Epiphany
7/February 19, 2017
Faith, Badger;
Bethel, Greenbush; First, Middle River
Matthew 5:38-48
In
the name of Jesus. Amen.
If
you ever visit the Smithsonian National Museum of American History, you may see
a very old book published in 1820 that’s entitled: The
Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth Extracted Textually from the Gospels in Greek,
Latin, French & English.
This
book is also called the Jefferson Bible, because its author was Thomas
Jefferson, who wrote the Declaration of Independence and served as this
country’s third president.
Jefferson,
who was a brilliant man, was curious about everything in the world, including religion and the Bible.
The
Jefferson Bible was a project Jefferson worked on for many of his retirement
years, his main tools being a sharp razor and a bottle of glue….because what
Thomas Jefferson did was to edit out all the portions of the New Testament that
he found unhelpful and not worthy of believing.
In
short, what Jefferson did was to cut out all references to Jesus’ miracles, his
divinity and his resurrection. What Jefferson
left in his Bible were simply the sublime teachings and ethics of Jesus—nothing
more.
Now,
when we hear about this we’re probably shocked.
Most of us would never even dream of putting together our own
cut-and-paste Bibles.
And
yet, with much more subtlety, we and most other Bible-readers find ways to pay
attention to some portions of the Bible while passing over other portions.
And
this gospel lesson at the conclusion of Matthew chapter five is a striking case
in point.
There
are some deeply disturbing things in this passage. Jesus utters words we simply cannot
swallow….and have no intention of actually putting into practice.
We
hear what Jesus commands here, and our first inclination is to say, “Nope. That’ll never do!”
· If an evildoer
messes with us or with those we love, we will resist that evildoer, quickly
claiming our right to self-defense.
· If someone sues us
we will not knuckle under, but we’ll “lawyer up” so that we can meet our
opponent in court.
· We do not drop a
dollar in every outstretched hand of every beggar we happen to meet.
· If enemies bedevil
us, we will not love them and our first inclination will not be to pray for
them—except perhaps to pray that they’ll stop harassing us.
· And no, most
definitely not, we will not be perfect…because, as everyone knows no one but
God is perfect!
We
may not go after this passage with a razor in one hand and a bottle of glue in
the other, but by what we actually do or fail to do, we will treat most of these
verses as “dead letters”—pie in the sky stuff that Jesus couldn’t possible
expect anyone on earth to take seriously.
And
once we’ve cleared away the parts of this text that Jesus can’t possibly expect
us to take seriously, there’s not much else left here except…..except what
Jesus says about our Father in heaven, who “makes his sun rise on the evil and on the
good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.”
There,
right there—did you feel it?--a little breath of fresh air from heaven comes
wafting our way. Smack dab in the
middle of all these impossible commands from our Lord, we catch a fleeting
vision not of ourselves down here grubbing away in this dog-eat-dog world—but
rather a vision of God and God’s own wild, profligate, unmeasured grace and
mercy.
Finally
something we can say “Yes” to! Mired in
this tired old deeply flawed world, we look up and remember that there is a God
who is indiscriminately merciful, beaming down sunshine on both friends and
foes, showering down rain on the deserving and the undeserving alike.
We
want such a One to be our Father in heaven.
We
want to be children of someone who displays such wide mercy.
We’d
love to be “chips off the old block”—daughters and sons of such a lavishly
loving God.
There’s
just one problem, though. This vision
of God’s overflowing, prodigal grace--evidenced in both the sunshine and the
rain—this refreshing vision is completely enmeshed with all the other words of
Jesus here that seem so out of kilter.
With
even the sharpest razor, we cannot separate these two parts of this passage.
“Love your enemies,” says Jesus, “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.”
How
can we possibly wrap our arms around this whole passage—embracing both the
ridiculous commands and the vision of our Father’s indiscriminate mercy?
· First, we might
remember how much Jesus—throughout the Sermon on the Mount—loves hyperbolic
speech (phrases like: “If your right eye
offends you, pluck it out!”) Jesus is
always pushing the envelope to wake us up, shake us up and re-set how we look
at everything. Maybe that’s what’s
going on with all these impossible demands.
Jesus’s aim may not be simply to lay on us an impossible “to do” list. Rather, Jesus may be getting us off the
dime, and opening us up to imagine what life in God’s world was always meant to
be.
· Second, we can
entertain the possibility that by sharpening God’s will for us here, Jesus is
making us realize how far this fallen, rebellious, sin-laden world still is
from God’s kingdom as we long for it to be. We human beings go to great length to resist evildoers, litigate our grudges, bypass
beggars, oppose enemies—but how’s that working out for us? How’s this world doing?
· Third, and really
most critically, this text opens our eyes to all the ways that Jesus doesn’t
just deliver this sermon—but in the
end, how he finally lives this sermon
to the max: refusing to resist his
false accusers, willingly walking that extra mile to the Place of the
Skull, expending his dying breath in
prayer for his enemies, and finally dying at the hands of evildoers—the very
evildoers—including you and me!—for whom he gave his life.
As
all this begins to dawn on us once again, God moves us closer to God’s great
vision of a new creation utterly at peace, a new creation in which God will woo
and wheedle us to grow up fully into the likeness of our Lord Jesus
Christ who was crucified for us and vindicated by God when he raised him from the dead.
That’s
what the final verse here—the “be ye perfect” part of this text—is all
about.
Jesus
doesn’t hold up a sterile, flawless version of perfection here, as much as he points us toward God who is always leading us into the fullness of his final future in Jesus Christ.
A
better translation of verse 48 comes from Bible commentator Frederick Dale
Bruner: “So then, you folks are going to be a
perfectly mature people, just as your heavenly Father is perfectly mature.” (Frederick Dale Bruner, Matthew, A Commentary: The Christbook, Matthew 1-12, Eerdmans, copyright 2004, p. 266)
This,
you see, is God’s most astonishing work in us.
Jesus
our Crucified and Risen Lord, rolls up his sleeves, and takes us on: giving us, and fashioning in us, all that he
commands!
In
the name of Jesus. Amen.