(not the) Sermon on the Mount

You probably know the scene that’s been made famous by so many paintings: Jesus is sitting on a rock, on a hillside, surrounded by a crowd, perhaps with the Sea of Galilee off in the distance. In most of the paintings, Jesus has one arm raised in the air, underscoring his words, or blessing the crowd.

Jesus’s words are full of encouragement.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.”

That’s how Jesus’s best-known sermon from the Gospel of Matthew begins. As the sermon goes on, his words become more challenging. He warns against hypocrisy and spiritual pride. He tells us to love our enemies. But his repeated refrain is one of comfort. “You are the salt of the earth… You are the light of the world… Consider the lilies of the field… Do not worry about tomorrow… Search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened.”

So far I’ve been talking about Jesus’s sermon on the mount. But that’s not the sermon we heard this morning. Today’s passage is often known as the sermon on the plain, and it’s found in the Gospel of Luke rather than in Matthew. It takes place not on a mountaintop, but in “a level place.”

Jesus spent his time traveling and teaching. He must have had something like a modern-day stump speech. Points he made to every audience. The kingdom of God is at hand. Love God and love your neighbor. Parables that he could adapt to the needs of the moment.

What we read in each Gospel represents a snapshot in time. And maybe an account specially tailored to the needs of each Gospel’s specific audience. And so it’s not surprising that each account has its own particular emphasis.

If, as I said, Matthew’s sermon on the mount focused on comfort, Luke’s sermon on the plain is more pointed, more challenging, more direct. There’s no evading Jesus’s message in Luke.

Where Matthew’s Jesus says, “blessed are the poor in spirit,” Luke says simply, “blessed are you who are poor.”

He speaks of true poverty. The poverty of those who struggle for the necessities of life. Not just poverty of spirit.

Where Matthew’s Jesus says, “blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,” Luke says simply, “blessed are you who are hungry.”

He speaks of true hunger. The hunger felt by those who don’t know where their next meal will come from. Not just a hunger for righteousness.

“Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.

Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.

Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.

“Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.”

Just in case we missed his point, Jesus goes further.

“But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.

Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry.

Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep.

Woe to you when all speak well of you.”

There are times in our lives when we need to hear Jesus’s words from the sermon on the mount. There are times when we are poor in spirit. There are times when we mourn. There are times when we truly hunger and thirst for righteousness. And in those times, Jesus assures us that we are blessed, beloved of God.

But there are other times, times when what we really need is to hear Jesus’s more challenging words. Times when we need to hear that our wealth, our full kitchen cabinets, our popularity, and even our joy might not be doing us much spiritual good. Times when we need to be reminded that poverty isn’t a moral failing.

The teachers of the early church were much clearer on these points than we tend to be these days.

Sixteen hundred years ago, St. John Chrysostom wrote that “not to share our own riches with the poor is a robbery of the poor, and a depriving them of their livelihood; and that that which we possess is not only our own, but also theirs.” Even earlier, Bishop Ambrose wrote, “you are not making a gift of your possession to the poor person. You are handing over to him what is his.”

We live in a world that shouts from every street corner and TV screen and cell phone, “Blessed are you who are rich; blessed are you who have all that you need and more; blessed are you who are joyful; blessed are you who are popular, powerful, beloved, and successful”

Our society tells us that the wealthy and successful are virtuous and that the poor and struggling must be doing something wrong. How many times have you heard someone describe poor people as moochers, as irresponsible, as freeloaders?

Even some Christian leaders say similar things. There are preachers in pulpits this morning telling congregations that God will reward their faith (and their donations) with worldly wealth and success. The unspoken footnote is that if you don’t find material success, you must be doing something that offends God.

I understand the appeal of wealth and power and fame. But I’ve never understood how you can hear Jesus’s words from the Gospel of Luke and conclude that what God wants most for us is worldly success. The most generous gloss you can put on Jesus’s words is that wealth, power, and success are spiritually risky.

If you’re struggling right now, listen for Jesus’s words of comfort. Blessed are you, for yours is in the kingdom of God. Those words are for you. If you’re struggling, this might be a good time to re-read Jesus’s sermon on the mount.

But if you’re feeling a bit stronger, stick with the sermon on the plain for a while. Let Jesus’s words challenge you. Let his words challenge you to trust more in God—and to trust less in all the things our world teaches us to value. Let his words challenge you to be more generous to those around you. Let his words challenge you to hold all that you have more lightly.