By Rev. John Kennedy
A few years ago, I read a statistic that said 80% of New Year’s resolutions fail by the second week of February. If we are like most people, then many of us—those who made resolutions at all—have either given them up or forgotten about them by now. New Year’s resolutions express a universal desire for happiness. Their high failure rate also reflects our struggle to attain it.
Happiness is widely pursued but seldom found. The Declaration of Independence lists our rights as “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”—as if in recognition of its elusiveness.
According to the 2024 World Happiness Report, American happiness is declining. Yet, the happiness industry—books, seminars, podcasts, apps—continues to grow. We spend more money chasing happiness but seem to be moving further from it.
As long as our happiness depends on wealth, comfort, fleeting experiences, or reputation, we will never be satisfied. Arthur C. Brooks, the happiness columnist for The Atlantic, once put it this way: “The secret to satisfaction has nothing to do with achievement, money, or stuff.”
No object, experience, or status can be a stable foundation for happiness. As George Harrison sang, “All things must pass.”
Self-centeredness never leads to joy. Thomas Merton observed, “There is a false and momentary happiness in self-satisfaction, but it always leads to sorrow because it narrows and deadens our spirit.”
This theme appears in the show Mad Men. Protagonist Don Draper once says, “Even though success is a reality, its effects are temporary. You get hungry even though you’ve just eaten… You’re happy because you’re successful—for now. But what is happiness? It’s a moment before you need more happiness.”
Speaking of happiness: the Gospel text for Sunday, February 16 was the beginning of the Sermon on the Plain. It’s Luke’s version of Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount, and like Matthew’s, it starts with beatitudes—proclamations of blessedness or, as it could also be translated, happiness:
“Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh…”
These beatitudes echo that Sunday’s Old Testament readings from Jeremiah and the Psalms, which describe the happy person as one who trusts in God, delighting in the law of the Lord. Such a person is like a tree planted by water, bearing fruit in due season.
Matthew’s version focuses on the interior disposition: “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” Luke simply says, “Blessed are you who are poor.” In Luke, Jesus is talking about literal, material poverty.
It’s good to have both versions. The Gospel places a claim on both our inner and outer lives.
So what is it about the poor that, according to Jesus, makes them blessed—or even happy?
Notice how these beatitudes are addressed: “Blessed are you who are poor… blessed are you who are hungry now.” Jesus speaks directly to those around him: the apostles and a great crowd of disciples.
Jesus’ words are personal. He is not making a general statement about poverty. This becomes clear with the last beatitude: “Blessed are you when people hate you… on account of the Son of Man.”
God’s general, universal concern for the poor and lowly is a consistent theme throughout Scripture. But here, Jesus speaks specifically about the sacrifices that come with discipleship. In last week’s Gospel, Jesus called his first disciples, and we were told, “They left everything and followed him.”
Jesus says that those of his disciples who take up their cross and follow him are blessed and favored by God; that the kingdom of God is theirs; that in the end all will be well; that any present experience of suffering on account of his name will be transfigured, just as the cross leads to the resurrection.
The theme of reversal runs through the Gospels—particularly Luke’s. Jesus says: “The first will be last and the last will be first,” “The greatest among you will be least of all and servant of all.” Mary’s Magnificat echoes this: “He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.”
Jesus makes this reversal explicit with four statements of woe which follow the four beautitudes:
“Woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you…”
How should we take this? Many of us are rich by global standards. We have food, we laugh, and we enjoy a good reputation. Are we spiritual goners?
To the extent that we find ourselves on the privileged side of Jesus’ divide, we should feel challenged: How are we using our resources? What do we truly value? Are we living for God or for wealth?
Jesus warns against the spiritual dangers of wealth—how it can foster pride, greed, and insensitivity to the suffering of the poor. But he also leaves room for the responsible use of wealth. Jesus’ ministry was supported, at times, by wealthy disciples. Joseph of Arimathea, a rich man, provided a tomb for Jesus’ burial.
Perhaps the problem isn’t wealth itself, but self-centeredness and unjust patterns of living.
The way to happiness, according to Jesus, is to surrender all we have to God; to live as his disciples; to accept the costs of following him; to let go of our attachments to wealth and fleeting pleasures.
This is more challenging than the happiness the world sells. But as we have seen, the world’s ways do not really lead to happiness anyway.
So, if you’re ready—if you’re hungry—for something deeper, listen to Jesus. Draw near to him like the crowds in the Gospel, to receive his healing and transforming power.
He calls us not to solemnity, but to joy. He came to set us free; to draw us into what Thomas Merton called the cosmic divine dance of love; a life lived with open hearts and hands, generously outstretched to those in need and in service to our Lord.
The Rev. John Kennedy serves as Associate Rector at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in New Canaan.
