When Jesus stood on the plain surrounded by people whose lives were hanging by a thread, he didn’t say, “Blessed are those who have it all together.” He said, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.  Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.”  

It’s strange language, this blessing spoken into pain.  But maybe Jesus saw something we often miss…that blessing isn’t about success or ease or comfort. Blessing is what happens when the heart cracks open enough for God to get in.

When we are hungry, literally or spiritually, we become more aware of what we need. When we grieve, we become more aware of what we love. When we are poor, we recognize how much we depend on one another. God meets us there in the ache, in the hunger, in the longing.

And that truth feels especially sharp right now because hunger isn’t just a metaphor these days. With the suspension of SNAP benefits across our country and the potential use of delayed contingency funds, the hunger Jesus named on the plain is still here. It’s aching in our neighborhoods, showing up in lunch lines, and food pantries that can’t keep their shelves stocked. It’s easy to think of hunger as an issue for “somewhere else.” But it’s here in our community.  

“Blessed are you who are hungry,” Jesus said. But that blessing is not meant to comfort us. It’s meant to wake us up. Because if people are hungry in a land of plenty, something in the kin-dom is out of balance. Jesus was naming the blessings so we would rise up to respond.  

Maybe the blessing should sound something like this: Blessed are you who organize, who advocate, who speak up for those whose cupboards are empty. Blessed are you who don’t grow numb to statistics because you see the faces behind them. Blessed are you who make sure someone else’s child or the elderly on a fixed income eat tonight. Blessed are you who believe God’s abundance can still be shared.

What does it mean in today’s world to keep your heart soft in a world that rewards hardness? To stay open when cynicism tempts you to shut down? To believe that love still matters, that God is still speaking?  

If we listen closely, the Beatitudes are not words of comfort so much as words of wide invitation. They ask us to live as though God’s abundance is real, even when the evidence seems thin. They call us to notice who’s being left out of the feast, and to make more room at the table. Now, more than ever, our tables need to be wider and longer.

— Reflections appears regularly on the religion page. The column features a variety of local writers, coordinated through the Monroe Area Clergy Group. Rev. Christina Schoenwetter is the Associate Pastor of Engagement at St. John’s United Church of Christ in Monroe.