Matthew
5:21-26
February
16, 2020
William G. Carter
“You have heard that it was said to those of
ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to
judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or
sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister,
you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be
liable to the hell of fire. So when you are
offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister
has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go;
first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your
gift. Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way
to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the
judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. Truly I tell you,
you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.
Last week, we heard the entire Sermon on the
Mount. As planned and led by our Worship, Music, and the Arts committee, the
entire text was read, sung, and prayed by our congregation. A few of you
mentioned that, at first glance at the worship bulletin, you saw a lot of words.
It seemed daunting. But soon, you were glad to be here.
The Sermon on the Mount is the central teaching
of Jesus. It is the first and foremost of the five speeches of Jesus, whom
Matthew portrays as the New Moses. Just like the book of Deuteronomy for the
Jews, the Sermon on the Mount is a binding and liberating Word for the church.
It announces who we are: salt of the earth and light of the world. It declares the
higher righteousness of the kingdom of heaven, a righteousness that exceeds
that of people who are merely religious. Above all, it teaches us how to live,
now that Christ has come.
It is a big text. The Lord’s Prayer is here. The
Golden Rule is here. The law and the prophets are here – and they are exceeded.
Like I said, this is a big text. So big, in fact, that some of it seems
impossible.
·
“If anyone strikes you on one cheek, offer your
other cheek.” That’s hard to do, without feeling like a punching bag.
·
“If your right eye causes you to sin, pluck it
out and throw it away.” Seems a bit extreme, don’t you think?
·
“Don’t worry about your life, especially about
what you will eat or what you will wear.” Thanks, Jesus, for the advice, but
all of us know people who live to worry.
·
“Love your enemies and pray for those who
persecute you, so that you may be children of heaven.” There are some people
who refuse to believe that verse; they think it is impossible.
This, of course, is Matthew’s book. He pushes the
church to extremity. Matthew wants to see deep discipleship. For him, casual
churchgoing is not enough. No one who takes the name of Christian will drift in
and out whenever they feel like it. They are called to go deeper, to walk the
extra mile. As he quotes Jesus, “Many will show up and say, ‘Lord, Lord, Lord,
don’t you remember me?’” And he will reply, “Go away, I never knew you.”
It is in this context that we hear the teaching
for today. Jesus says, “If you call somebody an idiot, you could go to hell. If
you insult a brother or sister, even if you get angry with them, you will have
to answer for your actions at the highest level.”
Now, he is not saying, “Don’t get angry.” Anger
is a very human emotion. Conflict happens all the time. What matters is what you
do with the anger. Not that you swallow it and give yourself cramps, and not
that dismiss it and pretend it doesn’t exist, but that you process it, that you
work it through, and do so in ways that does not destroy another person.
I ordered a couple of sandwiches last night
from Jersey Mike’s. We were kicking around the house in comfortable clothes, so
I called in a Number 11 for my wife and a Number 42 for myself. I went over to
pick them up so we could eat at home. When I returned, I discovered they made a
change on my wife’s order. Worse than that, the onions and peppers that I usually
expect on my chicken cheese steak were not there. I ordered them, but they
weren’t there.
It was annoying. Seventeen bucks for two
sandwiches and not what we wanted. So what do you do? I suppose you could get
in the car, drive back over there, call somebody a name. But what would that
solve?
Or you could get in the car, drive over there, demand
they make the sandwiches again and get them right. But we were hungry enough to
eat what we had already received, and not interested in eating any more.
So I took a breath, groaned to myself, and went
online to express my concern. I typed in the computer, “Hey, you let us down.” Then
I assured them that someday I will return and order more sandwiches. After all,
we’re talking about sandwiches. Pretty good sandwiches, too, even when they
aren’t perfect. What would it help if I went over there and called somebody a
name?
The clue here is the word “brother,” “brother
or sister.” This is a family text, an internal text, a church text. Church is the
community where we are called to work things out, to live above our
differences, to practice the truth of reconciliation. At the center of it all
is Jesus Christ, who forgives each of us and calls upon us to forgive one
another.
That’s how the German theologian Dietrich
Bonhoeffer calls us to understand our life together. Christ is at the center of
it all. All of us stand around him as forgiven sinners. As Bonhoeffer notes, my
brothers and sisters are those who have been redeemed by Christ, delivered from
their sin, and called to faith and eternal life. Our community with one another
consists solely of what Christ has done to both of us.[1]
It is through Christ that we have the miracle of
living in communion with one another. It is a delight for those can receive it.
Yet there’s the rub. The New Testament may
declare that “Christ breaks down the wall of hostility.” In a heavenly sense,
that’s true. Given the power of the cross, there is absolutely no reason for us
to be hostile to one another. Christ forgives sin. Yet it’s often difficult to
believe that. Even in church, the community that gathers around Christ. Especially
in Christ.
Years ago, I remember meeting a woman who has the
same last name as a man I had met. “Oh,” I asked, “are you related to him?” She
said, “Used to be.” From then commenced a little weekly game. He would arrive
and sit with his girlfriend, holding hands, sharing a hymnal. The ex-wife would
arrive a few minutes later, sit across the aisle about two rows behind, and glare
at them through the whole service. Those
were the days before we added the “passing the peace” to the worship service.
Not sure if it would have worked, anyway.
It's
hard work to stay angry. You have to keep nursing the grudge, stirring the
resentment, and in the end, it comes to no good. I like how Frederick Buechner gives
it a delicious description:
Of
the Seven Deadly Sins, anger is possibly the most fun. To lick your wounds, to
smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the
prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome
morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back -- in many
ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are
wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.[2]
Over the years, I have discovered something:
people drift away from church. Not merely from boredom or relocation, but from
something far more sinister. The cause usually isn’t the minister (I used to
fear that it was). No, they don’t always have a problem with me; they have a
problem with somebody else.
A harsh word is spoken. Or affirmation is withheld.
Perhaps it happens in the hallway or during a potluck supper. I’ve heard it can
even happen at a committee meeting. It might be so small that nobody else
notices, but it’s not small. Then it takes on additional weight. It becomes
heavy. Then it’s even heavier. Pretty soon, there is lost sleep, tossing and
turning, and finally the resolution: I will have no more of this.
And the easiest way to address it is to refuse
to address it. To back away. To avoid any further pain. And when somebody pulls
back, stops coming, and the church is big enough that nobody notices right away,
it can be weeks, months, even years, before somebody says, “Whatever happened
to those people who once were here? What were their names?”
So, it is within the church family, to those
whom Jesus calls “brothers and sisters,” that he offers his most demanding
word: “When you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your
brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before
the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come
and offer your gift.”
I had to read it a second time to be sure it
says what it says. I wanted it to say, “If you have something against somebody
else, go and make it right. Set them free and make it right.” But that’s not
what it says. Jesus says, “If someone has something against you, you go to
them. You take the initiative. Even if you are falsely charged, even if you are
fairly accused, nevertheless, you must be the peacemaker.” Oh my, now that is
going the extra mile!
Jesus is pushing us out of any complacency. He
is pushing us beyond indifference, pushing us beyond self-righteousness. Since Christ
has forgiven each of us, we are not free to say, “Well, she has a problem with
me, and that’s her problem,” and then we write it off. Oh no. We are called to
bridge the gap that we ourselves may have caused. And that’s hard work.
“Go,” says Jesus. “Even if you are in a worship
service and it’s time to make your offering.” There’s something more important,
he says, than making that offering.
Obviously, Jesus never served on a finance
committee. Nor was he a pastor. A couple of years ago, somebody recommended we
have a fire drill on a Sunday morning. I suggested a Tuesday morning, when
nobody was here, and John and I could go out to Starbucks, but no, it had to be
on a Sunday morning when the room was full.
OK, but when? Someone said, “How about we have
the fire drill in the middle of the sermon?” Somebody else piped up, “How about
in the beginning of the sermon?” I said, “Now, wait; if you are going to do
this, give me enough notice so I don’t bother to write a new sermon.”
Then someone else said, “Wait, we are thinking
about this all wrong. If we’re going to have a fire drill, whatever you do,
have it after the offering. Not before!” Why? Because we should never miss the
opportunity to take up an offering.
And Jesus says there’s something even more
important than that: it’s making peace with somebody who has something against you.
It’s working through the differences between us, since the work of Christ on
the cross has already justified all of us in the sight of God. Now it’s up to
us what that means for one another, for in the kingdom of heaven, relationships
are as important as prayer.
So the word of Jesus still stands: “When
you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or
sister has something against you, leave your gift there and go; first be
reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.” There
is something more important than that gift, and that is the hard-earned gift of
peace between us.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment