(Homily for Gayton Road Christian Church's Sunday Worship on October 30, 2016, All Saints' Sunday)
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“Count Your Many Blessings”
In just a few weeks, many of us will gather around a table. And there we will give thanks to God for our many blessings: the food that fills our bellies; the friends and family that fill us with contentment; the comfort and conveniences that fill our lives with ease and satisfaction.
There are a number of songs associated with Thanksgiving—my favorite being the Shaker tune, “Simple Gifts”—but the one that stands out in my thoughts today is the old hymn “Count Your Many Blessings.” Perhaps you know it. “When upon life’s billows, you are tempest-tossed, when you are discouraged, thinking all is lost, count your many blessings, name them one by one, and it will surprise you what the Lord has done.” In other words, we have much to be thankful for, if we take the time to stop and think about it. Our blessings are many: relationships, food, money, well-being.
A Different Understanding of Blessing?
If today’s scripture is any indication, though, you wouldn’t hear Jesus singing this song. In fact, on the evidence of today’s scripture, I would suggest it’s best not to invite Jesus to your Thanksgiving dinner. Given his track record of overturning tables, you might be putting your turkey at grave risk.
I’m teasing, of course. I can’t imagine that Jesus would overturn our Thanksgiving tables. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he raised an eyebrow when we recited our blessings. I wouldn’t be surprised if he raised an objection, however gently. Because according to our gospel reading today, Jesus has a very different understanding of blessing than we do.
For us, blessing means a steady income and a secure financial future. Jesus says the poor are blessed. For us, blessing means a full belly. Jesus says the empty bellies are blessed. For us, blessing means smiles and laughter and sunshine. Jesus says the tear-stained faces are blessed. For us, blessing means good relationships and plenty of connections. Jesus says the hated and excluded are blessed.
As if that weren’t enough, Jesus goes on to say that what we consider blessings, are in fact curses. Woe to the financially secure, woe to the full bellies, woe to the smiling faces, woe to the popular and well-liked.
Jesus may not have overturned our table and ruined our turkey. But he does proclaim a rather upside-down Thanksgiving gospel. Our blessings, it seems, are in the exact place we’d never think to look.
Today is All Saints’ Day. In some churches, there is an official list of saints. In ours, there is not. I like that. Saints are not superheroes. Saints are simply people who echo Christ. We have all encountered saints in our own lives. Earlier today, some of us lit candles for the personal saints in our lives who have passed—parents, grandparents, dear friends, everyone whose words and touch linger on within us, reminding us of the love that has changed our lives and, we believe, will change the world.
Surely at Thanksgiving we will give thanks for these personal saints.
Perhaps, though, our gratitude should extend a bit further. Because Jesus’ upside-down Thanksgiving gospel—his set of bizarre beatitudes—points us to blessings in places we’d never think to look. Which is also to say, it points us to saints in people whom we’d never think of.
Elliott’s parents divorced when he was six months old. Growing up, he suffered abuse at the hands of his stepfather. Then, as a teenager, he moved across the country from his mother’s home in Texas to his father’s home Oregon. He could not, however, outrun his depression, and so he looked for other means of escape. It wasn’t long before he began to dabble in drugs and alcohol. For the next fifteen years or so, his life resembled the life of many addicts and junkies. He would come clean and recover. Then he would relapse. The cycle continued until, at the age of 34, Elliott died.
Elliott was a loser. Some might cast an eye over his life and call it worthless.
I never knew Elliott personally. I know Elliott through his music. Through the spellbinding melodies he weaved on guitar and piano, the crackled register of his hushed, hangdog voice, and his plainly profound lyrics. Some would simply say that his music is sad. But within that sadness, I hear the beat of a blessed heart.
Elliott Smith talked about the world in a strange, sort of upside-down way. He lamented the myth of self-sufficiency that rules our world, that drives us to work harder, earn more, feel happier, be better than others; he called it “the cult of the winner.” “You can’t get away from it,” he said.[1] When asked about his musical achievements, he suggested that his achievement wasn’t a big deal. Achievement is what the world programs us for. “I didn’t have a hard time making it,” he said. “I had a hard time letting go.”[2]
It is hard to let go. We would rather trust in ourselves. We would rather win.
And so here’s where we can finally understand Jesus’ peculiar beatitudes. The blessing of the losers—of the poor and the hungry, the tear-stained and the excluded—is the blessing of a broken heart. It is the blessing of letting go. It is the blessing of crying out for help and the blessing of having a heart that is open to receiving help. The white-knuckled fists of our world may indeed succeed in many small personal achievements, but a quick glance at the world at large will tell you that its rulers and leaders have done very little to welcome the kingdom of God. It is the weary, broken, open hands of the losers that are most ready to receive the kingdom.
All of us know such persons. Chances are, they’re the people that we tend to hide from others. They’re the black sheep in our family whom we keep quiet about when we’re catching up with old friends. They’re the friends whose names we whisper with pained faces. They’re the addicts, the depressed, the hospitalized, the distraught.
And Jesus calls them “blessed.” Jesus calls them saints.
To be sure, Jesus isn’t calling their addiction itself a blessing, or their depression or their illness or their poverty. But whereas the rest of the world treats these conditions as diseases or marks of failure, and writes the persons off as losers, Jesus sees that their hearts are the most welcoming to the kingdom of God. Losers have let go and are ready for something more, something better.
The reason that Jesus proclaims “woe” upon the winners of our world, is because oftentimes when the kingdom comes knocking on their doors, it is greeted with a, “Thank you, but I’m pretty satisfied with what I’ve got right now—a secure future, a full stomach, a light heart, a good reputation.” But when the kingdom comes to the losers and the lowly, to folks who have let go of the myth of self-sufficiency, it finds fertile ground. It is they, Jesus suggests, who will lead us into the kingdom. These unlikely saints may in fact be our salvation, if we have eyes to see.
Once when Jack Kerouac was asked on television what characteristic defined the Beat movement, he responded in a heartbeat: “Sympathetic.”[3] Such a response makes me think that maybe the Beats were marching to the step of the beatitudes. The blessedness of losing and letting go is an increased sympathy and compassion for others. The poor, hungry, sad, and hated know just how impossible life is when you try to live it on your own. They know just how much we need each other. Their broken hearts are inclined toward sympathy more so than are the hearts of winners.
Jesus’ senseless and impractical instructions—love your enemies, do good in the face of bad, bless those who curse, give to whoever asks—these will only make sense to a heart that’s already been broken, to a person who’s already let go of his drive to win, her need to succeed. It only makes sense to love your enemy, to pray for those who hurt you, if you have a sympathy deeper than your desire for personal triumph, a compassion that seeks not only your own good but the good of others. Winners are tempted simply to win out against their enemies. But I’m guessing that the losers and the unlikely saints in our lives will point us in a different direction. Their addiction and sadness and reputation may make it harder for us to see the depths of their heart, but I’m guessing that if we look deep enough, we’ll find that they’re already welcoming the kingdom of God in their own lives.
The grand comedy of faith, I think, is that when heaven finally makes its way to earth, we’ll be surprised to discover that it was here all along. Not in the top dogs and world-beaters, but in the losers and unlikely saints. Jesus once said, rather provocatively, that the tax collectors and prostitutes would enter the kingdom of God before the chief priests and the elders (Matt 21:31). Here it is no different. If his words are any indication, the kingdom of God will not come from on high but from down low, for it is among the losers and the lowly that the kingdom finds fertile ground. It is from among our unlikely saints that the kingdom grows.
Christ of magnificent defeat,
Whose kingdom finds welcome
Among blessed losers:
Inspire us today
Through the unlikely saints
Who direct us toward you;
Break our hearts
And loosen our fists,
That we too might welcome
Your kingdom of sympathetic hearts and turned cheeks.
Amen.
[1] “Elliott Smith: Emotional Rescue,” http://www.magnetmagazine.com/2001/01/02/elliott-smith-emotional-rescue/, accessed October 26, 2016.
[2] Quote commonly attributed to Elliott Smith. I was unable to determine an original source.
[3] David Dark, The Gospel According to America: A Meditation on a God-Blessed, Christ-Haunted Idea (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2005), 58.
An Upside-Down Thanksgiving Gospel
For us, blessing means a steady income and a secure financial future. Jesus says the poor are blessed. For us, blessing means a full belly. Jesus says the empty bellies are blessed. For us, blessing means smiles and laughter and sunshine. Jesus says the tear-stained faces are blessed. For us, blessing means good relationships and plenty of connections. Jesus says the hated and excluded are blessed.
As if that weren’t enough, Jesus goes on to say that what we consider blessings, are in fact curses. Woe to the financially secure, woe to the full bellies, woe to the smiling faces, woe to the popular and well-liked.
Jesus may not have overturned our table and ruined our turkey. But he does proclaim a rather upside-down Thanksgiving gospel. Our blessings, it seems, are in the exact place we’d never think to look.
The Beatitudes:
Stretching the Boundaries of Sainthood
Today is All Saints’ Day. In some churches, there is an official list of saints. In ours, there is not. I like that. Saints are not superheroes. Saints are simply people who echo Christ. We have all encountered saints in our own lives. Earlier today, some of us lit candles for the personal saints in our lives who have passed—parents, grandparents, dear friends, everyone whose words and touch linger on within us, reminding us of the love that has changed our lives and, we believe, will change the world.
Surely at Thanksgiving we will give thanks for these personal saints.
Perhaps, though, our gratitude should extend a bit further. Because Jesus’ upside-down Thanksgiving gospel—his set of bizarre beatitudes—points us to blessings in places we’d never think to look. Which is also to say, it points us to saints in people whom we’d never think of.
Elliot Was a Loser
Elliott’s parents divorced when he was six months old. Growing up, he suffered abuse at the hands of his stepfather. Then, as a teenager, he moved across the country from his mother’s home in Texas to his father’s home Oregon. He could not, however, outrun his depression, and so he looked for other means of escape. It wasn’t long before he began to dabble in drugs and alcohol. For the next fifteen years or so, his life resembled the life of many addicts and junkies. He would come clean and recover. Then he would relapse. The cycle continued until, at the age of 34, Elliott died.
Elliott was a loser. Some might cast an eye over his life and call it worthless.
I never knew Elliott personally. I know Elliott through his music. Through the spellbinding melodies he weaved on guitar and piano, the crackled register of his hushed, hangdog voice, and his plainly profound lyrics. Some would simply say that his music is sad. But within that sadness, I hear the beat of a blessed heart.
Elliott Smith talked about the world in a strange, sort of upside-down way. He lamented the myth of self-sufficiency that rules our world, that drives us to work harder, earn more, feel happier, be better than others; he called it “the cult of the winner.” “You can’t get away from it,” he said.[1] When asked about his musical achievements, he suggested that his achievement wasn’t a big deal. Achievement is what the world programs us for. “I didn’t have a hard time making it,” he said. “I had a hard time letting go.”[2]
The Blessing of the Losers:
Letting Go
It is hard to let go. We would rather trust in ourselves. We would rather win.
And so here’s where we can finally understand Jesus’ peculiar beatitudes. The blessing of the losers—of the poor and the hungry, the tear-stained and the excluded—is the blessing of a broken heart. It is the blessing of letting go. It is the blessing of crying out for help and the blessing of having a heart that is open to receiving help. The white-knuckled fists of our world may indeed succeed in many small personal achievements, but a quick glance at the world at large will tell you that its rulers and leaders have done very little to welcome the kingdom of God. It is the weary, broken, open hands of the losers that are most ready to receive the kingdom.
Being Led by Losers
All of us know such persons. Chances are, they’re the people that we tend to hide from others. They’re the black sheep in our family whom we keep quiet about when we’re catching up with old friends. They’re the friends whose names we whisper with pained faces. They’re the addicts, the depressed, the hospitalized, the distraught.
And Jesus calls them “blessed.” Jesus calls them saints.
To be sure, Jesus isn’t calling their addiction itself a blessing, or their depression or their illness or their poverty. But whereas the rest of the world treats these conditions as diseases or marks of failure, and writes the persons off as losers, Jesus sees that their hearts are the most welcoming to the kingdom of God. Losers have let go and are ready for something more, something better.
The reason that Jesus proclaims “woe” upon the winners of our world, is because oftentimes when the kingdom comes knocking on their doors, it is greeted with a, “Thank you, but I’m pretty satisfied with what I’ve got right now—a secure future, a full stomach, a light heart, a good reputation.” But when the kingdom comes to the losers and the lowly, to folks who have let go of the myth of self-sufficiency, it finds fertile ground. It is they, Jesus suggests, who will lead us into the kingdom. These unlikely saints may in fact be our salvation, if we have eyes to see.
The Kingdom from Down Low
Once when Jack Kerouac was asked on television what characteristic defined the Beat movement, he responded in a heartbeat: “Sympathetic.”[3] Such a response makes me think that maybe the Beats were marching to the step of the beatitudes. The blessedness of losing and letting go is an increased sympathy and compassion for others. The poor, hungry, sad, and hated know just how impossible life is when you try to live it on your own. They know just how much we need each other. Their broken hearts are inclined toward sympathy more so than are the hearts of winners.
Jesus’ senseless and impractical instructions—love your enemies, do good in the face of bad, bless those who curse, give to whoever asks—these will only make sense to a heart that’s already been broken, to a person who’s already let go of his drive to win, her need to succeed. It only makes sense to love your enemy, to pray for those who hurt you, if you have a sympathy deeper than your desire for personal triumph, a compassion that seeks not only your own good but the good of others. Winners are tempted simply to win out against their enemies. But I’m guessing that the losers and the unlikely saints in our lives will point us in a different direction. Their addiction and sadness and reputation may make it harder for us to see the depths of their heart, but I’m guessing that if we look deep enough, we’ll find that they’re already welcoming the kingdom of God in their own lives.
The grand comedy of faith, I think, is that when heaven finally makes its way to earth, we’ll be surprised to discover that it was here all along. Not in the top dogs and world-beaters, but in the losers and unlikely saints. Jesus once said, rather provocatively, that the tax collectors and prostitutes would enter the kingdom of God before the chief priests and the elders (Matt 21:31). Here it is no different. If his words are any indication, the kingdom of God will not come from on high but from down low, for it is among the losers and the lowly that the kingdom finds fertile ground. It is from among our unlikely saints that the kingdom grows.
Prayer
Christ of magnificent defeat,
Whose kingdom finds welcome
Among blessed losers:
Inspire us today
Through the unlikely saints
Who direct us toward you;
Break our hearts
And loosen our fists,
That we too might welcome
Your kingdom of sympathetic hearts and turned cheeks.
Amen.
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[1] “Elliott Smith: Emotional Rescue,” http://www.magnetmagazine.com/2001/01/02/elliott-smith-emotional-rescue/, accessed October 26, 2016.
[2] Quote commonly attributed to Elliott Smith. I was unable to determine an original source.
[3] David Dark, The Gospel According to America: A Meditation on a God-Blessed, Christ-Haunted Idea (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2005), 58.
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