“Blessed are the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek…” Where is Jesus getting this? If we pay attention to the words, it really looks like a riff off that Isaiah text Jesus read in the synagogue at Nazareth: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free” (Lk. 4:18).
That Isaiah text is worth noticing for a couple reasons. First, that the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, etc. are blessed depends on the presence of this anointed one. That uncountable multitude robed in white in John’s vision: blessed because “the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life.”
Second, while in the part Jesus read the poor are the recipients of the good news, as the text progresses, they’re empowered to enact the good news: “They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations” (Isa 61:4). Their character as described in the Beatitudes makes that possible: hungering and thirsting for righteousness, merciful, peacemakers. And that “virtuous and godly living” (as the collect puts it) is what we’re celebrating tonight: Jesus’ coming bears fruit, that uncountable multitude that John describes. Christmas, Epiphany, Holy Week, Ascension, Pentecost: these actually produce something. There is a harvest. All Saints is our harvest festival. The Church: the field for growing saints. As Paul writes “I planted, Apollo watered, but God gave the growth” (! Cor 3:6).
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me” Jesus read. There’s a snapshot of the Holy Trinity: “the Spirit of the Lord is upon me.” And against all odds—recall the multiple times God’s people snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, or Paul in Galatians (“I am afraid that my work for you may have been wasted“ [4:11])—the Holy Trinity triumphs. So we celebrate, and could easily tie off the sermon here.
Or not. For even as we celebrate, it’s hard to ignore the deep—shall we say—ambiguities in that saint-growing field. Particularly in these days, whether the conflicting ways we do politics or the conflicting faces we present to the surrounding culture. Now, as it happens our Jewish sisters and brothers read Kohelet (our Ecclesiastes) at their harvest festival (the Feast of Booths/Tabernacles); what if we listen to Kohelet at ours? Kohelet, that teacher in post Alexander the Great Jerusalem as economic globalization and Greek culture were unsettling pretty much everything. “Blessed are the poor in spirit”—and who is poorer in spirit than Kohelet (“Vanity of vanity, all is vanity.”)? In the midst of our celebration Kohelet can help us manage our expectations, and that in at least five ways.
First, this side of John’s vision, there’s no escaping Kohelet’s “vanity.” So Paul in Romans: “for the creation was subjected to futility…and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies” (Rom. 8:20-23). Or, as Kohelet puts it “Dead flies make the perfumer’s ointment give off a foul odor; so a little folly outweighs wisdom and honor” (Eccl. 10:1). When in the Creed we say “For us and for our salvation he came down from heaven,” this is the world Jesus enters. Barnabas walks; Jesus is crucified.
Second, while Scripture from Genesis to Revelation gives us a true overview of our history, an overview we variously celebrate in our major feasts, recall this: “He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover he has put a eternity into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end” (Eccl. 3:11 NRS*). The Holy Trinity will triumph. There will be a glorious harvest. Amen. How will the Holy Trinity triumph? We strain to even imagine an answer. Recall the wildly divergent ways we’ve read Revelation through the centuries! And the more attention we pay to our world, the more difficult even imagining an answer becomes. That patch of earth on the eastern Mediterranean: “the holy land”?
Third, there’s no magic program out there, just waiting to be discovered. Kohelet: “Send out your bread upon the waters, for after many days you will get it back. Divide your means seven ways, or even eight, for you do not know what disaster may happen on earth” (11:1-2). Improvisation: I think Kohelet would have liked that word. Recall Paul’s encouragement: “Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord” (Eph. 5:10). As we’re inspired by the saints, let’s be inspired by their commitment to improv.
Fourth, while I am constantly grateful for and nurtured by the saints in Lesser Feasts and Fasts—such an astonishing variety of ways of being faithful—such collections tempt us to assume that faithfulness is always or usually effective. But Kohelet: “Again I saw that under the sun the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to the skillful; but time and chance happen to them all” (9:11). Our best efforts may turn out to be completely forgettable—except by God. Faithfulness: that’s in our hands. Whether that faithfulness is effective is not. That’s a burden we don’t need to carry.
Fifth, Kohelet’s ending: “Fear God, and keep his commandments, for this is every person” (Ellen Davis’ translation), roughly “this is what constitutes our humanity.” Despite the vanity, despite how often it’s pitch black, we’re not stuck with discouragement and despair, not stuck with being stuck. Fear God; keep the commandments (Love this God, love our neighbor.) And the ending—far beyond what Kohelet allows himself to hope—the light and joy of John’s vision. There is a harvest; this harvest festival is well worth celebrating.
“Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom
and thanksgiving and honor
and power and might
be to our God forever and ever! Amen.”
With Jacob at Bethel 