“Heavenly Root Systems”

Sixth Sunday after Epiphany

February 13, 2022

Jeremiah 17:5-10

Luke 6:17-26

The problem with our understanding of this interpretation of the gospel in Greek is that it automatically creates a false dichotomy—a black-and-white situation. It sounds as if Jesus is telling people that it is good to be poor and bad to be rich; it is good to mourn and bad to be happy; it is good to be hungry and bad to have your fill. So, here’s a warning for us. Anytime it appears that Jesus creates a clear boundary between who’s in and who’s out, we’ve probably misunderstood what Jesus is really trying to say. Whether it’s lost in translation or culture, Jesus just isn’t a black-and-white kind of guy.

So, I want to read another interpretation that spins it a bit—puts the text in a different light. This is Eugene Peterson’s interpretation in The Message:

“Then Jesus spoke:

You’re blessed when you’ve lost it all. God’s kingdom is there for the finding.

You’re blessed when you’re ravenously hungry. Then you’re ready for the Messianic meal.

You’re blessed when the tears flow freely. Joy comes with the morning.

Count yourself blessed every time someone cuts you down or throws you out, every time someone smears or blackens your name to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and that that person is uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—skip like a lamb, if you like!—for even though they don’t like it, I do…and all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company; my preachers and witnesses have always been treated like this.

But it’s trouble ahead if you think you have it made. What you have is all you’ll ever get.

And it’s trouble ahead if you’re satisfied with yourself. Your self will not satisfy you for long.

And it’s trouble ahead if you think life’s all fun and games. There’s suffering to be met, and you’re going to meet it.

There’s trouble ahead when you live only for the approval of others, saying what flatters them, doing what indulges them. Popularity contests are not truth contests—look how many scoundrel preachers were approved by your ancestors! Your task is to be true, not popular.”

All of a sudden, we’re not compelled to romanticize poverty, as if those who have little automatically have greater faith. Instead, the passage moves us to reimagine what success looks like. In an honor/shame culture such as 1st Century Israel—and honestly, our own culture, as well—we have a hard time considering someone who has fallen on hard times as blessed. Or honorable. We see someone who clearly has trouble, and an automatic response is to feel pity. Oh look at that person…in a wheelchair, or with a deformity, or who is blind, or some other visible difference. Oh, that’s so sad.

That kind of sentiment drives me crazy. Because as often as not, that person being pitied has at least as much to be grateful for as I do. And as often as not, that person doesn’t need nor want pity. They want accessible buildings, accommodations so they can do their work, a world built not for everyone else but built just as much for their needs and nuances.

Our passage today starts with Jesus coming down with the disciples to a level place. He comes down from the mountain where he had been praying. He comes down onto the same level as the people he serves—the people who seek him out—the people who worship him. Much like in Paul’s letter to the Philippians that says, “though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, and being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.”

He came down, not because he pitied the people but because he loved them. And they came from all over—a 300-mile radius—to get a glimpse of him. To touch his tunic and be healed. And his power flowed throughout the crowd, healing and casting out demons. And then, he taught.

Now, someone pointed out this week that he didn’t teach with the promise of healing. He didn’t make people sit through his instructions about what they should and shouldn’t do before consenting to care for them. He cared for them first. He took care of their needs. Because he know that once they were no longer in distress, they would be able to hear what he had to say. And it was that important.

Honored are those who have little. You still have God’s kin-dom. And that’s something that can’t be taken away. Honored are those who hunger. There is enough food in this world for all—and you have a right to it like everyone else. Honored are those who grieve. Death isn’t the last word, and you are not alone.

You see, that’s the whole point of these blessings and woes. When we see ourselves as part of a larger whole, even the things that others pity about us are nothing compared to the community and movement to which we belong. We are like the tree that has deep roots, planted by the river. Even in a drought—and the droughts will come—we need not fear. We have what we need.

I’m reminded of the Quaking Aspens in Utah. It is actually one organism that has a singular root system, but the forest of aspens is made up of 50,000 stems covering 100 acres. Because of this root system and the interconnectedness of the trees (or Tree), it is virtually impossible to kill. Damaging or cutting down a stem will not destroy it. The Tree will help it continue to grow and regenerate. The stems depend upon their relationship with one another and with their source to grow strong and tall.

On the other hand, I am also reminded of the story of a Christian missionary who was sent to an African tribe to evangelize and convert them to Christianity. It seemed impossible because they insisted on worshiping the shrubs that grew along the mountainside. And instead of working within their own value structure and reframing the gospel message, he insisted that the shrub must be destroyed. He had all of the plants torn out of the side of the mountain, and with nothing left to worship, he was certain he could finally succeed in his mission. But when the rainy season came along, without the shrubs to hold the land fast, a mudslide obliterated the tribe below.

Trouble’s coming if you think you’ve got it made—if you have all you need and leave no room for God. When you do need God, you won’t know where to look. Trouble’s coming when you look only to yourself for success. It never lasts. Trouble’s coming when you ignore another’s pain simply because your own life has gone relatively well. Your own difficulties are only one bad decision or one diagnosis away. And who will be there for you?

There will be times when we are rich and fed and happy, and there will be times when we are poor and hungry and sad. The will be times when we are confident of ourselves and times when we will be scared for the future. None of these moments are permanent. And none of these moments are because we deserve them. But, they can be opportunities to build each other up. When we are on the mountain, Jesus calls us to come down with him to the level place—an equal place. And when we are in pain and suffering, Jesus comes close and makes us whole.

And when we think we have achieved greatness, Jesus reminds us that everything we have is a gift. And when we think we are broken beyond repair, Jesus sends us this community to walk with us and find our way home. Jesus creates for us an amazing root system, knit together into one body, and supplied abundantly from the Source, itself. So that, when one stumbles, we can all work together to carry that one. And when one blossoms, the beauty is shared with everyone.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE