Zep 2:3, 3:12-13
Ps 146:6-7,8-9, 9-10
1 Cor 1:26-31
Mt 5:1-12a
Sometimes the only question for the editors of the lectionary, the book of readings and gospels for every day of the year, is why? What is the rationale for editorial decision that cut out the middle of a particular text and drastically change its meaning? Today's first reading is a case in point.
The reading from Zephaniah is not continuous. The editors joined chapter 2 verse 3 to chapter 3 verses 12 and 13. The result is consoling. It is almost idyllic. That is the problem. The twenty-three deleted verses comprise a list of prophecies of doom, death, destruction, and punishment. Only after the destruction do we hear of the protected remnant, only then do we learn of the promised consolation.
Peace doesn’t just happen. It may be preceded by turmoil and strife, conflict and confusion. Peace and comfort preceded by turmoil and chaos is an accurate description of life as we live it, of life as it was lived during the writer's time, and of life as it will always be lived. Turmoil followed by consolation.
The responsorial, Psalm 146, is the first of the five hymns that bring the magnificent Book of Psalms to a close. Unlike much of what precedes them, we do not hear pleas such as "Why, O Lord?" or “How long O God, how long?” We don’t hear laments such as “Out of the depths I cry to You.” These last five psalms are songs of praise and thanksgiving. Each begins and ends with Hallelujah that translates as Praise the Lord; the Lord who keeps faith forever, who gives sight to the blind, who sustains the widow, and promises that those who mourn shall be comforted.
Psalm 146 prepares us for the extremely well-known and familiar Gospel.
Though many have that impression, Matthew's Beatitudes are not the entire Sermon on the Mount. They are only part of a very long and wide-ranging teaching that spans several chapters of Matthew’s gospel. Despite their apparent simplicity and directness the beatitudes are as challenging as anything in scripture. They have been used and misused, interpreted and misinterpreted, updated and bowdlerized to push social agendas by both the left and the right. One can justify almost anything through skillful use of words and concepts in relation to the beatitudes. . . . With one exception.
The exception is the beatitude that is generally ignored by preachers, activists, demonstrators, and social justice warriors. “Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted."
Poverty, peace, hunger, and persecution are headline grabbers. They offer preachers and politicians a chance to mount the political soapbox or politicize the pulpit so as to rail, rant, or speak in bumper sticker language. They are an opportunity for passionate and sometimes inflammatory sermons in the manner of Elmer Gantry.
Mourning does not get headlines. Grieving doesn't make the front page. And inevitably the ridiculous concept of "closure" is included somewhere in a column or story. Closure doesn’t exist in the world of those who mourn. It doesn’t happen. And introducing it into a conversation with those who mourn gives no comfort whatsoever. Mourning doesn't get headlines because it is personal, private, and solitary.
Those who are mourning may make those who are not mourning uncomfortable by their very presence. People are poor together. Groups suffer injustice. Persecution is systemic. Mourning is solitary. Mourning is solitary even when the loss is shared. No two people grieve in the same way, even when grieving the death of the same person.
Those who do not mourn will say or do anything to push aside the pain and anxiety the other is experiencing, in part because those emotions are contagious, a very bad thing in a Pollyanna society that preaches closure.
Mourning is among the most lonely and isolating of human experiences. While most people who hear the words mourning or grief will ask “Who died?” mourning and grief are triggered by other significant losses: The loss of another through death is obvious. But the loss of another through a dementing disorder, the loss of independence upon moving from home into a nursing home, the loss of one's driver's license, all of these can trigger grief and mourning even before the secondary losses are considered.
The difficulty with mourning and grieving is that no one can do the work of mourning for another. There are no substitutions or pinch-hitters allowed. No medication “helps.” Oftentimes attempts to comfort those who mourn fall along the spectrum of clumsy, infuriating, and damaging. There is no rallying cry for those who mourn. There is no social justice solution for mourning. There is no preferential option for those who mourn. There is no answer except compassion and the willingness to listen to the one who mourns without trying to make the pain go away or paint a rosy picture of "closure."
Mourning is the great leveler. It brings both peasant and dictator to their knees in pain, rage, fear, and sorrow. It sets off deep hunger in the one who can barely afford bread as well as the obese celebrity TV chef. Those who mourn do not know peace. Unlike the poor, the persecuted, or the oppressed for whom government programs are designed, there is nothing for those who mourn except to hope for comfort while trying to get from day to day. Those who mourn are alone, oftentimes abandoned by family, friends, and others within weeks of the loss. Those who weep in grief are isolated from the rest of society.
No writer ever described grief and the anguish of mourning as effectively as C.S. Lewis in the opening sentence of A Grief Observed, the small journal he kept
following the death of his wife from bone cancer.
“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.
I am not afraid,
but the sensation is like being afraid.
The same fluttering in the stomach,
the same restlessness, the yawning.
I keep on swallowing.”
Frightened. Lonely. Hungry. Isolated. Overwhelmed.
Blessed are they who mourn, may they be comforted.
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The photos are from Brezje and Lake Bled in Slovenia. Only got there once as the chaplain to celebrate Mass for an international group of businessmen and businesswomen for whom English was the only common language (Poland, Croatia, Hungary, and Austria were represented). I never had the opportunity to go back. I generally choose not to drive when out of the US. This was one of those times.

Given the optioin I will always take shots of votive lights a custom I observe whenever possible. 
The sunset. The island on which a church is situatied can be faintly seen.
Fr. Jack, SJ, MD











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