Understanding the Beatitudes: A Reflection on Blessedness and Loss
Readings for Mass and Virtual Homily for February 16, 2025, Sixth Sunday of Ordinary Time; A Blessed February
Readings for Mass this Sunday
Jeremiah 17:5-8
Psalm 1:1-4, 6
1 Corinthians 15:12, 16-20
Luke 6:17, 20-26
Dear Friends and Family,
Today's readings include Luke's version of the Beatitudes ("Blessed are the..."). The first reading and the psalm reflect the theme of blessedness, of how we are blessed in life. The second reading -- about the reality of the resurrection -- might, at best, be tangentially related. I can identify a connection, in any rate; we are surely blessed if our understanding is that Jesus Christ truly rose from the dead.
The reading from Jeremiah echoes today's psalm (which was written first). Both describe the man or woman who loves the Lord as being like a tree that is planted near a stream of fresh water, The tree's roots stretch toward the stream and soak in the life-giving moisture even in years of drought (Psalm 1:3; Jeremiah 17:7-8).
Both passages also give vivid images of the situation of those who ignore God. Jeremiah describes such people as being like a shrub in a lava waste, barren and desiccated, divorced from all that gives life (vs. 6). Psalm 1 refers to the state of the wicked as being "like chaff" which is blown away by the wind (vs. 4).
Luke's version of the Beatitudes tracks closely with the psalm and Jeremiah, in that Luke lists four beatitudes, or states of blessedness, and then goes on to list four curses. Matthew's passage on the Beatitudes lists eight (or nine, depending on how you count) blessings and includes no curses.
Matthew has Jesus deliver the Beatitudes from a slope above the people, hence it is known as the Sermon on the Mount. Luke speaks as if it occurred on flat land, which could indicate that Jesus gave this teaching more than once, or could indicate that Luke was reporting it from the perspective of the crowd (whom Matthew agrees, were on flat land) or...well, these are the kinds of minor differences on which Biblical scholars write speculative essays and deliver provocative lectures.
At first glance the Beatitudes might appear counter-intuitive, and certainly counter-cultural, especially when we are talking about contemporary Western culture. "Blessed are you poor," Luke tells us (vs. 20). (Matthew's term is "poor in spirit," which can make a difference.) "Blessed are you who are hungry," Luke continues (vs. 21). Where, I ask my sophomores at O'Dowd, when we are studying the Sermon on the Mount, is the blessing in being poor, or even in being poor in spirit? What possible blessing could accrue to knowing hunger? (We have to allow for a metaphorical understanding as well, of course, of the term hunger.)
As a means of helping my students grasp the value of the teaching, I invite them to propose the "Beatitudes" of Hollywood, of Wall Street, of Madison Avenue, of Silicon Valley, of Sacramento and DC, of Bishop O'Dowd High School. In these sectors of contemporary American society, what values would be considered blessings?
"Blessed are the famous," is one that my students frequently apply to Hollywood, along with blessed are the beautiful, the talented, those with good agents and so on. "Blessed are the rich" (Wall Street); "Blessed are those who move fast and break things" (Silicon Valley); "Blessed are the powerful," (Sacramento and DC) and so on...It can be pretty lively, once the students really start talking about what is valued by whom and where, in our society.
The principle take-away I want the students to have in their consideration of the Beatitudes is that we are blessed when we are not full of ourselves, when we are not satiated with worldly acquisitions and distractions, because when we are aware that we are missing something there is room for the operation of grace. The good things of this world, including not just material blessings but also our personal relationships, are just that: good things. They are rightly called blessings. But there is a real danger that we might become complacent amid our blessings, forgetting both God and neighbor.
I always share with my sophomores the experience of my twenties, when as a talented young writer, with novels coming forward and an enthusiastic agent representing me in Manhattan, with a cushy little job at Cal that paid the rent, with my rock and roll siblings for housemates and with a cute Japanese American girlfriend who was herself an artist -- I pretty much "had it all" at twenty-five. God was not my central focus. In fact, God was almost nowhere on my radar.
Then came the back-to-back break-ups with my first agent and my most serious girlfriend; then came the move to LA by my musician siblings; then came my dissatisfaction at the thought that my life at twenty-eight consisted of two unsold novels, two major break-ups, one personal, one professional, a McJob on the Berkeley campus and the spare bed in my best friend's apartment...
"Blessed is the author who just lost his agent," might have been a Beatitude written expressly for me, in my late twenties. For through the losses, I made the most priceless discovery of my life. I encountered Jesus as (to borrow from our brothers and sisters in the big box churches) "my personal Lord and Savior."
When I explain the Beatitudes in this way, my students gain an insight into the meaning and the reality of the teaching. We are made for God, and in the end, no substitute will suffice.
I am still responding to birthday texts, mailed cards and gifts, speaking of blessings, this second week of February. I think I will catch them all up, over the holiday weekend. Which long weekend also comes as a blessing to me -- one third of the way into the semester, the extra downtime gives me a chance to stop and reflect on how my classes are going, this spring term.
In a word, things are going swimmingly. As I mentioned at the outset of the semester, I am teaching a new class this term, three sections of Marriage and Family. My colleague Liz Remigio, who helped develop this course and continues to teach it, loaded all her lesson plans onto my computer, and I was off to the races from day one.
The greatest single joy in the new class is that it is upper division, and so I have the chance to re-connect with students I taught last year or the year before, when they were sophomores. Any student who had me as a sophomore came into this class with a definite set of expectations, and so far, at least, my students assure me those hopes are being met. I am not really "all that" as a high school teacher, but I do relate naturally and easily to the teens, and that is where learning starts. Especially with the super set of lesson plans Liz just GAVE me to teach from, I am confident that my students this semester are learning, and -- important to me -- learning in a relaxed and joyful environment.
Finally, I had TWO funerals the same day (Wednesday) this week. Both were parish families but both were off-site; one at Chapel of the Chimes and one in Palo Alto. Too much to detail, but in both instances I was a last minute "save" for the family; each family was seriously worried that they might not be able to find a priest for the service.
As It happened, I had to get a sub for the one class I had on Wednesday, but that was okay. Once in a while, I have a reason to need a sub. Both families were hugely grateful, and in fact, so was I. Not too many experiences remind a priest more of the power of priesthood than does a funeral. You are dealing with so much: faith in the resurrection; faith in the afterlife; prayers and hopes for the well-being of the deceased; the memories and emotions of the family and the friends; your own ability to stretch yourself into the place where the mourners are, and more.
As I say, powerful. I experienced that power in a double-shot this Wednesday, with two of our St. Clement families, and am grateful for it. Almost any priest will tell you that most of us would rather do a funeral than a wedding. That may sound almost perverse, but it is a matter of remembering, actually, something very much related to the Beatitudes: where there is loss, where something (someone) is missing, there is suddenly space for and openness to the presence of God. "Blessed are they who mourn..."
In all, the second month of this year is barreling along as brightly as did the first. I am not quite counting my blessings this winter; but I am very consciously aware of them.
Think I'll wrap it there.
Take care. God bless.
Love,
Fr. Brawn