In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus identified the key beliefs of his ministry. The beginning portion of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount is called The Beatitudes. I was reinvigorated recently when I read the Beatitudes and have chosen parts of Matthew 5 which I’ll call the Beatitude Highlights as well as selected parts of the Sermon of the Mount.to focus on during our time together this morning.

When he saw the crowds, he went up the mountain and after he had sat down, his disciples came to him

He began to teach them saying

Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven

Blessed are they who mourn for they will be comforted

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness for they will be satisfied

Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy

Blessed are the clean of heart, for they will seek God

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the Children of God…

You are the light of the world

A city set on a mountain cannot be hidden

Nor do they light a lamp and hide it under a bushel basket

They set it on a lamp stand where it gives light to the whole house

Just so, shine your light

When others see your good deeds, you glorify God…

You have heard it said, "You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy

But I say, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you…

If you love only those who love you, what is that?

If you greet your brothers only, what’s unusual there?

Be perfect, just as your heavenly father is perfect.

We spend a lot of time as humans shying away from our greatness. We resist asking questions like, "What is the greatest contribution I can make today—not just in what I do and deliver, but in my vision and intention?" It seems so huge and impossible. But during the Resolution part of the year, we might connect with the question and wordsmith a mission statement wherein we commit to a new grand, kind, confident, loving version of ourselves—who’s 15 pounds lighter and reads at least a book a week.

Our resolve falters for various reasons—and we do find some good ones, if a good reason for setting aside commitments are what we’re seeking in life. We’re human; we do the best we can. It’s not you, it’s me. Sorry.

As Christians, we ask more of ourselves. It’s laid out for us—it’s pretty clear, bottom-line stuff. We are asked to be meek, merciful peacemakers who know that if we suffer, we can see God’s loving hand even then.

We are asked to be perfect.

Praising is good; exalting, good, yes. The deal is, though, there’s an implication in the Beatitudes, this stellar faith-defining passage that we’re here to shine our lights.

My grandmother used to describe someone’s goodness by saying, "The love of Christ shines through his or her eyes." I remember trying to squint and glow when my picture was taken, hoping my grandmother would look at the picture and say, "See, the light of Christ is shining through her eyes." Anyway, she made it sound wonderful. That whole process—the defining what "shining" is, encouraging people to shine their Christ light, it’s an important part of what we do. We listen, we share, we show what the light of love looks like.

And there isn’t any "fine print" in the Beatitudes. We are told that when we observe the principles set forth there, when we shine that light, it casts a new radiance on our enemies. They are a gift in our faith journey.

As I said, I was reinvigorated and reminded that in order to be peacemakers, we have to live mindfully, knowing that we are precious and our enemies are equally precious in the sight of God. This is my motivation today—to remind us of a few ways in which we can be peacemakers and to point out some people who are putting themselves on the line as peacemakers every day.

So-if we think of life as a Peacemaking 101 class, I have a couple of ideas for the curriculum. Just two humble ideas. The first, we’ll call Lesson #1. Peacemaking 101 Lesson #1: Hoist the bushel basket off your light and let your light shine. Be willing to be called a Child of God. Set the light on the stand and fill the room with light.

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Peacemaker—to me it means this: I am standing with Christ light in my eyes with people of every faith and opinion. In this circle there is respect and trust. We actually commit to understanding and respecting differences.

I know it’s complicated and there are many trials along the way and so it is, for the Children of God. We can create a cell phone the size of a matchbook with a movie screen and a Hallelujah Chorus ringtone and yet the history of human interaction includes this: people who disagree picking up guns to kill each other—

It is absolutely courageous to say in effect "I will stand between my enemy’s bullet and my home and country"—and I think we need to devote that kind of strength and courage to research and development efforts for peace.

The proving ground for peace is not as clear, the criteria for peace is less a part of our human paradigm: peace registers less powerfully on our cultural Richter scale.

Oh, there have been dazzling examples of people armed with faith in ultimate justice who have offered iconic images of peace: Mother Teresa cradling a starving child, the unarmed young person standing in front of a tank at Tianamen Square, Anwar Sadat and Menachem Begin shaking hands over a signed Peace Accord. And there are people like Marshall Rosenberg, from the Center for Nonviolent Communication speaking at conferences and mediating between battling leaders. Or Greg Mortensen who builds co-ed, non madrassa schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan, getting at what he sees as the root of violence: ignorance. There are people of peace who rise above the usual toiling anonymity of peacemakers. Yet, I think it is a rare newscast whose headline story would be, "Head Start Teacher Displays Innovative Peace Strategy in Mediating Toddler Squabble."

Still we are asked to toil on, to even become Warriors for Peace. An odd paradox and yet, the times demand it. One of my favorite images of peace is a photograph of an American soldier and an Iraqi child. The picture was taken after a bombing in which most or all of the child’s family died. The soldier cradles the child in a hospital waiting room and both have fallen asleep. Peacemaking 101, Lesson #2: In my time of trouble I call on you and you are there.

You are there. Not necessarily "doing" something—but "being" there. Showing up. In the book, This I Believe, which is part of the remarkable National Public Radio project, people share their core beliefs. The famous and not so famous weigh in with ideas that would be very useful for our Peacemaking 101 class—everything from believing in the fellowship of the world to this, from Debbie Hall, a pediatric psychiatrist and Red Cross volunteer who talks about the power of presence.

In my time of trouble, I call on you and you are there. And you facilitate an atmosphere of trust, where our hearts can open to possibility. The peacemaker’s legacy is about process, about participating in changing the way we live. Sometimes we make our quiet "labor in the vineyards of peace" a bit louder. Another paradox. Loud quiet—

There is a group of people who I will call "enemy centered". They picket military funerals, gathering near the grieving families and waving signs that say, "Thank God for Dead Soldiers" and worse. They believe that when any symbol of America is blown up, whether it’s a building—like the Twin Towers—or a someone’s child, a soldier, it’s because God is avenging himself. God is mad at us, they believe, for tolerating Catholics, Muslims, Jews, homosexuals…I will hereafter refer to them as the "angry group"

So, in my hometown of Fort Collins, Colorado last June, a funeral was being held for Sergeant Nicholas Walsh, a soldier who died in Iraq. The Angry Group had announced its plan to be at the funeral.

In the morning, legitimate funeral attendees arrived and tried to "stand at the gate" dreading the fracas that was sure to arise.

Then, red-jacketed veterans of foreign wars and Marine Corps League members arrived and kept coming, and stood with the mourners. Silent. 100 motorcycles came, one by one. Men and women got off the bikes, lined them up, and stood, silent. The Patriot Guard Riders. Next came the people with banners—40 or so white banners for peace waving in the breeze, then the clergy, carrying signs of peace. The word had gotten out and people came and stood, waited, silent. Someone saw the Angry Group blocks away, in retreat before ever getting close. Still, none of the peace warriors left. They waited through the two hour mass, through the 21 gun salute, the folding of the flag, the awarding of the Purple Heart. They waited as the casket was loaded, as the bagpipes played "Amazing Grace". They waited until all the family had gone. And only then did they leave.

I believe that they left something behind, like swirled leavings of a small parade: their prayers and their peace. They left them falling on the holy ground of a common street where Children of God had gathered.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called the Children of God. Helping hands, kindness, empathy—it all sounds so gentle, yet it requires fierce resolve to commit to it. I have gathered new energy from reading the Beatitudes on this Epiphany Sunday. I believe we are called to let our light shine. We are called to train hard in the ways of peace. The few, the proud, the peacemakers.

Awake, angels, and arise, for now your mission begins.

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