It is written in the Gospel according to Luke 6:20–23

“Blessed are you who are poor, for ^byours is the kingdom of God.

Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you shall be satisfied.

 Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall laugh.

Blessed are you when people hate you and when they exclude you and revile you and spurn your name as evil, on account of the Son of Man! Rejoice in that day, and leap for joy, for behold, your reward is great in heaven; for so their fathers did to the prophets.”

(In the Norwegian translation it is the word “Salig” that is used, not blessed. The greek word μακάριος (makarios) can be translated to favored, blessed, fortunate, happy, privileged. In some Norwegian translation they translate it with happy. A translation that is not correct in this text)

Blessed! Feel that word for a moment. It’s not a word we use very often today, and its meaning has become somewhat unclear.

Some people interpret and translate the word “salig” as happy. To be happy is, of course, something wonderful—but in this context, it’s not the right meaning.

Happiness is a feeling, and feelings come and go. Being happy is a state, a condition we find ourselves in. There’s nothing wrong with feelings—we all have them—but they aren’t necessarily true. Feelings can be both true and false. We may have every reason to feel happy, yet feel unhappy—and vice versa.

One of the challenges of today’s society is that we have equated our feelings with our identity.

When I was studying theology, I invented a word to describe the age we live in. I call it Emotionism—the belief that we are our feelings. It’s not something I personally believe, but it does describe much of our culture today.

But if feelings can be false, even deceptive, then it’s impossible to equate our feelings with truth and identity.

Besides, Jesus never asks us to be happy when we mourn, or when we hunger. That would be absurd.

A much better translation of salig is blessed. To be blessed is not a feeling—it’s a state, a reality, an identity. It’s something God does to us, something He bestows upon us.

And this is one of the main points of today’s text: that the situations we find ourselves in—whether we are mourning, hungry, persecuted, or hated—do not mean that we are cursed, but that we are within Christ’s blessing.

We can be blessed both when life is good and when it’s hard. Perhaps especially when it’s hard.

Maybe God shows special care and nearness precisely when we struggle—not because He creates the struggle (for God is good and is the source of all good things), but because He stands beside every person who suffers, mourns, hungers, is wronged, sick, or dying.

In Matthew 25:40, it says: “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.”

That verse gives me great comfort. Many people ask: Where is God when injustice happens? When we suffer and grieve?

The only true answer I have—and one I deeply believe—is that Jesus sits right beside the one who suffers, taking on the same pain, the same humiliation. Jesus grieves when we grieve. He suffers when we suffer.

Today is All Saints’ Day. In many churches in Norway, a memorial service is held for those in the congregation who have passed away in the past year. Candles are lit in remembrance. You are welcome to light a candle today during Communion for someone you miss.

But this day also invites us to remember those who have gone before us in faith—those who carried the Gospel so that we could hear it.

That is what All Saints’ Day is about.

Saints are not something we are particularly used to in our Norwegian Lutheran tradition. In our confession of faith, we say that saints can serve as examples of faith, but we do not pray to them as intercessors, as Catholics do, because we believe that we have only one mediator—Jesus Christ.

In the Lutheran church, we really have only one “almost-saint”: Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the pastor and theologian who resisted Nazism before and during World War II.

Just days before the war ended, when the Nazis knew their time was up, one of their final acts was to take Bonhoeffer into the forest and execute him. In that sense, he became a martyr.

In today’s text, Jesus says: “Blessed are you when people hate you, when they exclude you and insult you and reject your name as evil—because of the Son of Man.”

Many don’t realize this, but Christians are the most persecuted group in the world today because of their faith. It often seems there is a global campaign against Christianity. The more space Christianity claims in the world, the more it is persecuted.

In recent days, thousands of Christians have been killed in Nigeria. Just a few days ago, over 200 people were murdered in the village of Yelewata simply because of their faith. Even here in the U.S., the recent school shooting in Minneapolis—in which two children were killed and 17 injured—had elements of religious persecution, as it occurred during a worship service. Some also believe that the attack on Charlie Kirk was related to Christian persecution, though politics surely played a role as well.

In Norway this past week, the leader of the Christian Democratic Youth (KrFU) has faced threats, pressure, cancellation campaigns, and a media storm simply for saying that life is sacred and inviolable, no matter its circumstances.

According to the latest numbers from Open Doors, 5,000 Christians are killed, 5,000 imprisoned, 365 million face persecution or discrimination, and 15,000 churches are burned each year.

What is it about our faith that provokes such hatred? What is it about loving one’s neighbor that makes people respond with violence, persecution, and hate?

In a world where being well-liked is so important, being a Christian can be difficult. In fact, it’s often easier here in the U.S. than back home in Norway.

Each year, I ask my confirmation students what they find most difficult about faith. Most say it’s hard because they risk being bullied or excluded—mocked or disliked—just for believing.

They find it hard because of how others might see and treat them.

But what is so provocative about Jesus’ message—to love God and to love our neighbor as ourselves? What could drive people to imprison or even kill those who believe it?

This kind of thing happens in Norway too, though less violently. People are often advised not to mention their faith in job interviews. If you say you’re a Christian, you risk being labeled with things you don’t stand for at all—frozen out or pushed aside.

But you know what? I think this is something we should expect. Jesus knew it when He said: “Blessed are you when people hate you, when they exclude you and insult you and reject your name as evil—because of the Son of Man.”

The question we should ask ourselves is not whether this will happen, but how we will respond when it does. Will we respond with hate—or with love? Will we turn the other cheek?

Because one reason humanity reacts so strongly against God’s message of love is that it forces us to see ourselves in the mirror of truth—to see our true selves, with all our faults and weaknesses, our pride and our sin.

As Christians, we do this too—but we see ourselves through the lens Jesus gives us. We see our inner darkness, yes—but through His eyes of love that say: Yes, you have flaws and failures, but God’s love is greater and not dependent on what you do or feel, but on who created you in His image.

As I often say: God’s love is not dependent on our actions, but on the relationship He desires with us, despite our actions.

But when nonbelievers are confronted with this radical love and can’t accept that it includes them too, it can awaken hatred in their hearts.

We all want to be loved—especially by our Creator. And when someone can’t accept that God’s love also applies to them, an inner darkness begins to grow—a darkness we call hate.

Hate is the opposite of love. Love seeks the best for the other, for the other’s sake. Hate seeks the worst for the other, for one’s own sake.

When someone believes that God loves others but not themselves, they may try to take that love away from others—destroy it, persecute it, even kill it.

So what does all of this have to do with All Saints’ Day?

Many small and great saints have gone before us—people who carried the faith so that we could lean on the Light of the World, Jesus Christ, and have our own light kindled to carry forward.

One of those “small saints” in my life was my grandmother. She taught me to pray the Lord’s Prayer and to sing Dear God, I Have It Good—even on days when life wasn’t good. She was my saint of faith.

During Communion today, light a candle also for the person or people who have meant something special to your faith—those who have carried the radical message of love and shown you that God loves you not because you’ve been good, but because He created you.

We must also acknowledge that even though Jesus’ message is a radical message of love—for God and for our neighbor—the Church and Christians have often failed to live up to that ideal throughout history.

We are both sinners and saints. That means we are blessed by God, yet still human and fallible. The Church has been, and still is, guilty of this.

There’s a word in English that doesn’t exist in Norwegian: Christendom. In Norwegian, kristendom simply means “Christianity”—the faith and community. But in English, Christendom refers to the institutional and political use—or misuse—of Christianity as a tool of power.

For example, in old Norway, the parish priest often controlled the poor fund and sat on the school board—deciding who received aid or not. Or when confirmation meant standing before the priest to answer one of 264 questions—if you got it wrong, you had to wait a year. That meant you couldn’t work or marry.

That had nothing to do with the Gospel—only with power, with Christendom.

That’s why it’s so important that we as the Church continually ask ourselves: Is this the Gospel? Is this what Jesus would do? Or is this something we have created for our own sake?

If you, like me, have at times confused who God is with how Christians have acted, then let me tell you: God is perfect. We are not—not even when we act in Jesus’ name. God is far greater than any human being, except for Jesus Christ Himself.

In the Gospel of Matthew, the Beatitudes are given in their full form:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn,
for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek,
for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.

Blessed are the merciful,
for they will be shown mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart,
for they will see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers,
for they will be called children of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Glory be to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit – He who is, was, and shall be one true God, from eternity to eternity.

Amen.