I did not see myself as a particularly loveable 7 year old, but my regular sitter always thought I was a fine boy. She had been employed as a clerk deep inside the New York State bureaucracy, but she retired early from her job to take care of her aging mother, and I gathered that her mother was not the easiest person to care for. Her main outside interest, besides sitting jobs, was teaching Sunday School at her church. She would love to bring me a little memento like a small bookmark of a psalm, a picture of Jesus, or home made miniatures with a sentence or two from one of the books of the Bible. Every time she came she would try to teach me some Biblical fact. Such as, what is the shortest verse in the bible:” Jesus wept” (John 11:35)
While her own life was quite trying and likely lonely, I never picked up on that. She was glad to see me, and exuded a calm and hopeful demeanor I never forgot. Again, I was not the easiest child to sit for and I suspected she never reported some of my antics. One time, however, I did get busted. The week before somehow I had gotten a large wad of bubblegum stuck in my hair. My mother was not the kind to calmly go to the library to see the best non-intrusive way to remove bubblegum from a child’s hair, and of course there was no internet for her to look it up, and besides she was provoked at me and believed I needed to be taught a lesson. So she cut the gum out, with her kitchen shears, leaving quite a noticeable crater in my blond hair down to my scalp. Of course I felt I needed to give some explanation to the sitter when she came. I could not bear to tell her what a stupid thing I had done, so I told her that I had had rather serious brain surgery. Fortunately, it was successful and I had made a remarkable recovery. There was still the pain, but it was eased by my mother letting me have an extra bowl of ice cream whenever I wished, especially before bedtime. It worked. However, I didn’t figure when I was asleep and my mother came home, that the sitter would mention how sorry she was to learn of my operation. When I came down from breakfast I didn’t even need to read my mother’s lips. Her eyes said it all: “brain surgery, brain surgery!”
However, the next time the sitter came, she was as kind as ever, never said a word about it, and gave me a small picture. On the back was written “to a fine boy.” The years passed and I can’t remember the last time she came to the house. Maybe her mother got worse so she had to stay in and take care of her and not accept any more sitting jobs. Perhaps her own health was failing. I never saw or heard from her again, and for years her memory was sublimated as I engaged in the difficult task of surviving adolescence.
Jesus reminded his disciples that they, following the example of people of faith before them, were to be people of blessing. What does it mean to give and receive blessings? Jesus taught using common Semitic expressions of the culture of their day. Perhaps we might translate them something like this: Blessed are the poor in spirit: How fortunate are those who are not so full with the insecurity and wealth of arrogance and surrounded by the richness of their pride that they cannot acknowledge an empty place within themselves for God’s love to be born or for greater vision to grow.
Blessed are those who mourn, for how better to withstand all that life may throw at them are those who mourn the injustice and cruelty in the world, for they are able to give and receive compassion and keep the vision of justice alive for themselves and others.
Blessed are the meek, for Blessings occur among those who know and appreciate who they are and do not chooses violence and the putting down of others as the way to affirm their own existence.
Blessed are the merciful for how content are those who wish the good to blossom in everyone, who rejoice in reconciliation rather than punishment and revenge, who realize that the milk of kindness is always nourishing and the acid of jealousy always corrosive to the spirit
Blessed are the peacemakers, for how wise in the important things of life are those who enhance the welfare of humanity by sowing the seeds of peace and healing, no matter how small and insignificant the seed may seem.
Blessed are those who are brave enough to withstand persecution, for people of blessing are those who stand as an example for what is right, who choose to witness to hard truth over easy lies, who know that it is far better to die with integrity than live without it.
Of course, Ithaca is an exceptional place and some among us here will be prominent and respected in their field, wealthy in various ways, and have made a name for themselves that will live on many years. Jesus didn’t make any of these requirements for being blessed or being people of blessing.
I long since lost and discarded the little biblical mementos my sitter used to bring me, save one. It is a small-framed picture saying, “Prayer changes things” and decorated with some hand painted flowers.” On the back it says, “to a fine boy, given by his friend, Viola Weaver”. I think I understand now what Jesus meant when he called his disciples and taught each of them what it meant to be both blessed and a person of blessing. 