Secrets

 It was said once, on a hill in Judea, “Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 6:1 NIV) Yep, that would have been the Galilean, and the sermon was on a mount somewhere, it is recorded.

 I knew a man once who still reminds me of that sermon. He owned a women’s shop in one of our state’s cities of around 10,000 population. I won’t mention his name out of respect, but I think of him often. I liked him, and I think you would have too. He volunteered for his community, helped the poor, and never uttered oaths or disparaging words. Some even euphemistically called him “a saint.” At his funeral service, the priest opened with, “The gates of Heaven opened wide this week” and not a soul in the audience would have disagreed.

 When they read his will, they found that he had bequeathed his shop to two women who had worked for him for years. He and his wife had no children. When he died, a niece and nephew flew in from Tennessee after the funeral and settled his estate, a substantial one. A friend on fixed income offered to place flowers on the grave from time to time if the kinfolks would help with the cost. They declined.

 He died some 40 years ago, but his goodness has never quit guiding me though I readily admit to falling short. What I remember was that he never talked about the good things he did. And, he never once mentioned religion other than once telling me the Catholic ladies in town were having a spaghetti supper and we should maybe go.

 Not long before he died, we talked about his wife, who passed first. I was surprised to learn that she wasn’t Catholic, but a Methodist. Each Sunday, they both dressed and went separate ways, meeting back together for lunch. When I expressed surprise, he simply said, “We never talked about it.”

 As I said, his goodness still resonates with me, not as often as I would wish, but often enough that I think it makes a difference. And that’s why that sermon of so long ago still resonates.

Persecution

 Among other things turned topsy-turvy these days is the message of the eighth blessing pronounced by the Galilean in his most famous sermon as reported by the Gospel writer Matthew. Looking over a group of people who very well might be persecuted for following him, he said,

 “Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:10 NIV)

 He was talking to a group of people who very well might have been persecuted for practicing his particular brand of righteousness. Certainly, followers within a century or so would know persecution when they became sources of entertainment for coliseum crowds. Yes, even today in some third-world countries, we hear of followers being murdered or tortured.

It has gotten to where in America, though, a self-proclaimed follower of the Galilean claims persecution when receiving a card in the mail that says, “Happy Holidays,” instead of “Merry Christmas.” That is hardly a measurable equivalent to being fed to hungry lions before a crowd.

Maybe we should work on our definition of righteousness. The Galilean mentioned it twice in his pronouncement of blessings. He first said for us to hunger and thirst for it. (Matthew 5:6) Then, as stated, he intimated that we might be persecuted for doing so. Evidently, he thought highly of it.

What is righteousness? Gosh. Who knows? Some self-proclaimed followers say it is the accumulation of money. There aren’t many things in more direct contradiction to the Galilean’s recorded words.

Some self-proclaimed followers say it consists of being born with the right physiological structure, that is to say one exactly like theirs. A person can sell a lot of chicken sandwiches by preaching that.

Some self-proclaimed followers say it consists of following the proper political candidate, even one who violates most of the strictures of our famous sermon each day before lunch. Of course, that candidate must hate the same people that the self-proclaimed follower does.

Some self-proclaimed followers simply say, “It is what it is. Trust us.” If the Galilean had listed naked honesty as a beatitude, that would tend to work, particularly if one’s father had been a famous follower.

Probably, if we read the sermon carefully, we will know what it is, at least what the speaker meant by it. Then we might come to realize that, in our modern country, the self-proclaimed followers of the Galilean are performing the bulk of the persecutions.

Yes, verily I say, our world is topsy-turvy right now.

Peace

Want to be called a child of the almighty? It’s easy. The Galilean said so on that mount so long ago—if we are to believe in the record of his life. Didn’t he say?

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”  (Matthew 5:9 NIV)

There we have it, from the written words in the document that represents, or should represent, the true belief of so many in the world. It could not be simpler. In fact, it bears repeating.

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”

Yet.

Yet.

We wouldn’t know it by viewing social media in America this morning. Some posts, written by hands that just laid the Holy Bible aside, urge us to hate and demean others who aren’t like us.

We wouldn’t know it by reading the news headlines in the legitimate news this morning. People who are sure they interpret the scriptures correctly are shooting at those who are shooting back, thinking that they interpret the scriptures correctly.

We wouldn’t know it by listening to politicians, including some at the highest level of American government, who urge us to hate and wreak vengeance upon those who place a different letter beside their political affiliation.

We wouldn’t know it if we read the words of the son of a legendary preacher of the Gospel. Though he calls himself and evangelist, hate and divisiveness drips from his mouth like poison from that of a mad dog.

We wouldn't know if from talk radio or TV. Too many hosts make money by spreading the opposite of peace.

We wouldn't know it from too many TV evangelists who find no profit in peace.

We wouldn’t know it from our relationship with friends and families. We don’t speak to many of them anymore because we differ in our interpretation of righteousness.

Perhaps we should look inward. It is said that to be peacemakers, we first must be at peace with ourselves.

That presents a problem. Whose definition of righteousness will we choose? They vary don’t they? How will we join that holy fold with so many among us who would use violence to prove they know religion best?

What was it again that the Galilean said, again? Oh yes:

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”

Peace.

The Quality Not Strained

What did the Galilean mean when he mentioned mercy? He thought highly of it, for he did say: “Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.” (Matthew 5:7, NIV)

We don’t dwell on it much these days. Many feel it is more blessed to be rich than merciful, better to win than show mercy, and better to exact revenge than forgiveness. But it is right there in one of the most prominent places in all of Christianity, the Sermon on the Mount. A trait can’t get a better endorsement than to star in The Beatitudes.

The Galilean thought highly of the trait of mercy. Why don’t so many of us?

It was a cruel and violent age during which this most famous sermon took place. Wars, conquests, crucifixions, gladiatorial spectacles, and slavery occurred without a thought of their inherent cruelty. A look at the morning news might indicate that we are headed more toward, as a society, this state than away from it. That’s why it might be important to look closely at this state of mercy.

Oddly, to show mercy, one needs to be in a position to be unmerciful. It is dissimilar to, say, the quality of love, in which the more we give, the more there is to give. Mercy means being patient with people's weaknesses, differences, shortcomings and quirks.

It is dissimilar to sacrifice, in which one might suffer in order to provide solace to another, for example when a homeless man gives his coat to another on a frigid night. Mercy means doing good to those who hurt, offend, or torment you.

 It is dissimilar to a mandate, in which one provides mercy as an exaction, say by paying taxes. Mercy means personally helping someone you know who is hurting, even though they bear no resemblance to you physically, spiritually, nationally, or socially.

It is dissimilar to reparations or judgements. Mercy means reaching out to those whom we don’t love, or those who are the most difficult to love.

It requires a direct manifestation. One doesn’t show mercy, for example, by tossing coins in a holiday pot. That shows kindness and goodness maybe, but not mercy. It requires a face-to-face transaction for which, the Galilean asserts, one will receive it back in the future.

Is it any wonder that we see it in practice so seldom, this trait of mercy? Wouldn’t it be nice to see it roll into America from the highest halls and offices? Maybe, just maybe, justice would roll along with it. That might make the Galilean happy.

"The quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes." Shakespeare: The Merchant of Venice Act IV Scene I

Q

Mourning

 The second of the Beatitudes promises happiness to those who mourn. In typical fashion, the Galilean doesn’t specify the cause of the mourning. Is it for loved ones lost to death or separation? Is it for a family beset by the bad fortunes of the times? Is it for a nation beset by seemingly insolvable calamities? Is it for a dying world?

 These days it might be for the loss of a fortune, an election, a bet, a race, or a game of sport. He just doesn’t say. What he does say is that we should be happy because we shall be comforted. Perhaps the reason he wasn’t more specific is because mourning is universal. Each of us, or at least the overwhelming majority of us, mourn, and we can discuss it.

 Yes, there are some who apparently do not mourn, primarily because they lack the ability to face reality or perhaps they were born lacking the ability of introspection, and suffer blindness of the conscience.

 And there might be some who have reached the highest level of Abraham Maslow’s “hierarchy of needs,” a state of being he called “self-actualization.” This refers to having reached the highest level of human potential. Do they mourn? Maybe they mourn the most of all, for they, like the Galilean, know the struggle toward perfection. After all, his devout followers believe in his perfection. Even so, the scriptures sometimes reveal a tortured, mourning soul.

 This is a tough passage, for Americans have so many reasons to mourn at present. In ancient terminology, we observe that the righteous perish while the wicked goeth free. It appears to us that tribulations will never cease. Should we feel blessed?

 The devout followers of the Galilean should rest happy in the knowledge that they will be comforted. The blind composer of Christian hymns Fanny Crosby reportedly said, “Blind Christians are the most blessed, because the first face they will ever see is our Lord Jesus.”

 Others may take a non-spiritual comfort from Algernon Charles Swinburne, sometimes called “the poet-laureate of the atheists,” who told wrote that “… even the weariest river winds somewhere safe to sea.”

 Then, some among us may choose to follow the Bard of Avon’s words and, “ … take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them.”

 The Galilean seems to have left it up to us. Perhaps we’ll handle it better than Hamlet did.