The Rev. Dr. Brandon Perrine
Epiphany 4A
Matthew 5:1-12
February 1, 2026
When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain, and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. And he began to speak and taught them, saying: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”
~o~
At the council meeting, the congregation’s wealthiest member decided to share a portion of his faith story. “I’m a millionaire,” he said, “and I attribute it all to the rich blessings of God in my life. I can still remember the turning point in my faith, like it was yesterday: I had just earned my first dollar and I went to a youth meeting that night. The speaker was a missionary who told about his work. I knew that I only had a dollar bill and had to either give it all to God’s work or nothing at all. So at that moment I decided to give my whole dollar to God. I believe that God blessed that decision, and that is why I am a rich man today.” When he finished and sat down, the chair of the stewardship committee leaned over and said: “Wonderful story! I dare you to do it again!”1
It’s one thing to feel blessed. It’s another thing feel lucky enough to hope we’ll be blessed the same way twice! I’m sure we all remember the way— in “objectively” the best Christmas movie ever, White Christmas—Bing Crosby croons:
When I’m worried and I can’t sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings
It’s a lovely idea, isn’t it? It’s lovely to take stock of our lives and feel a sense of deep gratitude for the unearned good things we enjoy day-to-day. It really feels good to feel blessed.
We’re less comfortable, though, feeling lucky, aren’t we? We’re less comfortable with the idea that all of those good things, though unearned, were really bestowed upon us purely at random or as an accident of our birth. Luck is blind. Luck is fleeting. Luck can seemingly evaporate without warning. That is not comfortable. That is not reassuring. Blessings feel better than luck, because blessings suggest meaning, intention, even love. Blessings imply that someone is paying attention.
But at the end of the day, which is it? Are we blessed—or are we lucky?
The late columnist, blogger, and author Rachel Held Evans once wrote:
For some reason, I feel like calling myself “blessed” sends the message that I have somehow earned God’s special favor, that God is rewarding me for good behavior, and that the millions of people who suffer from war, famine, poverty, and sickness because they weren’t lucky (or blessed or fortunate) enough to be born in the wealthiest nation in the world are simply not as loved by God.2
I’ve got to be honest with you, I share her discomfort. That’s not to say that it isn’t good to feel grateful to God for the good things we enjoy, or to let our gratitude move us with acts of service for those with less. But to call those good things blessings implies a sort of divine favor that I am simply not comfortable with. I admit, though, this is likely just a personal hang-up, one of the many aftershocks of growing up in a faith where all good things—from a convenient parking space to a favorable test result— were seen as God’s blessings. Right or wrong, that line of reasoning forces me to ask, then: are all bad things signs of God’s disfavor? I am simply unwilling to accept that. And so was Jesus.
Last week, we learned that Jesus moved to the region of Galilee, a place that experts tell us was in the throes of one of the most severe “farm and fishing fleet crises recorded in the Western world.”3 Here, he would spend the majority of his public ministry among the food producing farmers and fishers most affected by the stranglehold of empire that saw “nearly two-thirds of their annual catch at sea and their harvest from the land shunted from them in order to support the urban elite and a distant aristocracy.”4
These were not people that would fit our 21st century American definition of “blessed”—stable income, good health, safe housing, upward mobility. In fact, they didn’t fit the 1st century definition of “blessed” either, and Jesus knew it. So, as he was wont to do, he flipped the definition on its head. “Blessed are the poor,” he said, “the grieving, the meek, the hungry and thirsty, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted, and the hated.”
In this relatively brief litany, Jesus did several important things. First, he countered the prevailing narrative that material goods and an easy life are indicative of divine favor—a narrative that remains very much alive in our own culture.
Second, he dared to speak blessing in the present tense. Not someday. Not after things improve. He declared that the realm of heaven is already near, already breaking in, already available—especially to those the world has written off.
And third, Jesus engaged in the ancient practice of blessing itself. He spoke of blessing not as a reward, but as a gift. Not as an explanation for suffering, but as a promise of presence.
In his signature way that earned him both the devotion of his people and, ultimately, death at the hands of empire—Jesus placed himself squarely in the center of human suffering. He did not redeem poverty, grief, or persecution by calling them good or holy in themselves. Instead, with the conviction of a prophet, he declared that God is already with those who suffer—that their lives are not invisible, not disposable, not forgotten.
In a world that measures worth by wealth, comfort, and success, Jesus dares to say to us that blessedness is found wherever holiness and human need meet. True blessing is not about luck or reward. It is about presence. It is not about counting blessings, but about becoming a blessing—by joining heaven where it is already breaking in, here and now: alongside those who are poor, alongside those who are grieving, alongside those who are persecuted, and alongside those that sow the seeds of peace. That is where the realm of heaven is taking root.
May we join it there. Amen.
1 Stewardshipoflife.org: https://www.stewardshipoflife.org/jokes/.
2 Rachel Held Evans. “Are we ‘blessed’ or ‘lucky’?” Rachelheldevans.com, October 20, 2009: https://rachelheldevans.com/blog/blessedorlucky.
3 Gary Paul Nabhan. Jesus for Farmers and Fishers, Minneapolis: Broadleaf Books, 2021, pg. 5.
4 Ibid, 7.
