Dear Parishioner,
The Redemptorist Denis McBride reminded me of the story of Vincent van Gogh who, amongst other things, dedicated his life to helping others and who at one point studied theology to train as an evangelist in Brussels. For one reason or another he failed to be recommended for ordination and left to do missionary work amongst a poor mining population, something he would call ‘a free course in the university of despair.’ He was made penniless and experienced further rejection, at which point he determined that he would bring consolation to people through his art. The rest, as they say, is history.
The prophet Zephaniah speaks of the lowly and the humble who find refuge and shelter in the Lord. Paul, too, warns the Christians of Corinth not to become too inflated with their own self-importance as God has a habit of choosing what is weak and foolish in the world to put the rest of us in our place. And then there is Matthew. Today’s gospel hardly needs an introduction – his three-chapter long Sermon on the Mount is one of the most dramatic pieces of writing in the entire New Testament, at the core which lie the Beatitudes, the Sermon’s literary and theological heart. In a world that values power, fame and fortune above all else, these verses, rich in irony, cut through to the very heart of what it means to be human, as they reach out to those who have no voice in the world. Jesus’ own life is testimony to that: he gave up power and prestige to follow the way of powerlessness; he displayed a gentleness and sensitivity with people that others simply dismissed; he mourned when he saw how so many chose to be blind when God visited them and placed a healing hand on them; his mercy and forgiveness upended the conceitedness of the religious authorities; and he strove to make real peace between ourselves and God, with ego cast firmly aside. As a result, he himself was persecuted and hounded to death because he chose what is right over what was popular. And in the end, he was blessed because God raised him from the dead.
At the top of the Mountain, such is the purified air that Jesus invites us to breathe. But isn’t it temporary? As we descend to the plain below, it is easy to allow ‘real life’ to kick back in and it becomes very difficult to sustain the challenges before us. But at least we know what those challenges look like. For a while too van Gogh learnt to face a future plagued with adversity and pain and in doing so made a difference. So slowly, very slowly, we too can begin to breathe in some of the purified air of this most spiritual part of Matthew’s gospel and allow it to consume us.
Deacon Alex
