Epiphany 6 (year C)

This morning we come down from the mountain to the level ground and there we hear the Lukan version of the Beatitudes.

I’m interested to think about the physical place where this story is situated. So often significant biblical moments happen on mountains, but this morning we’re on the flat ground. We’re not up a mountain, but neither are we down in a valley. We’re on the plain. If we were up the mountain we might easily be distracted by the view, by the ground under our feet which could be a bit precarious; if we were in a valley we might be distracted by the mountains above us, or a meandering stream somewhere nearby. But, for me at least, the image I conjure up with this morning’s reading is of an expansive space. I imagine myself in a place where there is little to see, little distraction, in any direction. And so the message I pick up is that I am being invited to put my full attention on what is being said.

We are being offered a different way to frame the narrative and to give it the authority and respect that it deserves. It’s a good reminder to us that what’s important comes to us packaged in different ways.
In this version of the reading , as opposed to Matthew’s Beatitudes which are so well known, we are clearly being called into relationship with a powerful Gospel narrative in a place that is very ordinary and, at first sight, may have little to recommend it. We’re not in one of the places, like a mountain top that signifies something important is happening. We’re in an everyday space that we could easily pass through on our way to the next point of interest.

Most of the time we live our lives in the very ordinary spaces that form the backdrop for our days. We live our lives surrounded by ordinary folk, going about their business and hoping to get though day by day. And it’s all too easy to fail to notice where we are or who is around because our attention is on the next place that seems to have something more interesting to offer.

We are being invited to be present in the ordinary; to be in a place that just is; a place that probably has little to define it; a place that simply offers a neutral backdrop for the teaching that is before us.
And this morning’s Gospel speaks directly into that space. It spoke to the first century listeners and it perhaps speaks especially powerfully to us as we navigate the impact of our rapidly changing geopolitical landscape. The sentiments are clear and ones we think we know – blessed are people who are poor, hungry, sad and hated – they are the people God loves. And woe to people who are rich, who over-consume, who look for external affirmation – they are the people who are getting it wrong. That face-value reading of the text has some merit. That is the basic message of the Scripture, and it has spoken to, and informed the lives of, people through the ages. But we know that life is far more complex, that Scripture is usually far more nuanced. We know that binary thinking isn’t helpful. That there is no them and us, no wholly good people and wholly bad people – we are all in this journey of life together.

There will be times for any one of us when we find that we are sad or imagine that we are hated. That may be as a result of something that we or someone else has done or not done; but it may equally be a very simple fact or phase of life.
Some of us will feel poor today, others may not, but circumstances beyond our control could cause that to change. Witness the situation for hundreds of American government employees who, presumably, thought that they had secure employment and now find themselves redundant. Or the many displaced people across our world, most of whom had some kind of security in their lives before they found themselves in the midst of conflict, many of whom were in professional jobs and now find themselves dependent on charity. What makes us so sure that won’t ever be us?

And what about those among us who feel rich – however that is defined. How do we exercise responsibility for the assets we own? Those of us who over consume, in different ways and for a variety of reasons, what do we do to understand what is going on for ourselves and for others?

Within the church we regularly speak of a God of change; we share a narrative of hope; we tell ourselves and others that we believe that things could be different. Do we live as though that were so?

There is a First Nations translation of the Scripture which I found very helpful this week. Within that version the text tells us that Jesus begins to teach about the ways of Creator’s good road. It suggests that those who choose to walk the good road will find themselves walking in the moccasins of those who have gone before them. It doesn’t suggest that they will walk only in the moccasins of those who are getting it right, or of those who are getting it wrong. It simply suggests that the good road has been trod before; that we know something of other people, and by extension of God, when we find a way to put our feet into someone else’s moccasins.

And that, I think, is at the heart of this teaching. That is at the heart of what it is to get beyond the words, however we interpret them, and to experience what it really means to get alongside the true prophets, to discern the living and active voice of God.

The reading from Jeremiah and the psalm both speak to that understanding. Jeremiah says blessed are those who trust in the Lord; the psalm says: happy are those who walk in the law of the Lord.
The First Nation translation says: the good road is yours to walk.

The good road is yours to walk. Not alone all of the time. Not without signposts. Not even in your own shoes all of the time. The good road is the one that you walk when you take the time and the energy to step aside from your own immediate situation – whether that is one of joy or of sorrow – and step into the bigger narrative where the joys and the sorrows, the riches and the poverty, the hunger and the fullness become shared and interchangeable experiences. When our values shift to allow us to recognise that poverty in one area of life may bring riches in others. When our perspective shifts so that we truly honour those who are vulnerable and find the courage to question those who are powerful. When we can put our feet onto the level plain and know that God and only God is our focus and our guide.