And the mistakes we make because of it
Epiphany 6A | Matthew 5:21-37
“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;”
Did Jesus just say what I think he said?
Some of you might remember what I’ve said the last couple of weeks: if you’re not frustrated by the Sermon on the Mount, you’re probably not listening.
And there is plenty here to get us at least a little frustrated.
Jesus talks about anger and violence and abuse and lust and division and divorce and integrity. So this might feel like something of a catch-all.
It’s also bound to snag us. Something specific in there grabs our attention and makes us go: Hmmmm. I don’t know, Jesus!
Getting Snagged
While this passage might feel like a collection of teachings to some, it is also the kind that makes us think Jesus is being prescriptive. That he is telling us his rules. If you lust with your eyes, pluck ‘em out!
Of course, I’ve never seen someone actually do that, so I’m confident we don’t actually believe that .
This is also the kind of passage that makes us think that anybody can get the Bible to justify what they think. Hey! Anybody want to find some scripture that we can use to justify using Scripture to justify what we already think? That’d be great!
We do this whenever we see something that messes with us. When we get snagged in the text.
Anything that causes us to think.
So an obvious one takes place at the beginning. Jesus says that we’ve all been taught not to murder. And that one who murders is liable (or responsible) for that death. And that they will be judged.
But then, Jesus adds to it, saying that if you are angry, you too are liable to judgment.
So, when we hear this, what conclusion do we jump to?
We assume that anger is as bad as murder.
Now, that’s not there at all. He doesn’t say these things are the same. But because we put them together, we assume that’s the point. But it isn’t.
And here, in assuming this, we’re actually making two mistakes.
- The first is in equalizing these two ideas: murder and anger.
We’re jumping to a conclusion that Jesus doesn’t evoke. He’s naming additional responsibility, not comparable. He doesn’t equalize the two. Nor does he dismiss murder by elevating anger.
He’s not saying what’s in your heart is the same as what you do! But he is saying what is in your heart is also sin.
- The second mistake is that we think our desire to punish sin is the point.
So we assume that by calling anger sin like murder, we assume we’re supposed to throw people in prison, put ‘em on death row, and then kill ‘em for getting angry. Because that’s what we do with murderers. So we assume Jesus thinks people with a heart for murder would necessarily deserve the same fate.
And none of this is what Jesus says!
When you have a behavior-based punishment system, and Jesus says that doesn’t cover all of sin… Well, it’s pretty hard to know what to make of this.
As long as our concern for the punishment of others is our focus.
That’s actually a third mistake we tend to make.
- We try to replace the sin of action with a sin of emotion.
We do this by spiritualizing our emotions and making our faith be about the interior as opposed to the exterior.
Jesus snags us with this teaching because we know what to do with actions. But we don’t know what to do with the human heart. And it’s even worse than that. We think that if somebody sins, it proves their heart is defective.
It stops being about holding one another responsible for how we treat one another and becomes an impossible chase to make people’s hearts better. Sometimes instead of curtailing the behavior.
Missing the Message
We make these three mistakes because our own hearts and minds get snagged in Jesus’s words. And it means we fail to hear his message.
Because, just as this isn’t a passage equalizing anger with murder, it isn’t equating lust with abuse. And its words about divorce and infidelity too easily become a blanket condemnation… One that is far more effective in defending church doctrine than establishing it. Because it doesn’t say half of what people wish it did.
We get so mixed up in what we assume Jesus is saying, we have a really hard time hearing what he actually is saying.
Responsibility is relational.
It isn’t just that murderers are responsible for murder. And murder doesn’t only spring from a murderer’s heart. Our anger leads to many broken relationships.
Life itself is relational.
Our actions affect each other. We can’t get around it. Everything we do. Who we are.
And it may be easy to draw the line with something like murder, abuse, or infidelity. There’s a perpetrator and there’s a victim.
But we also know that many abusers were themselves victims of abuse. And that complicates even our most obvious moral convictions!
Jesus brings anger into the conversation so we understand that sin is not manifest first in our actions, or even our emotions—it bursts from our relationships.
We get angry at each other! And when we understand that this, too, is sin, then we don’t get to do the one thing humans love to do more than anything in the world:
Avoiding responsibility.
This is why Jesus speaks to resolving conflict. And why he speaks to the effects on others when we commit adultery. And why our wanting a divorce leads to someone else’s sinning—which makes ours a prior sin.
When you sin, I and everyone you love is affected. And when I sin, you and everyone I love is affected.
We are responsible. And in the end, we are liable to judgment.
I know most of us are squirming at this. And the ones who aren’t are way too comfortable with the idea that we’re all guilty of this kind of sin. It’s a kind of creeping nihilism that affords the idea that we’re all sinners in need of redemption—and since we’re all bad, there’s nothing to do—that we ignore the part in which Jesus says how about we not sin?
Yes, this affects all of us. But it doesn’t condemn us. This isn’t a hopeless or eternal condition, regardless of what august theologians might argue. Because Jesus doesn’t believe it is. And we’re followers of Christ.
The one who doesn’t say we are all responsible, so there’s nothing we can do but that we all know sin so there is a ton we can do. Because sin is relational. And our work is relational. And this is stuff we can figure out how to do together.
Not only by punishing or in holding others responsible, but in becoming responsible people.
Taking Responsibility
When Jesus talks about oaths, he’s talking about that really familiar phrase we still use today. “I swear to God.”
Some incredible thing happens. We know people aren’t going to believe it because we half believe it ourselves. So when we do tell it, we throw that in there for emphasis. It happened! I swear to God! Or we might simply say It happened! I swear!
Is this wrong? Only in that we are stealing authority. We’re trying to say you might not believe anything I say, but I hope you believe this. In other words, I might be a total fraud, but if I promise on my mother’s grave that I’m not lying, you should believe this.
We are not taking responsibility for ourselves, but stealing it when it’s convenient.
And when we don’t believe each other and convince one another to swear oaths just to be heard, we are building an irresponsible community.
Jesus invites us into being responsible people. Honest people. Decent people. People our neighbors can trust.
What kind of community does Jesus call us to build up?
An honest one. Obviously. But also one built on common regard, hope, and care. On sharing and giving and loving and hoping and becoming and changing and praying and crying and being with people when they are down. Jesus calls us to respect the dignity of every human being.
Work that only works when we work together. Listen to the proverbial childhood coach: “There’s no I in team!”
We’ve seen good people do good work here the last two weeks. People who trust us because we’re a church. But also because we’re trying to be trustworthy. And they’re trying to be trustworthy. And we’re working together to make something work for all of us.
And yes, it’s “just” Wifi and speakers—common tools we’ve all come to expect, like new buds when the snow melts.
But it is also the fabric of community. Our common value and life together. Something we all know requires sacrifice. Participation. Work for it to work.
It’s just that sometimes we need to be reminded that it isn’t just about me. Or punishing people when they mess up. Telling them to be better. But working to make us all better.