Blessings and Curses
Sixth Sunday After the Epiphany
For those of us who are used to reading Matthew’s version of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, some of the differences we find in Luke’s account can be somewhat glaring. For starters, Luke tells us that Jesus didn’t speak these words from a mountain or even a hillside, but that he “came down with them and stood on a level place.” This shouldn’t necessarily be seen as a contradiction, but an opportunity for each of these writers to frame Jesus’ role as teacher in a different way. If Matthew presents Jesus as a new Moses, ascending the mountain to deliver a new understanding or fulfillment of God’s covenant law, Luke, from the beginning of this gospel, has been intent on situating Jesus among the lowly, the poor, the marginalized members of his society, and the fact that he speaks these words in a level place, among the people, rather than from on high, seems significant in light of this perspective.
Beyond the question of where Jesus was standing when he spoke these words, however, one of the most obvious, even unsettling differences between Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount and Luke’s Sermon on the Plain comes right here at the beginning, in the presentation of the Beatitudes. Most often, we understand the Beatitudes as statements of blessing, a series of promises bound up with the Kingdom of God, issued by Jesus to the poor in spirit, to those who mourn, to the meek, and to other neglected and overlooked people and communities who, Jesus says, are in line to receive good things from the hand of God. Theirs is the kingdom of Heaven. They will inherit the earth. They will be called children of God. Matthew’s opening to the Sermon on the Mount, found in chapter 5 of his gospel, lays out these promises in a way that makes us want to listen to everything that will follow, offering a vision of a world turned upside down.
To be fair, Luke also provides us with Jesus’ words of blessing here at the start of the Sermon on the Plain. Jesus’ list is more concise here—blessed are you who are poor, blessed are you who are hungry, blessed are you who weep, blessed are you when people hate you, exclude, you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. And, as has often been commented, Jesus’ list here is also more this-worldly in nature, less susceptible to spiritualized abstraction; the difference between the “poor in spirit” and “you who are poor," or the difference between “those who hunger and thirst for righteousness” and “you who are hungry” should compel us to think about how we understand and address the plight of our neighbors who might be struggling in this world. Yet, despite these differences, Luke still gives us the Beatitudes in a form we’re somewhat familiar with.
But then, we really get thrown for a loop when Jesus’ statement on blessedness pivots and becomes something else: a series of woes, a litany of curses toward those who are rich now, those who are full now, those who laugh, those of whom all people speak well. When we read these curses issuing from the mouth of Jesus, and especially when we recognize our own selves, our own statuses, our own privilege and prosperity reflected back to us in Jesus’ statements here, we likely want to flip back sixty or so pages to Matthew’s version and take refuge in all of those “Blessed are” statements we find there.
As our other lectionary readings for this week remind us, though, this framework of blessings and curses was not Luke’s idea. When Jesus spoke these statements at the onset of his ministry, he was standing in a long tradition stretching back at least as far as Moses’ address to the children of Israel in Deuteronomy and including the Psalmist and the prophets, among other voices. As difficult as these words might be for us to read, when we reflect on our own lives, and the ways in which the choices we make and and the paths we carve out for ourselves bear forth real consequences, these words make sense. When Jeremiah speaks, in the language of the Psalms, of the dry, parched state of those who put their trust in mere mortals and the fruitful flourishing of those who trust in the Lord, these words hit us with the force of Law and Gospel at the same time.
Which brings us back to Jesus’ Sermon on the Plain. When we find ourselves squirming at his statements of woe, wanting to retreat from the implications of what Jesus has to say, we would do well to remember who is the one speaking these words.The one who is uttering these statements of blessings and curses is Jesus, who, according to Paul, became a curse for us (Galatians 3:13). Rather than taking refuge in a view of the world that is full of blessings and devoid of curses, we would do much better to take refuge in him, the one who entered this world as Lawgiver and as redeemer of those under the curse of the Law. As Paul tells the Corinthians, it is Jesus, the resurrected one, who is our hope in this life and in the next. He is the embodiment of God’s promises, God’s blessings, God’s kingdom, and by uniting ourselves to him, by embracing his word and his example, by walking the road of repentance and redemption, receiving his gracious love and sharing that love with those who are poor, those who are hungry, those who weep and those who are reviled, we will find our lives transformed, and we will find that our weeping will turn to dancing, and our woes will turn to blessing.
Image Credit: Rembrandt van Rijn, Hundred Guilder Print (Christ Teaching), 1649
