“Blessed Are You”
The readings for Sunday Mass this week speak gently—but firmly—about who truly belongs to God and where God is most at work. Not in power, not in prestige, not in those who seem to have it all together, but among the humble, the overlooked, and the poor in spirit.
The prophet Zephaniah speaks to a people who have been shaken and reduced. He calls them not to reclaim strength or status, but to seek humility. What remains, he says, will be “a people humble and lowly,” a people who find refuge not in their own ability but in the name of the Lord. This is not weakness—it is trust. It is the strength that comes from knowing where your life truly rests.
The psalm continues this theme of reversal. God lifts up the bowed down, gives food to the hungry, protects the stranger, sustains the orphan and the widow. Repeatedly, Scripture tells us that God’s attention is drawn not to those who dominate, but to those who depend on God. God’s justice is not abstract—it is personal, attentive, and deeply compassionate.
Saint Paul sharpens this message in his letter to the Corinthians. He reminds them—perhaps uncomfortably—that most of them were not impressive by the world’s standards. Not powerful, not noble, not wise. And yet, God chose them. Why? So that no one could boast, except in the Lord. Paul is not insulting them; he is freeing them. Their worth does not depend on comparison, achievement, or status. Their identity rests in Christ alone.
And then we arrive at the Beatitudes—words so familiar that they can lose their edge. Jesus does not say, “Blessed are the successful,” or “Blessed are the admired.” He says: Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are those who mourn. Blessed are the meek. Blessed are the merciful. In other words: blessed are those whose lives have cracks in them—because those cracks are where God’s light enters.
Jesus is not romanticizing suffering. He is revealing where the Kingdom already exists. The Beatitudes are not a future reward system; they are a present declaration. God is already close to those the world pushes aside. God is already at work in lives marked by struggle, grief, hunger for justice, and quiet faithfulness.
For us, this is both a comfort and challenge. Comfort, because many of us know what it means to feel small, tired, stretched thin, or unnoticed—especially in places where life is demanding and resources are few. Challenge, because it asks us to examine where we place our trust. Do we measure our lives by strength and success, or by faithfulness and mercy?
The Beatitudes invite us to live differently: to resist the temptation to prove ourselves, to compete, to harden our hearts. They invite us instead to live with humility, compassion, and hope—trusting that God is already present in the ordinary, the fragile, and the faithful.
“Blessed are you,” Jesus says. Not because you are perfect—but because God is near.
Mackenzie-Fort Smith 