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“Good News”: Sermon by Rev. Pamela 2/1/2026

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Sermon on February 1, 2026
“Good News”
By: The Very Rev. Pamela Dolan
Readings: Matthew 5:1-12

“Jesus went throughout all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. So his fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains, people possessed by demons or having epilepsy or afflicted with paralysis, and he cured them. And great crowds followed him from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea, and from beyond the Jordan”
Matthew 4:23-25

These lines come just before today’s passage from the Gospel of Matthew, forming the context for the Sermon on the Mount, the powerful mission statement with which Jesus begins his public ministry. I don’t know exactly what “great crowds” looked like in first-century Palestine, but whether this was hundreds or even thousands of people, it’s vitally important to understand what kind of people were following Jesus, people with whom Jesus had a special connection: the sick and afflicted, those possessed by demons and oppressed by sorrow, poverty, and disease. Bright shiny people, the well off and the respectable, may have been there, too, but they were not the center of things. For once, those usually marginalized were being centered; their concerns and their reality took root in the heart of Jesus, guiding everything he did and said.

Keeping in mind this context for today’s Gospel passage helps put the Beatitudes in a clearer light as we grapple with what they might mean for us today. They are not platitudes, feel-good sayings spoken out of ignorance of the harsher realities of life. They are not a prescription for being happy, or even for right living. They are not a formula we can follow. They are, rather, a description of how God sees the world. And they are spoken to and for the oppressed, the people whom theologian Howard Thurman calls, “those with their backs against the wall.”[i]

When Jesus looks down on the ragtag crowds who have been following him, he does not see them as the world sees them. He sees them, unmistakably, as blessed. He sees their inner worth, regardless of their outward appearance. And he wants us to see people in the same way. These are people and circumstances that most of us are taught, implicitly and explicitly, to avoid. Who wants to be in mourning? Who wants to be poor in spirit or, worse yet, reviled and persecuted? Nobody. And yet what Jesus is saying is that the more energy and effort we expend avoiding these outcomes, the less we will have to pursue the things that really matter: justice, peace, and, most of all, restoring relationships among ourselves, our neighbors, and God.

Pastor and writer Steve Garnaas-Holmes explains how central the Beatitudes are to the message of the Gospel, writing, “The spirituality of the beatitudes is one of radical trust in grace. In what society generally views as unwelcome circumstances, God is present, offering abundant, life-giving grace. Out of emptiness God brings abundance, out of mourning, joy. It’s the spirituality of resurrection. This profound trust is the opposite of, and the antidote to, our sin, our inability to trust God. Jesus names those places we’re afraid to and says, ‘God is there.’ In poverty, in brokenness, in vulnerability, need, and persecution, God is present, offering blessing.”[ii]

This is a complete reversal of how “the world” as we know it works. White, middle-class, educated people are taught to do everything in our power to avoid poverty, brokenness, vulnerability, and persecution. We justify all sorts of harmful and selfish behavior because, after all, the world is a pretty tough place and if we want to keep our heads above water, what else are we supposed to do? I’ve even known people who claim they are chasing the security of wealth and status because it will allow them to help others more. Well, that’s nice, I guess, but it’s not anything that Jesus would have recognized as building up the realm of God.

The Beatitudes embrace an upside-down worldview that is echoed by St. Paul in his letter to the Corinthians when he says, “God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are.” Most of us can applaud this from a distance, recognizing the virtue of it, so long as we ourselves are not asked to do things that might make us weak, foolish, or despised.

Imagine if our political systems operated on the principles espoused by Jesus and St. Paul. What would it look like if we sought out those whom the world considers weak, foolish, and lowly before we made any important policy decisions? What would our country look like if we placed a higher value on the well-being of children, of the uninsured, of immigrants and refugees, of those without the proper paperwork let alone the best credentials, than we do on the wealth of corporations, the comfort of the powerful, and the whims of tyrants?

It would look like the kingdom of God. It would look like the realm of grace. It would look like the flourishing of the Beloved Community.

This weekend more than 150 bishops in the Episcopal Church, including our own Bishop Megan, released a statement about the recent traumatic and shameful events in Minneapolis, including the killings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti. It is brave enough to name what is happening as state-sanctioned violence and to call for specific outcomes, namely “the immediate suspension of ICE and Border Patrol operations in Minnesota and in any community where enforcement has eroded public trust.” It concludes with these lines,

“Safety built on fear is an illusion. True safety comes when we replace fear with compassion, violence with justice, and unchecked power with accountability. That’s the vision our faith calls us to live out — and the promise our country is meant to uphold. In the face of fear, we choose hope. By the grace of God, may this season of grief become a season of renewal. May courage rise from lament, and love take root in every heart.”[iii]

            Safety built on fear is an illusion, the bishops tell us, and in doing so they echo the Beatitudes, the core teachings of Jesus, which remind us that those who are most vulnerable are never far from the heart of God. Courage that rises from lament, renewal from grief. This is how the Gospel works. This is how those who are usually excluded, avoided, and forgotten, become those who belong, are welcomed, known, and loved.

I imagine Jesus on the streets of Minneapolis, and can almost hear him saying: Blessed are you who place yourself in harm’s way, for your God will shield and guide you. Blessed are you who speak truth to power, for the God of truth will hear your cries. Blessed are you who know that peace may come at a cost, for God will remember your courage and hold you close. Blessed are you who see all people as God’s beloved children, for you will see God and live. Blessed are you who work to overturn systems of oppression, for you will find rest. Blessed, blessed are you, who seek to follow God’s will, for you will be satisfied.

Amen.

[i] Thurman, Jesus and the Disinherited (Beacon Press, 1996).

[ii] https://unfoldinglight.net/2022/09/12/epiphany-4/

[iii] https://diosohio.org/a-joint-letter-from-154-bishops-of-the-episcopal-church-whos-dignity-matters/

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