Purity

To be pure in heart. Oh my. If we want to struggle, let us think about that for a day get ready for a task. Does anyone think it is possible? The Galilean did, for he told us:

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.” Matthew 5:8 (NIV)

What in the wide world did he mean?

We enjoy two far distant extremes in this area today. That’s one reason we hear so little about the Sermon on the Mount except from the old mainstream churches. When the topic is mentioned, we find one extreme version claims that one must be totally pure within our thinking and actions, both internally and externally. Not surprisingly, this achievement is reserved for the one person espousing the view. Like those custom-made criteria lists that tell us what city is best in which to live, the supporters of this view maintain their own criteria that, you guessed it, prove them pure of heart and ready to see their god.

On the other extreme, there are supporters who teach that if a person supports one, and only one, of the principles the viewer holds dear, that person is not only pure of heart but appointed by the appropriate god to lead us through the wilderness of life. Politicians win elections by claiming such views.

Where does that leave the vast majority who would invoke the act of seeking purity? It is difficult to believe, simultaneously, that history has produced for us only one perfect person, but that we all must be perfect in order to see our god.

The Galilean didn’t help much. He didn’t say, “Blessed are those who strive to be pure in heart.” Nor did the say “Blessed are those who seek to be pure in heart.” No, there was no “give it your best shot” exemption in what he said.

Even President Jimmy Carter, whom most would regard as pure in heart, admitted to improper thoughts on occasion. One doesn’t have to be a muscular pool boy or naughty movie star to solicit a wayward thought, or action. Even a film concerning Mister Rogers, a model hard to surpass in this purity of heart discussion, had his wife’s character say, “He has a temper.”

How does a person cope with such a standard? Perhaps we can adopt the stance that a cleansed and purified heart is one that operates without guile, or untoward purpose. One who is pure of heart may make mistakes, or fall short of the glory, if the effort is made with righteous intent.

That still leaves out a lot of people, many in high places. But the very act of valuing purity may lead us away from the many dark caverns of impurity. As the poet Alfred Lord Tennyson once wrote, “I must lose myself in action lest I wither in despair.”

Yes, that amounts to nothing more than simple striving, but it’s better than following the impure of heart off a cliff.

Hunger and Thirst

What is it today that we hunger and thirst for in our lives? To the Galilean on that Judean mount it was righteousness.

Not power.

Not riches.

Not fame.

Not adulation.

Righteousness: Here is exactly what he had to say:

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” (Matthew 5:6 NIV)

Righteousness: What does it mean? In everyday life, the definition is:

1.     Characterized by uprightness or morality,

2.     Morally right or justifiable, or

3.     Acting in an upright, moral way; virtuous.

This may sound like a check-off list. Other early writers would link it to salvation, even claiming that it came through faith alone. We are left to ponder what exactly the Galilean meant by it.

It’s interesting that he didn’t simply say “seek righteousness.” He said, “Hunger and thirst for it.” That adds another dimension, doesn’t it? Those fail the test, it would seem, who simply display the Bible for all to see without sacrificing one “jot or tittle” of earthly fame or fortune. To hunger or thirst removes all hypocrisy and self-aggrandizement.

I like to think the Galilean was referring to what we yearn to feast upon. He refers, in other places, to what we feed ourselves and what it produces. I like to think that to “hunger and thirst” for something, righteousness included, forms our daily habits and controls our very demeanor.

Such hungering doesn’t bring much in today’s market. To understand this, we might latch onto the words of a more modern writer, John Steinbeck. He said this of a character, based no doubt on his fried Ed Rickles:

“The things we admire in men, kindness and generosity, openness, honesty, understanding, and feeling are the concomitants of failure in our system. And those traits we detest, sharpness, greed, acquisitiveness, meanness, egotism and self-interest are the traits of success.”

Equally unnerving in modern American society is the lack of positive role-models who would teach us to hunger and thirst for righteousness. They exist but are outmaneuvered and out-shouted by the anti-righteous cadres. In fact, some seem to worship evil because it sounds bold and trend setting. This bodes poorly for our youth. We read this dire warning from another writer of the last century:

“How shall the love of God be understood by those who have been nurtured in sight only of the greed of man?” - Quoted from an unnamed source in “How the Other Half Lives” by Jacob Riis.

Passions

 We don’t celebrate meekness in our culture these days. We celebrate assertiveness, except on occasion in children and always in women. Even in these cases, we don’t seek meekness as much as blind obedience. We prefer our men on the prideful side. Why then, did the Galilean place the following early in the Sermon on the Mount?

 Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

 Was he advocating legions of zombie-like followers, bland and obedient, willing, and malleable? Perhaps, instead, he realized that true meekness more closely resembled the reining in of a wild horse, a situation in which power, true power, was harnessed and passions lay under control, to be guided to some good end. Didn’t the law that he claimed to have come to fulfill already offer a guide? Proverbs 16:32 states "Better a patient person than a warrior, one with self-control than one who takes a city."

 Well there we go. To be meek is not to be weak. Leave assertive bravado to those who would pattern their lives, and leadership, after a professional wrestling star on a television show. Leave obsession with greatness to actors, athletes, and politicians. The Galilean would tell his followers later, in Matthew 11:29. “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (NIV) If that is not a call to meekness, what is?

Perhaps the Galilean realized that the power of restraining passions in favor of meekness lay in the effect that power might have when released while under control. Hence the lasting power of his own sermon on that lonely hill. Abraham Lincoln knew that. Martin Luther King, Jr. knew that. The late John Lewis knew that. Eleanor Roosevelt and Rosa Parks knew it.,

 Their world struggled, still does, against the believers of pure power. At stake is not only the fate of our country, but likely the fate of the entire planet. The Galilean says that the meek shall inherit the earth. But will that earth be a charred, smoking ruble, or a new Garden of Eden? I think the Galilean left it up to his followers to decide. I think he left the gift of the Sermon on the Mount as a guide, hoping that some leader would, at some distant time, would hold it high while leading the world out of darkness.

                                                

Poor in Spirit

 What could better guide our lives during these divisive times than The Sermon in the Mount? What better way to describe its use in our daily lives? How could we live a better life than by using the lessons of this short sermon as our spiritual GIS device” Unfortunately a term from our attorney sisters and brothers comes to mind. They speak of practices followed “more in the breach than in the observance.”

As a test, consider the opening lines of the sermon:

Now when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, 2 and he began to teach them. He said:“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:1-3 NIV)

It is one of those passages that has puzzled readers for years. This becomes more apparent when Luke, believed by most scholars to have followed Matthew in writing his gospel, phrased it in this manner:

“Looking at his disciples, he said: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.” (Luke 6:20 NIV)

Some have suggested that Luke may have “cleaned and clarified” the original statement. The practice of aides or associates performing such censorship of problematic utterances of leaders is certainly not lost on modern Americans.

Of course, it could have been the other way around.

At any rate, Matthew’s account resounds not in spite of, but because of, its literary elegance. Considering Luke’s version, though, we might first seek a definition of the word “poor.” Two common terms we find associated with it are “scarcity,” and “marginalized.” The first poses no problem. The second rings to this very day as those without the power purchased through wealth are much ignored and disempowered. This includes the ability to control things, or take individual control of one’s destiny.

It applies to spiritual matters as well. It would be nearly two centuries after the Galilean spoke before Johannes Gutenberg and Martin Luther would combine to make personal reading and interpretation of the gospels possible. Until then, common folks would live with, yes, a scarcity of spirit. Somehow, we forgot that wandering rabbi on a desolate hill in Judea wishing blessings on the most marginalized and preaching for a wholeness in life.

Why were those suffering from spiritual bankruptcy blessed? Maybe the Galilean realized that such spiritual poverty removed all obstacles existing between a person and righteousness on the lonely road of life. That is an interesting thought in these times when we find ourselves deluged with teachings from one end of the political divide that personal economic poverty is the fault of the person and the poor deserve no blessings as a result. They deserve, instead, to wallow in scarcity.

Sad also is the prevalent feeling from the opposite end of the political divide that once a sinner, always a sinner. Even a life of redemption and goodness cannot cancel one sin. Even declaring spiritual bankruptcy, removing the barriers to righteousness, and choosing a new path are not sufficient to gain the kingdom of heaven.

The Man on Efficiency

The Sermon on the Mount causes a great deal of puzzlement. One of the most severe instances involves some of our most prevalent emotions. The Galilean certainly goes against much of our modern sentiment when, partway through this most famous sermon, he throws us this moral curve:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.” (Matthew 5:38-42 NIV)

This passage could equally inspire the “Defund the Police” crowd and the “Don’t take a knife to a gunfight” one. The first could say, “See who agrees with us? Be righteous.” The second could say “See what the weaklings want you to believe? Be afraid.” There is a third group, one believing in simple explanations, whose adherents would say, “His ways ain’t our ways. Be content.”

I’m not sure what the Galilean would say. He was more involved in preaching than in explaining. He leaves us much to figure out for ourselves.

Those for whom none of the foregoing responses suffice might view the passage from an “efficiency expert’s” view. Just imagine the time we waste in life dwelling on retribution and revenge, hoarding our possessions, thinking of how to avoid the unavoidable, or figuring ways to avoid sharing wealth. It might "free up a lot of our time" as the man in the TV commercial says.

What might we do with that time? We'll have to read the rest of The Sermon for that.

May I Be Your Neighbor

While watching a film based on the life if the late Fred Rogers, yes “the” Mr. Rogers, I couldn’t stop thinking about the Sermon on the Mount. From what we know of films and biography, few modern Americans lived a life more in harmony with those words attributed to the Galilean some 2,000 years ago than that simple television star of modern times.

As for us mere mortals, living these demanding scriptures is difficult in the Facebook age. Just look at the first examples following the glorious Beatitudes.

“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot. (5:13 NIV)

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven. (5:14-16 NIV)

These constitute the famous “salt and light” sections of the Sermon. They fall directly upon the listeners and reflect precisely what the Galilean expects of his followers. They have garnered much attention and analysis over the years, including opinions regarding just how much light a household lamp of the era produced. We shan’t go into such detail here. Suffice it to say that he expected much from us.

Salt is a strange analogy, carrying a dual function in our physical world. It forms both a necessity of life and flavor to what may be a bland or troublesome existence. What if we viewed ourselves in this manner? How would we act if we truly felt that every moment of our waking life might bring continued hope and a blessing of seasoning to a troubled soul? Do our posts on social media, for example, reflect such a sublime responsibility?

Similarly, do we post items in order that our light may “shine before others,” and reflect our good deeds? The same source quoted in the Sermon also cautions us about judging others, so we had best limit our analysis conclusions to our own actions and leave others to their own thoughts.

Let us just conclude that these are troubled times and the strictures of the Sermon pose huge challenges in compliance. One man made the effort, though, and there are countless others we could name who have risen to the challenge. In selecting names, we would surely fail in the test of inclusion, so let us rest content with the one life mentioned at the beginning.

The Galilean gave his followers a “rough row to hoe,” as they say in my part of the country. They don’t pose the easiest path to follow. Maybe as a beginning effort, we can stop short of saying, “What would he do?” As a more achievable effort, we might just say, “What would Mr. Rogers do?” He sure made it look easy.

Cause and Effect

As inspiring as the message of the Sermon on the Mount is, we are at last forced to consider why the crowd came to hear it. We should also consider its lasting effect. Neither will cheer us on this bright Sunday morning.

The disciples came because it was their duty. The Galilean had chosen and assembled them soon after he withstood his temptations. It seemed their duty, more or less, to sit near him on that Judean hill. Followers follow.

As for the crowd, we don’t know. Their motives may not have withstood detailed scrutiny. Matthew reports that, after choosing his disciples, the Galilean:

“… went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people. News 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. Large crowds from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea and the region across the Jordan followed him.” (4:23-25 NIV)

There’s the rub. Even in today’s society, it wouldn’t be hard to draw a crowd by performing miracles, especially ones aimed at curing medical malformities. Sadly, one can draw crowds in modern society by simply promising miracles. Our most intriguing example is of one who expands this theory to the maximum. He promises miracles, fails to perform them, and uses lies (false witness) to disguise the failure to his true believers. Further, when science offers a miracle-like solution to an epic problem, he disparages the very actions need to make it work. His followers make disobedience to truth a bedrock act of acquiescence. Paraphrasing a line from an epic American film, they scream, “We don’t need no stinkin’ facts.”

That brings us to the question of loyalty. As for the Galilean, it seems to have been, at least in contemporary measure, what some describe as “a mile wide and an inch deep.” Some of the same folks who gathered with great hope on the Mount, may have been in the crowd that screamed for the Galilean’s blood when it appeared that his miracle-performing days were over.

Contrast that with our modern example whose followers seem not only unphased by his shortcomings but virtually emboldened by them.

“What does it mean” we might ask ourselves. Is there some hidden genetic trigger that guides us more fervently to greet, avarice, hate, and destruction than to the opposite attractions of love, peace, forgiveness, and righteousness?

Does it mean the virtues expressed in The Sermon are no longer pertinent in American life? After all, those prophets who call themselves “evangelicals” never mention The Sermon and seem, by all their actions, to eschew the very notions expressed in the Beatitudes. They turn instead to the cruel dictates of the older biblical texts. They even form cruel nicknames for the dwindling group of believers who still find “The Blessings” exalting.

What would we say if, somehow, the Galilean were to ask us, in modern parlance, to “review” his most famous sermon?

Perhaps it would be a good idea for each of us raised in a Christian culture to spend some time pondering that question.

How low? How high?

One way to view the Sermon on the Mount is vertically, or by height and depth. We live in a time during which the moral “limbo bar” has been lowered to the ground and we seem to be excavating to descend it further.

The Galilean on the other hand, created a bar that was not a measurement of the depth of depravity, but a test of our ability to ascend to righteousness. In other words: a tall moral measurement.

When he tells us, for example, to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us, it is, as we Southerners would say, “A hard row to hoe.” He’s asking us to leap pretty high. How many would make the effort these days when people tend to see the characteristics of good and evil so clearly—diametrically opposed as they may be.

He equates “lust-think” with the actual act of adultery. The concept of lustful impulses remains, however, one of the most solid bedrock principles of modern advertising. In modern mythology, some of us can not only get away with pronounced lust, we receive great rewards for it.

Perhaps the most difficult of the Sermon’s exhortations, at least for many of us, is that which urges us not to store up for ourselves treasures on earth. Some of the worst transgressors here are men and women clothed in their self-sewn cloaks of righteousness who flit to and fro upon the Earth while claiming to speak for “God.”

They don’t mention the Galilean a lot, never his most famous sermon.

Anyway, he despairs over divorce except in cases of adultery, yet we live in age in which modern churches proudly advertise special classes for divorced singles.

What are we to think? Anglican clergyman and theologian. R. F. Browning summed the opposing views about The Sermon clearly.

“On the one hand are those (predominantly Catholic) who have regarded them as commands

to be taken as they stand; for with the help of divine grace, they are able to be put into practice, at any rate by those with a special vocation to do so, such as members of religious orders. Others (mostly Protestant) have regarded the sermon as giving ideals to be striven towards; for a requirement to love as God loves (5: 46) is an impossible demand for perfection (Matt. 5: 48) which accuses the readers of their imperfections and which already Luke in his version (6: 36) modifies to the more practicable command to be merciful as God is merciful.” -  "Sermon on the Mount." In A Dictionary of the Bible.”

As we ponder the imponderable, it is instructive for us to remember that the Galilean didn’t require proof of loyal party membership by his listeners. He spoke to disciples, the rich, the unwashed, Jews, Romans, and Gentiles alike. Perhaps he intentionally left it to each individual to whether that person would strive for the heights or wiggle as far as possible into the depths of depravity and despair.

That is where we find ourselves this fine Sunday morning in America. It is our destiny to think. The Galilean set the limits of our yearning. A modern motivational guru, Dale Carnegie finessed the message when he said. “Two men looked out from prison bars, one saw the mud, the other saw stars.”

That is the challenge of modern life. Do we see a bar over which we may climb to seek righteousness or a bar designed to measure how far we may sink down and away from it?

Pondering the Imponderable

As one who professionally deals with policy analysis and the regulatory process, I always stand in awe of the simplicity employed by the Galilean in the Sermon on the Mount. You need to go no further than his opening line, the first Beatitude.

 “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:3 NIV)

Close your eyes and you can just hear the modern analysts having a go at it.

“Did he mean the poor, or the poor in spirit? Which source has it right, Matthew or Luke? Should the text include a disclaimer section?”

“Did he mean all of the “blessed” or a statistically pure population sample?”

“We need to add an exceptions section. Are Muslims included? Lonely prostitutes? Sexually confused teenagers? Methodists?”

“We need to define the word ‘spirit.’ Is it a measurable phenomenon or a simply a linguistic guide?”

“Is the kingdom of heaven theirs alone or will they share it with the others? Do we need an organizational chart?”

“Is there one kingdom of heaven or several? We may need mapping.”

“Will the statistical definitions of ‘poor’ change over time or are they fixed?”

"Have we fully established provenance?"

“If the term ‘blessed’ translates into ‘happy,’ what are the definable characteristics of same?

“Let us consider the contextual implications.”

“Does ownership include control over?”

“Is there a legally defensible definition of ‘heaven’ we can use?”

“Has anyone checked the translation from the original English in the King James Version?”

And so it goes. His simplicity seems to breed confusion and spawn difficulty in acceptance. He might as well have told us not to get divorces, to forgive our enemies, or to quit loving money.

Unseen Righteousness

Whooda thunk it? This sets up one of the lesser followed statements recorded in the so-called Sermon on the Mount. (It was first given this title by St Augustine about 392 CE). It concerns the oft ignored concept of undetectable fasting. The Galilean tells us

“When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” (Mathew 6:16 NIV-17)

During the Sermon, he shifts between the indicative form and the imperative. The indicative mood is a verb form that makes a statement or asks a question. (See: The Beatitudes). The imperative mood is a grammatical mood that forms a command or request.

Here he is commanding, not illustrating. Does that mean he was particularly adamant, or simply illustrating a path to, as opposed to a standard for, righteousness? This forms a dilemma for us in these troubled days. Is it more proper, in the face of social injustice, to be seen on the streets as a supporter of good, or to be alone with our thoughts of how we might bring about  one act of righteousness to those deserving of our love?

The Galilean may not tell us. Those who truly believe he walked this planet some 2,000 years ago must rely on his words then, as recorded. Or will he speak to us in our solitude and contemplation? Who knows? One may hope, but one must also look.

I remember reading once, years ago in my formative years, the account of a man who died in a town somewhere in America. He was not famous. He was not part of society. He had never received awards of public accolades. He had no family and no apparent friends who came to “hang out” with him. He was just a speck on the Mount Everest of history.

Then a strange thing happened. At his funeral, people began to arrive, first as singles, then as couples, then as droves. The Church became filled and officials had to change the arrangement. It seemed to those present that every adult in town came to the last rites of this nondescript brother. The whole affair appeared bizarre at best.

Then those there started talking to one another. It became apparent that this simple and unassuming man had accomplished at least one act of kindness to everyone with whom he came in contact. Moreover, the acts occurred in private and without a sharing. Unseen and unknown they were. Are mowing yards, fixing faucets, comforting the bereaved, a friendly word to a lonely person, an act of social acceptance—all these and more—acts of humanitarian fasting, even if no one is watching?

Yes. I think the Galilean speaks to us if we listen. One can almost hear his voice echoing through the halls of time, perhaps in a modern indicative parlance, as he watched this gathering of the unaware: “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Choices

As I write this, America finds itself tested and the outcome remains unclear. The current situation may be a bump on the road to salvation, or it may be the end of homo sapien rule. The results of years of simmering distrust, even hatred of our own brothers and sisters, is exploding like a volcano kept too long under pressure. The culmination of more than three years of practiced divisiveness is spewing forth the results of seeking political gain through social distrust.

We find ourselves only wondering what the Galilean would say. Maybe our concentration on the Sermon on the Mount can guide us.

 Of the many dichotomies that he set forth in that brief sermon was the difference between righteous and unrighteous behavior. Perhaps that was why he began with a listing of those things that should make us blessed, or happy in the thought of eternal reward for worldly sacrifice and effort.

How did the forces of evil come to govern while claiming it is being done in his name? One wonders. It hasn’t come from the Galilean. He was pretty clear, if pretty demanding, about righteous and unrighteous behavior. For example:

Men can’t divorce their wives just because a younger woman sashays by. We sin even when we succumb to thoughts of sin. We must reconcile and show love with our enemies. What’s worse, we must even show forgiveness and forego revenge. We should consider what we think are our treasures and where we should store them. (Hint: It’s not money.) We should not worry. Some say he meant unnecessarily, but that isn’t what he was recorded as saying.

Those are some tough spiritual rows to hoe.

Some righteous edicts should be easier. We should help the needy in secret, likewise for praying. We should not look somber when we sacrifice, or fast. As for looking somber when we sacrifice, would that include waving our guns in the air and threatening violence. Some strictures are going to be difficult for a select crowd.

Others should be downright simple. He tells us that unless our righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law—the Franklin Grahams and Kenneth Copelands of the world—we will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven. Being more righteous than the spiritual “leaders” that now frequent the halls of government is a “piece of cake upside down.”

But overall, the Galilean knew it wouldn’t be easy, this seeking of righteousness stuff. He warned:

“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.” (Matthew 7: 13-14 NIV)

Is it all worth it? Evidently many don’t think so. Some do, however. They find comfort in a favorite passage of those who legitimately seek righteousness. It reads:

“The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness! (6:22-23)

Blessings

Are we abandoning the concept of gracious blessings in our national dialogue? A look at The Sermon on the Mount, as contrasted with modern America, would suggest so. The contrast is particularly stark when we select the Beatitudes. These form the exordium, or introduction to the Sermon from which this most important Christian constitution flows. Why did the Galilean use them so?

He knew. We guess.

The concept of gracious blessings is not particularly new in Hebrew or Greek genres. We read in Psalm 1:1−2: “Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers, but whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and who meditates on his law day and night.” (NIV) Luke, of course has his own version of the Beatitudes. Some say Matthew expanded and edited these, most notably perhaps in adding the modifying “in spirit” to the blessing of the poor.

At any rate, we don’t do much meditating in our nation these days. The advent of spurious but addictive “news” outlets and social media seems to have replaced our reflective time and practice.

Neither are we content with the promise of future blessings based on our righteous behavior at present. The current worldwide health crisis brings that home to us daily. We can only guess how the Galilean would react to his armed and angry children who refuse to protect the least of his children, or a national leader who exhorts the mob instead of comforting those who mourn. We sit on the edge of global annihilation and pray for a peacemaker. But none comes. 

In fact, one could make a sound argument that, for more than a third of Americans, the Beatitudes and much of the remainder of the Sermon provide nothing more than a contra-constitution for guiding daily life. They provide only nauseous rules that bless the most obnoxious segments of society, and should be shunned and strewn from out path. We do tend to elect politicians that promulgate that philosophy.

Some scholars have argued that the content of the Sermon, demanding to the maximum as ordained by the Galilean, was intended as guidance for his disciples and not as structures for the average person.

We’d best hope so.

Seekers

My reading of The Sermon On The Mount most recently focused on the present historical context. Imagine being on that hillside with the Galilean.

Just imagine.

There are a number of possible reasons for your presence.

You might be a disciple, one of the chosen ones. Your attendance, in that case, was more or less mandatory. If you are expected to help spread the message, you’d best learn it first-hand.

You might be there for personal reasons. You may have heard that this mysterious stranger had been going around healing the sick and that bunion was beginning to bother you.

You might have been curious. News probably travelled quickly in that region of the world.

You might have been a pharisee coming to check out the competition.

You might have been a politician thinking that this fellow’s followers might be a good group to latch onto.

You might have been a seller of goods attracted to any crowd that might make you rich.

Your boss might have sent you.

You might have heard that this stranger hated the Samaritans as much as you did.

You might have slipped in to seek righteousness, disguised, in order to avoid the wrath of your neighbors and the ruling elite.

Whatever the reason, the Galilean gave you a bitter pill to swallow. Can you imagine the chill you might have felt when he said the following?

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

Oh hell.

That’s when the crowd might have thinned.

The Great Reversal

In a rather strange way, America may now be aligning itself with The Sermon on the Mount. One might say, “in a strange way” for it took a crisis of epoch proportions to catalyze the phenomenon. We may not see it again soon. It emanates from the Beatitudes, but is not limited to those profound pronouncements.

What is this Great Alignment?  Why grows from the common theme of reversal of values. It is not an uncommon one in either religion or literature. The Galilean himself would later say, in Matthew 20:16, "So the last will be first, and the first will be last." (NIV) More recently, author John Steinbeck observed, in remembering his friend Ed Ricketts, “The things we admire in men, kindness and generosity, openness, honesty, understanding and feeling are the concomitants of failure in our system. And those traits we detest, sharpness, greed, acquisitiveness, meanness, egotism and self-interest are the traits of success.”

And then we have the Beatitudes, perhaps the most wonderful expression of the reversal in values ever expressed in western literature. They would foretell the later advice that, “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” (Matthew 25:40 NIV)

Yes, one could argue that America had drifted out of harmony with the teachings of The Sermon, or the teachings of the Galilean for that matter. Leaders mocked the poor in spirit, the peacemakers, the meek, and those out of harmony with the ruling elite, right on down the line. Those who achieved both their success in life and their worldly fortune from a slap on the rear by a pediatrician received praise, envy, and even worship. Those who rose by bearing false witness were rewarded. We even bore some into the highest seats of power. Those laboring in our fields by day or fleeing from vicissitudes which they had no role in instigating were reviled, shunned, and even imprisoned. The world was, as we say, “in sixes and sevens,” or great humanitarian disorder.

That has changed, hasn’t it?

It isn’t the hedge-fund managers or “trust-fund babies” for whom those laudatory aircraft were flying in formation for yesterday, was it? No, it was those we see teeming with love and grace when we peel back the pages of The Sermon on the Mount.

I think the Galilean would be pleased. Others not so much.

Opposites

 Who was this man on the Judean hill, and who opposes him? Perhaps he could be described in one manner by examining some reactions to what he was teaching.

One doesn’t venture far into a study of the Sermon on the Mount without encountering the word Christology. Simply stated, it means the branch of Christian theology relating to the person, nature, and role of Christ, the Galilean.

With many writers it isn’t simple a study of the man’s life as presented by the writers of the gospels. It descends further, involving the dialectic between the lessons of the Galilean and the stance of those who reacted those lessons. Those reactions vary.

Author Leo Tolstoy, trapped in an unhappy marriage, found solace in the Sermon. In the words of Alexandre Christoyannopoulos, Greek author, lecturer, and Christian pacifist, Tolstoy, at one point in his life, became horrified at the thought that “that life seemed to have no meaning if death was guaranteed to follow.” He even contemplated suicide before turning to a study of religion. As Christoyannopoulos describes the experience of Tolstoy’s seeking of a meaning to life:

“Then came the breakthrough. He observed that the peasants around him—which as a proud aristocrat he had hitherto overlooked—seemed to approach death with calm and serenity. But why? What was it that helped them remain so serene in the face of the apparent futility of life? Tolstoy realised that what they had was ‘faith’. This intrigued Tolstoy, yet it also gave him hope. So he plunged into the Bible with renewed enthusiasm, in the hope that the meaning of life would finally be disclosed to him – and this time, it was.”

Tolstoy evidently found that the teachings in the Sermon, seemingly so antithetical to harmony and success in life, could lead to a perfect state if followed.

Friedrich Naumann, a German liberal politician and Protestant parish pastor is reported to have said that the teachings of the Sermon were incompatible with capitalism. It’s hard to argue with that.

Consider as well the messages polluting our senses from the current mob of “pray for pay” theologians. If one can call their spewing a philosophy, it is one that cannot be more in contrast and opposition to that of the Galilean.

What government today would last upon a policy of not resisting evil, but forgiving it? Indeed, one might eventually come to regard the teachings of the Sermon on the Mount as a body of righteous teachings employed in a cosmic struggle with the forces of everyday life. Perhaps that is why hear so little of them voiced from either the pulpits or the halls of government.

It has taken a crisis of enormous proportions for us to see, as Tolstoy saw, where power derived from principles such as the Galilean espouse may be found. It is being manifested by those whom the inhabitants of Manhattan skyscrapers would call “America’s peasants.” They are finding peace and meaning to life by tending those whom the Galilean would later call, “The least of those among us.” Their lights are shining so brightly that they drown the howling of the hyenas.

It's hard, yes

Was the Galilean just being sarcastic on that hillside in Judea? That seems to provide an excuse today for many things we don’t want to hear. He said, for example, “But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment.” (Matthew 5:22, NIV) Did the really mean that? Tough? Demanding? Yes.

He didn’t stop there. He continued, “Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, ‘Raca,’ [An Aramaic term of contempt] is answerable to the court. And anyone who says, ‘You fool!’ will be in danger of the fire of hell.”

“But,” we say, “Using that sermon as a guide to life is hard.” Oh yes. It forces one to determine just how badly they want to be a follower of the Galilean. Claiming sanctuary in the sanctity of The Sermon is a bit difficult, no doubt, for a man enjoying his third marriage while valuing riches above all other treasures and saying "Raca" to anyone who doesn’t follow his every footstep. Provisions of The Sermon are nothing, if not demanding.

“But,’ we say, “Isn’t it possible to be a good disciple by choosing some other passages? There are plenty of passages in Paul’s letters by which we can easily eke through life. Besides, he lets us hate the ones we want to hate."

Paul was Paul and the Galilean was the Son of God. He said so himself. When the road gets rocky, “who you gonna call?”

“But,” we say, remembering something we heard once, “Isn’t the code of The Sermon more what you call guidelines than actual rules?”

One of the most interesting ironies of modern Christianity resides in how quickly we can go from “The Bible says it and I believe it,” to “That’s taken out of context.” It is particularly prevalent in political circles since religion can be softened, twisted, obfuscated, and selectively re-mastered for political gain. That’s probably why the founders of the Union chose to separate religion and politics. To date, for example, no politician has ever counseled inserting The Beatitudes into the U.S. Constitution.

Perhaps we amuse the Galilean, but it’s doubtful that he was simply being sarcastic on that obscure hill. In more modern times, England’s Henry II voiced his famous “Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?” Thomas Beckett learned, and since then we have all known, that the mutterings of a leader have consequences. Ask the Europeans. Not many words have been more profound, though stiffened by challenge, as our Sermon on the Mount. The fact that they are so largely ignored in today’s America in no way diminishes their power, notwithstanding their difficulty, the presence of alternative guides, or a belief that they were simply suggestions.

There is no doubt that the Galilean threw his followers a challenge, but sarcasm?

No.

Acceptance

It’s hard to read the Sermon on the Mount in today’s environment. You get the feeling that America has drifted as far away from the spirit and intent of the world’s most famous sermon as it can get.

And I’m not talking about the freethinkers, non-religious, agnostics, secular humanists, or even atheists. The ones I know generally follow the advice of the Galilean by being more righteous say that a Franklin Graham, Joel Osteen, or Kenneth Copeland.

I’m talking about those who wear their religion on their sleeves while spouting their hatred into your face. They do love their cliches and explanations.

Let’s take and early example, Matthew 5:3. It’s reported that the Galilean simply said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit.”

Huh? If we take the most common translation of the Greek word for “blessed,” it means “happy.” So, we are supposed to be happy to be poor in spirit? Worse still, are we supposed to be, as it is stated in Luke, happy to be poor, period?

Let’s look at extremes. Perhaps an overabundance of spirit could be considered improper. That might make you judgmental even. One might, on becoming too filled with the spirit, attempt to filch the privilege of judging others from the Almighty himself.

Or one might become a pompous ass from an overabundance of spirit, following no rules of decent behavior except those that support greed, power, and self-aggrandizement.

Or one might become a follower and worshiper of a pompous ass, giving them an authority that is the very foundation of destruction.

One might even believe and become accepting of the evil spewing and deeds of a pompous ass.

It’s starting to come clear now. If we are poor in something, we are like an empty, or partially empty, vessel with room to grow in acceptance of grace. Could that be the point at which the Galilean was aiming?

It certainly is better than the explanation offered by a theological representative of the group we refer to now as the “one-percenters.” He said one should be happy to be poor on Earth, that is, not to resent those who are rich here. You will be rich in heaven and that should be enough.

More righteous than the pharisees. Yeah. 

Change

The Sermon on the Mount came early in the Galilean’s recorded ministry. He delivered it, we are told, shortly after he met John the Baptist, overcame the temptations, and chose his disciples. The message he delivered was new. One can almost see the shaking of heads among a crowd accustomed to ritualistic services performed by an exalted and unapproachable priesthood.

Here was a young man, in his thirties, simple in appearance but commanding in stature, laying out a strict moral code and teaching them not only how to pray, but where to pray, to whom, and for what. Spoiler alert: It wasn’t for money. Oh, and their righteousness had to outdo that of the priests. To be happy, one should be poor in spirit, meek, pacific, and so forth, every attribute so denigrated by many so-called Christians. And it would be best for you to keep that little light shining all the way. There must have been some squirming on that hillside.

 The exact location of the most famous sermon ever recorded remains unknown. One possible site is called the “The Mount of the Beatitudes.” A church sits there, known as "The Church of the Beatitudes.”

That’s a bit ironic for Americans. A church by that name wouldn’t attract a lot of members these days.

Reason

There’s a saying heard often in my profession that it provides situations in which two people, each with honest intent, can review the same set of facts and come to diametrically opposed conclusions. In other words, there are situations in which reasonable people can and do differ in their opinions.

Today, untold numbers of people will make decisions that couldn’t differ more in logic or potential results. We are suffering from a world-wide condition in which exposure to others is bound to increase—greatly increase—our being exposed to, and contracting, a fatal virus. Some will abide by the warnings of science and stay home behind closed doors, enhancing their chances for survival. Others won’t.

Only a minuscule portion of those on both sides of the prospect have ever read, or put much thought into the Sermon on the Mount. The odd thing is that if each person were to read it, they would more than likely use the Galilean’s sermon on that Judean hill to justify their behavior.

After all, he did say, as reported in Matthew 6:25-34 (NIV):

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[a]?

“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

There you go. Couldn’t be clearer. We don’t need no stinkin’ advice from physicians or scientists. We are protected as surely as the fowls of the air are protected. Let’s all gather up and go to church.

But wait, comes the advice from another. He didn’t advise the fowls of the air to go seeking the hungry hawk as an act of righteous defiance. In fact, he asked us to, in 6:33 (NIV) “… seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” First things first, they caution. Oh, and didn’t he, just before coming to The Mount, rebuke the Dark One with "It is also written: 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test?'" (Matthew 4:7 NIV)

And they will add, just in case we don’t get the message, that our most honored apostle of the faith will, years in the future, caution his flock in First Corinthians 10:9, (NIV): "We should not test Christ, as some of them did--and were killed by snakes."

What’s a person to think? Maybe this: The Galilean felt his Lord had given us a brain to use. Might he smile to see us trust it?

Self-Control

Some say the Galilean understood the strictures that he outlined on the Sermon on the Mount were unachievable. They were stark. There’s no doubt of that. If we grant that “thinking is sinning,” we have to anticipate falling short. If we imagine cutting off a hand if it sins, we cringe. We have brothers and sisters whom it is hard to love. Many pray for riches and power as opposed to forgiveness for their sins, sins that they don’t even admit.

In short, we fall short. About half the marriages in the United States end in divorce. Some individuals achieve more than one. Of those, some are even deemed holy and righteous by their followers.

Professor  Francois P Viljoen observed, “When considering Matthew’s use of the word ‘righteousness’, it appears to describe one of the primary actions or virtues expected from the community.”

We could interpret that to mean that they are what the Galilean expects from us and what we should inspect for within our own hearts. What we find there will tell us what we know about our place in history. Our soul mirrors our actions, not our intentions, claims, or accolades. We must “self-police.” He spelled out a constitution for a righteous life there on the side of that hill and left us to live by it as we choose.

That is an area in which the messages of the Old Testament and New Testament depart in basic theology. Old Testament transgressors found themselves struck by lightning, drowned, consumed by a sudden fire, swallowed into the earth, or allowed to die in battle. A jealous and vengeful god communicated quite clearly to those who had lost favor. Judgement came fast in the form of either retribution or prophetic condemnation.

The Galilean more or less leaves it up to us. As the southern people of our country say, “That’s a tough row to hoe.” Self-control is not one of Americans’ strong points. That prompted Ralph Waldo Emerson, almost two thousand years later, to observe, “What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say.” We must, then, take responsibility, no matter how difficult it seems.

These contemplations have commented on how we are commanded to be more righteous than our leaders. That wasn’t hard back when the Galilean spoke and it’s not hard now. But woe to us, we not only must rise above those who claim leadership, but above the worst impulses of our own nature.

Where do we find guidance?

Thankfully, we have the Beatitudes, no matter now embarrassing they may be to some who call themselves holy.