Beatitude #3: Blessed are the meek

"Meek" is one of those wonderfully archaic words which seems only to be used in a Biblical context - much, I suppose, like "blessed". It comes, I understand, from an Old Norse word meaning something like "soft". A Google search of the word, however, is quite informative. Firstly you get the standard array of dictionary definitions and Wikipedia entries. But somewhere down the line your screen will display a website entitled "Blesse'd Are The Meek". Interested, you may click on the link, to find this page - the homepage for an Australian fashion label. Click on "About" and you will read their story, accompanied with fairly raunchy photos of their not-particularly-meek products, and the following opening line, in all its mock-Biblical splendour:

In the beginning, in Melbourne 2003AD a small gathering of obsessed fashion devotees embarked on a quest to create divine and coveted pieces with which to adorn themselves.

And so Bless’ed Are The Meek was born, and it was humbly decreed that they would strive together to push the boundaries of meekdom.

Have they, perhaps, pushed the boundaries a bit far? Have they, in fact, missed the point altogether?

Meekness is wonderfully misunderstood. Friedrich Nietzsche famously criticised this verse because of the "slave morality" it reflected. Others have parodied Matthew 5:5 or simply been fascinated or intrigued by it (Wikipedia boasts a formidable list of musicians, comedians, authors and the like who have referenced the third beatitude, ranging from Eddie Izzard to Frank Zappa to Gorky's Zygotic Mynci). But what exactly does it mean to be meek? Is it the same, as many understand, as being a wuss? It's fairly clear, I think, that it means nothing of the sort. But that isn't very helpful; neither, for that matter, is a quick, unscholarly survey of the Greek, which merely tells me that meek comes from the Greek word "praeis" which means...meek.

Though that isn't half as unhelpful as it seems at first. You see, in Matthew 5:5 Jesus is using the noun form of "meek", a word that should perhaps be rendered "the meek ones". Then, in Matthew 11:29, he uses the same word, as an adjective, to speak of himself:

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle [praos = meek] and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.

So here we see something utterly wonderful: that Jesus calls us to be meek, because he himself is meek. He blesses the meek, declaring that they shall inherit the earth, and he leads the way. Meek to the death, he inherits all things as his reward (Philippians 2:9-11). And as for us - well, we are "co-heirs" with him, if we believe (Romans 8:17) - which isn't to say that we receive all that Jesus receives, but it does tell us that, in some manner which we cannot yet fully grasp, we will gain from that to which we have absolutely no right: His glorious inheritance.

So what then does it mean for us to be meek? Well, not to be wusses, that's for sure. Going to the Cross was just about the least wussy thing a human being could do - and that's exactly what Jesus did for us, much as it terrified him. But it was meek. If he had put himself on the pedestal that he deserved, he could have spat in Pilate's face, told Herod where to get off, shown the mocking soldiers who was really in charge. But he didn't.

If we want to know what meekness is, what humility is, let's start with Jesus: God in every way, yet humble; the creator of the universe letting His created subjects mock Him, torture Him, kill Him.

Is that the fruit of a "slave morality"? Look at meek Jesus, risen and exalted, then look at proud Friedrich Nietzsche, dead in despair. Tell me who was the slave.

Blessed are the meek,

for they will inherit the earth.

I don't understand half of what that means. I'm not even beginning to understand it. But I know where to begin it: Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, on the Cross, and now in Heaven, meek but exalted, humble but acknowledged for who He is. And what a place that is to begin.

Beatitude #2: Blessed are those who mourn

I remember a minister friend of my parents once shared a story with us from a family devotional book that dealt chiefly in stories of martyrs. This story was about a so-called "eccentric" preacher who seemed to be famous for spontaneously calling out "Glory!" at inappropriate moments. One such moment was when he was told the news that his wife had died and he responded with, "Glory! My wife has gone to be with the glorious ones," or something to that effect. He may not have said "glorious". That might have been overkill. But you get the idea.

Now, being only about fifteen at the time, I wasn't aware of just how unhelpful that story was. It really just sounded quite silly to me, but on reflection I feel that it gave a very false view of how Christians should deal with mourning. While it may be ideal for us to have our hopes fixed so firmly on heaven that we can rejoice to know our loved ones are there, I'm not sure that pure joy is the response that we should expect to feel at such times. That just isn't the reality of life, and one of the most wonderful things that we can discover about the Bible is that it is firmly grounded in the realities of life.

When Jesus first addresses the crowd gathered on the mountain, following up on his promises to the poor in spirit, he declared, as a key feature of his kingdom, that:

Blessed are those who mourn,

for they will be comforted. (Matthew 5:4)

Now, it does not mean that the act of mourning is intrinsically blessed. Far from it. We know from elsewhere in the New Testament that hopeless mourning is not to be a feature of the Christian experience:

Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. (1 Thessalonians 4:12-13)

Note what Paul, the writer of that passage, does not say: he does not say, "do not grieve". But he does say, "do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope". We know for a fact that Christians can grieve. If Jesus is the model of the Christian life, the shortest verse in the Bible tells us that weeping over the death of a loved one, even one we know will be raised from the dead, is natural. But Jesus would not have wept hopelessly; after all, he knew how the death of his friend Lazarus would end: with life.

So why, then, are those who mourn blessed? Not because mourning itself brings blessing, but because mourning is never the final word. Refusing to mourn may seem noble, but Tim Keller has pointed out in a sermon on joy that refusal to mourn is pagan Stoicism far more than it is Christian. But we know for a fact that Jesus came to put an end to mourning: not by denying his followers the right to grieve when they lost those they loved, but by hoping in the life beyond all this mourning.

Is it any coincidence that, in the passage Mark presents as the beginning of his public ministry, Jesus quotes from a famous passage in Isaiah in which the time of mourning is declared to end with him?

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,

because the LORD has anointed me

to preach good news to the poor.

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted...

to comfort all who mourn,

and provide for them a crown of beauty

instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness

instead of mourning,

and a garment of praise

instead of a spirit of despair. (Isaiah 61:1-3)

This is why those who mourn are blessed: because Jesus promises them comfort - more than a pat on the back, more than a shoulder to cry on; the greatest hope a mourner could know. The knowledge that, in Jesus, death is never the final answer.

Song: Aaron Strumpel - Sixty One

Beatitude #1: Blessed are the poor in spirit

When Jesus stood up to declare what some commentators have called the "constitution" of his kingdom, he began with these famous words:

Blessed are the poor in spirit,

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Scholars and writers differ on what the word "blessed" here really means. I remember Philip Yancey saying that the word in the Greek is more along the lines of "Oh you happy person!" I'm not sure about how reliable this rendering is, but it certainly draws attention to the fact that Jesus is saying something extremely irregular and counter-intuitive here: those who seem most downcast and weak are in fact the most blessed. How? And why?

A sermon at my church on the Beatitudes on Sunday got me thinking about this passage, and re-watching Lars von Trier's masterful Melancholia got me thinking even more. The film concerns two sisters, Justine (Kirsten Dunst) and Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg) and their relationship as it plays out during Justine's increasingly problematic wedding celebration (Part 1) and the arrival of a threatening planet, Melancholia, which is moving ever closer to earth (Part 2). For much of the film, Claire fails to understand Justine's evident depression, and Justine is cautioned to "not say a word" to her husband about the ache that fills every moment of her life. Yet as the film unfolds Justine's depression is shown to be a valid response to the world around her, while Claire and her husband (brilliantly portrayed by an understated Kiefer Sutherland) are shown to be much more naive than you would have thought at the start.

So what is the message of all this? The film suggests at one point that the "poor in spirit" may in fact be gifted. Justine is shown to have almost mystical knowledge that others lack. I'm not so convinced. Justine's knowledge is that the universe is empty and meaningless; this is a fairly common thought for someone with depression, but I'm not convinced that it is the truth. Depression can lead us to feel and think things like this - and I've had my fair share of such thoughts - but we need to remember that, in times like those, it is the depression speaking, not some profound revelation.

But the film does offer something quite interesting in terms of how to deal with "Melancholia". The truth of Justine's condition, like the truth of the planet, is something that characters continually avoid. When John (Kiefer Sutherland) declares that "Melancholia [the planet] will just pass us by" and "will be the most beautiful sight" ever, he is shown to be devastatingly, emphatically wrong. Claire, who is always the strong one, is unable to confront heartbreak when it arrives. Neither is John. And Michael, Justine's erstwhile husband, is never seen again. So much for being strong. So much for "not breathing a word".

If the poor in spirit are blessed, it is not because they have a mystical awareness that life means nothing. It is that they are sometimes forced, in their brokenness, to confront the pain of human existence and, by God's grace, to move closer to Him and find their answer there. The truth is that all of us should recognise ourselves to be poor in spirit, because before God we all are. The answer is not to deny this or try to be strong in ourselves. The answer is to bring all our brokenness to Jesus Christ who was broken for us, and let Him heal us and give us hope.

I pray that Lars von Trier can realise this truth. He has come so close to it, but sadly remains so far.

I am a poor boy too (Advent #15)

There is no Biblical text for today's post. That's because it concerns a story that you won't find in the Bible. You may know it: a poor boy who hears of the news of his king's arrival; he has nothing to offer the king but his drum, which he plays for his king with all his heart.

I used to cringe at this song. It seemed to fit alongside "Little Donkey" and "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" as the least Biblical carols we sing. Then I heard the sublime Future of Forestry's version of it, and everything suddenly changed. The story, I realised, may appear nowhere in the Bible, but that seemed less relevant than what the song was about: a boy with nothing to offer but a drum, a humble drum presumably, to proclaim the coming of the King. He had no gold, frankincense or myrrh to offer; but then neither did the shepherds; neither did Simeon, who had only the wisdom of devout old age to offer the Messiah.

It also makes me think a little about worship: about how feeble and humble our offerings so often are, but how pleased God is with them. It makes me think of the King Himself, who, when declaring the constitution of His Kingdom, began with these words:

Blessed are the poor in spirit,

for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 5:3)

Your spirit may have much to offer your king this year, or it may have very little. Come to Him anyway. Sing to Him out of your riches, sing to Him out of your poverty. Offer Him your finest gold, offer Him your humblest drum. All He asks is that you come to Him, and acknowledge Him as your King.