The Rev. Sara Warfield
Scriptures: Luke 6:17-26, Jeremiah 17:5-10
As I sat down to write this sermon, I was feeling deep despair about our country. I can wrap my mind around policy differences about how to manage immigrants who come into our country without documentation, about what role the government should play in managing the health and well being of all its citizens, about regulating how businesses hire and understand difference. I understand that there are multiple, reasonable arguments about all of these things, and I do believe that all arguments are worth hearing and considering.
But my despair isn’t about reasonable arguments about policy that I may or may not agree with. Because reasonable arguments aren’t happening. The Executive Branch of government is bypassing the systems in which these arguments are supposed to happen—where our senators and congresspeople are supposed to represent the people’s—our—will and create policy around the compromises formed around those reasoned arguments. This administration is bypassing the checks and balances that the designers of our Constitution were so intentional about putting in place. That disintegration of our democratic process is part of my despair. But I can acknowledge that that’s a political crisis—a debate to be had, directly or indirectly, about systems of governance.
But if I’m being honest, the biggest part of my despair is about the cruelty with which these unilateral policies are being enacted. The random and terrifying raids on communities whose people happen to have brown skin. The attempted erasure of our transgender siblings through making the healthcare they need to thrive illegal, through not only scrubbing any mention of them in official government communication but even in the wholesale deletion of any research about them that has been funded in any way by federal grants.
But it’s not just that. The immigration raids have been highly publicized, with some elected officials requesting that they be livestreamed for their entertainment. There has been a certain glee from both the administration and many of their supporters in the executing of these policies.
As if it’s not devastating when families are torn apart. As if it’s not devastating when people are persecuted for how they look or how they embody who they are.
There’s a difference between believing a certain policy is what’s best for our country and taking glee in whatever devastation those policies create. That glee is what’s really breaking my heart. That glee isn’t a political crisis, it’s a spiritual crisis.
But this is exactly when Jesus swoops in to speak hope to me.
“Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.
“Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled.
“Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.
"But woe to you who are rich,
for you have received your consolation.
"Woe to you who are full now,
for you will be hungry.
"Woe to you who are laughing now,
for you will mourn and weep.
Now I don’t mean Jesus swoops in to speak hope in the form of a revenge fantasy. Jesus isn’t saying, “don’t worry, because the rich are gonna get theirs and it’s not going to be pleasant.” That would be akin to the cruel glee that’s been so devastating to me.
Jesus also isn’t saying that the poor and hungry and weeping are blessed BECAUSE they’re poor, hungry, or weeping. Throughout the centuries, the poor, hungry, and weeping have been told that their poverty and devastation is actually a blessing, that they are the lucky ones. It shows that they have God’s favor, but they have to wait until they die and go to heaven to get that blessing. The more one suffers in this life, the more blessing they get in the next. I don’t think that’s what Jesus means, either.
What Jesus is doing in this Sermon on the Plain in Luke is giving us a map of what the Kingdom of God looks like. And he’s saying, “y’all have got it wrong, you’ve got it turned upside down. You exclude, revile, and defame the poor and hungry, and blame them for their poverty. You take glee in their suffering. And you speak well of and celebrate the rich who hoard more than they’ll ever need or use.”
That’s not the Kingdom of God, he’s saying. That’s the kingdom you’ve created. Because in the Kingdom of God, the poor will have what they need, the hungry will be fed, and the weeping will be comforted. And if you’re used to having more than what you need, eating more than your fill, and basking in people speaking well of you for it, then the Kingdom of God is going to be a bit of an adjustment. Because in the Kingdom of God, abundance is not accumulation, abundance is everyone having what they need to thrive—no more, no less.
But of course this isn’t an either/or situation for anyone. As the SALT commentary on this passage says, “most of us will fit into both of these categories — blessing and woe — in different respects. To the extent that we find ourselves in need, or in despair, or left out, Jesus brings us words of blessing and encouragement. To the extent that we find ourselves in prosperity, or satisfaction, or privilege, Jesus brings us words of challenge, exhorting us to share God’s blessings with our neighbors, and with all of creation. These aren’t two separate ideas; they’re two sides of the same Gospel.”
Every Sunday, we are bold to say these words:
Our Creator, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy Name,
thy kingdom come,
thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. This prayer, the Lord’s Prayer, the words our savior taught us, calls us to create the Kingdom of God here. Now. As it is in heaven.
This means flipping our current world on its head: centering those who are lacking now, who are suffering now, who are weeping now. And I just want to say: it’s a person suffering deeply who delights in the suffering of others.
We are indeed in a spiritual crisis, seemingly so far away from the kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. Where the rich are making themselves richer, where an Episcopal bishop can ask the president simply to have mercy on those who are suffering, and she is mocked and attacked.
And to this I think Jeremiah’s voice cuts right through our fears and despair to the heart of the matter. Jeremiah was a prophet in the years leading up to Babylon destroying Jerusalem, and he saw his people torn away from their homes and stolen to a foreign land. Leading up to that devastation, Jeremiah kept telling the people, “you are not living the values of your faith, turn back to the teachings of the Torah, turn back to God.” For his efforts, his own people threw him into a cistern and left him to starve to death. An Ethiopian, a foreigner, rescued him.
Jeremiah told God’s people:
Cursed are those who trust in mere mortals and make mere flesh their strength.
Blessed are those who trust in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord.
The question for today then is: Where do you put your trust?
I’ll admit that so much of my despair is because I’ve put my trust in politicians, in policies, in government to save us. While obviously I do think it’s important to have a government that actually cares for the wellbeing of all its people, I’m realizing that’s not where salvation comes from.
Instead, I am finding myself slowly turning to the words of Jeremiah:
Blessed are those who trust in the Lord,
whose trust is the Lord.
They shall be like a tree planted by water,
sending out its roots by the stream.
It shall not fear when heat comes,
and its leaves shall stay green;
in the year of drought it is not anxious,
and it does not cease to bear fruit.
This is a time of drought, my friends. A time to hold fast to the upside-down Kingdom of God that Jesus preaches, to center and love and protect those who are suffering. To be like a tree planted by water, not fearing when the heat comes and not ceasing to bear fruit.
Amen.