Sixth Sunday after Epiphany
The Gospel of Luke 6:17-26
Preached at House of Hope Lutheran Church (New Hope, MN)
February 13, 2022
—–
Grace and peace to you from God the Creator, Christ the Liberator, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
+
It is such a joy to be with you all at House of Hope this morning – worshipping, praying, responding to God’s presence in our lives and in Creation.
This time together, in worship, here in the sanctuary, and in the sacred spaces of our homes, can serve as practice for how we want to be together, comfort in times of grief and change, and challenge as we hold together the truths that each of us is utterly beloved and held by God, right now, and that each of us are beings of transformation, and becoming.
This time together can strengthen us, prayer can strengthen us, and the community we build, even for an hour, can give us a glimpse of the Kin-dom of God.
In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus is in the midst of community. He has spent the last night in prayer up on a mountaintop, and has returned to the level place, and to the crowd. It is here, on the level plain, where Jesus will give what we call his Sermon on the Plain, a series of blessings and woes that envision the Kin-dom of God.
Before we dive into the blessings and woes, I want us to stay with the crowd. With the land.
Jesus is surrounded by the crowd when he comes down from the mountain. His disciples are with him, and everyone is trying to touch him, since healing power was spilling forth from his body. This image is a shock to my system, both as someone who had anxiety in crowds before, and as someone living in the midst of a pandemic now. Jesus is in the midst of the crowd – he likely can’t see past a few rows of people since they are all on the same level, there are likely babies crying, bodies jostling each other. I wonder if the crowd quiets when Jesus begins speaking, or if he is shouting to be heard. I wonder if, as he begins, his words ripple outwards, people repeating them to their elderly neighbors, passing them back to people further a/way.
This moment is one of messy interconnectedness. We’ve had less of those spaces over the past two years, where crowds turn into community, even just for a moment. Small human moments of connection, conflict, and care. This messy interconnectedness has survived even through the pandemic – with people protesting police brutality, demanding that we create and live into different systems of accountability. With local buy-nothing groups, where alternate economies based on gifting and being good neighbors are springing up. With many of us learning new forms of technology to stay connected, letting each other know when we’re on mute, or if there’s a lag in the call.
Stay with the crowd. Stay with the land.
In seminary I had the great privilege of being taught by the late Rev. Dr. Gordon Straw of the Brothertown Indian Nation. Because of his teaching, I pay attention to Creation in scripture – not as background information, but as an active part of the story. And so I’m drawn to this level place that Jesus and the crowd are on. The dirt under their feet, our feet, supporting our lives and movement is not separate from us. The earth isn’t a dead afterthought – it reveals God’s creative glory. The very land that Jesus and the crowd are standing on can give context to the blessings and woes. There is wisdom in Creation.
A recent fascination of mine is mushrooms and mycelium. Mycelium networks are the connections of the fungi kingdom, and are how trees communicate with each other. They share information about drought, disease, and share resources like water and nutrients. Trees are a connected community through the fungal networks in the soil. They are interdependent, sometimes competing, yes, but ultimately growing in ways that promote mutual thriving. That vibrant and earthy ecosystem is supporting Jesus’ teaching and ministry. That very same vibrant and earthy ecosystem is supporting us.
And it’s with the crowd, and with the land, that we receive Jesus’ teachings on blessings and woes. Before diving too deeply into what are often called the Beatitudes, it’s important to name that this text has done harm. It has been used to glorify suffering, to uphold the very gaps in wages, healthcare, food access, and quality of life that the Kin-dom of God levels. Yes, God is with you in grief, in suffering, in pain – but God doesn’t want that for you. Yes, God blesses those who are oppressed, who are on the margins – but that doesn’t mean God wants oppression to exist. Yes, God has a preferential option for the poor, but that doesn’t mean God wants anything less than flourishing for all of Creation.
This text also might be uncomfortable for those of us who hold privilege, or privileged identities, even as we can also hold marginalized identities. Because this is a text of interconnection. Our actions and inactions have real impact on each other, and on our communities. Which means that if our actions or inactions uphold oppression, and uphold systems that were designed to benefit the few at the expense of the many, whether we are intentionally marginalizing others or not, this text serves as a warning. Jesus is inviting us to turn away from broken and sinful systems and towards God.
What this text is doing is painting a picture of the Kin-dom of God, and allowing us to find our place in it.
The Kin-dom of God is a place where blessings overflow.
A place where the systems of capitalism and economic inequality are torn down, where those who experienced scarcity will dwell in abundance.
A place where there is enough food for all, that doesn’t need to be paid for, or fought for, food that we don’t shame or judge ourselves for eating.
A place where there is space for our grief, so that it may settle into our bones and leave room for joy.
A place where those who have been oppressed and outcast for singing the truth, for daring to dream of living differently, who prophesied a liberating God, are blessed.
The Kin-dom of God is a place where we are asked to stretch and transform.
A place where hoarding wealth, exploiting labor, and acting for your own benefit without considering the interconnections, will bring you woe.
A place where not sharing abundance, where feasting while others hunger, where letting food rot in the fields, will bring you woe.
A place where laughing at those who mourn and feel deeply, or at those who say that a joke isn’t funny, but it hurts them, will bring you woe.
A place where being spoken well-of, being respectable instead of authentic, respectable instead of faithful, will bring you woe.
And again, these woes are not set in stone. God is full of grace and forgiveness, and gives us opportunity time and time again to transform in response to God’s love, to respond to God’s presence.
But these woes are warnings – because in Luke, the Kin-dom of God is now. Not in the future, but already, and still, and again. We are meant to take these blessings and woes seriously. To take them to heart, and let them guide our prayers, our actions, to trust that we are beloved and blessed, even when the harmful structures we live in try to break us down.
We meet Jesus here, on a level plain. A place of blessing, and a place of warning. A crowd presses in, messy, interconnected, interdependent. Sharing food, sharing mistakes, sharing space.
We are supported by the dirt, by the mycelium.
Looking around at the level plain, wondering what else could be leveled for the sake of God’s Kin-dom. Redistributing what we have so all have enough. Reimagining what we hold dear and important to us. Redefining how we live in response to God.
Trusting that as we are supported by Creation, that we do not have to live in competition and scarcity. We can relate to each other grounded in prayer and community, which leads to transformation. Which leads to blessings.
May Jesus’ words from the level place comfort you who need comfort. May they challenge you who need challenge. May they give us each the strength to honestly reflect on the ways we are living into God’s Kin-dom, and where we are being invited into transformation. Amen.
Reed Fowler 