One of the apparent problems with the Beatitudes is how regularly Jesus resorts in them to deficit based language. He starts right in with the “poor in spirit,” which is kind of a classic example of this kind of thinking. Next, he moves on to “those who mourn,” which is still pretty deficit-based in its outlook. From there, Jesus turns to the meek, and if you have to ask (here in the home of the free and the brave), yes, “meek” counts as a deficit in this case, for sure. There’s no doubt that those who “hunger and thirst” for anything (let alone righteousness) are stuck in a deficit situation. By the time we get to “merciful,” you could begin to think that maybe this characterization is a bit more promising, but, come on, think about it. Every American knows that mercy is what you ask for when you have given up and you know you are going to lose. I’m going to give Jesus a pass on the “pure in heart,” although, frankly, I think it could go either way. “Peacemakers” might as well be filed along with the “merciful.” Give me a break! And his last few categories of people are clearly in the deficit category: “those who are persecuted,” and those who are reviled,and have “all kinds of evil” uttered about them. Deficit. Deficit.
Jesus might as well have called his followers his “los deficitos.” Hasn’t anyone ever told Jesus that nice guys finish last?
It’s not entirely clear to me why the Beatitudes are so beloved as lines of scripture - except perhaps that they are beloved because we haven’t really considered them carefully, but they sure do sound nice!
It’s also not entirely clear to me why this little passage from the Sermon on the Mount is assigned to be read on All Saints’ Day, except of course for the obvious possibility that these deficit-based attributes are supposed to be characteristic of the saints. Maybe? The saints, however, are supposed to be paragons of virtue, are they not? They are the lions of the church, whose strength and rectitude we are to admire and imitate. The saints have trod where we ordinary folk, and maybe even angels, fear to tread. Saints are on the plus side of every column- in this world and the next world. So why tar All Saints’ Day with the dark brush of deficit-based language. Poor, mournful, meek, hungering and thirsting, merciful, pure, peacemakers, who are persecuted and reviled. Who are these people!?!
There are lots of ways to think of the saints. Most commonly, we think of the catalog of those exemplars of sanctity whose names we can sing in a long litany. We can write little book reports about them, and adopt them as our patrons. Or there’s the thought that the early church considered all the followers of the Way of Christ to be saints, and called them such.
What we don’t often do, is organize our thinking about the saints along the lines of their deficits, since it’s their virtues that have drawn them to our attention in the first place, isn’t it? So, why does the church focus our attention on this deficit-based thinking on All Saints’ Day? And why does Jesus lavish such rhetorical gold on the sad idea that the deficit-based among us are the most to be blessed? I have to assume that Jesus does this because it is true.
Look, this is what happens in the making of saints. If you led a saintly life of goodness, helping others, and glorifying God, there’s a chance that stories about the good things you did will be told for a very long time, and maybe even set to music! In other circumstances, it’s possible that the stories of your life did not survive, or were never really very good stories anyway, in which case, no problem: we can make stories up for you! (I know a wolf in Gubbio who would be just perfect for you!) But the thing that will almost certainly never happen, unless you keep a long written record of it yourself, is that the stories of the real you, the less-than-saintly-you are liable to fade into oblivion. By these stories about you, I suppose what I really mean is, that it’s the stories about the poor, mournful, meek, hungering and thirsting, merciful, pure, peacemaker you, who was persecuted and reviled in all kinds of ways that may or may not get told; probably not.
The only problem being, that almost inevitably the saints really are the poor, mournful, meek, hungering and thirsting, merciful, pure, peacemakers, who are persecuted and reviled in all kinds of ways. And on All Saints’ Day, despite her propensity and desire to weave a golden fabric of saintliness with the legends of the saintliest saints, and set it to the best possible hymn tune, the church has not completely lost the plot. And she has considered two things.
First, she has remembered that the saints of yore, of days gone by, were, by and large people who could be counted among the poor, the mournful, the meek, the hungering and thirsting, the merciful, the pure, the peacemakers, who were persecuted and reviled in all kinds of ways. And that this truth is a truth worth celebrating! Mostly this is a truth worth celebrating because the church has also considered that the saints to come, the saints who are still in the making, the saints who haven’t even become Episcopalians yet, are also most likely to be counted among the poor, the mournful, the meek, the hungering and thirsting, the merciful, the pure, peacemakers, who are persecuted and reviled in all kinds of ways.
From up here, I get to look out at the church, such as she is, gathered here on Locust Street, at this time in history when the church is not at her best, not at her strongest, probably not anywhere near her saintliest. I’m called to remember with the rest of the church those saints of yesteryear: the truth about them, the legends about them, and all that we don’t really know, or have forgotten about them. And I’m called to look out at you, and for a few or more who have not yet made it in through those doors. And do you know what I see in the church these days?
I see a church that is full of the poor, the mournful, the meek, the hungering and thirsting, the merciful, pure, peacemakers, who are persecuted and reviled in all kinds of ways. You don’t look very saintly to me. At least, I don’t think I am ready to write a book report about you and your life. Though there are a few of you about whom I have some legends I am willing to embellish.
But we listen to the Beatitudes on All Saints’ Day, to remind ourselves that indeed you do look like saints to Jesus. He looks at the poor, mournful, meek, hungering and thirsting, merciful, pure, peacemaking, persecuted and reviled lot of you, and do you know what he sees?
Of course you do! He sees the kingdom of heaven, inhabited by a population of saints who will be comforted, and will inherit the earth, who will be filled with righteousness, and will receive mercy, who will see God face to face, and who will be called forevermore children of God. Yes, Jesus looks at you in all your deficits, and he sees the assets of the kingdom of heaven, just as he saw them in the deficits of the saints who have gone before us!
Jesus looks at you in all your deficit-based glory, knowing your deficits better than you do, and not caring one bit about them, as long as they are not impediments to getting closer to him, and assuring you that they need not be! Blessed are the poor, and the mournful, and the meek, and the hungering and thirsting, the merciful, the pure, the peacemakers, and those who are persecuted and reviled in all kinds of ways! For yours is the kingdom of heaven! And you will be will be comforted, and will inherit the earth, who will be filled with righteousness, and will receive mercy, who will see God face to face, and who will be called forevermore children of God. Yes, yours is the kingdom of heaven. And I don’t know if it will be because you will be an exemplar of sanctity whose name will some day be sung in a long litany of the saints. Or if it will be just because you are one of the many saints who follow the Way of Christ, and will be remembered along with everybody else.
We are tonight, weaving a golden fabric of saintliness with the legends of the saintliest saints, and setting it to the best possible hymn tune. And we are remembering that that golden fabric makes a garment to clothe the poor, the mournful, the meek, the hungering and thirsting, the merciful, the pure, the peacemakers, who are persecuted and reviled in all kinds of ways. Thus clothed, the saints are ready for the kingdom of heaven, which has been meant for them… for you… for us… from the very beginning, all our deficits, notwithstanding.
Preached by Fr. Sean Mullen
All Saints’ Day, 2023
Saint Mark’s, Locust Street, Philadelphia
