Preaching From The Mountain Top

Imagine it:

A bright, mildly windy day on Hawk Mountain.   We were just there last week.  The leaves were glorious.  The air is fresh. The view seems almost infinite.

Now imagine this:

People have gathered on the rocks and in the forest beyond to hear a teacher speak — some curious, some angry, some hopeful, some just tired.  And Jesus begins:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven…”

As Jesus is preaching these words today, the crowd might look like this:

• A coal miner out of work since the last company closed.

• A nurse still recovering from pandemic burnout.

• A teacher who is overwhelmed with the multiple problems of her students.

• A young man weighed down by student debt.

• A grandmother raising grandchildren.

• A veteran wrestling with trauma and faith.

People have come — from cities, small towns, farms, shelters — to see if this preacher has anything left to say that’s real.

When Jesus speaks:  “Blessed are the poor in spirit…”

We might shift uneasily.

In America, we praise self-reliance. We admire strength, confidence, wealth, and independence.    But here comes Jesus, he’s blessing humility, dependency, vulnerability — the ones who admit they need help.

• A protester holding a sign for justice.

• A retiree looking for a new purpose in life

• A police officer unsure what peace even means anymore.

• A family struggling to make ends meet every week

• So many dealing with ill health and dangerous diseases.

This is the “great reversal” — heaven’s mission invading earth’s arrogance.  In God’s kingdom, the people we overlook are the ones God lifts up.[1]

“Blessed are those who mourn…”

Jesus might look toward those grieving gun violence, pandemic losses, environmental ruin, divisions that split families.

He would not rush them to “get over it.”

He’d say, “God sees your tears — and those who mourn with compassion help heal the world.”  He’d tell us to remember the saints who have gone before us.

“Blessed are the meek…”      And here, NT Wright’s insight shakes us up: “The meek will inherit the earth, not the arrogant who seize it.” Many of us have grown up with the phrase, “Might makes Right.”  This saying originally comes from the Greek philosophers, the most important being Plato.[2]

We live in a culture that rewards aggression, speed, winning at all costs.

But Jesus is blessing the ones who choose gentleness, who refuse to dominate, who treat creation — and one another — tenderly.

At this line, you can almost feel the restlessness in the air.  We do hunger for righteousness — for fairness, decency, and justice.  Yet we’re divided on what that means.

Jesus doesn’t define it politically.  He embodies it personally: right relationships, mercy in action, truth spoken in love. He blesses all who long for a world that looks more like God’s heart than the headlines of the day.

Jesus says,   “Blessed are the merciful,”

“Righteousness in the Gospels means the covenant faithfulness of God breaking and entering into human life.”  (NT Wright) So whenever people work for justice, feed the hungry, welcome the stranger — God’s kingdom is already breaking in.

As we sit and gaze up towards Jesus, sitting on the jagged rocks, it seems like he is looking straight at us.  He is asking: When was the last time we forgave someone instead of ending our relationship with them?

“Blessed are the pure in heart,”

Jesus might say to nations drowning in cynicism, spin, and suspicion: “Blessed are those who still believe love is stronger than manipulation.”

“Blessed are the peacemakers,”

Jesus could proclaim in a land where people are shouting across screens and barricades: “Not peacekeepers — peacemakers. Those who enter the injured world and begin to heal it.”

What’s it look like here on Hawk Mountain?

We can see some are cheering.  Some are shaking their heads. And many are taking out their phones to film Jesus, some perhaps to mock, some or to pray.

We are likely responding just as those crowds did long ago — with a mix of awe, discomfort, and resistance.

• Some would call him naïve.

• Some would accuse him of being too political.

• Some would claim he wasn’t political enough.

• Some would weep with relief to hear that God still sees the brokenhearted.

“Jesus did not come to give advice, He came to announce that God’s kingdom is arriving — and to invite us to live as if it’s already here.”[3]

That’s hard news in a world built on competition and fear.

To do this we would have to put away pride, privilege, and partisanship — to stand with those who mourn, to hunger for what is right, to be merciful in an age of outrage.

If Jesus preached from Hawk Mountain today, his words would cut through the noise like the cry of a hawk echoing across the valley:

• Blessed are you who still care.

• Blessed are you who still hope.

• Blessed are you who mend instead of mock.

• Blessed are you who see that love is stronger than despair.

And perhaps in mountain wind we can hear the voice of Jesus saying

“You are the light of the world.

You are the salt of the earth.

Don’t hide. Don’t lose your flavor.

Live my blessing out loud.” (from Matt: 5:13)

Are you up to the challenge Jesus is asking of you?  Do you feel the pull of his call?

Jesus would see both beauty and brokenness below as he looks down from his seat atop Hawk Mountain.

He would bless the valleys of despair and the cities of striving.

He would bless our divided nation — not because everything is good, but because he still believes in God’s good future.

And maybe — just maybe — we who are gathered here, wind in our faces, would whisper the only answer that makes sense:

“Blessed are you, Lord — for you have not given up on us yet.”

I pray this as Paul does in Romans chapter 15.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow. Amen