Blessed are those who mourn
“Eschatology schmeschatology” are the words I exclaimed to my fellow students at bible college. “I want redemption NOW!”
It was a tense moment after a good amount of debate. We were talking about the Hebrew teleological worldview and heilsgeschichte or Salvation history where all history is culminating in a good end.
In other words, the world is crap, I’m crap, Jesus came and saved us, we’re still crap but now we have a better idea of what we’re crap at, and Jesus will return to make everything ok.
Pō 1
Now, I’ve a confession to make. I’m quite cynical. and this next reflection ends up in quite a different place to where I thought it might go.
If you’d asked me to describe heaven back then, rather than a city paved in gold for our eternal souls to dwell in once we passed the tribulation of judgment, or a vision of a paradise; or even sitting around with harps singing contemporary christian music all day—instead of those I’d just use the word “whispy”. It didn’t make for much of an evangelistic call, “repent! Believe in Jesus, death has been conquered so you can be whispy!”
So as I abandoned heaven as being irrelevant, my cosmological timeline shrank from eternity into the 60 to 80 years I’m allowed to live on this planet. Hope became restricted to this life. And the tangles, some I’m free from, but others I carry still which continue to hold me in that space of seeking this elusive freedom.
Don’t misunderstand me. There have been those peak experiences where I’ve felt free. But an honest appraisal of those moments and I understood that some of the deep, deep work that I thought had happened, evaporated at the same rate of my euphoria. In the end I would feel as constrained and conflicted as ever.
So when we talked of the great “moral economy of the universe” where “God would make it all right in the end”, that was nice and all, but it didn’t help me in the moment. Do a search for “Existential Eschatology” and you’ll see the rabbit hole it takes me down.
One of the outcomes of a cosmology limited to my timelines is that I’m naturally open to and affected by neoliberal attitudes to the present and future—in other words, what happens now matters more than laying a foundation for the future. Find me a distraction from the knots and tangles of now, rather than do the hard work of incremental, deep change that is required. I’d rather the quick fix of distraction, than the long term work with a goal and a vision.
So for me when I come to Matariki, the idea of looking to the past, assessing the present and planning for the future, the extent of my reflection is limited to within my lifetime.
Inadvertently, this created pressure for things to get fixed now, in the short term. And then the inevitable frustration that I always needed to fix something, or relentlessly self-improve for the sake of the gospel. Matched by the character requirements in St Paul’s teachings and I can screw myself into a negative spiral of not good enough—ever. The gospel then—becomes a burden.
Pō 2
After last week, I thought it would be useful to continue in the beatitudes and see where it takes us. I’ve been wrestling this week with the 2nd one “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
Again for those hearing it on the hill that day, this would have been beautiful to hear. Life was hard and unpredictable, tragedy surrounded them, injustice prevailed and tensions high. Of course life expectancy was much lower—we forget that even an infected cut would cause death. Illnesses that we take for granted as curable, were simply not back then.The prospect of death or permanent bodily disfunction was just so present that grief was a very significant part of life.
If grief was part of life, then so too was mourning. Many of us who are caring for or watching our elderly parents deteriorate before passing away, are inhabiting this space, carrying the sadness of terminal illness in ones we love. You live in the tension of mourning the gradual loss of someone and also getting things done to make happiness for them in whichever way you can.
Some of us are mourning the loss of a close relationship, being heart-broken for what could have been. And there’s no comfort except time passing where perspective can be gained.
It seems that for some of us, this idea of comfort doesn't happen like we think it should. We need a greater view of life that transforms the suffering of now into a goodness. A clear example is how we can turn tragedy into a life lesson to be learned. I’m not negating that we should learn from these things, but I do have trouble accepting that God might make that bad thing happen so I could learn some lesson. “May this suffering not be in vain” is a type of comfort—but in my experience, it’s got a habit of being a fleeting lesson rather than a profound catalyst for change.
All that context being said, this beatitude is encapsulated by one of the Matariki reflective strands well. Reflecting on the past, acknowledge the present and preparing for the future.
Mourning is the present state due to something that has happened and the comfort is the future state our processing will take us to.
So what if the mourning is constant—thinking of the pressure of poor support for those living in permanent suffering, impoverishment or injustice—where there is no hope? What then?
One day after much discussion, my dad pointed out to me that my view of eschatology matched my privilege. For the bulk of the world, a hope of a life yet to come is massive. The moral economy has to resolve itself somehow if not in this life but in the future. Otherwise forget any dreams of justice or compensation for having a hard lot in life. This is where Isaiah 61.
Isaiah 61
The spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me,
because the LORD has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,
to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
and release to the prisoners;
to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn;
to provide for those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a garland instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the LORD, to display his glory.
They shall build up the ancient ruins,
they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities,
the devastations of many generations.
This is not to say that as we improve our lot in life then God and afterlife becomes meaningless—that is far too simplistic. But for many in the privileged societies, afterlife is not thought about much at all except as a romantic notion, as there’s not much need when there’s plenty of distraction here right now. Justice then is watered down at our existential level to being when I feel good. The comfort is in distraction from the issue not in seeking the gentle truths we need to hear, or seeking help from those who can genuinely offer comfort, or seeking help professionally—or on the other side of the ledger, making ways for justice . Don’t get me wrong, I think distraction is good, for a time. But to be truly comforted, we need to sit in the pain. And that’s really hard sometimes.
Pō 3
Matariki for those with my limited cosmology, is a gift. Looking at Matariki in the context of whakapapa, even my very introductory understanding, opens up new perspective.
My life is not my own. It is my ancestors: those before, those who are and those who are following. My life then is genuinely eternal.
[“Worldview of the new creation” and chris marshall]
My understanding too is that land is part of that whakapapa, so how I kaitiaki or look after the land has eternal consequence. I mean that not in the sense of forever, but in the sense of no known start or end.
The individualistic expectation of ‘reward in heaven’ can be put to one side because in the context of love, we are looking to the future generations and being kaitiaki of their wellbeing.
To that end, how I plan for the future is not just a matter left up to God’s provision, in fact for the kaitiaki of the future generations, it’s indeed a righteous thing for me to do.
It’s a very different eschatology, or hope in the future as the eternality is still on the timeline here.
If heaven is part of it when I die, so be it. In the meantime though, I will put myself to the task of the here and now, for the future of my kids and theirs.