Scripture:
I am about to read one of the most remarkable, and striking passages in all of Paul's writings. Beginning last Sunday, we continue to follow his letter to the fractious gathering of Christians in Corinth. Being somewhat achievement oriented, some of the Corinthians have been boasting of the ways God has blessed them for their wisdom. Paul's polemical response catches them off guard, even as it may do the same for us, today. I read from Paul's first letter to the Corinthians, chapter 1, verses 26-31:

Consider your own call, brothers and sisters: not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. [27] But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; [28] God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, [29] so that no one might boast in the presence of God. [30] He is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption, [31] in order that, as it is written, "Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord."

In the Beatitudes, Jesus lets us in on how things look from God's vantage point. We are well versed in the criteria by which the world assesses who is blessed. 30 minutes after the Super Bowl, we will be reminded of some of these criteria by the players of the winning team. But Jesus doesn't see it quite that way. From God's vantage point, the topography of blessedness is not what our day to day experience would lead us to expect. Listen to this glimpse of heaven, as I read from the chapter of Matthew, beginning with verse 1:

When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. [2] Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying: [3]"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. [4] "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. [5] "Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. [6] "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. [7] "Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. [8] "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. [9] "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. [10] "Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. [11] "Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. [12] Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you."

Sermon:


I'll never forget the first time I read today's Epistle in public. At the time, I was the young Chaplain of Suffield Academy in Connecticut, and each week I prepared an all school chapel service where attendance was required. I read the passage as the conclusion of a program which had been done entirely in mime by students and teachers dressed in white face and clown costumes. No words had been spoken . . . . until -- at the end -- I read today's passage from First Corinthians . . . about God choosing what is foolish in the eyes of the world to shame the wise.

After the service, the Advanced Placement math teacher, a learned man from the middle east, approached me and pressed me about the passage. He simply couldn't believe it was in scripture. Even after locating it in my Bible -- he still wanted to deny it. The very idea that God could choose what is foolish or weak, that God could choose what is low and despised by the world's standards . . . . this was unimaginable to a man who had aspired to wisdom and strength; a man who had ascended the academic ranks to achieve respect by everyone in his field. Somehow, this odd message, which is woven through both of today's scripture lessons, and can be found throughout the Bible . . . this message had gone unnoticed, and ignored.

Much of the time, what we take from the Bible -- or for that matter, what we gain from our active participation in communal worship or personal, spiritual discipline -- is hugely influenced by what we bring to it. What sorts of life experiences have shaped us, leading up to the moment of sitting in this sanctuary as we seek to hear and understand the word of God? How are we different from the people Jesus was addressing? How are we similar? What do we have in common with the Christian community in Corinth 2,000 years ago? What sets us apart?

Last Sunday, I noted that one of the concerns Paul had about the newly formed church in Corinth was the way they had formed into cliques, ignoring the essential unity of all Christians. This week, we learn that they were something of a haughty group as well. They believed that those who had gained wisdom through religious experience should be regarded as superior to the rest of the community. They were unashamedly proud of their zeal and achievement, and were not shy to boast of it to others.

Such an attitude is destined to stumble at the message of the cross. My friend the math teacher had a thorough knowledge of Christianity, and could competently lead adult education sessions in the best of churches, but he had not begun to understand the meaning of the cross in the life of Christ, and the life of the world.

For many of us, the fact that God's son manifests "power made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor. 12:19) is similarly confusing and disturbing. It is a great reversal which we struggle our whole life to understand . . . or alternatively, we struggle our whole life to deny.

When I step back, and pay attention to the values I am passing on to my two sons, I must persistently ask how these values match up to those put forth in today's readings. Like many of you, I value success and achievement. And I work to instill in my children these and related values.

But today's gospel is hardly an endorsement of worldly success. Rather, it's a profound reminder of something most of us suspect, but can't face. To put it simply: God is not prompted to be present and available to us in response to the fact that we are whole, together, stable and successful pillars of the community. Quite the opposite. God chooses to become available to us -- God blesses us -- in our weakness, emptiness, mourning, loneliness, and fear. You might even say that these qualities -- which Jesus commends as blessed -- these qualities and experiences constitute tickets which have the potential to lead us into direct contact with God, and God's healing and saving power.

True as that may be, many of us quickly throw away the stub because few of us are interested in those qualities. We live in a first class community, not only in terms of comfort, but also in terms of social values. Many among us occupy prominent and powerful positions of influence. Few if any of us are hungry or materially poor. For the most part, we know little of persecution.

Yet in our baptism we took the name of Christ -- and we have persistently affirmed our allegiance to him and identified our lives with his leadership and mission. What then, is he saying to us, in these opening comments of the Sermon on the Mount? What then, is his chief Apostle Paul, instructing us, as we overhear his admonitions to the Corinthians.

It is this. As each of us knows, none of us is quite as together as we may appear. None of us is quite as secure as we often project. Each of us knows the gap between the outer confidence we conjure up and display, and inner concerns which erode us from within. We have each known times -- many perhaps -- in which Henry David Thoreau's comment about leading lives of "quiet desperation" applies to us more than we would care to allow.

If society at large bars us from sharing these realities, these truths, with others, then the community we create as Christians -- the Church -- must swing wide the gates.

Each one of us is broken in some particular way. Like Jesus, each of us has known
sorrow and is acquainted with grief. But if we keep it to ourselves, not only do we relegate our relationships to a superficial level, we miss out on the opportunity to receive God's blessing. God extends that blessing to us in our poverty, our weakness, our grief, our hunger, our need. And as we honestly open our hearts to one another, sharing our struggles as well as our successes, our anguish as well as our achievement, we discover a new world of "blessed brokenness" . . . inhabited by the poor in spirit, who share the pleasure of the company of our Lord.

Fifty years ago, a terrible fire raged through the Coconut Grove Nightclub in Boston. It took more than 100 lives. It led to the first scientific study of grief. Relatives of those who were killed were followed by doctors and psychologists for a number of years. What they discovered, after decades of research, is that those who went through the grief process --allowing themselves to feel and share all the challenges of loss, heartache, loneliness, anger and emptiness that grief can carry -- eventually, these people came out of it. Those who denied their grief by putting on a positive front, or covering their feelings with religious rationalizations, gradually developed all sorts of physical and emotional ailments.

The work of Christian community is not to congratulate one another in our success. The world will issue accolades enough. The work of Christian community is to comfort -- not only those who mourn, but anyone who is broken by life's challenges -- and at one time or another, that's each and every one of us. The Greek word for comfort actually means "to be called to the side of someone who gives comfort". So the notion of community is built into the word itself!

The story is told of a Salvation Army girl who was arrested in Manchester, England, for obstructing traffic. She had been preaching the gospel of Christ on the streets. In court, she stood vulnerable and alone in the prisoner's dock. As her case began, suddenly one of England's most noted lawyers, Frank Crossley, asked permission to share in the case. He crossed the room and took his place in the prisoner's dock with the girl. The atmosphere in the courtroom that day was electric as a man of prominence sought to take upon himself some of the loneliness and fear of a girl in need of help.

When I first heard that story, I found myself identifying with the lawyer. The hero. The rescuer. But if there's a point to the New Testament, it's to urge us to open ourselves, one to another, as we acknowledge the brokenness we have experienced, so that we might receive the Good News of God's healing.

Are we among those who will inherit the earth? Will we be invited into the kingdom of heaven? Will we see God, and be comforted?

In a way which is completely unexpected, and paradoxical, . . . it's up to us. God has given us the freedom, if we choose, to continue to deny our brokenness, and turn away from God's offer of blessedness. But our loving God also gave us Jesus Christ, who demonstrated once and for all, the strength of weakness, the power of the cross, and the extent to which suffering and brokenness can be redemptive.

There are among us some courageous souls who reveal to the rest of us the qualities of the Kingdom of God. They do this by sharing their brokenness openly and honestly. I'm not talking about wearing their hearts on their sleeves. I'm talking about people who are honest with themselves, and with those they love, about their shortcomings, their weaknesses, and the areas in which they need help. And because God stands by them, they are able stand by others.

This is the story of just such a person. A surgeon lost his daughter. Because the surgeon had always had a gruff disposition, his pastor didn't know what to expect when she visited him. When the surgeon met with her, he was brokenhearted, but self contained --and confided that although he may have seemed like a person with little faith, he felt as if God would see him through this loss. They talked on, and the surgeon told the minister of his life.

When he was young, he had often felt that God was calling him into medicine . . . but in biology class, nausea drove him to the bathroom each day, and he could not even work on a cadaver. Still he passed, and the time soon came for his first surgery. It was on the wife of his best friend. While it was a routine operation, complications set in, and the woman died.

A few moments later, he returned to the room where the body lay. Over a dozen other surgeons were there, quietly talking. When he saw the gathering, he broke down and cried. In front of all his peers, after failing his first surgery, all he could do was break down.

The senior physician -- who had taught them all to be surgeons -- came over to him and put a hand on his heaving shoulder, and said to the gathered group:

This man is responding like a great surgeon. He did everything possible to save the woman -- who was the wife of his best friend. Now he is stricken with grief, because he cares deeply about people. He truly cares about healing. Friends, before us stands a great surgeon.

Before me is a great congregation. You are great -- in part -- because of your successes, your generosity with money and time, this building, and your traditions. But what makes you great in the eyes of God is what can make any of us great in the eyes of God: Your willingness to share your brokenness, so that you may receive God's comfort, and the companionship of one another. That 's what makes a congregation great -- and blessed.

Amen.