The Sermon on the Mount is not only for individuals, but a model for communitities be they cities or families. It describes different types of people and a perceptive reader or listener can see a place for each in the community. Therein lies my problem.
I do not see myself as any of the ‘types’ described as blessed. I am hardly ‘meek’ and, to my shame, my ‘thirst for justice’ has too often been a thirst for retribution and revenge. Perhaps the ‘blesseds’ are traits forever beyond my grasp?
This week will be a family gathering of sorts. It will involve a great deal of emotional ‘ups and downs’ as we struggle to either repair, or ignore, the damage we have done to each other in the last few years. Each person will handle it as best he or she can I suppose. Perhaps, at least, we can be gracious to each other in spite of some unhealed hurts lurking just beneath the surface. The occasion will be marked, by me at least, with joy at what is, and grief for what was and never can be. And so it goes.
My self-appointed role has been the ‘doorkeeper’. I have tried my best to keep the door open, and to urge others to keep the doors to each other, open. It is easier to someday walk through an open door than to reopen one that has been violently closed. To push the metaphor, at least people are visible through an open door and must be acknowledged in one way or another.
I mentioned this whimsy to one of the people involved during a phone conversation and received only silence, then a change of topic. Perhaps I have not done the job I thought I had?
I can only hope that people who try to keep doors open will also find themselves among the ‘blesseds”. I don’t know that I can ever walk through the doors, not all of them, but perhaps I can meet the others at the door. That would be a blessing.