Plain Sermon

        A few weeks ago we heard about the sermon Jesus preached at his hometown synagogue in Nazareth. We heard the text, the introduction, and points one and two, but we never got to hear point three and the poem at the end, because while he was still preaching, Jesus’ audience rose up, whisked him away, and did their best to throw him off a cliff.

        Today we get what appears to be a whole sermon – even if it is a short one, preached "on a level place," before his disciples and "a great multitude of people" who had come from far and wide. This is known as the "Sermon on the Plain" to distinguish it from the longer "Sermon on the Mount," which appears in Matthew’s Gospel. Both sermons begin with "blessings" or "beatitudes." The big difference between the two sermons is that Luke’s version also comes with "curses" or "woes."

        Clearly, Luke’s Jesus learned nothing at all from his experience in Nazareth. He persists in provoking his audience with visions of God’s kingdom, even though they have come to hear something much more palatable.

        Luke makes it pretty clear why all these people have shown up. "They had come to hear [Jesus] and to be healed of their diseases; and those who were troubled with unclean spirits were cured. And all the crowd were trying to touch him, for power came out from him and healed all of them" (Luke 6:18-19). No mystery here. They’ve come for the goodies.

        Things haven’t changed much, have they? Check the Religion Page in yesterday’s Tallahassee Democrat. All the ads say pretty much the same thing, which is, Come to our church for the goodies: good music, good preaching, useful advice to take home. If nothing else, come to get away from your children for an hour. If that’s not a blessing, we don’t know what is.

        I’ve never seen church ad in the Democrat or any other paper that reads, Come to our church to be cursed. Free parking for the damned. Be confronted with your shortcomings and go home depressed as all get-out.

        Our Outreach Council is considering a new approach. I doubt anyone will salute if we run that one up the flagpole.

        Jesus begins his sermon much like a Democrat ad. "Blessed are you folks who are poor," he says, "for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you whose stomachs are growling just now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and exclude you, and defame you on my account, for you will have a great reward in heaven. Remember, the same thing happened to the prophets before you."

        He says this to his disciples, but the crowds are there to overhear. They had come for blessings, and Jesus delivers them. The coming of God’s kingdom means food for the hungry, laughter for the weeping, reward for the faithful.

        That must have sounded like good news back then. It still does. People still pack the pews (or rather the theater-style seats) to hear that message, and who could blame them for that? Surely the gospel is still about welcoming the outcast, lifting up the brokenhearted, and wiping tears from every eye. If it weren’t, it would hardly be good news.

        If Jesus’ sermon had ended here, we’d all go away feeling soooo good. Like we’d just won the lottery, aced the FCAT, or received a whopping big tax return. We’d have received our blessings fix for the week, and gone out the door, as the hymns says, "on our way rejoicing, as we homeward move."

        But the Sermon on the Plain doesn’t end here. Jesus makes the same mistake he made back in Nazareth. He leaves off preaching and commences meddling. "Woe to you who are rich now, for you have received your consolation already. Cursed are you are full now, for hunger pains are just around the corner for you. Woe to you who are laughing all the way to bank, for you will mourn and weep. Cursed are you who enjoy sterling reputations, for there’s no surer sign of a false prophet than that."

        And now we know why it’s the Sermon on the Plain. There are no cliffs nearby off which to throw Jesus.

        The most maddening aspect of this maddening sermon is that at no point does Jesus tell us what to do. His sermon, prophetic though it be, is not in the imperative, as we might expect, but in the indicative mood.

        Jesus doesn’t say, "Stop burning fossil fuels. You’re choking up the atmosphere and warming up the globe." He says, "Cursed are you who are comfortable now, for your time is running out."

        He doesn’t say, "Quit using up more than your fair share of the world’s resources." He says, "Woe to you who laugh now, for you will mourn and weep."

        He doesn’t say, "Stop worrying about your reputation and the growth of your church." He says, "Woe to you who have good reputations. The false prophets had the same."

        Instead of telling us exactly what to do, so that we can argue with his application, Jesus describes the world from God’s perspective. The way God looks at the world, it’s the poor who deserve God’s closest attention, not the rich. It’s those who weep who need the blessings, not the fat and comfortable.

        If we’re going to be Jesus’ disciples, we need to start seeing the world the way God sees it. If we do, we’ll change. We’ll alter our lifestyles. We’ll change the way we live. We’ll rethink the mission of the church. We don’t need instructions so much as we need a new way of seeing. That’s what Jesus meant when he told the folks back in Nazareth that he had come to bring sight to the blind.

        I think it’s no accident that this so-called "Sermon on the Plain" is not addressed to the crowds per se, but to Jesus’ own disciples. The crowds in the gospels love free lunches and instant cures for what ails them. Sometimes they "get" the message about the kingdom and sometimes they don’t. The disciples, on the other hand, almost always need remedial instruction. Of all the hearers of the gospel, they seem to be the ones with the worst cases of astigmatism, nearsightedness, and, of course, presbyopia.

        Yesterday at the meeting of the Presbytery of Florida, the commissioners had to deal with (what else?) an overture regarding homosexuality. It wasn’t worded that way, of course. It’s un-presbyterian to say exactly what you mean at a presbytery meeting.

        The overture wasn’t about sex. No! It was about "Reformed polity," whatever that is. The effect of the overture was to bar gay and lesbian candidates from even being considered for ordination to the ministry of the Word and Sacraments, unless they are willing to hide or renounce their true identity.

        It wasn’t about sex. Of course not. It was about who gets blessed and who gets cursed, who is in and who is out – in the kingdom of God and in the church, which, after all, is supposed to be a window to the kingdom.

        Well, the presbyters "whereased" and "therefore-be-it-resolved." They moved and seconded and called for points of order. Most of us behaved fairly well, given the circumstances, and conducted ourselves decently and in order.

        Then it came time to vote. The overture failed by a vote of 15 to 45. Seemed as though the commissioners weren’t quite ready to draw that line big, dark line between the blessed and the cursed. I think it’s because the Holy Spirit was busy behind those "wereases" and those "therefore-be-it-resolveds," handing out corrective lenses so that we could see the kingdom just that little bit more clearly.

        If you read the Gospel of Luke carefully, you’ll noticed that Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain is almost the same sermon his mama preached shortly after he was conceived. The only difference is, Mary sang it instead of preaching it.

My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices within me . . .
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.     (Luke 1:46, 51-53)

        Blessings and curses. Beatitudes and woes. Even the curses can be good news when you’ve reason to sing along, when you glimpse the world through the eyes of Jesus Christ.