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Homilies by Rev. Andrew Collis unless indicated otherwise.

Epiphany 4, Year A
South Sydney Uniting Church
January 29, 2017

Micah 6:1-8; Psalm 15; 1 Corinthians 1:26-31; Matthew 5:1-12

‘This little light, not mine’

These past weeks we have used the phrase “kindom of epiphanies and light” to connote an experience of God as joy and wonder. God’s coming to be with us, in the vulnerability of flesh -- infant, imperilled; speaking words of wisdom and reaching out to offer friendship and healing -- ignites our hopes for one another and for the world. God be with you ...

Today’s Gospel shines a light on those regarded poor in spirit, those called humble or gentle, peacemakers, mourners and victims of persecution. We can think of ourselves in these terms -- as believers committed to a way of prayerful generosity, justice and peace. “This little light of mine …” “This little light of ours …”

And, yes, we can claim the reward as offered in verse 12 -- the “you” (plural) is us, the beatitudes describe a community like ours, wherein there is blessing and consolation, blessing and compassion, blessing and insight, blessing and visions of fairness and nonviolence. Practice in generosity. Practice in mercy/forgiveness.

But epiphany also means seeing with new eyes, our hearts and minds dealt some kind of shock -- light as very bright, disruptive, making strange -- some kind of transcendence or otherness.

There’s another way to hear and to understand the beatitudes.

The first 10 verses of the chapter have Jesus addressing the crowd, addressing us, but referring to others -- missing, absent or far away. Before that plural “you” in verses 11 and 12, it’s not “us” being blessed, it’s “them” -- the blessing is for others, strangers.

Perhaps we too readily interpret “Blessed are those who mourn/ are gentle/ the merciful” to mean, “Blessed am I when I mourn/ am gentle/ am merciful”, or “Blessed are we …” It’s striking that Jesus calls attention away from the immediate concerns of his listeners, then and now, and toward absent others.

His proclamations spark questions: Who do I/we know who are gentle and merciful and pure of heart? Do they know they’re especially blessed? (Emily Kahm).

Many Catholic and liberation theologians incorporate this reading from Matthew 5 when explaining the doctrine of “preferential option for the poor”, that is, recognition that those on the margins and those most negatively affected by the injustices of the world are especially beloved of God. Living with a preferential option for the poor means constantly looking around and wondering who we have left out (neglected or hurt) so we can find ways to invite them in -- or so we can learn to respect their freedom to be where they want to be.

Regarding the recent rise of far-right (inward-looking nationalist) forces in our world, vigilance is key. According to at least one commentator, discrimination against ethnic minorities is an “inborn response all humans have” (Philip Dorling, The Australia Institute).

Perhaps we shouldn’t be preoccupied with taking the beatitudes personally, as all about us, when we might instead be watching for others, who, in spite of their struggles, are bearers of blessing -- bearers of meaning, life, light -- gift-bearers.

Blessed are the readers of the South Sydney Herald ... Blessed are the readers of the Koori Mail ... the Star Observer ...  Blessed are the neighbours whose names we don’t know ... Blessed are those who feel uncomfortable/unwelcome in religious or middle-class company ... Blessed are those with no experience or interest in institutional activities ... Blessed are the lonely, embarrassed, exhausted, hard-working, confused ... those traumatised and displaced, those seeking refuge ... Blessed are the pure-hearted, no matter their way of naming God/Love ... Blessed are the ones so far away from us and our reality that we don’t even know their daily struggles.

“This little light of mine/ours” is first of all a gift. The light comes from the other, the stranger. The light means we’re in relationship; we have responded to others [see Emmanuel Levinas’s account of “first philosophy] and we’re in conversation; we’re in communion with Jesus and with siblings of every time and place. “This little light, not mine.” Jesus calls us to acknowledge it, to receive it and to cherish it -- to share it and to “let it shine” -- that Abba God be praised (Matthew 5:14).

Who do I/we know who are gentle and merciful and pure of heart? Who are the passionate activists and peacemakers? Who are mourning? Who are keenly aware of their poverty, their emptiness, their finitude? And do they know they’re especially blessed? ... Amen.

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