Reflections...

A sermon preached at Kowloon Union Church on 25 February 2024, by Paul Cooper. The scripture readings that day were Ecclesiasters 3:1-8 and John 11: 1-11, 28-44.

"Blessed are those who Mourn"

Of all the Beatitudes, this is maybe the hardest to understand. Many of us have mourned the loss of loved ones; even the loss of a well-loved pet is hard to accept, as my daughter found when her cat died a few months ago. How much harder is the loss of a husband or wife, mother or father, sibling or even more distant relative? I have experienced these, and seen their effects in others; my aunt, the eldest of my mother’s family, saw her younger brother and sister pass away before she did; I still remember her feeling of wrongness that she, the eldest, lived longest. Saddest of all is the untimely loss of a child; friends of mine back in the UK lost a young child, and still mourn their loss despite being grandparents now. But all of these things happen; many of us have mourned the loss of loved ones. So how can we be blessed by such a devastating experience? Time dulls the hurt, but it never goes away completely. My father passed away 35 years ago, but still things related to him can stir memories – most recently when I glanced at the mirror after shaving my beard off and momentarily saw my father there! My likeness to my father is not great – just a family resemblance - so it was just catching sight of an unfamiliar reflection that triggered the thought, but the thought was still there. My Dad was a keen sailor; when I am sailing I often think of him. And things come up that remind me of my mother, my first wife, Carol and of course most frequently of Calli. Mourning is most intense when we are close to the time of passing of a loved one, but it never goes away completely. The almost overwhelming feelings that engulfed me when Calli passed are now at a distance; I can think of happy times with gladness. But I can still be overcome by unexpected events; I can’t even remember what it was, but a sermon a few weeks ago here sent me down paths of memory.

So, how can we be blessed? Well, for one reason or another, the passage from Ecclesiastes has been going round in my mind recently. The book of Ecclesiastes offers insights into the human condition, and looks at the meaning of life. The very well-known passage we heard simply says that EVERY human experience has a time and a place, and that many are inevitable. For everything, there is a season.

During Lent, Jesus’ temptations in the wilderness remind us that He experienced everything that we can experience. In the letter to the Hebrews, the author says: “For this reason he had to be made like them, fully human in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people. Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.” Of course, Lent reminds us that Jesus suffered in the wilderness. Jesus had to be fully human, and experience every emotion, every pain, every pleasure, every high and every low to be worthy of becoming the great High Priest that is pictured in the letter to the Hebrews. And our reading about the raising of Lazarus confirms this. Lazarus was Jesus’ friend – and when news of Lazarus’ death was brought to Jesus, Jesus reacted just as I did to the death of Carol, of Calli and of others – Jesus wept. John 11 verse 35 is notoriously the shortest verse in the Bible – “Jesus wept”, just two words, but see what an insight into the humanity of Jesus they give! But then we read the rest of the story and see how Jesus also demonstrates the power of God! Of course, the story raises all sorts of questions about exactly how the human and the divine met in Jesus, but I won’t go into that! Whole churches and denominations have been raised with different views on those, and sadly wars fought! It is best to leave it to one side, as one of those mysteries we will understand when we stand in the presence of God. It suffices to say that Jesus was both fully human AND fully God. And as human, He experienced the full range of human emotion – even mourning.

So how can those who mourn be blessed? Well, the account of the raising of Lazarus might give us an insight. Jesus wept, and when the onlookers saw that, they said “See how he loved him!”. Mourning is another side of love; if we never love, we will never mourn. And as the writer of Ecclesiastes says, there is a time for love; if we never experience love, how poor we would be! But without love there is no mourning; those who mourn are blessed because they have learned to love. And love is the highest of the great virtues of faith, hope and love – faith and hope will both end when we see the Kingdom clearly, but love never ends.

And mourning has its own blessings. Mourning is important for our mental health; those who do not mourn are those who are storing trouble for the future. Sadly, the British “stiff upper lip” has a lot to answer for in mental health terms! And I was brought up in an era when boys were often told “Big boys don’t cry!”; it means that I find it hard to express grief. Mourning is a healing process – we do not forget, but mourning helps us to place our loss into context; to allow us to see that our parting need not be forever. And mourning forces us to see our own mortality; to recognize that our time here is limited; that we must use our time wisely. Remember the parable of the wise and foolish virgins, which warns us to be always prepared for the coming of the Lord? Mourning is a sharp reminder that the Lord can come for us at any time, and not at a time we expect. 

There is yet another aspect to mourning. What do we feel when we read of events in the Ukraine, Gaza and the Yemen? Do we rejoice? No, we mourn. We see stories about the death of innocents and the suffering of many, and we mourn. And this is also a blessing because it opens our hearts to the will of God. If we mourn, we can take what action we can. It may not be much, but I always remember the prayer of St Teresa of Avila: “Christ has no body but yours”. Mourning for the evil in the world is a blessing because it prompts action – and through our action, onlookers will see the love of Christ. And although it might feel like there is little that we can do, we have access to the greatest power there is; through prayer we have access to the mind and power of God. But in prayer, we must also be ready to accept that we might be part of the answer to our prayer, just as St Teresa said.

So, where are we? Well, those who mourn are indeed blessed! First, because if they mourn, they have also loved. And love is the highest and greatest of the virtues; Love never ends! I mourn my loss of parents and wives, but I am assured that we will meet again in the Love of the Father. And if anyone wonders about pets, I will say what a former vicar of mine said – that only Adam and Eve were thrown out of the Garden of Eden!

Beyond that, we mourn events in the world because God too mourns them. And our mourning means that we are aware of the sin of the world and take our stand against it. If we did not mourn for the sin of the world and for our own sin, we would have no share in the Kingdom of God. So mourning is the gateway to the Kingdom of God; if we do not mourn our own sin, how can we enter the Kingdom?

Finally mourning unlocks our own desire for action. Mourning prompts a desire for change! And so I’ll close with the Prayer of St Teresa:  

Christ has no body but yours,

No hands, no feet on earth but yours,

Yours are the eyes with which He looks

Compassion on this world,

Yours are the feet with which He walks to do good,

Yours are the hands, with which He blesses all the world.

Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,

Yours are the eyes, you are His body.

Christ has no body now but yours,

No hands, no feet on earth but yours,

Yours are the eyes with which he looks

compassion on this world.

Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

A sermon preached at Kowloon Union Church on 18 February 2024, by Rev. Judy Chan. The scripture readings that day were Isaiah 66:1-2 and Matthew 5: 1-11. 

Blessed Are the Poor in Spirit

Isaiah 66:1-2, Matthew 5:1-11

Good morning. As Pastor Phyllis has said, our Lenten theme this year is “Blessed Are You”. We 

chose that theme based on our preaching series on the famous Beatitudes from the equally 

famous Sermon on the Mount. I pronounce the word ‘bless-ed’ here rather than ‘blessed’. There 

are many explanations of the difference between the two, but actually, either is OK. But I think 

bless-ed is the old poetic pronunciation. And it must be right, because in every Bible movie I’ve

 ever seen, that’s the way Jesus pronounced it too. If Jesus were speaking in English…

Now as famous and beloved as the Beatitudes are, they also continue to puzzle and confuse 

people. Even us or maybe especially us in the church. The Beatitudes have been described as

 uncomfortable, countercultural, a paradox, an upside-down reality and one of my favorites – 

some ‘hard blessings’. One parishioner told her minister, “The Beatitudes are harder to live by 

than the Ten Commandments!”

Well, it’s not surprising then that there are many different opinions about what these blessings

 mean. Someone compared the Beatitudes to a well-cut diamond. Every time you turn it, the light 

refracts in a different, yet equally beautiful way. And, just as each facet of a diamond reflects a 

different aspect, so each preacher (and you’ll be hearing 6 of us during Lent), each preacher 

offers a different perspective on these brilliant verses. 

That said, it doesn’t mean there isn’t some agreement about the Beatitudes in general. And one 

thing that most ministers and academics do agree on is this: the best way to understand 

Matthew 5:1-11 is to look at the life of Jesus. He is the perfect fulfillment and model of the 

Beatitudes. He is the ultimate lens through which we make sense of these hard blessings. 

So, let’s get started. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” You may 

recall last month that Katie preached on the Beatitudes in Luke’s Gospel. There it says, Blessed 

are the poor. As she pointed out, Luke’s version is more about material poverty, while Matthew 

emphasizes spiritual poverty. 

Some commentators suggest Matthew’s version waters down or compromises Jesus’ radical 

intention. But, as N.T. scholar Hans Dieter Betz says, both parallels express the same position 

while emphasizing different aspects. Both teach us how God’s love and justice transform the 

human condition.

‘Poor in spirit’. What does that mean? You’re depressed? You lack religious maturity? You’re 

deficient in the Holy Spirit? That doesn’t sound like Jesus at all.  So poor in spirit must have 

some other meaning here. 

We get a clue from Isaiah, Chapter 66, v2. Here the Lord says:

But this is the one to whom I will look,
    to the humble and contrite in spirit
    who trembles at my word.

In other words, the blessing of the kingdom of heaven comes not to the proud and self-sufficient. 

Nor to the ones who think they have so much to offer God and the world. No, the kingdom of 

heaven belongs to those who know they have nothing to offer God that didn’t come first from 

God’s hand. The kingdom of heaven belongs to those who know they have nothing to offer the 

world but that which brings glory to God, not ourselves. 

When we look at the New Testament, we see that’s exactly how Jesus lived on earth. With 

reverence and humility before his Heavenly Father. Always giving thanks to God, always giving 

all the glory to God. 

When we understand ‘poor in spirit’ like that, it doesn’t seem such a hard blessing after all, does 

it? Except….

Except, maybe there’s more to it than that. This beatitude has also been translated as “Blessed 

are the beggars.” And that’s a valid translation too. The Greek word here for ‘poor’ literally 

means to crouch or cower down, to hide oneself for fear, like a beggar with a tin cup asking for 

alms. It was used to describe the poorest of the poor, those with no means of support, those 

completely dependent on the charity of others. 

In short, blessed are the beggars in spirit, the spiritual beggars. Wow. Now that is harder, at least 

for me. It’s one thing to say I owe everything to God and should be eternally grateful. Totally 

agree! But to see myself as destitute and pitiful, having to throw myself on the mercy of God… 

I’d rather not go there, thank you. So again, we have to look to the life of Jesus to make sense of 

this.

Where in the Bible do we see Jesus destitute and pitiful, throwing himself on the mercy of God? 

In the Garden of Gethsemane, right? Where he begged God, if there was any other way 

possible, let this cup pass from him. The cup, of course, being his suffering and death by 

crucifixion. But there was no other way. And as he hung there dying on the Cross, what did he 

cry? “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” 

Yes, indeed, our Lord and Savior knew exactly what it meant to acknowledge our spiritual 

poverty. Yes, indeed, he absolutely understood what it meant to beg before God for mercy. But 

he did so, trusting God would never abandon him, trusting God could transform even the worst 

situations we can humanly imagine into good. Friends, believe the Good News: the worst thing is 

never the last thing. The God of love and justice will have the last word. 

Now I know that’s easy to preach but much harder to live out. So let me stop sermonizing for a 

moment and share a story. When we were planning this series on the Beatitudes, I ran upon a 

Lenten video series. It comes from an organization called “Common Grace” in Australia.  One of 

the videos featured someone whose name I recognized – Shane Clifton. I knew some of his 

writings in the field of theology and ethics. But I didn’t know he was in a wheelchair. 

So I looked him up online. And that’s when I found out about his accident in 2010. He was 39 

years old. He and his family were on holiday. They decided to visit a local church that had set up 

a bicycle and skateboard jump, where you land in a big pit of foam. His three teenagers tried it 

and had a great time. Hey, dad, you want to give it a try? 

Clifton said he hesitated, given he was almost 40. He had just recovered from a broken wrist. 

But he was a hands-on father and a keen athlete. What could go wrong? Everything. He got on 

the push bike, went up into the air, and landed on his head. A broken neck. Two damaged 

vertebrae in his spine. He would be rendered quadriplegic. That means all four limbs were 

affected. After months in hospital and intense rehab, he managed to get back use of his right 

arm, thank goodness, he says. But his left arm and his legs are still affected by paralysis. That is 

how he ended up in a wheelchair.

Clifton says when he realized the extent of his injuries, he was in utter despair. Life had changed 

forever.  Permanent disability. Constant pain. The loss of so many of his heart’s desires. He 

would be dependent on others for the rest of his life, a shadow of his real self, an unending 

burden to others, especially to his wife Elly.

At one point, he wrote, “I feel like I’m being steered by a capricious providence that’s taking me 

on a journey into hell…and tossed by endless storms.” I don’t need to go into all the details of 

the rollercoaster of ups and downs that his wife described as exhausting and frightening. 

Yet through this dark night of the soul, this journey he did not choose, he discovered something 

even bigger than his own suffering: And that is we are all dependent, vulnerable, finite creatures. 

That is the human condition. Life begins and ends in dependence. At every point in time, we are 

all vulnerable to affliction and death. So, he warns, if you are not yet disabled, be patient. Your 

time will come. That’s the reality of our earthly existence.  And the sooner we quit fighting it, the 

sooner we truly begin to live in the fulness of whatever time God grants us. 

Today, Shane Clifton is a leading advocate for the disabled in Australia. He doesn’t want to be 

called a ‘hero’ or an ‘inspiration’ in the eyes of the non-disabled. What he wants is for the rest of 

us to listen. To listen to those despised and rejected, men and women of sorrow, acquainted with 

grief. He wants us to listen and learn. And then join them. Join them in building communities of l

ove and justice, where everyone has a chance to flourish. Everyone. Now that does sound like 

Jesus, doesn’t it?  

On this first Sunday in Lent, let us hold fast to the promises of Matthew 5. If the Beatitudes teach 

us anything about life, it’s this: The closer we move to Jesus, the closer we move to the Cross. 

That’s the reality of the kingdoms of this world. But the closer we move to Jesus, the closer we 

move to Resurrection. That’s the reality of the kingdom of heaven. 

So, during this holy season, let us move closer to Jesus and to his communities of love and 

justice. That’s the only way possible to live out the Beatitudes. May this then be the journey you 

and I do choose in Lent.  

Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are you. Thanks be to God. Amen.

A sermon preached at Kowloon Union Church on 11 February 2024, by Bud Caroll. The scripture readings that day were Psalm 50:1-6 and Mark 9: 2-7.

"Living In The Valley"

Have you ever been up to Kowloon Peak [Fei Ngo San]?    My family first came to HK 58 years this week.  At the time we lived in Kowloon City.  Whenever possible we would ask a friend with a car to drive us up to Kowloon Peak – daytime OR nighttime. Other than a Scout camp, there was basically nothing up there.  But what a magnificent view.  You looked down on the old Kai Tak airport; Royal Air Force jet fighter planes; the lights of Kowloon and on clear nights, you could see all the way across the harbor to the Peak on HK island.

     An incredible feeling.  Like, “I think I’ll just stay up here.”  [PAUSE]. It seems that’s what Peter must have been feeling.  With James and John, the three had followed Jesus up to Mt. Hermon.  Five times higher than our own Peak; probably an amazing view.  Evidently it wasn’t the view that so moved Peter. It was the experience.  Seeing Jesus in dazzling white – like bright headlights blinding you.  They also had a vision of Moses and Elijah.  Peter was so excited he suggested “Rabbi, let’s just stay up here.  We’ll erect three tents in honor of Moses, Elijah and you.  OK?  But then they heard these words: “Listen to my son!’  Mark tells us this was the voice of God speaking.

     I suspect we’ve all had at least one “mountain top” experience.  That kind of event when we said, “Wow.  This is great.   If only our daily life could always be like this.” But then there came that voice again, “Listen to my son” and come down to the world of reality.

       For a moment, put aside the description of the dazzling clothes, and bright lights.  They’re not the center of the Gospel story.  Then, what is?   That Jesus was being transformed, transfigured.  Changed from ordinary daily life to become both servant and savior of the world.  

     So what does all this mean for you/me? As we come to Ash Wednesday -the beginning of Lent – and the days leading up to Easter, God is calling and challenging us to experience our own transfiguration or transformation. To come down from our own mountain tops and experience living in the valley.  The same voice that spoke to Peter, James and John, is calling to us “Listen to him, my son”.  I don’t know what kinds of valleys you live in but let me share two that seem to reflect the meaning of this Gospel passage.  Two options, if you like.

     First.  The valley of fear.  The Greek word phobia means fear.  What are you afraid of?  Personally, I’m claustrophobic – afraid of tight space.  Diane Allen, my dear friend, colleague and former active member of KUC, is afraid of heights – acrophobia.  One time when visiting the128 story high Shanghai Tower, we agreed I would look DOWN for her and she would check crowded lifts  for me.

     Today’s media coverage reminds us non-stop that people around the world, are both causing and living in great fear – political, religious, economic and personal.   Recall this:  back in the 1960s when Nikita Khrushchev was Premier of the former Soviet Union, he conducted several meetings to condemn and censure many of the cruel things Joseph Stalin had done.  One day in such a meeting, someone in the audience shouted out” Why didn’t you stop Stalin?”  Khrushchev replied, “Who said that?”  Not a single person moved.  Not a sound from anyone.  Then Khrushchev said, “Now you know why.”  Sound familiar?

     From the comfort of these church walls – from our own mountaintops, we can easily sing “O Young and fearless prophet of ancient Galilee, your life is still a summons to serve humanity; we need your presence here, Amid our pride and glory to see your face appear; Once more to hear your challenge above our noisy day, Again to lead us forward, along God’s holy way.

     That’s singing the talk. Not walking the walk!  Fear of change, transformation, Living in the valley is never easy, convenient or comfortable.  Life on our mountaintops of relative ease, safety and comfort is pretty good.  But remember Jesus’ words to Zacchaeus – the corrupt tax collector sitting in a sycamore tree – “Come down now…” Christ is calling us today to let go of whatever fears, doubts, privilege and comfort keep us apart from the aches and pains of the world and follow him in living in the valley.

     There’s a second valley – the valley of determination or perseverance. Could Jesus have avoided his cruel and painful crucifixion? Not and still be Jesus. Remember, on his last night, while at prayer and even from the cross, his words, “Not my will, but thy will be done.” Like us, Jesus experienced and enjoyed mountaintop experiences. But he also knew his purpose on earth was to be obedient to God’s will.  To live in the valley.  His transformation or transfiguration only begins to make sense when we appropriate it for our own lives.  

     You may remember a story about a man who heard there was a white gorilla in a nearby zoo. After frequent visits he persuaded the zookeeper to let him sit in the cage with the gorilla. “OK,” the keeper said, “but don’t touch him.” Shortly after, the man was so tempted he actually touched the gorilla. Suddenly the gorilla began to chase him. Fearing for his life, the man ran out of the cage; out of the zoo, hailed a taxi and hurried home. But as he reached his front door, there stood the white gorilla! The man screamed for help, certain the gorilla would harm him. Suddenly, the gorilla smiled at him, touched his arm and said, “Tag. You’re it.”
     Let’s be clear – I’m not comparing Jesus to a white gorilla!. Or to a favorite childhood game “Hide and seek”.  Rather, to remind us that God never gives up on us. Through Christ, God continues to run and to run – to hound us; to chase us; to call to us; to plead with us – “come down from your tree of fear; come and follow me.” God in Christ has gone beyond the second mile; to do all possible, even giving Jesus to death on a cross, to “touch” us. Yes, in a sense to say to us, “Tag. You’re it. Now it’s your turn.” 

     The Gospels remind us that in his final earthly days, Jesus set his face to go to Jerusalem.  Fearless determination and faithfulness.  Today, we face two types of valleys, two different directions to follow. One, the valley of fear; the other, the valley of determination.  Which will you choose?