With a deep sense of satisfaction with the choices he had made the night before, the song lifted aloud in joy and fullness of heart as, obediently, he followed his four-legged companion down the path.

He heard them before he saw them. A dull roar coming up from the hillside below. The cacophony of many people chatting and laughing one with another. And then they were there, led by his friends, the disciples. The mountainside had played out into a spacious meadow punctuated and surrounded by undulating hills. How came all of these to this place? When they saw him, the roar erupted into cheers. "Master," cried Peter, "we were worried. Are you well?"

"I am! I am well indeed." He waited until the talking ceased and the movement of the multitude halted. "Who are your friends?" he asked. Peter looked around him at the crowd. "Many have come a long way; they come seeking you, Master. You are known throughout Galilee, and because of that, so are we. Having learned of our waiting here for your return, those who seek you came here. But they seek not us. As all who seek to be touched by the Father, they seek you."

Jesus lifted his hands gesturing for everyone to sit down. They settled themselves on the ground surrounding him. The gentle hills rose softly around the plateau, forming a natural amphitheater. When they had stilled, he spoke.

"Some of you look tired," he smiled as he looked into expectant faces. Several of those sitting near nodded in agreement. This crowd was open, receptive. No critics here. They had come in anticipation of something good. As he began to speak, the crowd hushed and became quiet. One could hear a cricket chirp. He did not disappoint them. Discernible compassion attended his voice when he said, "Some of you are impoverished in spirit, your inner resources evaporated. Some of you are sad and broken, you feel hopeless and find nothing in yourselves with which to cope. Be comforted. God understands your weakness and what you perceive to be failure. He knows the desires of your heart. He put them there. Yes, be comforted. Yours is the kingdom of heaven."

Owning these words as nourishment for the soul is not easily experienced. Does God place in our hearts, our thoughts, the desires we possess? I have desires that focus on survival. How I will put food on my table, provide for my family and their daily needs. How to provide for myself when I am no longer able to do so. I have desires that issue from the friends, family and relationships I enjoy. But the most compelling and meaningful desire in my heart concerns my purpose, the reason I breathe, the cause that compels my existence. Why am I here? What was it that prompted the Creator to create me?

The answers to these questions take shape around what I am and what I want to be. I would like to think that this predilection of divine rationale and purpose is my central focus. This is what drives me, and all the other proclivities I possess circumnavigate and feed this force, this energy. It is this force that God has placed within me to make myself happen; a force, I believe he has placed within us all. I am certain of it. When it is all done, should there be a footnote to my life, let it be, "This man was a servant of God. This man completed God's intent for his life."

Among the assembly were many dressed in tattered robes, patched and repaired dozens of times. Their faces gaunt, resigned, yet serene. These were those who had found contentment in the struggle for survival. Those who understood that struggle is not always a curse. These were those whose lives were simpler, less complex, whose expectations were meager and whose faces were lifted to the Father for sustenance. Jesus spoke to them, "Blessed," he said, "are those among you who must sweat and strain for your next meal. Do not despair. For those who must wear privation as a cloak of honor, yours is the kingdom of God."

Many of these had not eaten. They had no resources to buy food, yet they seemed at peace. They did not complain. How simple it is to cry out from hunger. How honest. How ordinary. How it is to be expected. Yet no hands were out-held. No pleas of "alms" were spoken. To these remarkable people Jesus said, "Blessed are you who hunger now, for you shall be satisfied."

As he spoke, one thing became clear to all. He spoke as one who wished to take them all in his arms and comfort them. As he spoke, some began to weep. One young couple in particular listened to him with painful expressions. Faces downcast, tears streaming down their cheeks. They had good reason to weep. They had just lost their son to illness. They had buried him not two days ago. They sat not far from where Jesus stood. "Blessed," he said, "are you who weep now, for you shall find solace." He had seen them. He approached them quietly, smiling. Gentleness emanated from him. He extended his hand and took the young mother by the chin, and with the other he held the shoulder of the father. "Be comforted," he said, "you shall see him again and you shall laugh." His eyes met theirs. "You shall laugh," he said again. Through their tears an imperceptible smile tugged at their lips.

He strode out among them now. Stopping here to preach. Stopping there to comfort. "The rich," he cried, "live in comfort now. The surfeited, those who revel in food and wine, those about whom all speak well--take care! For suffering and hunger is but a misfortune away, weeping comes in the night and reputations shredded by a solitary, whispered rumor." They were listening, rapt and attentive. Abishag could not be contained. As he moved about speaking and gesturing, the dog danced about happily wagging her tail. Licking one here, nuzzling another there, making eye contact with a child or an old man, seeking to be petted. Wherever Jesus moved the dog moved. All seemed to enjoy the Master's dog as much as the Master's words.

He continued to address those whose tears made wet paths on dust-caked cheeks. "You are in pain now. You are hurting now. You feel the terrible agony of loss. Oh, hear me dear loved ones, you are close to the heart of the Father. Your tears are the blossoms in his fields. You are blessed more than you can now imagine, and you will be comforted." This only intensified the weeping. One could not tell if the tears were of joy or of pain--or of both.

Walking back to his place, he turned and gazed at the crowd once again and then sat down. The hills tenderly echoed each syllable. "Those of you who possess the quiet, non-presumptuous strength of meekness, who have liberty but exercise it with economy and discretion, are blessed indeed. Be encouraged, for you will inherit the earth.

"Some of you hunger and thirst for a life liberated from the evil tentacles of an undisciplined, consumptive life. You will not be sated with anything less than absolute intimacy with the Father. You seek righteousness. You know that there is nothing else truly worth having." Jesus paused and then, "You will be filled." He let these thoughts sink deeply into the kernel of their spirit and then he continued.

"Some of you have learned not to be accusatory or judgmental. You do not exact recompense, or vengeance. You empower others to live constructively. You do not condemn, but you give strength to those weaker than yourself. You have shown mercy; you shall receive mercy."

Who was this man? How came he with such power? Such force of influence? Such poise? How is it that thousands converge on him? He is the eldest son of a peasant carpenter. His life, until recently, unremarkable. Who is he to intrude into the concourse of our lives with such love and wisdom?

I cannot say. I can only lament that I had not known him sooner and rejoice that I live and breathe the same air as he. The mercy of which he speaks? I long to bathe in it, to feel its invigorating life flow over these tired, painful bones. Oh, my God, when I think of my sins against you and against men, how can you redeem me? I think, perhaps--through this man.

"I see purity in the hearts of some of you. Your faith is as innocent and trusting as a child's. When you are weak and fail, you still believe. How blessed you are! Do not fear, for you will see God.

"Some of you, because of your very presence, bring principled and equitable peace and stillness to troubled hearts. It is very difficult to contend with you for your influence calms the violent spirit. You will be called sons of God.

"When you stand strong and are persecuted for doing the right thing regardless of the cost; when you take ridicule and contempt, insult and invective for the sake of another, when you have no need to be right, but possess the rectitude and stamina to defend right; know that you are blessed. Yours is the kingdom of heaven.

"Your life will change as you follow me. Your perspectives will shift. Not only will that be uncomfortable for some of those around you, but some will become belligerent and even hostile towards your new way of life and your new values. They may try to humiliate you publicly, discredit and belittle you. Let joy fill your hearts when this happens because you are in good company."

Jesus stood once again. He pointed directly at an individual. "You," he declared, "are the salt of the earth!" And then he pointed at another and another. "And you, and you, and you," he cried. And then he spread his arms, palms held upwards, and with a shrug said, "But if salt loses its flavor, how can it perform its function? It is without worth, no better than dirt. It is no longer good for anything." Pointing again, "So, have salt in yourselves. Do not allow yourselves to become bland and tasteless. Yet, be at peace with each other; and remember salt does not equate to arrogance." He picked up a small child and held him high, looking at his face. "You, young fellow, are the light of the world!" The baby began to cry. Laughing, Jesus handed him back to his mother. "A city on a hill cannot be hidden," he shouted. "Neither do people light a candle and hide it under a bowl. Instead they turn the bowl upside down and make it a stand on which to put the candle, and it gives light to everyone in the house." He paused as if to invite the next step in logic. "So let your light shine before men. Let them see what good you do. This will bring joy to your Father in heaven."

It is difficult to remember all that he said that day. His teachings were like fine wine, not easily appreciated by those with an undiscriminating palate, yet eloquent in simplicity, bold and penetrating in scope. He sat down on a nearby rock, took a deep breath and folded his arms. No one moved. They seemed struck with awe. They were accustomed to the nasal droning of the synagogue rabbis, but this man had spoken to them with animation, self-assurance, force and most of all, believability. Even the dog looked at him in wonder.

It has been many years since Jesus spoke these words; many years since he left us to return to his place with the Father. The apostles have met, indeed meet with some regularity to plan, to consult to lay out the schematic of a budding church. Saul of Tarsus met Jesus on the Damascus road and is now preaching and teaching and planting churches, but I would ask each of them and all of them, upon what foundation are they constructing their efforts? Do they think of these words spoken on this day as they go about creating bishops, elders and deacons? Paul, in his first epistle to the Corinthian church plainly states "other foundation can no man lay, than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ." How came he from that absolute truth to where he now alleges that the Ephesian church is built upon the foundation of the Apostles and Prophets, Jesus Christ, being the chief cornerstone? Jesus, the Creator of all that is; Jesus, the Son of God; Jesus the Savior of the world is now relegated to being the chief stone in a foundation of apostles?

I confess. I worry about the church's foundation. Is it being built upon the rock that is Jesus Christ and his teaching, or is it resting on something else, destined to be washed way with the rains and the wind?