Gospel: Luke 6:20-31
Throughout the church year there are weeks when the relevance of the assigned readings isn’t clear. In those moments the preacher must do a bit of digging and spend time in discernment to find a tie between what’s in the scriptures and what’s going on around us. That’s most definitely not the case this week, as we have a reading that seems to have been intentionally selected to match what’s going on in the world.
If some of what’s here sounds familiar, it should. These verses from what’s called the Sermon on the Plain are somewhat like what we find in the longer, 106-verse section of Matthew’s Gospel known as the Sermon on the Mount. Earlier in this chapter of Luke Jesus had gone up a mountain and after a time of prayer selected 12 men from among his many disciples to be his apostles. There was no commissioning or message to them, however; they immediately came down the mountain to a level place where Jesus began to teach and heal.
To whom was Jesus addressing these words? Certainly the crowd gathered around them – or at the very least presumably those in closest proximity to Jesus and the Twelve – could hear what he was saying. Moving out from Jesus into the ring of those disciples around him, one view is that since he was talking to them his words of hope amid poverty and hunger were specifically for them. But then we have this question to wrestle with: were the Twelve poor and hungry? One commentary points out that
four own boats; one is a tax collector… Were the disciples among the destitute, then by calling them away from families, Jesus would leave those families in an even worse condition economically; were they among the destitute, then there is no reason to tell them not to bring money with them on the road.[1]
So if not the Twelve, then to whom was Jesus directing his message? Perhaps it was to those in the next ring of people gathered there, sitting apart from him and burdened by their deep feelings of hopelessness and sorrow, rooted in living removed from the very hope and joy offered by Jesus. Perhaps they were words for those who felt that the distance between themselves and the promised Kingdom was a great, unbridged chasm. Perhaps they were words for those who perceived the difficult circumstances of their lives – their hunger and poverty – as separating them by an eternity from the comfort and wealth they saw enjoyed by others just feet away.
Certainly I feel these are words for those in the world today. Unlike the symbolic verses found in Matthew, what we have here in Luke is much more literal – and they’re certainly literal for many in the community beyond this place. The ones to whom Jesus addresses these admonitions today aren’t poor in spirit. They’re poor. They aren’t hungering and thirsting for righteousness. They’re hungry. There’s also an interesting switch from the now to the later. You may be poor now, but God’s kingdom is promised to you. You may be hungry now, but you will be filled later. You may be weeping now, but you will be laughing later.
Poverty and hunger are unfortunately always present; even Jesus said the poor would always be with us. In recent days however we’ve heard more about these ills because the news is paying more attention – and the news is paying more attention because external circumstances are increasing the burden of that poverty and hunger. I’m not going to point my finger out there and say what others in positions higher and more influential than mine should do to change those circumstances. We – and most especially they – know what needs to be done. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying that the ones in those positions to do the greatest good shouldn’t be called to account and constantly reminded of the suffering of so many. They most definitely should, loudly and often. But instead of simply waiting for those in those positions to act later, I want to remind you of what you’re doing now, and how it’s inspiring others to do likewise.
These are the moments when the door is opened for us to exercise our own ministries of caring. Those who are poor may be promised the kingdom later, but we can show them signs of that kingdom now – and we are. Those who are hungry may be filled by God later, but we can help to address the hunger pangs they are feeling now – and we are. Those who are crying now may be promised laughter later, but we can show them a bit of the joy to come now – and we are. The love we carry for our siblings in God’s family isn’t something passive, waiting for God to initiate it; it’s active, something alive and at work now.
We knew the blessing box built by Charlie Lamb would be a great gift for the community, but we had no idea how needed it really is. It’s been a surprise – and distressing – to see how heavily it’s being used. To look at our immediate neighbors and the rapid growth taking place in Forest, you’d think all is well for many. As I’ve shared from time to time, however, what we see on the surface often hides a lot beneath – and while it’s reported that about 11 percent of Bedford County residents are food insecure, I think that number is low, for I’d wager many are afraid for others to see the reality of their lives.
But this congregation is doing incredible work keeping it stocked – and you’re inspiring others to take part. Friends and neighbors, known and unknown, are joining you in making sure it’s filled for those who need it. It goes beyond that, though. Contributions of food were among the donations collected for Valor Farm. Members of the congregation give many hours of time and love to Meals on Wheels. Later this month we’ll continue our long tradition of providing complete Thanksgiving meals to area elementary school families that are struggling. We have close ties with the feeding programs of Society of St. Andrew. There are likely many other ways you’re involved in giving support to those who need it most.
We can’t do it all, but what we do matters – and the more out there who do something, our actions will matter even more. And it’s because of what you’re doing that I want to offer a twist on these verses. You who are poor are blessed; let us try to show you a glimpse of the kingdom. You who are hungry are blessed; let us try to help fill you. You who weep now are blessed; let us try and bring you a sign of joy.
Let us pray.
God of mercy and justice, we lift before you the millions in our nation who face empty cupboards and unanswered cries for help. As food banks grow overwhelmed and safety nets unravel, we remember that your Son taught us that when we feed the hungry, we serve Christ himself. Strengthen the volunteers, the caregivers, and community leaders who labor to meet their rising need and stir our hearts to generosity, courage, and advocacy. All this we ask for the sake of your holy name. Amen.[2]
[1] Amy-Jill Levine and Ben Witherington III. The Gospel of Luke, pp. 176-7.
[2] “A Prayer for Those Who Will Go Hungry This Week in the U.S.,” from the Episcopal Public Policy Network.