Just One of the Blessed
Looking over the Beatitudes, one gets a wonderful hint of Jesus' sense of irony. Several of them refer to situations in life when one is not necessarily feeling like things are going well!
Take one of our favorites: Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. I can never read that without having this thought: Yes! But in the meantime... So the comfort is a-comin', but the present is pretty sad and painful indeed?
Well, yes... And then there is the matter of the "divine passive," where the voice of the verb looks like it is in the future tense, but it actually refers to an action of God in the present. So the impact of that Beatitude is that mourning makes us more aware of the Presence of God, providing comfort beyond whatever it is we are receiving from those who care about us. God is present in our mourning, is another way to say what Jesus is meaning.
The Beatitude I am living right now is in Mt 5:11: Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account... It took me a little while to embrace this. I mean, I know that an evil had been done to me, of that I was sure. And I suspect that lies were told. And I sure have felt "reviled" in a way I never have before! But the part of "on my account:" now that was a bit slow to come to me.
But the fact of the matter is, the people who have made themselves my enemies are atheists. I've hesitated to mention that before, but they are. They are suspicious of "spiritual care," and they view ministers with suspicion and disdain. I knew this about them. I just didn't think that being atheists in itself would make them hostile to me, as a person, as a pastor.
I know. It becomes cliche to imply "some of my best friends are atheists," but always before my openness of mind and spirit had led to a kind of mutual positive regard. I recall an event this past Spring in which, afterward, as the attendees gathered around us speakers before they left for the night, I found myself in conversation with two or three couples. One of the people remarked about how unusual it was for them to be finding it comfortable to speak with me, because he was a scientist and an atheist or at least an agnostic-- and the others all said they were, too! They asked why I thought that was.
I gave them the "hospice maxim," that "anyone may or may not have a religion, but that everyone IS spiritual," and they seemed to agree. But it is more than that for me. There is a way in which we were able to meet each other as people, as human beings only, with a mutual respect and a kind of appreciation of the moment. There was no fear, not even any apprehension, certainly we were not threatened by each other's beliefs or lack thereof! Instead we were able to engage, and trust each other enough to ask the questions that mattered most to us in the moment.
You who know me know the value I place on questions. The better the question, the better the conversation-- and sometimes the deeper the understanding. No caring inquiry happens with a sense of coercion or self-righteousness. In our questions we express a willingness to be vulnerable, and the compassionate response is always to respect that vulnerability, not to take advantage of it in order to trap or embarrass the other. Mutual self-understanding by persons of diametrically opposite views can happen when questions are asked and answered within the trust of conversation.
That was what was happening among us after the Spring event. And on a greater and more lengthy scale, that was what I thought was happening between me and the one who attacked me. And here, I have come to think that the atheism of my adversary came into play. My vulnerability was taken advantage of. And the level of self-disclosure I felt I could offer because I am a Christian became instead an invitation to do me harm.
Hence the "falsely for my sake (or on my account)." I have come to the conclusion that my being a Christian pastor played a significant role in motivating my enemy to do what was done.
As I've said, I've resisted coming to this conclusion, but in trying to assess what would motivate a person to do what was done, this reason keeps suggesting itself.
I have been asked how I feel about this person for whom I cared and who has now betrayed and harmed me. I have the usual range of human emotions-- anger, confusion, exasperation, hurt. But I also have one other inescapable tenet to which I continue to hold: God made us both. And in each of our lives, God continues to be at work-- even if that person does not really believe that!
As the saying goes, God believes in us, whether or not we believe in God! And so it is...
Blessings...
Take one of our favorites: Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. I can never read that without having this thought: Yes! But in the meantime... So the comfort is a-comin', but the present is pretty sad and painful indeed?
Well, yes... And then there is the matter of the "divine passive," where the voice of the verb looks like it is in the future tense, but it actually refers to an action of God in the present. So the impact of that Beatitude is that mourning makes us more aware of the Presence of God, providing comfort beyond whatever it is we are receiving from those who care about us. God is present in our mourning, is another way to say what Jesus is meaning.
The Beatitude I am living right now is in Mt 5:11: Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account... It took me a little while to embrace this. I mean, I know that an evil had been done to me, of that I was sure. And I suspect that lies were told. And I sure have felt "reviled" in a way I never have before! But the part of "on my account:" now that was a bit slow to come to me.
But the fact of the matter is, the people who have made themselves my enemies are atheists. I've hesitated to mention that before, but they are. They are suspicious of "spiritual care," and they view ministers with suspicion and disdain. I knew this about them. I just didn't think that being atheists in itself would make them hostile to me, as a person, as a pastor.
I know. It becomes cliche to imply "some of my best friends are atheists," but always before my openness of mind and spirit had led to a kind of mutual positive regard. I recall an event this past Spring in which, afterward, as the attendees gathered around us speakers before they left for the night, I found myself in conversation with two or three couples. One of the people remarked about how unusual it was for them to be finding it comfortable to speak with me, because he was a scientist and an atheist or at least an agnostic-- and the others all said they were, too! They asked why I thought that was.
I gave them the "hospice maxim," that "anyone may or may not have a religion, but that everyone IS spiritual," and they seemed to agree. But it is more than that for me. There is a way in which we were able to meet each other as people, as human beings only, with a mutual respect and a kind of appreciation of the moment. There was no fear, not even any apprehension, certainly we were not threatened by each other's beliefs or lack thereof! Instead we were able to engage, and trust each other enough to ask the questions that mattered most to us in the moment.
You who know me know the value I place on questions. The better the question, the better the conversation-- and sometimes the deeper the understanding. No caring inquiry happens with a sense of coercion or self-righteousness. In our questions we express a willingness to be vulnerable, and the compassionate response is always to respect that vulnerability, not to take advantage of it in order to trap or embarrass the other. Mutual self-understanding by persons of diametrically opposite views can happen when questions are asked and answered within the trust of conversation.
That was what was happening among us after the Spring event. And on a greater and more lengthy scale, that was what I thought was happening between me and the one who attacked me. And here, I have come to think that the atheism of my adversary came into play. My vulnerability was taken advantage of. And the level of self-disclosure I felt I could offer because I am a Christian became instead an invitation to do me harm.
Hence the "falsely for my sake (or on my account)." I have come to the conclusion that my being a Christian pastor played a significant role in motivating my enemy to do what was done.
As I've said, I've resisted coming to this conclusion, but in trying to assess what would motivate a person to do what was done, this reason keeps suggesting itself.
I have been asked how I feel about this person for whom I cared and who has now betrayed and harmed me. I have the usual range of human emotions-- anger, confusion, exasperation, hurt. But I also have one other inescapable tenet to which I continue to hold: God made us both. And in each of our lives, God continues to be at work-- even if that person does not really believe that!
As the saying goes, God believes in us, whether or not we believe in God! And so it is...
Blessings...
posted by TRXTR | 5:18 PM
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