what it's like to struggle deeply between following the way of Jesus or remaining in good standing with our family; to struggle about our jobs because they cause us to participate in ways of life that go against Jesus' Beatitudes; to risk losing business, not just on the basis of where we stand on one issue, but on the basis of how we operate, or on the basis of those with whom we associate. We don't know the anxiety of wondering when we'll be turned in or ratted out because we follow the way of Jesus.

Some might say "and thank God we live in a country where we've had it well." There is truth to this. I am very thankful that we have not had to deal with real persecution. But I also have to wonder at what point living for Jesus' kingdom and living in another kingdom where we might be all too comfortable might be a problem. Many people in our culture see Christians as "different" because of certain tenets of belief, but we're not persecuted. We're just (sometimes) seen as people who look at some things differently. Maybe made fun of on occasion. Other than that, we really don't look or act all that differently. Not enough to bring about persecution.

It's no secret that we're moving into a post-Christian culture (through there's good reason to question if it ever was "Christian" in the first place, at least in the Beatitudes' way of defining things). This means persecution may be on the horizon, if not for us, for our children or grandchildren. Call me crazy, but this might actually be a good thing.

Blessed are the Peacemakers

The language "child of God" is thrown around a lot these days. Everyone's a child of God, it seems.

You might expect that I'll question this. You might be right.

I am not doing it out of ill-intent, to be sure. It is probably good to take stock and question some of the words and phrases that become popular, to question even the most dearly held and from all appearances genuinely good ideas. These things can take over and before you know it, we're married to ideas or ways of saying things that we probably should not have even been dating in the first place. (Side note: here's a link to a survey about such things from Relevant Magazine.)

I understand why the language of child of God is popular. It is reassuring. It is comforting. It makes us feel better about ourselves and about where we stand with God. Yes, it's in the Bible. It's in this Beatitude we're focusing on today.

The thing is, most of the time the language "child of God" shows up in the Bible, it's not unqualified. There's almost always a reason or an identifier to specify who are the children of God, and how they are children of God. And it may rub us the wrong way in our "everyone's accepted" culture, but not everyone is a child of God. Everyone is made in the image of God, yes. But not everyone is a child of God.

While image of God suggests a likeness to God, child of God suggests an intimacy. In a patriarchal society, children were the ones who carried on the father's identity and heritage. They were the ones who reflected the nature of the father. Now, this is a lot like "image" of God. But, still, not all people are children of God in a post-Genesis 3 world. We live in a world where the image of God in humanity has been lost or forgotten. And this means that we no longer live as children of God in our natural ways. As Paul puts it in Galatians and Romans, we have lost our original home and have been found orphans and slaves under a different roof, serving sin and death. We were made to be children of God, but we have forgotten. Our lives do not any longer reflect "child of God."

Blessed are the Pure in Heart

There's something many of us fear, I think. I'm not talking about the unknown or the unexpected tragedy. I'm not talking about roller-coasters or spiders. Here's my hunch: many of us fear being pure in heart. For some reason, "pure in heart" is recognized as a nice ideal, but not something people actually want to be.

We associate it with moral purity or "perfection" and resist it at nearly every turn. We resist it in our estimation of ourselves, insisting that we're not perfect and we speak dismissingly of it, "I'll never be that. I'm too (fill in the blank)." I think this is shorthand for saying, "I really don't want to give up this certain characteristic that may not be aligned with "pure in heart." Or we're afraid of what others will think and say if we are pure in heart. We're afraid of how they'll treat us differently, and that matters to us. Perhaps more than pursuing God's kingdom and his righteousness. We're afraid of what we'll lose out on; we actually like our dead human selves a little bit, and we're afraid that being "pure in heart" will ruin that.

Blessed are the Merciful

Did you notice something about the Beatitudes? They don't speak of forgiveness, love, or grace.

I think especially of the last two: love and grace. These are part of our regular Christianese. They are words that show up in nearly every Christian's description of what God and the Christian life are all about. Yet, they're not in the Beatitudes.

Interesting, isn't it? Especially if the Beatitudes give us the fundamental outlooks that characterize the life of following Jesus.

Today we focus on mercy. I think mercy is a seriously underestimated element of the life of Jesus' kingdom. This seems especially true in our world today. One cannot help but think of recent cases of capital punishment and other crimes around the world where mercy is not really on the table.

Now we can't expect mercy to be a defining part of non-Christian culture--ours included. But to me this only illuminates the stark difference between the life of Jesus' kingdom and the life of the ways of the nations in world in which we live. As Christians, we cannot think for a moment that Jesus' words should not influence every area of our lives. For Jesus there are no categories of "spiritual," "social," "economic," and "political." The message of Jesus demands allegiance from every fiber of life.

So, where does mercy fit into our lives--both public and private? Where should it fit? What does it look like?

The Righteousness of the Kingdom

In  Matthew's account of Jesus' life, Jesus said, "Unless your righteousness far surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 5:20)

Say that again, Jesus?

Did he just say we need to be more perfect than the scribes and Pharisees?




No. That's not what he said. And I don't think Jesus is asking disciples to be better so they can consider themselves superior in righteousness.

So, what's Jesus getting at with this "righteousness" language? First, let's get one thing clear: the Pharisees were well-intentioned. They were not out to be judgmental or the bad guys. That we're quick to distance ourselves from them and call them out might say just as much about ourselves. We might be closer to them than we'd like to admit.

The Pharisees' brand of righteousness plays out in their interactions with Jesus. Consistently throughout the gospels, the Pharisees call Jesus out for falling short. Imagine that. The religious elite suggesting that Jesus, God with us, fell short. Fell short of what? Their own standard of "righteousness." This standard was based on the law that God gave, to be sure. But it got a little mixed with human ways of measurement and evaluation that were not exactly God's ways. So from their perception of things, Jesus fell short.

He fell short in a couple main ways. First, he didn't seem to follow the "rules" very well. He did stuff on the Sabbath, he touched sick people, he didn't wash his hands.

Second, he regularly spent time in the presence of the ones who were "unrighteous." And by this, I mean to say that Jesus hung out with everyone. He spent time with the ones who were not perceived to be worth the time. You know, the person down the street who "everyone" doesn't get along with and they'd rather not have that person on the block; the person who did something that everyone in town is talking about (and it's not good); or the parents whose children just are "not the best influence"; the parent who really is not a parent (by whose standards, by the way?); the person who drinks and smokes too much. Or the person who really just does everything you are against.

Yea, those people.

Well, Jesus spent time with them. He went into their homes. He ate with them. He lifted them up. He let them know God was not leaving them alone. The Pharisees refused. It was damaging for their relationship with God to be with such people. It might make them less righteous. Or so the Pharisees thought.

Blessed are Those Who Hunger and Thirst for Righteousness

"Every time I try to build something, my stuff keeps falling down." These are words from our youngest son. And he gets so frustrated when this happens. He just can't always achieve what he has in mind to create. There's a hunger and thirst for something, and he's not satisfied until it's met.

According to Jesus, "righteousness" is what those of Jesus' kingdom hunger and thirst for. Take a look at the Beatitudes again.

Blessed are the poor in spirit
Blessed are the mourning ones
Blessed are the meek
Blessed are those who are hungering and thirsting for righteousness 

Blessed are the merciful
Blessed are the pure in heart
Blessed are the peacemakers
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness

Did you notice the pattern to the Beatitudes? Three Beatitudes, then one about "justice/righteousness," then three more and another about "justice/righteousness." This highlights the centrality of justice/righteousness--it's what those of Jesus' kingdom hunger and thirst for and it's what those of Jesus' kingdom are persecuted because of. The livelihood of Jesus' kingdom revolves around justice/righteousness.

Somehow also the Beatitudes help us define "righteousness/justice." How do all of the Beatitudes give meaning to “righteousness” or “justice”? Is it possible that the ones who hunger and thirst for righteousness and the ones persecuted for righteousness are the poor in spirit, the mourning ones, the meek, the merciful, the pure in heart, and the peacemakers? How might this change how you understand “justice/righteousness” and what it means to pursue it?

Notice also that this Beatitude speaks of a desire for something, not just sadness over what's not. Jesus uplifts hungering and thirsting for something, in contrast to being angry, judging, or condemning unrighteousness. How is hungering and thirsting for righteousness, in contrast to being angry, judging, or condemning unrighteousness, a better, more Jesus-like way to live?

Who wants to inherit the earth?

I don't know if you've noticed something interesting about the Beatitudes. It's this: none of them promise eternal life. Not a one.

The first and last ones speak about the kingdom of heaven, but by this Jesus means the way of God in contrast to the ways of the kingdoms of earth. The kingdoms of earth are those monopolies, the societal systems, the economies that operate according to rules of competition, struggle, human evaluation on the basis of merit or self serving.

 The kingdom of heaven is wherever God's rule on earth is present, where God's people populate, and where God's ways are the norm. The picture of God's norm is Jesus; it is outlined in the Beatitudes.

This third Beatitude is especially interesting if we're talking about the fact that none of the Beatitudes mention heaven, because this Beatitude promises earth: blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. 

If anything is opposite of "heaven" as understood in typical popular thought, it's the earth. Jesus doesn't promise a house in heaven here (he does that in John). Here he promises earth.

This highlights immediately that reason for blessing in this Beatitude is not that some grand reward awaits; there is no crown or medal of honor. No heavenly podium on which to stand. The inheritance is the earth. And this makes me really rethink what I think following Jesus and spirituality are all about. The meek are, on the surface, the ones not caught up in the stratosphere of high pursuits. The reward is earth. Dirt. Grass. Trees. Roots. Water. It's not exactly glorious, streets of gold stuff. But the book of Revelation mentions streets of gold, doesn't it?

This is, of course, why this beatitude needs a closer look.