The church of the apostolic age left us with four distinct understandings of the Gospel: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. It doesn't take much reading to divide these four into two groups. On the one hand, there is John, who is not today's subject. On the other hand, Matthew, Mark, and Luke follow - more or less - the same order with many of the same stories. Because they look so much alike, they are collectively called the Synoptics, from the Greek meaning, "look together." At first, they do seem to come from the same set of eyes. In time, Luke's secretive Christ or Matthew's Jewish Jesus comes through a little clearer. Even so, it is easy to confuse the messages. Take, for instance, the Beatitudes. In Luke (6:20), "Blessed be ye poor: for yours is the kingdom of God. " In Matthew (5:3), the parallel passage reads, "Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. "

I found myself getting into a fight with another seminarian (some time back) over the relative merits of the two passages; the real difference is the two words, "in spirit." My opponent thought that the historic church's preference for spiritual poverty was a way of eluding its responsibility to the materially poor. I would not (and could not) dispute this, but I was still drawn to the idea of God speaking to the spiritually poor. This reality is hopelessness leading to despair, anxiousness, and a lack of direction. It is no less life-destroying than inadequate food or dirty water. I had felt it strongly as I approached the ministry, and this is how the Gospel spoke to me. It speaks still. Universalists talk up the power of community, but the power of faith and a relationship with God has a deep power to reorient us in the world. I suspect this has happened to a number of us.

But what does this have to do with a man I met a few weeks ago? Meeting him was neither fast nor avoidable: he was a store cashier with overactive sense of intimacy and poor sense of coordination. In the two or three minutes he took to finish up the transaction ahead of me, he disclosed his failed marriage, his estrangement from his parents, and his discomfort in working as a cashier. There was no malice in his voice; indeed, he seemed to be crushed by his personal history. His vocal tone was low, and he slouched. His hair was unwashed. His story was less idol chatter than an appeal from prison. Little wonder the customer ahead of me - she was clearly on her second retelling of his plight - indulged him with obvious sympathy. (I can only imagine a less indulgent customer will some day have him relieved of his job.) As he worked on my order, he worked silently, which only highlighted how miserable he seemed. I put on a kindly smile, and all the time wonder "What made this man turn out like this?" I remembered Jesus' beatitude, "Blessed are the poor in spirit . . . " Who will be like Jesus to him? He needs something greater than the kind ear of a stranger.

The church of the apostolic age gave us an inheritance of looking at the Gospel in different ways. It is a single message of hope, love, and reconciliation that comes through in different ways. We can look to our needs and life vocation and find a place within it. What we do with these different witnesses is another matter. If the Gospel lies on the page, it dies. If we see it acting in our lives - either as someone who can receive or give help - it lives with the richness of the kingdom of heaven.