Expanding Boudaries (Matthew 5:38-48)

Sermon February 20 2011

(Leviticus 19:1-2, 9-18; Psalm 119:33-40; I Corinthians 3:10-11, 16-23)

I read an unusual example of witnessing to the power of love and forgiveness this week and I’d like to share that story with you: In 1984, Jennifer Thompson-Cannino testified that Ronald Cotton was the man who raped her. Eleven years later, DNA evidence cleared him of the crime. The two are now frequent speakers on judicial reform. They live in North Carolina with their families. They appeared together on Nation Public Radio’s “This I Believe” series in March 2009.

At one point Jennifer said, “I asked Ron if he could ever forgive me. And with all the mercy in the world he took my hands and with tears in his eyes, he told me he had forgiven me a long time ago. At that moment I began to heal. Ronald taught me how to let go of all that pain; his forgiveness set me free that night. Without Ronald, I would still be shackled to that moment in time, and it would own me forever. I soon discovered that I could even forgive the man who had raped me – not because he asked me to, nor because he deserved it – but because I did not want to be a prisoner of my own hatred.”[1]

This story has great impact because of the massive scale of the forgiveness—for both parties involved. Imagine being wrongly accused of a crime that holds such emotional, physical and mental impact and revulsion for most people. And imagine being the one who was mistaken—even without intent—and also dealing with the impact of a physical attack like rape.

Most of us will not have these kinds of experiences—though I am sure that these kinds of stories do exist within our community of faith—but most of us have the experience of another person causing us pain in some way and of causing another person pain, whether on purpose or without intent. We all must contend with the pain that we cause one another because we behave badly or we act without thinking or even when the best of intentions cause pain. Others can also cause us pain even when behaving in perfectly good ways as when children grow us and must be let go or loved ones must move—the kinds of things that really are the best choices for everyone.

Jesus speaks to these painful moments as he continues his Sermon on the Mount in Matthew’s gospel. Jesus begins this section of his message, “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’”[2] And we’ve heard that said, too. It’s an oft quoted justification for swift and severe punishment for crimes, yet in its First Testament context, it’s actually a call for just and relatively merciful consequences that fit the crimes committed. In ancient times, depending on one’s status, the punishment for causing another injury didn’t always fit the injury. The intention of “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,” was the limitation of consequence. Under this standard, a powerful person wasn’t allowed to demand the life of servant, slave or other low-status person in the case of injury. And this eye for an eye stuff was to be a maximum consequence because they knew too, that if they continued, all would be blind and toothless.

So Jesus’ word in today’s scripture continues to expand the original understanding of the text—but instead of just limiting swift and severe retaliation, he calls for the exposure of broader injustice. Jesus taught the workers and peasants of his time—he was observed by the more powerful among the Jewish people, but his audience were little more than slaves among the powerful Roman occupiers of Palestine. The peace of Rome was absolute—law and order (at least their own) was kept with an iron fist. Jesus would eventually meet their judgment himself.

And in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus talks about a world of oppression they understood, though it is a far removed experience from our own. One author[3] describes this set of events in a particular way that opened my eyes to Jesus’ intent. Instead of sounding like you should just take whatever anyone dishes out, it resets these statements and makes them a form of passive resistance.

So when Jesus says, “Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also,”[4] it can be understood as resistance instead of submission and consent to a lowered status. In that land, in that day and in our own, when you touched another person, you always used your right hand. It was the clean hand for hygienic reasons. If you strike someone on the right cheek with your right hand—you’ve backhanded them, struck them as if they were a slave or someone with less status. When Jesus told them to offer the left, he was telling them to stand up as an equal. The blow wouldn’t hurt any less, but the perpetrator of the blow would have to strike the other as an equal.

The second statement is similarly structured—and you need to know the context—the law allowed the holding of a cloak for collateral for a loan. Exodus 22 says, “If you take your neighbor’s cloak in pawn, you shall restore it before the sun goes down; for it may be your neighbor’s only clothing to use as cover; in what else shall that person sleep? And if your neighbor cries out to me, I will listen, for I am compassionate.”[5] When Jesus says, “and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well,”[6] he was revealing the sin of usury or taking more in interest than another can afford. In that day many were taken to prison for having nothing to repay a debt. He expanded this understanding of God’s compassion. If the person gave up their inner garment as well as their outer garment, in that day and in that culture, they revealed the other person’s shame and greed instead of their own.

And in the last part of this section of scripture, Jesus said, “and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile.”[7] A Roman soldier could order a resident of an occupied land, like Judah, to carry his pack one mile without punishment by his leaders. He was not supposed to have anyone carry beyond that point. It was a law that guaranteed the subservient status of the occupied country, yet made them seem somewhat merciful. So Jesus said to reveal the occupation and the oppression—walk another mile at the soldier’s protest. Walk it to show agency of choice instead of submission.

And then Jesus wraps up this part with “Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.” The imperial government could demand anything—they were the enemy, too. So he may be leading up to the next part of the sermon, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’” The bible never commands to hate one’s enemy—in fact, in much of the First Testament, the stranger and the sojourner who might be members of an enemy tribe or nation are to be cared for as God cares for us all. So Jesus may be pointing out a common way of thinking, and might even be seen as common sense to some.

“But,” he continues, “I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.” Whenever I read this, I am reminded of a line from Mark Twain’s prose piece, The War Prayer, “If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.”[8]

Whether or not we pray for it, or can imagine it, God does send rain and blessing upon us all. And God’s love is given to all—whether we call someone enemy or they call us so. Jesus’ teachings have been called naïve and they are in some ways, yet they can be life-changing. As Paul wrote to the church in Corinth, “If you think that you are wise in this age, you should become fools so that you may become wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.”[9]

If each follower of Jesus Christ—each one who professed to be a disciple of Jesus followed listened and heard his teaching and then acted according, the world just might be turned upside down. And each life that did so certainly would be. If compassion and forgiveness ruled us as wholly as fear and anger and vengeance seem to control us and our world today imagine how large God’s kingdom—the household of God—would feel!

Jesus calls his disciples—people who were adopted into the children of God whatever their ancestry—to live as God’s children. God’s care and providence (the sun and the rain) are given to the whole world. Who are we to dispute God’s care by our neglect or enmity? And yet it is beyond us if we try to do it alone. It is beyond us if we attempt it without the support of one another and it is certainly beyond our powers if we try it without God. We have to constantly and continuously go to the well of God’s love to survive and even more so to do the work that God calls us to do. To expand the boundaries of our own love to come close to that of God’s—we will constantly seek God’s help and God’s forgiveness. And that’s okay as long as we are moving, stepping, speaking, acting, praying our lives more closely to what God has in store for us.

Our text this morning ends with Jesus setting a powerful goal—a goal that sounds impossible, but is the ultimate call for expanding boundaries, “48Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”[10] One translator says we are to be mature[11] as God is mature, another “complete in showing love to everyone, so also you must be complete.”[12] Another describes it as living “generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you.”[13]

Any way it is said, again, we aren’t doing it alone—not alone without others and certainly not alone without the help of God. We have to work together and hand in hand with God along the way that Jesus began two thousand years ago. Life looks different now than it did then—we are more prosperous and powerful than Jesus’ original audience. We have the responsible of using our relative prosperity for the sake of those who do not enjoy it.

This week is fittingly the first Sunday for our Week of Compassion offering, so we have an opportunity to realize how big the world is, how the love of God reaches out even now through people who care for those in short-term crisis and long-term need. Amy Gopp, Executive Director, Week of Compassion said it this way, “We do not give because we have; we give because we love. We give because we are loved. Praise be to God for this indescribable gift!”

To the glory of God and in the hope of God’s ever expanding love, grace and hope for us all. Amen.

Works cited:

[1] Copyright © 2009 by Jennifer Thompson-Cannino and Ronald Cotton. Part of the I Believe Essay Collection found at www.thisibelieve.org. Copyright © 2005–2009. This I Believe, Inc. Used with permission of This I Believe, Inc. in Seasons of the Spirit From “Finding Freedom” p. 131.

[2] Matthew 5:38

[3] The Powers that Be, Walter Wink

[4] Matthew 5:39

[5] Exodus 22:26-27

[6] Matthew 5:40

[7] Matthew 5:41

[8] “The War Prayer,” Mark Twain, (1905) Public Domain. (remained unpublished until after his death, until 1923.)

[9] 1 Corinthians 3:18-19.

[10] Matthew 5:48

[11] The Complete Gospels, Robert J. Miller, Editor

[12] Mt. 5:48, CEB

[13] Mt. 5:48, The Message

Sermon February 13 2011

Deuteronomy 30:15-20

Matthew 5:17-37

“Beautiful Hearts”

Recently we bought a cage to put one of our cats into. He was a feral cat that I brought in from the street about 8 years ago now. And he’s always been very careful about associating with me and almost everyone else except my other cat Zacchaeus. When Carl and I married, and merged our cat families, Jonathan was not very flexible. Zacc and the others learned to get along after a few months, but we’ve come to the conclusion that Jon can’t do it. So he’s got very rigid boundaries now—a cage. But he’s a cat and can’t be reasoned with—though Carl tries.

Some folks think of Old Testament law as a cage—a rigid thing, made to limit choice and freedom. And it can be used that way—almost like a weapon. Religious laws can and have been used to hurt people in that way, taking away instead of adding to people’s lives. One understanding distinguishes the rules of religion from the practice of spirituality. Religion can be about rules—what you believe, what you do. Spirituality is about quality, a connection of the heart. Religion often draws lines. Spirituality sees between the lines, blurring definition, boundary and argument . It isn’t about right and wrong—but it is about making connections. Spirituality includes instead of saying what is wrong with someone else it crosses over and understands.[1]

Sometimes we get our faith and our spiritual practice confused with our religious beliefs—and though they should fit together, make sense together, what I do in my spiritual practice might not be the same as what you do. Our spiritual practice might include meditating in utter silence, never moving and singing out in praise and speak words of prayer and walking and biking and all kinds of activities—or none.

The outer religious expression, however it is done, is less important that the connections that are made with God and with a community of people with whom we are traveling.

We make a spiritual connection with God and with people so that our hearts can be a part of God’s vision—the vision beautiful that moves and guides us in our discipleship.

The series on discipleship continues today as we move farther into Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in the gospel of Matthew. And as we continue this series, it’s important that we look at the law of Moses as presented to us in the First Testament of our scripture. The First Testament—or Old Testament—was Jesus’ Bible. It was integral to his faith and his relationship with God. Today’s gospel lesson integrates his understanding of the law—the Torah—the first five books of our First Testament—into his life and the life of those he was calling to be his disciples.

The text from Deuteronomy helps us to understand the importance of the law—to Jesus and to all Jewish people. In it, Moses is emphasizing what the law does, “I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity.” He tells the people that if they love God and live according to God’s law then they will live and be numerous. He tells them that if they do not, they will die. I’ve heard sermons about this, sermons about God’s punishment on the disobedient, but instead I hear the consequences of breaking the covenant. God built a people, using laws that connected them to each other with love. They were to love God and love one another in particular ways by being honest even with dishonesty would be profitable. They were told to respect one another’s land, animals and other property because it was all God’s to begin with—and it was a loving thing to do. They were told not to kill one another because life was a gift of God. They were told to respect contracts of marriage because God loved them and wanted them to love each other. Life outside the law was chaotic and life inside the law was manageable—as long as it was lived and applied with justice.

In the apocrypha, the book of Sirach says it this way, “God has placed before you fire and water; stretch out your hand for whichever you choose.” Which choice that I make will burn (me or another) and which will give life (to me or another)?

As I have said a few times since beginning this series, the model for way in which Matthew tells the story of Jesus comes from Moses and in today’s text, we are given and understanding of Jesus’ relationship with the law of Moses and how Jesus’ relationship with God made him understand the law of Moses.

I began the reading today in verse 17, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.” Jesus’ teaching didn’t take away the law, but made it contemporary to his time—like some of the other teachers of his day. He was teaching about the spirituality of the law—how it built relationship instead of the wall between people that the law had become in some cases.

The Pharisees were intense keepers of the law—they taught that the more rigidly the law was kept, the more they would be rewarded. But in the midst of their often sincere, but ostentatious obedience, they lost track of the purpose in the law. Jesus wasn’t teaching that the law was less important, but that it was more important than rigid obedience made it. Righteousness comes from the heart—hearts made beautiful by God’s love and our love for one another.

Jesus begins with murder—the law says, “You shall not murder.” And Jesus says that disciples also must not hate and disrespect others. It means living life differently, the leadership of Judea, often named as the Pharisees, upholding Rome’s hierarchical and unjust society. Disciples were to challenge this by offering another alternative. Instead of ignoring differences that mattered, Jesus describes a process of reconciliation. He tells them not to worship (in his time, sacrifice) with hatred or vengeance or violence or injustice in the heart, but as his disciples, to go and forgive or be forgiven before worshipping. Murder, in Jesus’ interpretation, was destroying people with public abusive anger and dismissing them. Reconciliation was to be the disciples’ choice. By a change of heart the heart of a disciple becomes the residence of God’s vision of beauty.

Throughout life people will make you mad,

disrespect you and treat you bad.

Let God deal with the things they do,

‘cause hate in your heart will consume you too.[2]

Jesus takes on the touchy issue of adultery and divorce. In Jesus’ day, men could divorce their wives by walking away. It was the male’s choice to be there and his choice to walk away. Jesus interpreted the law’s prohibition against adultery to curb male predatory behavior. It’s hard for me to imagine the culture of the time, a certain kind of male impunity to the consequences of some laws—like this one. Jesus wanted them to be aware of the temptation, the source, the seed where adultery began. Avoiding adultery was about seeing the other person—the woman, as a person in relationship with God, not just as an object of desire.

And the next prohibition against divorce was given for similar reasons—and remember that it is spiritual rather than religious. The law allowed for divorce—and Jesus acknowledged that, but saw that the practice was abused. When women were dismissed/divorced at a whom they were branded, ostracized and often impoverished. Jesus stated that a man didn’t have unlimited power to walk away from a wife. Marriage was to be built around just treatment of another human being. We understand marriage from an even broader perspective—as women and men gain and understanding of equality with one another, the relationship changes.

Both of these prohibitions make us aware of Jesus’ teaching was to bring people into a loving and just community—and honestly, I have to say that sometimes divorce is loving and just, you know that, too. So many people I’ve known have been trapped into a situation where divorce was the only loving answer for both parties.

Even Jesus’ teaching from the mountain top, as Matthew reveals it, is received as we continue our journey of growing understanding of God and our relationship with God and one another. In an understanding of our spirituality and our discipleship, we can see how our hearts are changed and made more beautiful and more open to God’s presence and guidance.

The final teaching concerns lying or giving false witness—as the commandment says. Jesus wants to simplify the idea. It’s not just lying if we have sworn on the bible or given an oath to God, but in a community of integrity and “right” or just relationship an oath is unnecessary. This particular prohibition comes from the use of oaths to evade the truth. So, if one didn’t swear an oath, one was not responsibility to the truth.

Jesus’ teaching on the mountaintop was given to deepen the understanding of the law of Moses. It was meant to emphasize, reemphasize and restate—just as the First Testament often did—that God’s word was for the purpose of life, not for that of stagnation and promoting the status quo. God’s word was alive, is alive and meant to address the situation of each life that it touched. God’s truth, carried forth in Jesus’ life and into the lives of his disciples was given to change our hearts—and not just our minds—so that our decisions are governed by the love that God has given us and, and, and, and, and, the love between human beings which is called forth by the love of God. One cannot and does not exist without the other.

What has been your experience of learning to live faith from the heart, rather than relying on external religious rules and expectations? Living faith from the heart—the heart that knows God’s love, everlasting, forgiving and eternally understanding—means that not only can I be forgiven, but that I can forgive myself and so I can forgive others. God’s love, everlasting, forgiving and eternal understanding means that when I see love in another’s heart, I recognize God, even if we don’t agree about God and religion and the words we use to describe them. Having a beautiful heart—making my heart, your heart, the heart of this community a home for God means that it’s got to be a big heart.

And that kind of heart is not a cage—as the law is not a cage—and Jesus’ teachings are not a cage—they are like a nourished garden, giving what’s needed to grow. The text challenges us to see the world in a new way. "In each of the scenarios Jesus is calling for an entirely new way of viewing human relationships," [Charles Cousar writes.] "Behind the prohibitions lies the vision of a restored humanity" (Texts for Preaching Year A).

They are about what we can be—and what God has created us to be as we journey in our discipleship. When we have beautiful hearts we are inviting God in to live with us and in us—as we interact with each other, those we love and those we don’t love yet.

Rather than giving us cages, we are given the freedom to live in beauty with each other—knowing the limits and confessing sin—and with God’s love in our beautiful hearts.

To the glory of God. Amen.

[1] By Brian Woodcock from This is the Day, edited by Neil Paynter copyright © 2002 Wild Goose Publications, paraphrase.

[2] Just the Two of Us, Will Smith (sung to his son)