Download the sermon with footnotes here: Lucky
Picture this with me: The young preacher has been attracting quite a following. He and his pack of disciples have been travelling through the countryside. Between sermons he’s been healing the sick, making paralyzed people walk again, and generally creating a buzz throughout the area. The people he heals continue to follow him and want to hear more of his message. This is his coming out party. Previously he’d preached in local synagogues to small audiences of the faithful. But this is the big time. His miracles mean that a crowd has formed. He’s not in a synagogue but out in the open air, on a mountainside, and this is his first major public address to the masses.
He sits down, as is the custom for preachers in those days. He clears his throat. The people lean forward in anticipation. And then he says, “You’re lucky if you’re unemployed. You’re lucky if you’re clueless and confused. You’re lucky if your marriage is falling apart. You’re lucky if you’re terminally ill.”
And everybody scratches their heads and wonders what sort of craziness this is. This is the worst sermon ever. They hear these words and they wonder, what are we supposed to do with this?
This is the set-up for the Sermon on the Mount. The Sermon in Matthew is Jesus’ first recorded public teaching. He begins with a section known as the Beatitudes. The name comes from the Latin word for “blessing.” The Beatitudes are right up there with the 23rd Psalm, the Lord’s Prayer, and the Ten Commandments on the list of most highly regarded Scriptures. They’re put on bookmarks, carved into plaques, and memorized by children, and rightly so. I memorized them as a kid and my oldest daughter is memorizing them right now, every night. They are so highly known and regarded partly because of their easily identifiable format but more so because they are essential to the ethical teaching of Jesus.
Let’s read them. They’re found in Matthew 5 verses 1-12. Follow along with me as I read. (Read Matthew 5:1-12)
The word “blessed” used in these beatitudes does not refer to someone who God blesses but is probably better understood as referring to someone who is fortunate. Literally, it means “to be on the right path.” It is used of someone who is to be congratulated. To put it in plain speech is to say, “Lucky.” Lucky are the poor in spirit. Lucky are those who mourn. By any definition of any of those words we have what seems to be a contradiction. To come across someone who is grieving because their dear friend just died and to say, “Oh your friend died? Lucky!” would be considered a terrible thing to do.
So when Jesus begins his sermon with these words, more than a few eyebrows are sure to be raised. I mentioned before that the initial audience might hear a sermon like this and walk away wondering, “What are we supposed to do with that?” We might have the same response. And that, I think, is precisely the problem. We’re hearing the Beatitudes wrong if we think we’re supposed to do anything with them at all. They are not intended as positive models for who we should be. They are descriptions, not recommendations.
What I mean by that is that Jesus is not giving us this list so that we will say, “I need to be more like that.” The Beatitudes are often interpreted as the picture of the ideal Christian. This is who we should be: poor in spirit, meek, etc… Nothing could be further from the truth. This misreading is a symptom of the poor approach we’ve developed to the Bible in the first place. The way we often read the Bible is to think that Scripture is about what we are supposed to do instead of what it actually is about – who God is. Scripture is first and foremost God’s revelation of Himself to us. It tells us who God is.
The Beatitudes are not instructions on how we should try to be; they are revelation about who God is. All Christian ethics begin with who God is and the way God is. The first question should never be, “What should I be doing?” but rather, “Who is God?” The Sermon on the Mount is the major ethical teaching of Jesus and he begins not with a list of rules to try to follow but rather a description of a God who makes the kingdom of heaven available to the very people the world seems to reject. When we read this passage as anything else we quickly get off track and then the Beatitudes become a recipe for legalism, or a monument to works rather than grace, or one more reason to feel guilty for not stacking up to another set of religious requirements.
We get so turned around this way. Take the first Beatitude: Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Consider the context. Jesus has just begun his ministry. He begins it where? Not in Rome. Not in Jerusalem. Not in the corridors of power. He begins it among the oppressed, rejected, and especially, the suffering. Look at the passages preceding the Beatitudes. Start in chapter four, verse 23:
23Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people. 24News about him spread all over Syria, and people brought to him all who were ill with various diseases, those suffering severe pain, the demon-possessed, those having seizures, and the paralyzed, and he healed them.
Who is Jesus working among? What sort of people make up the crowds that are following him and listening to him as he sets forth his ethical teaching? It’s the outcasts. It’s the sick and dying, the ones with chronic pain, the demon possessed and mentally ill, the epileptics, and the paraplegics. It’s all the people who have been crushed on the wheels of life. That is what the phrase “poor in spirit” means. It refers to those who are out of options.
It’s not a good thing. Nobody should want to be poor in spirit. It would be like wishing you had inoperable late-stage cancer. It is a miserable situation that we should rightly try to avoid. But in an effort to make sense of the Beatitudes as instructions on how to be a good Christian, some people have turned the phrase “poor in spirit” into something praiseworthy as in “I just need to be poorer in spirit and then God will bless me.” To be poor in spirit is not something anyone should aspire to be. It means to be in dire straights, between a rock and a hard place. It means to be beaten, in over your head, drowning in depression, suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. The Message Bible translates the opening Beatitude as, “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope.”
That is what poor in spirit means. It means that you’re at your wit’s end. It means that you are barely holding on. This is not a condition anyone ought to aspire to. It is, however, a condition that we all may find ourselves in from time to time. It is the condition that a man suffering from uncontrollable seizures may be in during the time of Jesus. He’s been to the priests; he’s been to the doctors; he has tried absolutely everything but the seizures keep coming. He’s at the end of his rope. It is the condition that a paralyzed woman may be in during the time of Jesus. It is the condition that a sufferer of chronic migraines may find herself in during the time of Jesus. They are at the end of their ropes. This is an exact description of many people in the crowd who have followed Jesus and are now listening to this sermon. They get what Jesus is saying.
All those people can count themselves lucky not because they are in that condition but because they have just met Jesus and he has shown them the kingdom of God. It is theirs. By a touch of his hand it has been revealed to them. They get up and walk. The seizures stop. The chronic pain disappears. To all of you who were just hanging on by a thread: This is your lucky day – the kingdom of heaven is yours. This is what it’s like.
Consider further with me the context. These are not the people who have it together – quite the opposite. They are the dregs of society.1 So how do they acquire the kingdom? Not by any means you might think. These people have not dedicated themselves to holiness and Bible study. They are not the ones who are highly educated or highly paid. They don’t tithe or pray or go on short-term missions trips. They can’t seem to get their act together to do any of those things. They can’t, because life has thrown something at them that seems to completely dominate them and drown out all other concerns. They can’t really make heads or tails of everything the Bible talks about or what preachers have to say and they don’t have the time or capacity right now to figure it out. All they know is that Jesus touched them and the rule of heaven came down upon their broken lives and set them right again through their contact with Jesus. This is the luckiest day of their lives.
The poor in spirit are blessed not because they are poor in spirit but rather they are blessed in spite of the fact they are poor in spirit because that’s just who God is. They are not in an admirable state that anyone should want to be in but they are blessed anyway. That’s what God does. That’s why Jesus begins his sermon this way. It begins in God’s grace, not man’s holiness. When we are at our worst, God still opens the kingdom to us.
The key to understanding the Beatitudes is to stop taking them as recommendations. No one is told to go out and try to be poor in spirit or to mourn or to be meek. Jesus is saying instead that due to who God is and the nature of His kingdom it should come as no surprise that among those who follow are the so called “losers” at the game of life. Counted among the fortunate are those who can’t quite seem to clean themselves up, put away the bottle, get over their issues, or put off their dysfunction.
To take a survey through the rest of the Beatitudes is to see the same dynamics in play. They go from a description of a largely undesirable state to a fortunate state. Follow along with me. The second one is obvious. Clearly being in a state of constant mourning can hardly be the point. It would be foolish indeed to see the mourning Christian as the ideal Christian and that we should all try to be in mourning as often as possible. Rather, the point is that God is a God who comforts mourners. When we can’t see anything but our pain and loss – at times to the point of not even functioning – we are not excluded from the kingdom of all comfort. The kingdom of God is always in contrast to the way of the world. The world is not comfortable with mourning. We don’t know what to do or say, and often those in extended periods of mourning are eventually shunned, or even worse, told that its time to get over it and move on with life. But our God is not only comfort-able with mourners but also is comfort-ing to mourners. To be in mourning is not desirable. But God doesn’t need for us to get over it in order to come to Him.
Next come the meek. To be meek is not a synonym for humble, and it’s not necessarily a virtue. It essentially means those who will not or cannot assert themselves. It is the shy and the intimidated. The book of Numbers describes Moses as a meek man, more meek than all others. It does not mean it as a compliment. In the context it is used, it means to say that he is not able to stand up to his brother and sister when they undermine his leadership. It’s a character flaw. He is not able to take what is rightfully his – namely the leadership of God’s people which has been given him by God. God has miraculously and directly called him to lead His people. There’s nothing admirable about Moses’ inability to tell his sister and brother where they can go when they start undermining that authority. He’s too meek to follow God’s call.
The world tends to chew up and spit out those types of people. But our God is the sort of God who freely gives what cannot be forcefully taken. To a person who cannot assert himself; to one who others tend to walk all over; the Lord gives the world to. What they cannot earn they receive as an inheritance. What they do not deserve they are given by divine proclamation. They are truly fortunate.
And then there are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. This one, of course, can be seen as a virtue but the question remains, “What usually comes of a person who always desires to do the right thing or to see the right thing done?” Do they tend to get the promotion, get the girl, and get ahead in life? The Eastern religions teach karma but the Bible makes no such promises. To say that virtue is its own reward is to admit that vice has a whole list of obvious rewards of its own.
In any case, I am not so sure this is to be seen as a virtue. To be hungry and thirsty is never a good thing. It means that you are unsatisfied. The one who hungers and thirsts for righteousness is always aware of his own inadequacy. They can never be satisfied with who they are; never feel loved and accepted. They have failed too many times and want so badly to be someone they are not. Or maybe the reason they care so much for righteousness is that they’ve been wronged. They become consumed with a quest for justice. They hurt so deeply inside that the need for things to be set right gnaws at them like hunger. They are literally starving for things to be set right but are powerless to make it so. Jesus says if that miserable state of being applies to you, today is your lucky day. Apart from anything you can say or do, God will fill you. Your hunger will be satiated. It’s your lucky day.
And how about being merciful? Is turning the other cheek really such a great strategy? It tends to get you two black eyes instead of just one. Isn’t the way of the world to press your advantage, to use every ounce of leverage you’ve got over another person? Is mercy any way to run a business? No, you need to get paid. Be merciful and the world is sure to take advantage of you. It’s a Wonderful Life is a wonderful fiction. I cry every Christmas when I see that movie but it’s been my experience that life really isn’t that way. The world just doesn’t repay mercy with mercy in the way it works out for George Bailey. But for those who suffer through life for being too generous, too forgiving, too merciful – they will be given mercy in the kingdom of heaven where the world offers none. They aren’t given mercy because of their own but surely because of their good fortune to have met Jesus.
Next are the pure in heart. These are the perfectionists. They want purity so badly. They will not be satisfied with anything shy of perfection. They will constantly evaluate and assess even their own motives. They will pick apart your doctrine, your heart, and your attitude. They’d be detestable if they didn’t also do it to themselves. They are bothered by their own corruption and lack of holiness and are downright depressed when they glance around the church and see how tarnished the Bride of Christ really is.2
To be pure in heart sounds like something to desire, but to actually try to attain it results in misery. Jeremiah knew this and lamented, “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9) The pure in heart are to be pitied above all men. They seek purity in an instrument they can’t even understand and which constantly lies and misdirects them. And yet, even they will see God. Our God is the sort of God who will give relief even to those who give themselves none. What a stroke of luck for these people.
We can go on, but I think you get the point. The Beatitudes are not instructions on how to be blessed. They are not a list of the types of conditions that are pleasing to God. We like to read them that way because we like to be in control. We like law instead of grace and religion instead of relationship. If the Beatitudes are just instructions on how to get blessed, they simply become another way of trying to earn salvation and blessing and are a recipe for frustration and failure. Understood this way, they are anything but good news.
But conversely, if they are a glimpse of what God is like, then they are filled with radical hope and surprising joy. And that’s just what they are. Dallas Willard hits it right on the head when he writes, “The Beatitudes are explanations and illustrations, drawn from the immediate setting, of the present availability of the kingdom through personal relationship with Jesus. They single out cases that provide proof that, in him, the rule of God from the heavens truly is available in life circumstances that are beyond all human hope.”3
Picture that crowd again who originally hear this message. What changed for those people who were formerly crippled, diseased, and spiritually oppressed? Only one thing: They met Jesus. The Beatitudes tell us, “This is what’s possible when you meet Jesus.” Life is snatched from the jaws of death, hopeless situations are redeemed, mourning is turned to dancing, and beggars become rulers in a kingdom with no end.
The point is that no human condition excludes blessedness. Before we set out to transform our lives, live in holiness, or purify our hearts, we must begin here. It begins in grace. It begins with allowing ourselves to be reminded yet again that our tendency toward religion and legalism always gets in the way of our relationship with Jesus. Martin Luther read passages like these and decided never to develop a theology of sanctification or human holiness. He thought any such thing would lead either to despair or pride. He thought we should never aspire to be anything but a sinner, for Christ dwells in sinners. Because of the all-surpassing grace of God we’re at our most fortunate when we’re at our worst. We’re on the right path when we’ve finally come to the end of our road.
Now Luther may have gone too far, but not by much. I believe in sanctification and holiness but grace to the sinner while he is yet in his sins comes first. The Beatitudes scandalize us again with grace. They insist we get over ourselves and come to know God as God truly is. Before we undertake any sort of reclamation project upon ourselves we let God demonstrate His poor taste by loving us in our filthy condition. The beginning of right living is to know God, not to know the rules for right living.
The Beatitudes are not a list of the types of people the Lord normally blesses. They are not a strategy for achieving a better society. They are an announcement of the covenant God has made with mankind. In this covenant even the hopeless have hope. The forgotten are remembered. The lost are found. Entrance to the kingdom of heaven does not depend on what you know, what you do, or who you are. It depends exclusively on the nature and character of God.
The Beatitudes are good news. “Congratulations”, they say, “today is your lucky day! God heals the divide between you and Him and you are welcome into His kingdom.” Everything that follows in the rest of the Sermon on the Mount – again, the bulk of Jesus’ ethical and moral teaching; the stuff we often use out of context to shame people into behaving better – can only be understood against the backdrop set out by the Beatitudes. They tell us who God is. Infinitely more than rules or laws, that is the basis for Christian morality. C.S. Lewis wrote, “If you should ask why we should obey God, in the last resort the answer is, ‘I am.’ To know God is to know our obedience is due Him.”4
That’s where Jesus starts his sermon. God Is. He starts with a relationship that is absolutely dependent upon God having incredibly low standards with regards to the people He is willing to be with. That is good news for all of us. That makes every one of us extremely lucky. Let’s pray.
