Luke 6:17-26 · Blessings and Woes
The Sermon on the Level
Luke 6:17-26
Sermon
Loading...

The word that Christ our Lord would like to have us hear this All Saints’ Sunday is a firm word, gently spoken, lovingly applied. Faintly we recall that he said something similar to this before, in a sermon everyone applauds, but few apply, The Sermon on the Mount.

"Blessed are the poor in spirit," we remember, and we like that. It doesn’t touch our assets. "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness," and we could use a little righteousness like ours around the nation and the church today. "Blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted." It’s good to know when the dark clouds roll above us that behind them is a shining sun.

But wait a minute! This word seems to have a different pitch. "Blessed are you poor, for yours is the kingdom of God," and "Woe to you that are rich, for you have received your consolation." Did he mean to say it? "Blessed are you that hunger now, for you shall be satisfied," and "Woe to you that are full now, for you shall hunger." "Blessed are you that weep now, for you shall laugh," and "Woe to you that laugh now, for you shall mourn and weep." Three strikes and you’re out, on curve balls low and on the outside corner.

In the version of this sermon that Saint Matthew gives us, it is called The Sermon on the Mount, for when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up onto the mountain, and when he sat down his disciples came to him, and he began his teaching. But in the sermon as Saint Luke remembers it, it can be called The Sermon on the Level, for when Jesus came down with his newly-chosen twelve disciples, he stood on a level place and leveled with them on the quality of Kingdom life that was as strange in their time as in ours. It’s a quality sometimes admired with awe in those rare folk like Mother Theresa, but as for us in our cash-centered culture, no thanks! A diet can be good for the physique, and fasting can be a spiritual experience, but hunger isn’t in our bag of tricks. To mourn will be the lot of everyone occasionally, but there’s nothing like a laugh to lift the spirit, and we need a little laughter now, if you don’t mind. And then this fourth curve for good measure, "Blessed are you when men hate you, and exclude you, and revile you, and cast out your name as evil." No one on that route will make a sale, and life is lonely without friends.

A Day for Visions

What, then, shall we do with this? All Saints’ Day is a day for visions, however strange those visions might appear when measured by the market index, or by the gourmet section of the Thursday morning paper, or by the comic on the tube, or by the applause meter. The vision is the vision of what was, the vision of what might be, and the vision of what shall be. And this last, the vision of what shall be, is the one that hangs us on thin threads of faith as we grow onward in the Spirit, from what was to what can be, before the dawn of glory breaks in all its brightness.

All Saints’ Day is the vision of the new Jerusalem, "Coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband," and the voice from the throne, "Behold, the dwelling of God is with people. He shall dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself will be with them."

All Saints’ Day is the vision of that yet more glorious day, "when saints triumphant rise in bright array, and when the King of glory passes on his way."

All Saints’ Day reviews the fellowship we have been given, "the glorious company of the apostles, the noble fellowship of the prophets, the white-robed army of martyrs," and all who fought the good fight to the end, whose company includes all those whose presence we once cherished and whose memory we now honor, who died in faith to live eternally with Christ.

These are visions of faith, of course, visions totally out of touch with the world as we know it, but visions that transform our ordinary days into a great adventure, that bring us together at the table of our Lord with an invisible but mighty host, a multitude no one can number, from all nations, kingdoms, people, tongues.

No Concrete Evidence

But on the level! The evidence suggests that we are far from sainthood. Our style suggests that we might not want to be included in the number when the saints go marching in. There is little that commends such visions to our taste. Between the values and priorities to which we are accustomed and the values and priorities of saints there is a great gulf. In our relationships with neighbors, friends, and enemies, the quality of mercy has been strained, and judgments drop, not like the gentle dew from heaven, but like devastating bombs.

Jesus came to Galilee, preaching the Gospel of the Kingdom, "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe in the gospel." The dawn of a new creation was on the horizon. The invasion of the demon empire had begun. As his fame was gossiped across Galilee and into Syria and to the coasts of Tyre and Sidon, many came to hear him and be healed of their diseases, and to touch him as they sense the power that he breathed on them.

But as Jesus leveled with the crowd, he made it clear that Kingdom values were the opposite of every value that humanity has known, and that the Kingdom life, life wholly lived for God in all of our relationships including self, would never be achieved by small adjustments on the screws of life’s machine. In his Sermon on the Level, our Lord describes the life he gives and molds in us as he lays royal claim on us. That life is not achieved. It is a gift. It is not attained by sensitizing people to humanitarian concerns, however noble, or by legislating with another code of laws, or by turning up the pressure with sanctions against the nonconformist. The old creation has to go. The new creation has to come, but it will come his way, not ours.

Confiscated

Life can never be the same. Grace is not a tawdry tinsel on the tree. Discipleship is more than brushing on the Savior’s toga sleeve, or tugging at his hemline for a handout. Discipleship is following. It is being claimed by that impelling "Follow me." It is being confiscated and then molded in his image.

So he leveled with them. He always did. Jesus never tried to merchandise himself or sell his cause to unsuspecting prospects. He didn’t spend a quarter hour out of every half in an appeal for funds, or advertise a shiny Christmas angel ornament that he would send if you would only write to him. He did not put on a show. He would not accommodate demands of the consumers. He would not be made over in their image. He would make them over in his image.

And here, then, on the level, is the definition and description of his image, the mold in which he presses our hearts now. We are confronted by his Word, not merely tuned in on the Jesus network to be entertained.

Resistance

I can’t pretend (I wonder if you can) that I have not resisted. "Blessed are you poor." Does Jesus baptize poverty? Walking Gordon Drive, a street that parallels the Gulf coast here in Naples, as I pass palatial mansions, I ask, "Where was I when all this money was being made?" And I remember where I was.

"Blessed are you that hunger ... blessed are you that weep." The door that opens widest at my house is the refrigerator door, and if its shelves have not been stocked, there may be weeping and gnashing of teeth.

"Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you and revile you." I have known that feeling, too, not the blessed one, but the accursed one. The human has a yen for praise, applause, appreciation. Witness how church bulletins list names of persons to be thanked for lifting a little finger for the cause.

Or follow down the list beyond this little paragraph as Jesus drops one jewel on another through the Sermon on the Level. Love your enemies! I thought I heard in your confession that you had not loved your neighbor as you ought. What, then, can you say about your enemies?

"To him who strikes you on the one cheek, turn the other also." No way!

Give to everyone who begs from you; or of him who takes away your goods do not ask them again." Are there no limits?

"If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again." At 21.9 percent.

A saint in my acquaintance, one of those rare saints who had been blessed with earthly goods, was often touched by people for a loan. A choir member who was less than saintly (as developments affirmed) used him to cosign a bank loan. Not a dime has ever been repaid. The good saint said to me a few years later, "If someone needs some money, I prefer to give it, not to lend it. That route protects the fellow from a guilt conscience when he doesn’t pay."

"If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? ... and if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that?" Another one of my acquaintances who thrives on acclaim numbers a host of friends, but in that number there is not one who questions, contradicts, or criticizes him. Backscratching is a lovely human pastime that pays off.

Touching Tender Places

As Jesus levels with us in this Word, his word is gently spoken, lovingly applied. But it touches tender places, places that have always held high rank with us. In our company today are lovely people who exhibit growth in character and sainthood as the workmanship of Christ and of his Spirit. The soil of their hearts is tilled and cultivated, and the seed that falls there bears fruit an hundredfold. But I have only known one person who could wear this garment - the Son of man who had no place to lay his head, who hungered in the wilderness and at the well of Jacob but forgot his hunger in the mission, and whose tears flowed freely when his good friend Lazarus fell victim to the terror of death, and when Jerusalem chose death instead of life. He promises a trade with us - the garments of the white-robed saints before the throne for the rags of our unrighteousness.

On the level, then. Jesus does not advocate pious poverty to be displayed as holiness. Some of those who are his friends are very rich, as Joseph was, whose tomb became the place for Jesus’ burial.

Jesus does not hold up hunger for our adulation. He had compassion on the multitude who followed him into the wilderness with nothing to eat, and he refers the hungry to the care of our compassion. He knows what hunger means, for he identified in his humanity with our humanity. "Give us this day our daily bread" is easily translated by the pleading of emaciated bodies and distended stomachs into "Share with us this day your daily bread." Some of us have tender places at the level of the waistline.

Jesus does not require that the faces of the saints wear furrowed frowns or on their arms a mourning band. Joy is their character. One Sunday after worship, a man came out of church and said to me, "Father, I enjoyed your homily." Whereupon he took a sudden elbow in his ribs, delivered by his wife, who said "You’re not supposed to enjoy it." But what else are we to do with it if not enjoy it? The purpose of the Word is not to paint the faces of the pious with a sour grimace, but to sound the "tintinnabulation that so musically wells," from the bells of joy.

And certainly the Savior doesn’t recommend the idiocy of making enemies with a persistent lack of grace, passing out and all around the acid comments of our moral indignation with a voice of sandpaper.

Priorities are measured here, commitment is confirmed, perspectives are focused. Hearts that are attached to riches of this world, and bottle-popping joys, and carving out a name on granite blocks will print no names on pages in the Book of Life. The poor, the hungry, the burdened, and the scorned are often blessed as favored kingdom heirs, persons whose dependence on the grace of God is heightened in their situation. Not many camels pass through needle eyes. But new life on the level takes the measure of our hearts, not of our bank accounts, and the measure of our minds in Christ, not of our waistlines. And across the Scripture, have you noticed, our relationship with God is frequently defined in terms of our relation to the poor, the hungry, the oppressed. The new life of the kingdom makes the difference.

The Vision of What Will Be

It is quite unlikely that this new life of the Kingdom will stamp its imprint on the lifestyle of the world, that differences between the nations will be settled in a lasting peace, that distrust measured by an arsenal of nuclear advantage will be dissipated, that humanity will gradually progress to its millennium of glory.

But I entertain by faith the vision on this All Saints’ Day of what assuredly will be - that by the mercies of the living God there will be those whose lives are on the altar of God’s praise, who will be molded into walking miracles of grace. And in the vision that I share with John, of that great throng before the throne, it may be that I will have to ask, "Lo! Who are these?" But I believe there will be many in that throng whose faces I have seen before and whose names I know, for I trust that you will be among them.

That’s on the level. And if you share that vision, too, then I believe the vision of what certainly will be will have a radical and drastic impact on what is now, and we will know that we are in the process of becoming.

CSS Publishing, Lima, Ohio,