This week, we continue our journey up on the mountain with Jesus-- listening to some of his most famous teachings in the great Sermon on the Mount. Several weeks ago we heard about Jesus’ call to be a light to the world and the salt of the earth. Before that we read about being peacemakers— pure in heart-- and the blessedness of those who hunger and thirst after righteousness. This week, we reach what is perhaps the culmination of Jesus’ extended meditation on the law. For the very first time in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus utters the word that is the essence of the entire law— love. But of course, this is not a sentimental, warm and fuzzy kind of love that Jesus is talking about. This is a hard love. One that can seem impossible, or foolish, or too radical for ordinary, every day people like us.
Jesus’ words certainly would have seemed radical to his original audience. His teaching here on the law was not what people were used to hearing from the religious authorities of 1st century Palestine. To understand just how radical his words might have seemed, I want to back up a little bit and put these teachings into context with our reading from the Hebrew Scriptures. A classic text from the Torah— the 19th chapter of Leviticus.
For many of us, Leviticus is a somewhat unfamiliar book. It’s one of those Old Testament books that we pay little attention to— perhaps making the assumption that it is filled with obscure and arcane laws and rituals that we-- as 21st century Christians-- need not pay attention too. After all, Leviticus is the book that has prescriptions against wearing garments woven from two different types of cloth, and prohibitions against eating certain kinds of foods. It’s a book filled with seemingly arbitrary rules about the proper way to offer burnt offerings, and precisely what kind of flour to use in grain offerings. And so I suppose, if that was all there was to it, we wouldn’t need to pay much attention to this book. But the truth is, Leviticus is a complex book-- a rich code of laws and ethics that has within it many different kinds of commands. The key to understanding a book like Leviticus, I believe, is to realize that not all laws are created equal.
Many of the laws in Leviticus do indeed have to do with ritual purity— something that was very important for ancient Israelites in their particular time and place. In the ancient Middle East, the tribes of Israel were not like what we think of today when we think of traditional Jewish communities. They were a group of disparate tribes— barely having made it out of Egypt to escape slavery. They were in the process of figuring out who they were, and who they wanted to become, as a people of God. The Israelites needed these ritual and purity laws in order to build and maintain a sense of communal identity. But purity laws and ritual laws are not the only type of commandments found in Leviticus. There is another kind of law, classified by biblical scholars as holiness laws, or moral laws. These are the laws that dealt with ethical, holy living— the sort of laws that were considered necessary for a just society. Commandments not to lie or steal, not to deal falsely with one’s neighbor, hold back wages, or show favoritism to the rich or to the poor. And so while it’s certainly true that many of the prescriptions found in Leviticus were indeed written for a particular group of people, in a particular time and place, it is also true that this book contains within it guidelines for holy living that are timeless in their importance. These are laws that-- no matter what particular time and place one might be in-- are essential for living lives of justice and compassion. Laws that provide the very basis for our own Judeo-Christian tradition of caring for the poor and marginalized. These laws culminate in vs. 18 with the Golden Rule— to love your neighbor as yourself. This is what it means to be holy. This is the final, summarizing word on the section of the law that deals with holiness— a simple injunction, regarding the state of one’s heart towards one’s neighbor.
Over the years, however, the religious authorities began to place more and more emphasis on ritual and purity law, and less emphasis on care for the poor. As Israel become a more established nation, they found themselves falling into that age-old trap that so many developing societies experience— with establishment and power, often comes a need for political control. And soon the plight of the poor is overshadowed by power struggles among the political elite. (I don’t suppose that sounds familiar to anyone, does it?) We see evidence of this in the words of prophets like Isaiah, Amos, and Micah— prophets who complained that ritual, purity, and political power had become more important than the command to care for the poor and love one’s neighbor.
Jesus continues in that prophetic tradition throughout his ministry, constantly railing against religious officials who seem to care more about remaining pure than about helping those who are sick and suffering. But here in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus is saying something even more radical than the prophets who came before him. Jesus is doing more than merely pointing the way back towards the old holiness codes. He is doing something more than merely calling for a return to traditional values. Jesus takes these laws of holiness that we read about in Leviticus, and goes a step further. He takes the original idea of reciprocity, for example, and argues that we should not repay evil for evil, but instead are to respond to evil with goodness and love. He takes the original command to love one’s neighbor, and extends it to even our enemies— even those whom we hate. These are radical words, to be sure. But it’s important to realize That Jesus is not saying here that the law is wrong, or that it should be discarded or ignored. In an earlier passage Jesus declares that he has not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it. Jesus is not criticizing the law itself, but is offering his listeners a deeper, more radical way of following the law. He’s trying to get them to understand that true holiness is not so much about following all the rules, but more about the attitude of the heart. A person could do all the right things, but that doesn’t mean they really understand what it means “to be perfect as our heavenly father is perfect.” St. Paul— an expert on the law if ever there was one-- understood this very well when he wrote:
“If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.
So what does all of this mean for us-- here and now?
I have a feeling that many of us probably have a similar reaction to these words as some of the original listeners. Sometimes, perhaps they seem naïve or foolish. Sometimes, they just seem too hard. How can we— ordinary people that we are— aspire to such a radical calling?
I think it’s helpful to know that the root meaning of the word radical is just that— root. Radical means to get to the heart of things. To be radical followers of the law means not that we are slaves to every letter of the law. It means not that we put forth this perfect outward appearance in which we do everything right. It means that we aspire— in the deepest part of ourselves— to be transformed by the spirit of the law. It means not that we live under a sense of obligation, but rather, in the words of one commentator, “that we search within our hearts to the highest and best within us, that we raise our sights and join with God in creating a more loving and compassionate world.” When we think about Jesus’ words in this way, the idea of going the extra mile is not so much about what we do, but it’s about who we are. It’s not about doing more, it’s about being more.
As we approach the beginning of March, we begin to prepare ourselves for Ash Wednesday and the Lenten season. Now, I grew up Catholic, and for many Catholics, the Lenten season was always about giving things up. It was about not doing certain things. In a way, this manner of keeping Lent is very much in line with Old Testament laws that are more about prohibitions than they are about positive guidelines for holy living. But maybe this Lent, instead of giving things up, perhaps we can think about taking something on. Perhaps we can think about becoming ordinary radicals— ordinary people, getting to the root of Jesus’ teachings on the law. Freeing ourselves from restrictions and prohibitions, and instead, letting ourselves get to the heart of what it means to practice radical love and compassion in a world that so desperately needs it. To go that extra mile in who we are as followers— as imitators-- of Christ.
There is no single way to do that, of course. But this Lent, I would like to suggest one possibility. You may begin to see and hear things around this place about a Lenten program called Start. This Lent, some of us have decided to start practicing what it looks like to be ordinary radicals. To start experimenting with what it looks like for each one of us to go that extra mile in practicing radical love and compassion. For some, that will be helping to build a home for Habitat for Humanity. For others, it will be serving our brothers and sisters at the soup kitchen. Perhaps for some of you, it will mean changing your attitude towards certain people in your life— or letting go of old enmities and resentments. The point is not to check off tasks on some holy to-do list. The point is not to try and transform the world—or ourselves-- overnight. The point is simply that we start. That we begin the work of becoming ordinary radicals.
I hope that many of you will join us.
