Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
When we read the Bible, too often there are words we
misunderstand, missing the richness of the original thought. As mono-lingual
Americans, we assume our translations are straight one-to-one
substitutions of word for word, capturing the full meaning the original
implied.
Too often, the words we’re given carry only a shadow of
the original intent.
“Righteousness” is one of those words.
I grew up thinking righteousness was something like
“rightness.” As in: correct. The narrow tradition of my childhood church
offered long lists of correct, or more often incorrect, behavior: No movies. No
dances. No playing cards. No alcohol. No skirts shorter than your knees. No
tank tops. No two piece bathing suits.
Righteousness was staying on the right side of the
rules.
There were right opinions and wrong, on everything from
baptism to women to the work of the Holy Spirit to the chronology of the end
times.
“Righteousness,” to me, was a competitive activity, with a
strong punitive edge.
Who would hunger and thirst after that? And what would it
mean to be satisfied?
Dig a bit, and it turns out the original Greek word used
in Matthew’s gospel, “dikaios,” is the same as the Hebrew word
"tzedakah", a word used throughout the Old Testament to describe the
character of God and God’s restorative actions: justice, truth, compassion, kindness,
making right, renewing, restoring, ensuring good things for those without,
restraining the powerful, lifting up the weak, repairing ruined vineyards and
fields, ensuring wise governance and an equitable economy.
We have no word that comes even close.
In Jesus’ time, the “mitzvah of tzedakah,” the commands of
righteousness, had been codified by religious leaders into giving alms to the
poor, with the understanding that the poor had a moral claim to assistance, and
that justice demanded recognition of that claim. The code of giving was spelled
out precisely, with rules about who, when, why, how much. There were ways to
measure the truly poor, and much discussion about which poor could claim aid,
and how much aid was due.
That was the “righteousness of the Pharisees”: legalistic,
motivated by codes, always asking “How much do I have to give?” More
importantly: “When am I done?”
Jesus said ““Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the
scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
He pointed his listeners to the deeper, fuller expression of
righteousness, the righteousness spelled out by the prophets, and claimed by
Jesus when he read Isaiah in the temple:
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,
because the Lord has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the Lord
for the display of his splendor.(Isaiah 61, Luke 4)
Hunger and thirst for that, Jesus said. Hunger and thirst
for restoration of the poor, joy for the suffering, freedom for the captive,
light for those in darkness. Seek that, and you’ll be called oaks of
righteousness. You’ll be rooted in it, breathing it, spreading it, a visible
demonstration of God’s character, splendor, beauty.
When I think of hungering and thirsting for righteousness,
I’m struck by the odd pairing of that beatitude with the one before it:
“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” I see a prophetic
fervor in the quest for the righteousness Jesus describes. Where does meekness
fit with that?
“Meek,” the Greek “praus” is another of those words
flattened in translation. Variously translated humble, mild, gentle, weak, quiet,
in the original it carries a suggestion of strength set aside in deference to
God’s plan.
“Biblical meekness is not weakness but rather refers to exercising God's strength under His control – i.e. demonstrating power without undue harshness.” (Biblesuite) “
“Meekness toward God is that disposition of spirit in which we accept His dealings with us as good, and therefore without disputing or resisting. In the OT, the meek are those wholly relying on God rather than their own strength to defend them against injustice.” (Studylight)
When I read these beatitudes together, this is what I hear:
Your greatest joy, benefit, health, will come from trusting God’s plan, and doing your best to live it, without insisting on your own rights, your own needs, your own safety.
And your greatest joy, benefit, health will come not from simply wanting God’s plan in your own life, but longing to see it revealed in the world around you, in the health of creation, provision for the poor, restoration for those mistreated. As you long to see God’s goodness revealed, you will, in fact, have that longing fulfilled.
What does that look like, day to day?
There are some lives that make this wonderfully visible.
Mother Theresa comes to mind. Shane Claiborne of the Simple Way is a more contemporary,
close-to-home example.
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| Woman in Afghanistan, Water Missions International |
But for me?
I’m trying to live this hunger and thirst for righteousness
on my local, personal level.
I’m involved in a local park where untamed vines are
strangling the native plants needed for food for nesting birds. I want to see restoration and renewal in that little
part of creation.
I’m managing my own yard as a habitat for more and more
birds, trying to plant in a way that nourishes native pollinators, trying to
create nesting spaces for birds crowded out by well-manicured yards and ever
encroaching development.
I’m looking for ways to encourage restoration in families
battered by illness, tragedy, financial strain. I’m trying to learn compassion,
and to see the needs of others as needs I carry as closely as my own.
I’m praying for God’s wisdom and grace in the lives of young
adults caught in the maelstrom of economic uncertainty and changing social
constructs.
I’m praying for healing in situations that seem beyond the
reach of healing.
As part of a national League of Women Voters committee studying agriculture policy, and chair of a local committee trying to further discussion about the future of food and farming, I’m trying to understand what righteousness, justice,
restoration would look like in our broken food system.
And I’m looking for ways I benefit from injustice, and
trying to find ways to divest, speak out, or rethink the systems that I’m part
of, on everything from food, to pension investments, to the things I buy, or
watch.
One thing I know about hunger and thirst: when you’re
hungry, you think of little else. Hunger distracts, disrupts, reorients
attention to that one thing: food. And thirst does the same. Get thirsty
enough, and the only thought is to find water.
I wonder if that’s what Jesus meant: make righteousness,
justice, restoration so central it’s what you think of when you wake, when you
work, when you rest. Picture it, like a hungry person pictures food. Long for
it, like a thirsty person longs for water.
And as it becomes, more and more, the motivating force of
the day, you’ll see it, taste it, know it. You’ll learn to recognize it, in
tired faces on dirty streets, quiet corners of empty fields, thoughtful
conversations over simple, home-cooked meals.
I wonder: what would our world look like, if more of those
who claim the name of Christian would live in meekness, hungering and
thirsting, working and praying, for the restoration and renewal Jesus promised?
The Lord’s justice will dwell in the desert,
his righteousness live in the fertile field.
The fruit of that righteousness will be peace;
its effect will be quietness and confidence forever
My people will live in peaceful dwelling places,
in secure homes,
in undisturbed places of rest.
Though hail flattens the forest
and the city is leveled completely,
how blessed you will be,
sowing your seed by every stream,
and letting your cattle and donkeys range free.
(Isaiah 32)
This is the fourth in a series on Lent and the Beatitudes:
An Alternative Narrative: February 10
Seeking Blessing in a Fracture Land: February 17
