Level Ground

 

The Gospel of Luke brings us a raw version of the Beatitudes — it is not a message we hear from the world, especially in this time when we see the very rich and powerful holding position and dominating all the decision making. 

As I read the text (Luke 6.17-26) the first thing I noticed is that in Luke’s version of this story, Jesus stands on level ground (17) and looks into the eyes of the crowd. I don’t think I have ever paid specific attention to that verse before. It has sort of been the introductory verse leading into the main points, perhaps skipped over a little too quickly. Today, I lingered there and thought about that approach to talking to others — level ground and looking into their eyes. I think there is something very significant here, something very powerful. 

So, Jesus stands on level ground, looks into the eyes of the crowd, and speaks a dangerous truth: Blessed are the poor. Blessed are the hungry. Blessed are the weeping. Blessed are the ones the world rejects. This is not a comfortable word. This is a revolutionary word. 

In Luke the words poverty and hunger are not spiritualized. There’s nothing to soften the blow. Jesus is speaking to those who have nothing, who feel the gnawing ache of hunger, who weep. Jesus is speaking to those who are hated, excluded, reviled and defamed. 

And Jesus is saying to them, God is on your side.

I think this is a challenging message for these days. We need to stand on level ground and look into the eyes of the hungry, the poor, the excluded, the reviled and the rejected. It is hard to do, especially as in the face of what we see there can be a sense of our own inability to help

And if that message alone was not radical enough, Jesus then delivers the woes. Woe to you who are rich, who are full, who are laughing now. 

I don’t think this is because wealth, food, or joy are bad in themselves, but more because if we allow them to, they can lull us into complacency. They so easily convince us that we have no responsibility to our neighbor. However, after our conversations at the retreat yesterday, during our discussion on the theme of theodicy, it was encouraging to hear everyone express concern for the plight of others in this current time plus a willingness to do what they could to change the situation.

Today’s gospel fits well with that theme as a radical Jesus invites each of us to live differently recognizing that those who are blessed are the unhoused person in the cold, the refugee seeking safety.

Jesus’ message is clear. If we find ourselves in places of abundance, we are called to stand in solidarity with those who are hungry, poor, excluded, reviled and rejected — to look at them from level ground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.  

 

 

 

 

Anna and Simeon

The author of the gospel writes of two older people—Simeon and Anna—who waited for the birth of a savior (Luke 2:22-40). The story talks of Mary and Joseph taking the infant Jesus to the Temple as required by the law. They had two significant encounters. They met Simeon and they met Anna, who both confirmed that this child was indeed the promised Messiah.

Simeon, who was described as righteous, devout, and one on whom the Holy Spirit rested, had been told that he would not die until he saw the birth of the Messiah. As he saw the baby, he praised and prophesied, saying he was now content to depart the world.

Simeon also added a word to Mary—that “a sword would pierce her soul” (v.35). I often wonder how it would feel for Mary to be told these things. A bit like saying your child will do great things, but it will be a rough ride and all end in heartbreak. How hard must that be for any parent to hear?

Anna was 84 years old. She had resided in the Temple since being widowed seven years after her marriage. I calculate that must be about 60 years. She too praised and prophesied about the child.

I can’t resist interjecting a feminist thought here—note the ways the two prophets are described. Simeon is described through his character—righteous, devout, Holy Spirit on him (v.25). Anna, on the other hand, is introduced through her relationship to men—her father, her husband, and her late ancestor. Yet, Anna was a prophetess, and not just in name. She played an essential role in Temple life, and her presence there for decades suggests she was deeply respected.

Anna was not alone in her lifelong dedication to the Temple. Historical evidence suggests that certain women—especially widows and prophetesses—were part of the spiritual fabric of the Temple. The Court of Women was an active space of worship, and some women, like Anna, took on a more sustained role.

These women were not merely passive worshippers; they engaged in acts of prayer, fasting, teaching, and service. Anna’s life of devotion mirrors what we later see in early Christian communities, where widows and women of faith were called to intercession and guidance (1 Timothy 5:5-10).

Anna, then, was not simply a background character. She was a spiritual leader, a woman who recognized the Messiah before almost anyone else. She stands as a witness, reminding us that the voices of women in faith communities’ matter.

I also want to dwell briefly on two aspects of both these people that stood out as I read the passage.

The first thing I want to mention was the patience both Simeon and Anna exercised. We live in an age of instant results—where we expect immediate responses from technology, whether it’s a search engine delivering answers in milliseconds or AI predicting our next move before we’ve even finished typing. We’ve become so accustomed to speed that waiting can feel like a waste of time.

Yet, Simeon and Anna waited for years to see the fulfillment of their hopes. And the passage gives no sense that their lives were wasted in that waiting. Instead, their patience was a practice of trust, an active kind of faithfulness. They lived fully, with meaning and purpose, even as they waited. Perhaps that’s the deeper lesson—waiting is not an empty pause but a space where wisdom, readiness, and hope are cultivated.

The second thing I considered was that they were both elderly. Anna was documented as 84, and although Simeon’s age is not mentioned, it is reasonable to assume that he was also advanced in years, given his expectation of departing the world soon.

In our contemporary times, there is sometimes a disdain for the elderly, and society is poorer for it. Wisdom and experience are lost. Youth can be arrogant, brushing aside the knowledge of those who have lived longer. And yet, youth often bring energy, vision, and passion.

Both contributions have value. The ideal is not one over the other, but the partnership of wisdom and enthusiasm. What a good thing Mary and Joseph took time to listen to the words of the elderly. What a blessing would have been missed if they had ignored Simeon and Anna because of their age.

Anna and Simeon remind us that waiting is not wasted time, wisdom is not irrelevant, and women’s voices—though often overlooked—have always been central to the story of faith.

(Photo: Seagulls on a Snowy Beach — Lewes Beach, January 2025).