by James Martin
I imagined being in the scene and asking Peter, “How could you do it?” And in my prayer he seemed to point to the net and say, “Just look at all those fish!”
All of us need to leave things behind in order to follow God. For some of us, it is addictive patterns of behavior, for others an overweening emphasis on our own success, for others the adulation of the crowd. It helps sometimes to look not just at what we’re leaving behind and what God promises us, but also at what God has shown us already.
Just look at all those fish.
* * *
THE MIRACULOUS CATCH OF FISH
Luke 5:1–11
* * *
Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. So they signaled to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.
* * *
CHAPTER 10
Happy
“Rejoice and be glad.”
BLESSED WERE WE TO be staying at the Mount of Beatitudes hostel. Not simply because of the air-conditioned rooms, the titanic breakfasts, the proximity to so many sites in Galilee, or even the gracious Franciscan hospitality, but something else: the ease of prayer. Whenever we emerged from our hotel we stepped on holy ground: the spot where Jesus, by tradition, preached the Beatitudes during his Sermon on the Mount. And in case we ever forgot, tour buses rumbled into the parking lot every few hours, from early morning to late afternoon.
The Church of the Beatitudes, the centerpiece of the complex, was surrounded by a lush garden filled with date-palm and cypress trees and carpeted with scented flowers and bougainvillea. A few days into our stay, George and I decided to spend the morning praying. So shortly after dawn, I sat on a bench and leaned against a tall eucalyptus tree.
Naturally, I prayed about the Beatitudes. It would have been almost impossible not to. Scattered throughout the garden were small granite markers, six inches off the ground, featuring lines from Matthew’s version of the Beatitudes: Beati Pauperes Spiritu, Quoniam Ipsorum Est Regnum Caelorum, read a sign almost obscured by red flowers. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
THE BEATITUDES ARE THE series of Jesus’s statements that begin with “Blessed are,” found in both Matthew and Luke, which offer different versions of Jesus’s list. In the Gospel of Matthew, the Beatitudes begin what is commonly called the Sermon on the Mount: “When Jesus saw the crowds,” writes Matthew, “he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying: ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit . . .’”
On a mountain, but where? As I’ve mentioned, scholars debate and sometimes despair over finding the precise locations of Jesus’s miracles and speeches. Daniel Harrington says about the Sermon on the Mount that “attempts at determining the exact site are useless.”1
Jerome Murphy-O’Connor arrives at the same conclusion and employs some ingenious sociological deduction to explain the current location of the Mount of Beatitudes. It was inevitable, he wrote, that the well-watered and shady spot on the shores of the Sea of Galilee where pilgrims picnicked in Byzantine times would become identified as the scene of many feeding miracles, including the Multiplication of the Loaves and Fishes. “Then,” he adds tartly, “it became convenient to localize the Sermon on the Mount on a small hill nearby.”2 So conceivably I was praying miles from the real location.
Still, somewhere on the western side of the Sea of Galilee, on a rise (unless the evangelists were using the mountain as an allegorical place of revelation—that is, comparing this incident to the revelation of the Torah to Moses on Mt. Sinai), the Gospel of Matthew tells us that Jesus named those he considered blessed.
Matthew’s version of the Sermon on the Mount, however, includes more than just the Beatitudes. Stretching leisurely through chapters 5 to 7, it continues with some condemnations against the rich and complacent as well as many other teachings—on judging, anger, adultery, serving two masters, anxiety—and it also includes the Lord’s Prayer. Most likely these are a collection of sayings from Jesus gathered into one place in Matthew’s narrative. By contrast, Luke scatters some of these same teachings throughout his Gospel in various places.
Luke also situates the sermon elsewhere. Jesus has just come down from the mountain, after naming the twelve apostles. From there, with a “multitude” in tow, he stops on a “level place,” where he heals many people before beginning to preach. As he often does, Luke connects the ministry of healing with the ministry of the word: one gives authority and meaning to the other. Because of this “level place,” Luke’s version is often known as the Sermon on the Plain.3
In both cases “crowds” or “multitudes” follow the Teacher. In Matthew, Jesus goes up the mountain in sight of the crowds and begins to instruct the disciples. But this does not exclude the crowds, who presumably are listening in. Luke’s narrative refers to the “great crowd” of disciples (ochlos polus), then a “great multitude” of people (plēthos polu), and finally a “crowd” (ochlos). In Luke, Jesus has just called the Twelve so the sermon serves as a set of operating instructions for them, with the crowds listening in.
In both cases, though, many people are around. Jesus intends his message for a large audience. And Matthew and Luke are implicitly saying, “That includes you.”
“Blessed are,” Jesus says, and he names those whom he favors.4 In Matthew’s version they are: the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, and those who are persecuted, reviled, and slandered because they follow Jesus. Now, the entire Sermon on the Mount, as gathered together in Matthew, was probably not delivered in full on that one day. More likely it is a compendium of Jesus’s teachings. The Beatitudes might have been easy for a large crowd to hear, but as William Barclay notes of the entire sermon, “Anyone who heard it in its present form would have been exhausted long before the end.”5
Luke’s version is more compact. Jesus blesses the poor (instead of the poor in spirit), the hungry, those who weep, and those who are persecuted because they follow Jesus. In both Gospels all will receive a reward. Consider the passage in Luke:
Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.
Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.
Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.
Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice on that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.
These groups, variously forgotten, marginalized, downtrodden, persecuted, or simply hopeless, are to be rewarded. But when? Now or later? Once again, we are faced with a question about the “timing” of the reign of God. On the one hand, the kingdom of God belo
ngs to the poor. So, already. On the other, mourners will be comforted, and the ones who are persecuted will receive their reward in heaven. So, not yet.
Many scholars speak of the Beatitudes as an eschatological promise; that is, these groups will be showered with blessings by God in the future.6 Another interpretation is that Jesus reveals these people as already blessed—he praises and welcomes them specifically into the reign of God. They are blessed now because Jesus blesses them. In his book Jesus of Nazareth, Gerhard Lohfink underscores this radical immediacy. Jesus, he believes, is not saying that mourning or being hungry is a blessing—nor is he in this discourse promising those groups blessings merely in the afterlife (though these would surely come). The turning point is already here: “God’s intervention is about to take place and . . . it is especially the hopeless who will experience God’s hope and salvation in a measure beyond all telling. . . . He promises the poor and beaten down in particular that they will participate in the reign of God.”7
Here, then, are Jesus’s favored ones. In his comfort of and care for them, Jesus is drawing on many of the Hebrew Scriptures that point to the poor and oppressed as those deserving special attention.8 But Jesus goes beyond that, elevating them in his reign and offering them as models of discipleship. They provide a partial sketch of character traits, attitudes, and virtues befitting disciples.9 Thus, the Beatitudes work on multiple levels and in multiple times: as a template for discipleship in the present (be humble now); as an indication of those who are favored (God loves the humble); and as a promise of future reward (God will reward the humble).
For all these reasons the Beatitudes are often called the Gospel within the Gospel.
WHAT WAS IT LIKE for the original listeners to hear the Beatitudes? Since we are not Aramaic-speaking Galileans in the first century who intuitively understand the milieu in which Jesus was preaching, the best answer may be: Who knows? However, we know something about what it meant to be poor, hungry, and persecuted at the time, so we can posit a few reactions.10
First: surprise. Those on the bottom are promised a place on top. Jesus’s upside-down vision represented a complete transformation of society as his listeners knew it. Those who had suffered much must have been consoled.
Another reaction, among the wealthy or powerful, might have been shock. If the reign of God was to be given into the hands of the poor, for example, what did that mean for those with money and power? Certainly they had heard of this before, in the Hebrew Scriptures, but the urgency of Jesus’s words may have sparked fear. How could such a radical social transformation happen without violence? Although Jesus intends that everyone (the multitudes) participate in the reign of God, there must have been some who found threatening what we normally consider comforting words. Even today, with so many lines from the Beatitudes embedded in our literature and culture, Jesus’s list of favorites retains its power to shock.
A few of the groups Jesus praises would still win praise today—for example, the “pure in heart.” The Greek is katharoi tē cardia, literally, the “clean of heart.” The word had multiple meanings in Jesus’s time: clean, like recently washed clothes; clean, like grain that has had impurities removed; or clean, like a substance that has never been adulterated—like wine that has not been mixed with water.11 Mostly this term relates to pure motives rather than to ritual or sexual purity. People not acting out of excessive self-interest, whose inner and outer lives correspond, like those in the Psalms with “clean hands and pure hearts,” are the subject of his blessing.12 It’s a challenge to be “clean of heart,” because even in our most selfless moments we may act from mixed motives. But the general meaning—a person of integrity—would be praised today. So if Jesus were to say today, “Blessed are people of integrity,” he would probably get a hearty round of applause.
Other lines might be met by stony silence. Even when we distinguish between groups promised consolation or justice (the poor, the hungry, mourners) and groups praised for their behavior (the pure in heart, peacemakers, those who hunger for righteousness), Jesus’s words disturb, because many of those Jesus singles out for praise are sneered at today. Think about our common perceptions of some of these groups.
Let’s start with the poor. Often today they are seen as lazy, an embarrassment to society, or simply nonentities. By the way, the word Luke uses—ptōchoi—may refer not simply to the indigent or even the working poor, but to something more specific—beggars. The word is connected to the root ptōssein, meaning to crouch or cower, the way that many beggars do. Perhaps to reclaim the full power of Jesus’s words we can hear him say, “Blessed are the beggars.” Have you ever walked past a group of homeless people and thought, Blessed are they?
How about the “poor in spirit”? Many Christians find it hard to appreciate this Beatitude, because almost any translation implies the opposite of what Jesus means. Several years ago during a Bible study class in a parish, I asked the group what they thought of when they heard the term “poverty of spirit.” A woman’s hand shot up. “Someone who doesn’t believe in God?” Paradoxically, to be poor in spirit is to be rich in faith. It indicates a person whose humility allows him or her to grasp the fundamental reliance on God. But even armed with that understanding, we sense that this Beatitude is still a threat. Humility is an unpopular virtue.
“Meek” may be an even more unpalatable word, conjuring up a simpering milquetoast, someone afraid to stand up for himself or herself, a person devoid of self-confidence and self-respect. When was the last time you heard someone say, “I really like that guy. He’s so meek”?
What did Jesus mean? The Greek praeis is a complicated word with several possible meanings: self-control over one’s passions; obedient or domesticated, as in an animal; or gentle. To understand Jesus’s likely intent, it may help to look at the Hebrew that was the antecedent of the Greek. (Remember, like all the evangelists, Matthew had to translate Jesus’s Aramaic or Hebrew into Greek.) Jesus probably had in mind the word anawim.13 The anawim were not simply the meek, but those who were so poor, or weak, that they knew they depended utterly on God. So, poor and humble, a combination of two traits not highly prized today.14
How about the merciful? The Greek eleēmones is the virtue of being generous or forgiving in excess of what is expected—that is, having mercy. But let’s return again to the Hebrew or Aramaic. Jesus likely used a variant of the word chesed. That word popped up frequently in my Old Testament classes, and every time it did the professor would invariably say that “mercy” doesn’t do it justice. Barclay describes this virtue as follows: “Chesed, mercy, means the ability to get right inside other people until we can see things with their eyes, think things with their minds, and feel things with their feelings.”15
How often do we do that? Anyone who gives others the benefit of the doubt, tries to identify with someone on the opposite side of the theological or political spectrum, or forgives after having been horribly wronged is often seen as naive, lacking in self-respect, or, worse, a traitor. “You’re forgiving him?” Today too, many respect not mercy, but revenge.
How about the peacemakers? Nearly all of us would praise those who work for peace. The Hebrew shalom, which Jesus likely used, means more than the absence of violence; it is the state of the highest good for all people. But there is about peacemaking a sense of the quixotic. Do you really think you can bring peace to your family, your workplace, your church, a country torn by violence? Most people would shake their heads and say, “Good luck!”
In popular thought, then, some of the groups named in the Beatitudes are thought of as lazy, cowardly, foolish, and gullible—basically, losers. In fact, one of the phrases in Luke’s list refers specifically to those who are set aside: “Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man.” The word for “exclude” is aphorizō, and it has the sense of being set aside, excluded, marked off from others by a boundary—that is, “marginalized.” Embedded in the Beatitu
des is the recognition that some disciples will be thought of as people who don’t matter.
All this reminds me of my visits to the French shrine of Lourdes. Briefly put, Catholics believe that in 1858 the Virgin Mary appeared to a poor young girl named Bernadette Soubirous beside a filthy grotto near the Gave River in a small town in southern France. During one apparition, Bernadette was told to “bathe in the waters.” Not there, said the vision, when the young girl began walking toward the river. Confused, Bernadette started digging a few feet away from the riverbank. There she uncovered a bubbling spring of clear water, which proved to possess remarkable healing powers for some people in the town. Since then physicians have authenticated sixty-seven inexplicable cures of various illnesses in Lourdes, and the shrine attracts millions of pilgrims each year.
Every evening in Lourdes a huge procession draws as many as ten thousand people to pray the Rosary. Rain or shine, the procession begins by the river and ends in front of the massive gray church that now rises over the grotto. In the closing moments of the procession, the crowd gathers in a large plaza before the church. Then the crowd parts, like the Red Sea, to make way for the sick, for those who have journeyed to Lourdes for healing. Hundreds of men, women, and children—who suffer from the final stages of cancer, various forms of paralysis, and every variety of incurable disease—are pushed in wheelchairs and carts to the front of the crowd to receive a blessing. Some look on the edge of death; others lift their heads with difficulty, limbs twisted; others nestle in their mother’s or father’s arms. These are the malades, the sick.
In Lourdes, the sick come first. Never have I seen this without thinking about the Beatitudes. These are the ones who Jesus singles out in the Sermon on the Mount and elsewhere in his ministry: “The last will be first.”16 The ones on the bottom are on top. The ones who are ignored are celebrated. The ones who are pushed aside are given pride of place. The ones in the back of the line get the best seats. Blessed are they.