Every time I approach the Gospel of the Beatitudes, I fear spoiling it with my words. I know I have not yet fully understood it; it surprises and escapes me.
“The Sermon of the Mount” subtly challenges you and, by its power, unsettles you. I contemplate it like a painting, rekindling my longing for a world of goodness and justice.
The Beatitudes don’t introduce new commandments, but the good news that God gives joy to those who produce love, that if one takes charge of someone’s happiness, the Father takes charge of his happiness.
Blessed, what a beautiful word meant for those who might feel lonely and even broken, hugging their souls as a reminder that God’s gaze is upon them.
A mysterious angel announces to those who weep: Blessed are you, the Lord is close, not to spare the tears but to love you in your tears, to be the strength of your strength.
A warning resounds for some others who store their hearts together with possessions, unaware that no moving truck delivers to heaven. Woe is not a condemnation but a waking alarm to your soul, precisely as we would warn our loved ones of impending danger.
In the words of Teresa of Avila, we pray for the greater blessedness:
Let nothing disturb you, let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing away: God never changes.
Patience obtains all things; whoever has God lacks nothing; God alone suffices.