Author: Peter Burfeind

Then His disciples answered Him, “How can one satisfy these people with bread here in the wilderness?”

Being satisfied with bread almost has the quality of a Biblical trope. Or, to put it in modern jargon, “It’s a thing.” Look at a few of the verses:

From Leviticus: “When I have cut off your supply of bread, ten women shall bake your bread in one oven, and they shall bring back your bread by weight, and you shall eat and not be satisfied.”

From Ruth: “Now Boaz said to her at mealtime, ‘Come here, and eat of the bread, and dip your piece of bread in the vinegar.’ So she sat beside the reapers, and he passed parched grain to her; and she ate and was satisfied, and kept some back.”

From Job: “If his children are multiplied, it is for the sword; And his offspring shall not be satisfied with bread.”

From Psalms: “The people asked, and He brought quail, And satisfied them with the bread of heaven.” And, “I will abundantly bless her provision; I will satisfy her poor with bread.”

From Proverbs: “He who tills his land will be satisfied with bread, But he who follows frivolity is devoid of understanding.” And, “Do not love sleep, lest you come to poverty; Open your eyes, and you will be satisfied with bread.”

From Lamentations: “We have given our hand to the Egyptians And the Assyrians, to be satisfied with bread.”

Isaiah 55 is perhaps the best example, and almost serves as a background for the usage of the trope in our Gospel for this week. Here’s a summary of the chapter in a paraphrase, “Hey, all you who are hungry or thirsty, there is a food and drink that money cannot buy, that truly satisfies. What is it? It’s my Word, a true bread that you eat. Eat this bread. It’s the everlasting covenant I made with David. Because of Him, the gentiles will run to you. It’s that those who repent and call upon the Lord will have mercy and forgiven them. No, you can’t understand this, but just as the rain comes down and causes a desert to spring forth with bread, so will my Word go forth from my mouth and do the same thing. Instead of the cursed wilderness with its thorns and briers, life and abundance will be in abundance.” And then it concludes with this verse: “And it shall be to the LORD for a name, For an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.”

One can see all the elements of all the feedings in all the Gospels in germ here, in addition to several other Gospel themes.

There’s the inclusion of the gentiles spelled out in the feeding of the 4,000.

There’s the hunger and thirst that happens in the wilderness, which the Isaiah 55 chapter rightly recognizes in the same way Jesus does, as a hunger and thirst for something beyond mere bread. (“Why do you spend money for what is not bread, And your wages for what does not satisfy?”) John 6 spells this out as well. The true hunger we have is for everlasting life.

There’s the fulfillment of the hunger centered in two things. First, in the Word of God. Second, in the everlasting covenant with David, which is to say, the Messiah, which is to say, Jesus. Only Jesus is the true bread that truly fulfills. He is the Word made flesh, the Son of David.

There’s the desert theme, and the idea that the Word of the Lord will come down, like manna from heaven, and cause the deserts to be abundant with life. Well, what was Jesus in the wilderness but the Tree of Life?

The disciples asked, “How can one satisfy these people with bread here in the wilderness?” They probably knew their Isaiah 55, but they didn’t understand yet how Jesus fulfilled it. They probably didn’t get that Jesus had already satisfied them by being present with them there, and by preaching the Word to them. They were still literal. And rightly so, because literal satisfaction of bread is ultimately part of our salvation as well. Even as we look forward to a restored Eden where we will have everything in abundance.

What they didn’t get yet, perhaps, is that final verse from Isaiah 55. That Jesus feeding masses in the wilderness was not just a one time trick, but “to the LORD for a name, For an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.”

Yes, an everlasting sign, a sign that we still partake of today.

In those days, the multitude being very great and having nothing to eat, Jesus called His disciples to Him and said to them, “I have compassion on the multitude, because they have now continued with Me three days and have nothing to eat. And if I send them away hungry to their own houses, they will faint on the way; for some of them have come from afar.”

There’s a picture we get of Jesus from the Gospels and a picture we get of Him from liberal pieties, and very often the two are hardly similar. The liberal picture imagines a Jesus who was basically an ancient rebel, someone who rebelled against institutions and traditions. He hung around the marginalized of society and tried to lift them up. He cared about the poor and homeless, hating the rich and religiously privileged. And look, here He feeds the hungry.

Liberals want to turn Jesus into an ideological Savior, an ancient millenarian who wanted to set up an egalitarian society without class, gender differences, and racial tension, where there’s no poverty or hungry, and everyone has health care because He heals them.  It’s a nice thought, but has very little to do with the Jesus that actually emerges from the Gospels.

Yes, Jesus came to preach the Gospel to the poor. He told the rich man to sell all he had and give to the poor. He told the story of the rich man and Lazarus. He praised the poor widow. Yes, He spoke with the woman at the well, forgave the adulterous woman, and appeared first to the women after His resurrection. Yes, He strongly emphasized the eradication of the racial distinctions between Jew and gentile. Yes, He preached out in the wilderness like a hippy. He lambasted manmade traditions and taught not to judge.  And yes, He always showed compassion and healed those who were broken.

But He also said the poor you will always have with you and lauded the woman who poured expensive perfume on His feet that Judas said could have gone to the poor – and Judas probably wasn’t being cynical, if indeed he was a populist zealot; he genuinely probably cared about the poor. He also chose only male disciples and was Himself, the Second Person of the Godhead, a male.  He clearly taught God in the male terms of “Father.”  He called gentiles “dogs,” even if ironically; still, is subtlety ever allowed when racist language is invoked? Ever? He taught marriage as one man and one woman, and reviled the fashionable with their “effeminate” clothing. He also preached in the synagogues and temple, and emphasized He said nothing in secret, or did not come to break reeds – He was no revolutionary; He was a rabbi. He preached from the lectionary and taught according to the then-existent customs. He railed against the Pharisees’ attempt to update Old Testament law (the above-mentioned manmade traditions) and taught a stricter version of it rooted in the Scriptures.

Quite frankly, the picture emerging from the Gospels eludes both the liberal attempt to make Him into a revolutionary and the conservative evangelical attempt to make Him into a speaker of therapeutic “ten steps how to do” comments that fit the idiosyncratic goals of the particular preacher on any given Sunday. Why? Because Jesus is completely “other” than what people in this world are looking for. He talks mainly about the kingdom of heaven, the Holy Spirit, taking up the cross, forgiveness, loving neighbors, prayer, and in general, spiritual things.

He’s untranslatable to American pragmaticism, both from the left and from the right. In this week’s Gospel, for instance, we see this vast throng following Jesus and listening to Him preach. We don’t hear what He preached! Evidently it wasn’t important. Consider that. What Jesus had to say that day wasn’t as important as a bigger point that needed to be made. Rather, we see Jesus having everyone sit down, as He becomes the personal oasis for them in the middle of a desert. This is an otherworldly image. This is removal from the world, a foretaste of heaven. And given the allusions to the Church and Sacrament going on, it’s a highly spiritual event.

That otherworldly image translates forward, even more importantly than what Jesus had to say that day. Specifically put, it’s more important that there is a Church in the world having the sacrament than that we get some more teaching from Jesus about whatever. Jesus’ teaching is actually pretty basic: “I’m the Son of God and King of kings; love God and love neighbors; I’m dying and rising to save you from sin and death; be baptized and follow Me.” Obviously there’s more to it than that. But compare Jesus’ teaching to, say, that of Plato. Plato yammered on way more than Jesus and had way more complicating and arguably profound (and profoundly wrong) teachings.

But Jesus didn’t come to bring a tome about “Jesusian Theology.” Again, think about that for a moment. Most of Jesus’ teachings echo from Old Testament teaching, and as many have pointed out, have parallels even in other religions. But what He introduced about Himself and the Church He was going to institute, that’s unique, and that translates forward and continues today.

Here’s another example where something that Jesus did in this week’s Gospel is untranslatable to American pragmatic concerns. He fed the hungry. Now, liberals jump at that and turn Jesus’ entire ministry into a food kitchen: “See how He loved and cared for the homeless, poor, and hungry! That’s what we should be doing rather than worrying sexual issues and judgmentalism! Because I’m sure that when the Jesus Seminar voted on Jesus’ words about marriage being one man and one woman, they voted grey, not red!”

And again, yes, Jesus was compassionate on those who followed Him. And yes, we should also have that compassion. It is a sin against the fifth commandment for a Christian to see someone in distress or hunger, and leave him in that state. But to make what Jesus did programmatic for the Church would be akin to insisting the Church should be a barefoot ski club because He walked on water.

The big point of the feeding of the 4,000 is not that Jesus fed the hungry. His compassion is a huge sub-point, but only to serve the bigger point that there will be a Church one day, which will carry on that same compassion in, yes, caring for the hungry, but more importantly, in feeding those hungry and thirsty for righteousness the words of eternal life, and the Sacrament of His sacrifice for sins.

Also, consider that the people had houses to go home to. These weren’t the bedraggled masses flocking to Jesus from the streets. These were people with houses. Again, this is not to deny bedraggled masses need to be loved and cared for by Christians, but merely to hold the line against those who would paint a picture of Jesus that’s not entirely accurate.

In the historic lectionary, Jesus’ miraculous feedings come up twice. On Laetare (“Rejoice!”), the fourth Sunday in Lent, comes the feeding of the 5,000. On this week comes the feeding of the 4,000. The emphasis in Lent is one of the glories of the historic lectionary. In the midst of the forty day/year desert wandering of Israel/Jesus/the Church, we hit an oasis. That oasis is manna/bread/communion. For that we rejoice.

This Sunday’s Gospel carries over those same themes, but there is some suggestion that this feeding involves gentiles, whereas the feeding of the 5,000 was for Israel. In the feeding of the 5,000, they had come from a day’s journey, that is, relatively close. Whereas in this feeding, “some of them have come from afar,” that is, from outside of Israel: gentile lands.

We can get into some of the number symbology as well. The five of 5,000 corresponds to the five books of the Torah, whereas the four in 4,000 calls to mind the four winds, or four directions, four being in the Bible an “earthly” number (interesting that the Old Testament for this week is the Genesis account of the four rivers flowing from Eden). Same with the five loaves with twelve baskets left over, versus the seven loaves with seven baskets left over. Five, again, refers to the Torah, and the twelve baskets left over equipt each disciple with plenty of bread for the twelve tribes of Israel; whereas seven is a universal number.

Symbology can take us so far and can be abused, but it’s always something to look at. Our modern eyes are numb to what was an important way of communicating for the Biblical writers. Our modern eyes are habituated in newspaper reading, history books, and science papers, non-fiction reading purportedly only about the facts. Because the Gospels are true, accurate, consistent, and without error, we surmise they must read like a newspaper article – we apply modern standards of accuracy on the Biblical account.

But the Gospels can be true, accurate, consistent, and without error operating under different standards, Biblical standards, standards that can include more symbolical ways of writing. This shouldn’t disturb us, and also opens up deeper ways of reading the text.

If the two Gospels differ in focus – one for Jews, the other for gentiles – they are both united in many more features.

Both occur out in the wilderness, or a “deserted spot.” This invokes Israel’s wandering in the wilderness. The wilderness has several layers of meaning.

On one hand it reminds us of the “dust to dust” curse on the land, the thorns and thistles. It’s the end point of God’s judgment and curse against mankind, as many of the prophets proclaimed; it’s the haunt of demons, which Christ confronted when He went out there.

On the other hand we’re reminded that dust is the material from which God created all life in the first place. So we’re back to square one, recognizing that we are nothing but that the “Lord and Giver of life” draws from the dust to enliven and sustain us. Israel had to learn to trust in God to provide daily manna. The disciples of Jesus too learned how He can provide sustenance in the wilderness. And we need to learn to rely on the Lord’s providential care in the wilderness that is this life.

Of course, from the moment Jesus gave up bread in the wilderness saying, “Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word proceeding from the mouth of God,” we have learned of the deeper meaning of the feedings in the wilderness. Man lives by the Word of God, and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. Those who eat that flesh have eternal life. This Jesus taught in John 6 quite blatantly, but the Eucharistic interpretation is hinted at clearly in the other Gospels’ accounts of the feeding miracle as well.

We see it in the verbs. “He took the seven loaves and gave thanks, broke them and gave them to His disciples to set before them; and they set them before the multitude.” Took…gave thanks…broke…gave to His disciples.

In Mark the words said of the bread in the Last Supper account are, “And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them and said, ‘Take, eat; this is My body.’”

The verbs here are: took…blessed…broke…gave to His disciples. The difference between “blessed” and “gave thanks” are interchangeable, even as they are in the Gospel accounts of both the feedings and the Last Supper. Lets take a look:

Matthew’s 5,000 feeding: “And He took the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, He blessed and broke and gave the loaves to the disciples.”

Took…blessed…broke…gave to His disciples.

Matthew’s 4,000 feeding: “And He took the seven loaves and the fish and gave thanks, broke them and gave them to His disciples.”

Took…gave thanks…broke…gave to His disciples.

Matthew’s Last Supper: “Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to the disciples…”

Took…blessed…broke…gave to His disciples.

The New King James Version. (1982). (Mt 26:26). Nashville: Thomas Nelson.

Mark’s 5,000 feeding: “When He had taken the five loaves and the two fish, He looked up to heaven, blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to His disciples.”

Taken…blessed…broke…gave to His disciples.

Mark’s 4,000 feeding: “He took the seven loaves and gave thanks, broke them and gave them to His disciples.”

Took…gave thanks…broke…gave to His disciples.

Mark’s Last Supper: “Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them.”

The New King James Version. (1982). (Mk 14:22). Nashville: Thomas Nelson.

Took…blessed…broke…gave it to His disciples.

Luke’s 5,000 feeding: “He took the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, He blessed and broke them, and gave them to the disciples.”

Took…blessed…broke…gave to His disciples.

Luke’s Last Supper: “And He took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them.”

Took…gave thanks…broke…gave it to His disciples.

Luke’s Emmaus account: “He took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them.”

Took…blessed…broke…gave it to the two disciples.

John’s 5,000 feeding: “And Jesus took the loaves, and when He had given thanks He distributed them to the disciples.”

Took…given thanks…distributed to the disciples.

St. Paul’s Last Supper account: “[He] took bread; and when He had given thanks, He broke it.”

Took…given thanks…broke it.

To summarize. “Blessed” comes up in Matthew, Mark, and Luke’s 5,000 account; Matthew and Mark’s Last Supper account; and Luke’s Emmaus account. “Give thanks” comes up in John’s 5,000 account; Matthew and Mark’s 4,000 account; Luke’s Last Supper account; and St. Paul’s Last Supper account. If you’re keeping score, that’s 6 to 5 in favor of “blessed.”

Bottom line, it’s interchangeable. Bigger point, it’s alluding to the Eucharist. The wandering in the wilderness is without down an action prophecy or action parable about the place the Eucharist has in the life of the church. And from that parallel we learn delightful things about the Church – it’s in a wilderness; it must rely on the Lord’s providence; it is fed by those whom Christ equips and sends out; it is satisfied to the full; it is the Lord’s supper; there is a “giving thanks” or “blessing” that goes with it, a thankfulness to the Lord for His gifts; the bread alone is not what feeds, but the Word proceeding from the mouth of God (or as John puts it, the Spirit gives life.)

And in this week’s Gospel, we learn that gentiles are included in it as well.

It’s a profound point that Jesus’ healing of the Canaanite woman’s daughter is sandwiched by these two feeding accounts – the 5,000 feeding to the Jews precedes it shortly and the 4,000 feeding to the gentiles comes shortly after. Remember what Jesus had said? Israel’s “bread” shouldn’t be given to gentile dogs. And what did she say? At least gentiles should get crumbs. She passes the test, Jesus praises her faith, and He opens up shop for the gentiles. And then we get the feeding of the 4,000, with seven baskets left over. The gentiles get their crumbs.

Why? Because as another theme common to all the accounts says, Jesus had compassion on them, on her. Just as He does on us.

“Agree with your adversary quickly, while you are on the way with him, lest your adversary deliver you to the judge, the judge hand you over to the officer, and you be thrown into prison. Assuredly, I say to you, you will by no means get out of there till you have paid the last penny.”

Jesus hints at something here that He hints at again in the parable of the Shrewd Steward, that those we’ve wronged will have some say in our judgment. In the parable of the Shrewd Steward (coming up soon), the message seems to be, “Be merciful to debtors, because they will receive you into their eternal home on the day of your judgment.” Huh?

But in Jesus’ teaching here, a similar dynamic seems to be set up. Evidently we’re dealing with someone who has abused a brother. He’s been angry at him, accusing him of wrongdoing, calling him names, even possibly accusing him of being unworthy of God (“fool”). This is a judgment, a judgment that turns the brother into a debtor unworthy of the altar.

Jesus teaches to go and undo that error, because He has opened the altar up to all, no matter what the perceived sin was. He Himself forgives, and He wants His brethren to forgive as well.

Because, He teaches, if we don’t, that adversary will hand us over to the judge (Himself) who will then hand us over to an officer (an angel) and put us in a prison from which we can pay to get out of (???). So, presumably, if we go to the brother with forgiveness and mercy, reconciling with him, we can avoid that punishment. And we will be received into our eternal homes. Again, very similar to the Parable of the Shrewd Steward.

As to the idea that the saints will judge the earth, we have some Scriptural justification outside of these two passages, like St. Paul’s comment that…the saints will judge the earth. Or Jesus again mentions the disciples will sit on twelve thrones “judging the twelve tribes of Israel.”

Is Jesus teaching with this final judgment of the twelve in mind? Are the “brothers” who may have something against us, the apostolic ministers and ministers who follow in their office, who “have something against us” insofar as they represent Christ in the Church and the need for constant repentance and confession? Doesn’t the Law always “have something against us”? And don’t the ministers bear responsibility for teaching and preaching the Law? Finally, doesn’t Jesus refer to the “least of these my brethren” as representing Himself, so that what is done to them is done to Him?

If this is the case (and I’m not totally convinced it is, but it is an interesting interpretation), then Jesus is teaching confession here. Before going to the altar, confess your sins. Be reconciled to the brother you have wronged, who is ultimately Jesus, but in our context is the “brother” He sent to represent Himself in the Church. Be reconciled to him/Him. He has just declared the altar a place of reconciliation, so you know you’ll get forgiven. If you don’t, who but Jesus has the right to turn you over to the officer to be sentenced to jail til every penny is paid off?

In turn, of course, Jesus teaches the apostolic ministers too that if they don’t forgive the confessing brother, they too will be in trouble: “So My heavenly Father also will do to you if each of you, from his heart, does not forgive his brother his trespasses.” This Jesus taught after giving Peter the keys.

A picture is emerging from Jesus’ introductory words in the New Testament. Love, forgiveness, mercy, reconciliation, forgiveness are what His altar is all about, and what the brothers in His family are all about. Those who fail in this love and forgiveness, and by doing so keep others from attaining to that altar, are warned in the fiercest words, words reserved for the damned and heretical.

But yet, is there a hope implied, that perhaps the pennies can ultimately be paid off? Jesus does say, “Til you have paid the last penny.” That suggests the wrongdoer can eventually get out. Thus think the Roman Catholics, who believe this alludes to purgatory.

If so, this poses an interesting question, namely, how will the imprisoned get the money to pay his debt? What if after long repentance and prayer, the people on the outside give him the cash he needs to pay his way out? What if they, the Church, realizing the imprisoned has learned his lesson, decides to free him? Hasn’t Jesus taught the Church has this authority? And hasn’t Jesus guided the Church on how to deal with such affairs? Goodness, the Church has the darned prison keys! And the prison gates have no power over it!

Again, lots of interesting questions. At a minimum, we shouldn’t fault the church of the early middle ages too much for seeing something akin to Purgatory in such passages. In filling out the details, they mined the thoughts of Plato and Greek philosophy too much, thus getting the abused doctrine of the later Middle Ages, but the impulse toward a “prison we must pay to get out of” does arise from Jesus’ own teaching.

Here’s another thing to think about. The alternative interpretation is that the imprisoned will never get that last penny, because no one will give it to him. So Jesus is basically talking about hell. He’ll suffer forever. Wow. Is that what we Protestants want? If an earlier Church sought for ways to get the imprisoned one out of prison after sufficient suffering, is this not an act of mercy, even if it was misguided? So, again, lets not fault the early Church too much. If I end up in that prison, I guess, due to my failure to reconcile with Jesus’ brothers, I’d prefer to think I can eventually pay that last penny somehow, because someone would give me the cash. Better that than hell!

If the saints will judge the earth, and they see in Jesus’ word “until” some hope, and come up with strange doctrines that error on the side of God’s mercy for those imprisoned, there’s comfort in that. The Church must always be fighting for those crumbs, exhibiting a greater faith. The Church must be a place of debt forgiveness, reconciliation, restoration, and love, and its theologians know this. To not have an impulse toward forgiveness is to invite the wrath of Christ…and be in that prison oneself!

“Therefore if you bring your gift to the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar, and go your way. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift.”

The devotions for Trinity 6 have been rather lengthy, but this is the Sermon on the Mount! Each verse is loaded with questions, challenges, and profundity. Jesus is casting His seed into hardened hearts. Seeds are simple, yet no scientist can replicate them. A seed will break apart concrete by its subtle ways. Lengthy thoughts on Jesus’ words are a way of allowing the seed to do its thing. It’s what, in fact, genuine meditation is. The profundity of each “jot and tittle” of Jesus’ words could never be exhausted, insofar as they teach eternal truths.

That being said, hopefully the current meditation will be briefer than others.

Jesus introduces the altar in this passage. Some think He’s speaking contextually, to temple-goers for whom the altar was a thing. The millenialists believe Jesus is talking about the future temple Jesus will restore once Israel is restored. Both views remove the New Testament Church, to whom Matthew is clearly writing.

Jesus references the altar because the altar was and remains an element of the Church’s spiritual architecture. Hebrews says, “We have an altar from which those who serve the tabernacle have no right to eat.” And Revelation refers to “the altar” seven times.

The altar is the place of sacrifice for sins, and Jesus certainly is a sacrifice for our sins. Where is His sacrifice made real for us, but where the words “Given and shed for the forgiveness of your sins” are proclaimed on the elements testifying to the sacrifice?

Also, Jesus talks about “leaving a gift” at the altar. Do we “leave gifts” at the altar at church? Well, of course we do. It’s called the offering, which is marched up to the altar each week. We also leave sacrifices of thanksgiving there, and indeed, the focal point of the Christian liturgy is the altar. Even the pulpit, like John the Baptist, stands to the side of the altar, pointing over to it as the focal point.

Jesus introduces the altar as the focal point of worship, but more importantly, again, brings up the attitude of the heart about how the altar should be approached. It’s a place of reconciliation.

Of course it is! Jesus has made it so. Jesus has made it a place where brothers are brought together in peace. He first forgives us, and that forgiveness then overflows our hearts to our neighbors.

Jesus speaks in an interesting way about the one going to the altar. He doesn’t say, “If you have something against your brother,” but “If you remember your brother has something against you.” That suggests you’ve sinned against him, meaning you need to confess your sins not just to God, but to him.

In the context, He may mean that you’ve sinned against him by calling him fool, or by being angry at him. You’ve wronged him. But worse, you may have wronged him in such a way that he doesn’t deem himself worthy to be at the altar. By calling him “fool,” you’ve condemned him. This is the sort of “sin” Jesus says can cause a man to stumble, or fall away from the faith, and which can incur God’s wrath upon you. Simple meanness toward one another is daily, forgivable fare, but representing the Church in such a way that keeps people from the altar is damnable.

So, your mission isn’t so much “be reconciled with the brethren before going to the altar,” but rather, “Change your theology around so that your brother knows clearly God’s love and forgiveness for those who repent and turn to him.”

The altar must be a place of reconciliation. Jesus’ blood has made it so. The one whose behavior keeps others from the altar has abused Christ’s blood. And that, yes, is damnable.

“You have heard that it was said to those of old, ‘You shall not murder, and whoever murders will be in danger of the judgment.’ But I say to you that whoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judgment. And whoever says to his brother, ‘Raca!’ shall be in danger of the council. But whoever says, ‘You fool!’ shall be in danger of hell fire.”

As to the specific meanings of the images of this passage, there is little consensus. Are the three examples Jesus brings up parallelisms, or do they increase in seriousness? That is, are “angry – judgment,” “Raca! – council,” and “fool – hell” simply three ways of saying the same thing, or is each one worse than the other, so that we should read more into what’s going on with the word “fool” that brings hell.

The “parallelism” interpretation would necessitate the final of the three examples introduced by the conjunction “and” rather than “but.” The “increasingly severe” interpretation makes more sense with the final conjunction being “but,” as in “This is bad, and this is worse, but this is really bad!”

Also debated is the severity of the “Raca!” and “fool.” Some say they were minor insults; others say the word “fool” in particular was basically a way of telling someone they were damned. If this is the case, then we’re back at the Gospel two weeks ago: “Condemn not, and you will not be condemned.”

This is the first of six “You have heard X, but I say Y” sayings of Jesus, which launch after Jesus’ previous teaching about exceeding the righteousness of the Pharisees. Let’s look at each of them and perhaps get some insight. The first of each pairing is what “they have heard it said,” which we can surmise is what the prevailing teachers taught, and the second of the pairings is what Jesus taught.

Murder/Anger and name-calling
Adultery/Lust
Easy divorce/Hard divorce
Keep Oaths/Don’t swear
Eye for an eye/Turn the other cheek
Hate enemies/Love enemies

Notably Jesus’ teaching is more difficult in each case. It certainly “exceeds” the teaching of the Pharisees. But that might be a simplistic way of looking at it. Another way of looking at it is that Jesus gives the “behind the scenes” insight into what God was thinking when He gave the commandments. God’s Law is about love, and Jesus shows how here.

Due to the Romantic movement love has been completely perverted. It’s understood purely as a feeling, or a political posture. “Love, not Hate” makes a good political statement and telecasts ones willingness to out-source ones love to the wealthy by taxing them, but that’s about it. “Love, not Hate” means you want a socialist economy where everyone gets their “fair share.” But if everyone gets poorer because no one is working as hard due to the negative incentives of socialism, how is that love?

I love to tell this story. A few years ago I was working in an inner city, volunteering at an after school program. When I arrived one day, a man (a “doctor” of some sort) was speaking to the small group which had arrived that afternoon for the program. He was drawing on the chalkboard and writing out all these abstract theories and slogans about all the problems faced by black people. It was replete with acronyms, abstractions that I hardly understood, arrows and lines tangled all over the board. The board was a mess. His audience ranged from 7 to 16, and they were all utterly clueless – as I was – about what was going on.

When I arrived, the man introduced me and proceeded to ask one of the children to summarize what they had been talking about. He picked one of the older teen boys, who had no idea what was going on, but was brave enough to venture a summary and said, “The doctor was teaching us that love makes the world go around.”

I decided to run with that idea. “Yes! That’s a wonderful truth, isn’t it. Let’s talk about that.”

So I invited them to another room (as more people were beginning to arrive) with a new chalkboard, and proposed a situation in which that principle could be applied.

“Say you had a neighbor, an elderly woman who is handicapped and cannot walk up the stairs. And lets say she had steps she had to go up to to get to her house. How would you love her?”

The children correctly brought up a handicap ramp. So I drew a handicap diagram on the board and began asking them specifics about it.

“Right! Now, how many of you know how to build a handicap ramp?”

No one answered. So I pressed them on what they would need to know and do (do and teach?) in order to build that ramp. They’d have to know state building code, to get the rise over distance ratio; they’d have to know basic math; they’d have to know what sort of wood and hardware to use. Knowing the height and length of the ramp, they’d have to know geometry so as to know the angle, so we could cut the wood at the right angle. I didn’t even know that (but one of the teens did, I’m proud to say).

My point to them being, it’s easy to say slogans about love and draw out esoteric slogans and bromides about love. But love isn’t easy. It’s not as easy as voting for a new “system” and trusting someone else to do it. It comes down to knowing civics, math, geometry, and basic construction skills. One person can speak wonderful things about love while grandma stays homebound. Another person may plow through a geometry problem, research code, and spent a Saturday sweating, and not say a single affectionate thing. But grandma has her ramp.

Jesus teaches a love that pulls the curtain back on our pieties and calls for something that actually benefits our neighbor, the way the Lord would have him benefitted. The Pharisees were using the Law as a way of releasing them from genuine love for their neighbor. Recall, their view of the Sabbath Day left men with dropsy in the pit and His disciples hungry. How’s that loving?

A view of the Law that says, “Just don’t kill and you’re good,” keeps a man alive, but not in the fullness of life as the Lord would have him. The Lord doesn’t just want us to be alive; He also wants us to be loved by others.

So each of Jesus’ teachings on what “you have heard” emphasizes the deeper love needed to execute that commandment. Anger and name-calling – bullying – leave someone as a living victim of a verbal knife – how many young people today commit suicide over bullying? Lust for someone other than ones spouse is just as toxic to marriage as the deed itself and leaves a spouse abandoned and destroyed, as does easy divorce. Nurturing a character for being truthful is far more beneficial to your neighbor than having to convince him that a specific deed is trustworthy – who gives you greater peace of mind, a trustworthy person or someone who has to convince you with a pinky swear? Turn the other cheek and love your enemies operate the same way – such are the non-judgmental reactions to injustice, for they may be acting in ignorance, as Jesus recognized.

I think if we over-focus on the specific behaviors of anger or name-calling, or the specific warnings Jesus gives about not following His teaching – what is the council, the judgment, and gehenna (hell fire) – we only fall back into the way the Pharisees taught. “OK, so, what do I need to do so I can avoid judgment? As long as I don’t name call or get angry, then I’m good.”

Jesus is giving an example here – don’t be angry and don’t name-call – but more deeply calling for a love the way our Father loves us. This is “His righteousness” which we are to seek. And of course, nothing better shows the Father’s love for us than Jesus Christ.

Yet, the example of not getting angry or name-calling are good rudiments of what this looks like, even if not exhaustive. There are many ways to build a handicap ramp, after all!

Ideologies, programs, and self-improvement plans are all about the steps one has to perform in order to better himself. It’s great self-love. It’s what the Pharisees taught – how to save yourself. Jesus teaches a love that must be rooted in something else, the foundation of which is the truth that there’s no need to save yourself, because you’ve already been saved. “Save yourself” love leads to “what must I do” love. “Already saved” love leads to a renewed perception of the true humanity of our neighbors.

 

“For I say to you, that unless your righteousness exceeds the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven.”

More questions arise with this text, this new layer added on to Jesus’ teaching from last meditation. Last meditation, Jesus laid down the teaching that those who don’t do and teach even the least commandment will be called least, while those who do and teach the commandments will be called great.

Then He continues with the “For” of the above passage, connecting it to what precedes. Let’s look at it in full: “Whoever therefore breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches men so, shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does and teaches them, he shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I say to you, that unless your righteousness exceeds the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven.”

What exactly is the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees? Exactly what Jesus describes in the previous passage. It’s to break one of the least of these commandments, and teach men so. That is, as we said in the previous meditation, what the Pharisees did. They updated God’s commandments to make them applicable for the time  with Jesus’ age, so that people could follow them.

Jesus taught (a) the fuller meaning of the commandments, and (b) the profound, penetrating demand for His sacrifice due to the commandments’ reflection of God’s will and heart.

Just not killing someone didn’t do the commandments justice on either front. (a) It granted obedience of this commandment to any old slug who didn’t thrust a knife into someone else; (b) it gave people the illusion that they were right with God by doing so and therefore didn’t need a Savior.

In our passage for today’s meditation, Jesus says unless our righteousness exceeds what the Pharisees taught, we will not enter the kingdom of heaven. That takes things a bit further than merely being called “least” in the kingdom of God. Being “least” at least gets you in the door. Not entering means not entering! So which is it?

We probably have to adjust our thinking from the previous passage and get quite literal. Just because you’re “called” least in the kingdom of heaven doesn’t mean you’re actually in the kingdom of heaven. You might just have a reputation of being “least” among those who exist in the kingdom of heaven. As in, “You remember that Pharisee who taught X, Y, and Z? Yup, he didn’t make it, and he prevented others from getting in. His name is dirt.”

Some names are forgotten, like the rich man in the account of Lazarus and the rich man. Other names are just deemed dirt, like those who minimize the Lord’s commandments and don’t live by them. Which is worse? Good question.

In any event, what does right look like? Right looks like a righteousness that exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees. And again, that “For” connects it to the previous verse, so we know what that looks like. It’s to do and teach the Lord’s commandments.

OK, but that seems paradoxical, not only when we pair it with St. Paul’s teaching that we’re not saved by keeping the commandments, but especially when we parse it out in the greater picture of the Gospel of Matthew. What have we learned of righteousness so far in his Gospel? What has Jesus taught?

The first instance of an example of righteousness is Joseph’s overlooking of Mary’s supposed “sin” when she was pregnant with Jesus prior to their marriage, and instead of handing her over to judgment, Joseph “being a righteous man,” decided to divorce her privately. That’s actually quite a huge detail. Righteousness, as we learned the last several weeks, is about mercy, forgiveness, and not condemning someone according to their sins.

The next instance of “righteousness” is when Jesus was going to get baptized, but John the Baptist tried to prevent Him, and Jesus said to him, “Permit it to be so now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.” So, whatever righteousness is – and we’ve had a slight taste of it with Joseph’s action of mercy – “all of it” is fulfilled by Jesus getting baptized. What do we learn from this? First, we learn that “all righteousness” is fulfilled; it’s accomplished; it’s completed. Second, we learn this happened in baptism. Here, Jesus met sinners in the Jordan and first took their sins upon Himself. Here is where the “great exchange” first began. Here is where the prophecy from Isaiah 53 is fulfilled, “Surely He has borne our grieves and carried our sorrows.” That, of course, continues the thread begun by Joseph in his mercy for Mary.

The next instance of righteousness is in the beatitude, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, For they shall be filled.” Here we learn whatever righteousness is, it’s something we are filled with, or fed with.

Then we get to the instance of righteousness in today’s meditation. “For I say to you, that unless your righteousness exceeds the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven.”

Up to this point, we’ve learned righteousness pertains to mercy and forgiveness, is only fulfilled in Christ, and is something we are filled with when we hunger and thirst for it. We’ve also seen that Joseph so far has provided the best example of what it looks like.

By contrast, what was the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees again? It was to update and contemporize God’s Law and make it applicable for the people, giving them the illusion that they were following it even though they weren’t following it at all.

How do we square this with “doing and teaching” the Lord’s commandments?  Jesus essentially is teaching that all the Law, every dot and tittle, is about the Lord’s love, mercy, and forgiveness. He’s teaching that this is the proper way to understand the Law. In fact, He repeats this teaching over and over, in His statement that the Lord wants mercy and not sacrifice, in His parable about the Good Samaritan, and in His summary of the Law as all about love.

The scribes and Pharisees allowed people a way out of God’s love, and this Jesus could not allow. Joseph showed a new way of righteousness by overlooking Mary’s “adultery” and not subjecting her to punishment. Jesus fulfilled righteousness by going where sinners were and being baptized in their baptism, a baptism that would culminate with the cross. Then He taught those who hunger and thirst for God’s righteousness will be filled or fed with it.

Later in the Sermon on the Mount He taught about seeking “ first the kingdom of God and His righteousness.” “His” righteousness, not ours. And later again, Jesus said He didn’t come for the righteous, but for sinners. Clearly the “righteous” here are those who were righteous according to the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, the sort that was a perfunctory keeping of the Ten Commandments. But sinners, like Matthew, are those who are filled with God’s righteousness – and that righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees!

Jesus teaches a new righteousness, a righteousness that’s a cycle of forgiveness leading not just to fulfillment of righteousness in Him (in baptism), but also to a higher keeping of the Ten Commandments. It’s the sort He exemplified when He said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” This was His behavior at the altar which was the cross, receiving His brethren, even a criminal next to Him. Of course He exemplified this righteousness when He gave out the testament to His sacrifice, love, and forgiveness in the Last Supper. This is the righteousness He feeds us with, by which He fills us.

Yes, at the altar He receives His brethren, not angry at them, not calling them “moron,” not calling out “Raca!” His blood speaks better things than the blood of Abel, calling out for vengeance. His blood speaks forgiveness.

And the Lord would have His Church, His Body, strictly adhere to this new understanding of righteousness. All commandments are about Christ, His love for us, His fulfillment of their implicit righteousness. Again, the task of a teacher is to unpack those commandments from the beginning of their every jot and tittle, through to their fulfillment in Jesus Christ. And not just to teach them, but to “do and teach” them.

And how do you “do” a commandment fulfilled in Christ? How do you “do” something that you’re fed with or filled with? How do you “do” something that belongs to God and which you are to seek, namely, His righteousness? All the teachings about righteousness to this point seem to manifestly be about righteousness done to us! And Jesus now speaks of righteousness as something we “do and teach.” How do we “do” what is done in Christ?

Well, how about “this do, as often as you eat of it”? But of course, it doesn’t end there, but the “do” is carried over into our daily lives as we forgive others, withhold judgment and condemnation, have mercy, and give. This is the righteousness that exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees. It exceeds not because it surpasses it on some measuring rod but because it’s wholly other, because it’s source is not from us, but from the Lord.

 

“Whoever therefore breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches men so, shall be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does and teaches them, he shall be called great in the kingdom of heaven.”

We see Jesus’ words of warning here as absolute and somewhat frightful. But we can also see it as Him jealously guarding the absoluteness of the sacrifice He would make so that we could fulfill the Law in Him. For anyone to be lax just a little bit on any of the commandments is to take from what Jesus would have to sacrifice in order to answer the Law.

Who are the ones who break the least of the commandments and teach men so? These are the Pharisees. For those who, when they hear “Pharisaical,” immediately think of sticklers on God’s Law merely need to look at Jesus’ words here. It was the Pharisees who tried to modernize and update God’s Law, to make it readily applicable for the people. This is why they were popular. It’s also why they ended up with lots of “how to do” manuals regarding God’s Law. If the Pharisees lived today, they’d be publishers of all sorts of “Ten Scriptural Principles Guiding Your Finances” type books.

Jesus pointed out how, in their updating of God’s Law, they ended up undoing God’s Word. Therefore they were the “least in the kingdom of heaven.” Why? Well, if Jesus is jealously considering the Law which demanded His sacrifice, we might get some insight here. By the Pharisees updating the Law and deceiving the people that they could keep it in a perfunctory manner – “Just to A, B, and C, and you’re good”– they were undermining Jesus’ sacrifice. Why need a Savior if you’ve just kept the Law by doing the simplified stuff the Pharisees taught you to do?

By contrast, those who teach the fullness of the Law in all its absolute, penetrating truthfulness, a truthfulness straight from the heart of God, will fully embrace Christ’s sacrifice in all its profundity. Jesus died because of the lovelessness of His people, because they call others names and are angry at them, because this is what “Thou shalt not kill” really meant. To have Jesus’ sacrifice for lovelessness in ones mind and still call others names or be angry at them is to, as the book of Hebrews says, sacrifice Jesus all over again.

Yes this is harsh. But Jesus’ words are harsh and allow little wriggle room. Wriggle room is what the Pharisees allowed, and again, that’s why they were popular. But the harshness of Jesus’ words are the only way to put to death the old Adam, to lead us to die each day of our old sins, to get us in that abject state crying “Lord, have mercy,” and to have that proper hunger and thirst for righteousness that only Jesus can satisfy.

But this doesn’t suggest Jesus is playing some Law/Gospel game with us, as some teach. By this I mean, some claim Jesus is just teaching the “Law as mirror” here, showing us our sins so that we rely on His mercy, grace, and forgiveness. The implication is, we can never truly follow what He teaches, but no worries, Jesus is just trying to get us to the point where we completely rely on Him.

Jesus very clearly teaches, those who do and teach all the commandments will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. He, of course, fits this bill immediately, but shouldn’t everyone aim to be great in the kingdom, to please Jesus, by what he does? And shouldn’t every preacher and teacher do the same by what he does and teaches?

Jesus, after all, does offer a reward. It would be pretty cool to be called great in the kingdom of heaven. If one can attain a life in which name-calling, anger, lust, swearing, and worry are at a minimum, he will be called great. Now, the nature of Jesus’ teaching is that, precisely because He sets the standard so perfectly, no Christian will ever feel himself at this point. He’ll know his heart and the sin that lurks therein. He’ll continually hunger and thirst for righteousness and be filled, and continually seek to put to death the sinful behavior.

But what is the end goal for this person? Is it to attain that reward of being called great in the kingdom of heaven? Or to be able to get away with sinning, because he can’t reach the standard anyway, so he falls back on God’s grace. Not much hunger and thirst there. Do we hunger and thirst for righteousness, or for forgiveness? That’s an interesting question. Is forgiveness the pathway to righteousness, or the end in itself? That’s another interesting question?

Furthermore, is the quest for righteousness compatible with the quest for being called great in heaven? Jesus suggests it is. Do we teach enough the worthiness of seeking the rewards of heaven? It used to be a staple of preaching: Aim to please Christ and get great rewards! But have we become so egalitarian that we can no longer fathom anything other than everything being equal in heaven? Is that our democratic ethos shaping our understanding of the Gospel?

All interesting questions.

No one teaches the Law better than Jesus. No one does Law and Gospel better than Jesus. But the biggest abuse of the Law/Gospel dichotomy is how it ends in cheap grace, the perfunctory guilt we embrace on the way to the great “phew, I’m saved.” No, the Law should keep us a bit jittery, and the way Jesus teaches it, it does. Those who call someone “moron” will be in danger of hell. No wriggle room.

Likewise we have to take Jesus’ offering of a reward seriously. He who does the Law and teaches it properly will be called great. The offering of rewards seems to go against the idea of the Gospel – that Jesus forgives all our sins so we’re not judged to hell – but does it need to? Why can’t we be spared from hell, but also have rewards awaiting us in heaven? Jesus certainly suggests there will be some called least and some called great in His kingdom.

Another interesting thing Jesus brings up is the connection between doing and teaching. How often do teachers of the Gospel build elaborate schemes to justify what they do? Here’s a difficult question: Does every teacher of the Gospel do that? And if that’s the case, is the only good teaching the teaching that arises from a teacher who does good, because any teaching from a teacher who doesn’t do good will be tainted by his subtle schemes? Didn’t St. Paul say that a teacher must be above reproach?

We can see this in obvious cases where, say, divorced ministers or gay priests re-fashion Christian teaching to remove the difficult teachings that don’t accord with what they do. What would liberal Christianity do without such a dynamic?

But does it happen among those whose teachings appear orthodox? Do they fashion their teaching in ever so subtle ways to relieve themselves of a clear commandment from Christ before which they fall short? Does it happen in ways we don’t notice, both in the disciple and in the teacher?

God save us! And yes, I do feel jittery! I also hear St. Peter saying, “Repent therefore of this your wickedness, and pray God if perhaps the thought of your heart may be forgiven you.”

If perhaps?!!

This is why Jesus’ is the best teacher of the Law. He doesn’t allow us to fly the updraft of rarefied theology into the ether, looking smartly down upon the big picture, thinking, “Ah, I see what He’s doing here; He’s using the Law as mirror, giving us the Law to get us to the Gospel; OK, OK, let’s amuse Jesus and go through the process, and get to the good news ‘phew’ part.”

No. Personally that “does and teaches them” terrifies me. I don’t always keep all the commandments, especially as He fulfills them in what He teaches about them. I’m pretty sure I teach them, but insofar as I perhaps don’t “do” them, I wonder if my teaching reflects that.

The Gospel, frankly, is twofold at this point. First, I hear Jesus perpetually refer to God as my Father in this teaching. So I’m at least in the family. Second, He does say if I fail in my doing and teaching, I’ll be called least in the kingdom of heaven. But at least I’m in the kingdom of heaven!

But it sure would be cool to be called “great.” So, if that motivates me to live a life in conformity with what I teach, is that a bad thing?

We get some answers to these questions in the verse that comes next, but lets leave it at that for now. As a preacher and teacher, part of me is always at this point, and must remain there.

“Do not think that I came to destroy the Law or the Prophets. I did not come to destroy but to fulfill. For assuredly, I say to you, till heaven and earth pass away, one jot or one tittle will by no means pass from the law till all is fulfilled.”

We’ve commented on the false teaching bestowed on us by the Gnostics that the Old Testament has been invalidated by Jesus. Usually the Gnostic demon is invited in when people trample on the nuance introduced by Jesus’ words in today’s meditation, that is, when they get simplistic about Jesus’ words. Let’s dive into the weeds of Jesus’ teaching, or better, the glorious wheat.

First let’s lay something down. Jesus clearly refers to the entire Old Testament here. “Law or the Prophets” is another way of saying “everything written down before My advent.” So, when He speaks of “one jot or one tittle,” He’s not just talking about the Ten Commandments, or the laws and ordinances of the Torah. He’s talking about every word of the Old Testament.

Now let’s look at Gnostic antinomianism, that is, their abuse of what Jesus did with the Law. There are several layers to their abuse, both ancient and modern.

At one level, Gnostics run with St. Paul’s supposed theology that the Gospel does away with the Law, meaning the Ten Commandments. There is a subtle philosophical backdrop to their antinomianism here. As we’ve meditated on before, the Ten Commandments codify a world order in which material and substantial reality is deemed good, just as the Lord said in the beginning. The idea that there is a God among others, with a name and a day, who is to be worshiped; the idea that parental authority, marriage, bodily life, property, and reputation are honored; this can only happen in a world of substantial and material existence.

The Gnostics wouldn’t have this problem – their God was above names and places, and all things of this world order like marriage, family, and bodily life were deemed deceptive entrapments of the Self. For them, Jesus represented the radical undoing of the world order assumed by the Ten Commandments. Jesus represented the radical liberation from such a world. He was the first free-spirited hippy.

At another level – and here there is more intersection with modern Gnostics, particularly in the Church – the Gnostics rejected the formalism and ritualism of the Old Testament sacrificial system, with its intermediaries, hierarchies, and seemingly “rote” worship. By this reading – a very wrong one – the Pharisees represented the Old Testament way of doing things – they were carrying on the Old Testament ways of worship – but Jesus came to undo all that. He came to introduce more “heartfelt” worship free of ritual and formalism.

Today’s Gospel answers the first Gnostic antinomian abuse. Jesus did not come to invalidate (and that’s perhaps a more accurate word than “destroy”) the Old Testament Law, but to fulfill it. Fulfilling is different than invalidating. One says you can cheat on your wife because the Law is no longer in effect, and in fact by doing so you’re revolting against the oppressive institution of marriage. The other says (a) you cheat on your wife way more than you thought you did, and (b) Jesus had to suffer and die so that you can claim, in Him, the righteous way of keeping this Law, for which you hunger and thirst. Fulfilling the Law meant Jesus’ blood sanctifying it and upholding it, the very blood for which we thirst, suggesting a massive abuse of God’s Law if ever we treat it as unimportant.

Jesus echoes this point when He talks about those who break one of the least of these commandments, or teach men so. That all-encompassing absoluteness forecasts the blood He would shed for each dot and tittle.

As to the second Gnostic abuse, the idea that the formalism and ritualism of the sacrificial system will be replaced by a more “spiritual” worship, we need to remember what proper “spirituality” is. Spirituality is formal, because Jesus is formal, because Jesus is God taking on the “form” of a bondservant, that is, human flesh and blood. The moment God set up a boundary at which point He ended and others began, formalism became the way of all spirituality.

Actually, this formal aspect of spiritual began way before then. The Holy Spirit has always been setting up formal boundaries governed by formal words. It’s what He does since the beginning. And what is “to sanctify” but to set something aside – some formal thing – for God’s purpose? As in, the Lord’s sanctifying of the Sabbath Day.

Ritualism flows from the words which go hand in hand with the Holy Spirit’s designation of formal, holy things and peoples. Again, as with each day of creation, on which the Lord (a) separated one thing from another, (b) named it, and (c) declared it good, the same is true with the Holy Spirit’s work throughout Scripture. Ritualism follows from formalism, and this is good.

So, for instance, think of the Holy Spirit separating us from the world in Holy Baptism, to be children of God. What words accompany that act of separating us formally from the world? “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” but also “Our Father, who art in heaven…,” words which the Spirit cries in us to the Father through Christ, which Jesus commands us to speak.

Those words testify to the new, eternal status we have, and the nature of eternally, unchanging things is, in time, they can become rote. Goodness, the angels will be singing “holy, holy, holy” eternally. My guess is at the eternal level we’ll appreciate that more than we do on earth, where time turns repeated things into rote-ness, and therefore “boring” and then, due to the continued influence of the Romantic movement on our culture, un-spiritual. But if “rote” is “unspiritual,” then the entire Psalms would need to be discarded.

Here’s another example. The Holy Spirit separated Jesus from the world at His baptism, and the words accompanying this action declared it good: “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” And then at the Transfiguration the Lord added to these words, “Listen to Him” after which Jesus told the disciples to stand up. That eternal truth – that Jesus is God’s Son Whose words we should stand up and listen to – has resulted in the ritual we do at the reading of the Holy Gospel. Ritual is nothing more than the involvement of bodies in truths that don’t change.

The only way to undo formalism and ritual is to accept the Gnostic notion that the formal designations set up by the Holy Spirit at Christ’s advent are no longer in effect, and in fact are a corruption of what the Spirit may be doing now in the Church, that is, speaking new things through people’s hearts and feelings.

Now, how exactly does Jesus fulfill the Law? What does this mean and what does it not mean?

In the immediate context it means He’s giving the true meaning of it. It reminds us of St. Paul’s “pedagogue” analogy, that the Law is our school master who teaches us to say “Please” and “thank you,” to shake hands, to keep our elbows off the table, and so on. We don’t know why we’re doing that, but later in life we learn why it’s important.

Why do we shake hands with right hands? The Gnostic would rebel against that formal custom and claim it entraps us in some societal structure, oppressing us. Jesus would teach us we do that because we love our neighbor. As a child you don’t fully understand love of neighbor. But once you grow up, the love of neighbor is part of us, and we seek ways to show our love, and thank God that formal custom is in place! Thank God there are all these forms we can pick up and use to express our love!

So, the Christian would never call someone names or hate them. How could he in a world the Father has created in His image and Christ has died for? He could never hold someone in contempt, or wish his non-existence. Insofar as the Gospel becomes part of us, a “Gospel” view of others becomes part of us. So now, the commandment “Thou shall not kill” becomes the form we pick up to express that attitude, understanding it as Martin Luther does in the Small Catechism, that this means helping him in every bodily need.

Jesus also fulfills the Law, of course, by dying for it. As St. Paul said, all the requirements of the Law were nailed to the cross. Here, “Law” suggests the moral law – what sins did Jesus die for, after all, but those against the moral law of the Old Testament? But what about “Law” understood as beyond the moral commandments? And what about the fuller implication of the text suggested by “the Law and prophets”? Jesus fulfills all that as well.

The Law beyond the moral commandments would be the sacrificial laws and civil ordinances. We can see how Jesus fulfills the sacrificial laws, obviously. He’s the high priest, the lamb, the tabernacle, the temple, the light, and everything spelled out in the Law.

What about the civil laws? How does Jesus fulfill suffering not a witch to live, the law which, because no one in their right mind would kill witches today evidently proves the entire Scriptures are nonsense that we need not ever heed unless it supports something progressive? Of course, whenever people bring up the witches rule – almost always to deflate the Old Testament injunction against men lying with other men – they forget there are different Old Testament laws and Jesus fulfills them in different ways.

Jesus fulfilled the moral law by dying for the sins against it. He fulfilled the ceremonial law by becoming the substance of the foreshadow given in the original context. He fulfills the civil law in the Church, somehow, and this requires a bit more careful theologizing on our part, quite frankly.

The Church is the new Israel. It has to be if Jesus fulfills every tittle of the Law and prophets. This, by the way, to cut a long devotion shorter, explains how Jesus fulfills the “law and prophet” understood as the whole Old Testament. All those confusing passages the dispensationalists use to refer to the modern state of Israel, Jesus says He fulfills.

So, for example, if Jesus indeed fulfills every dot and tittle of the Old Testament, He fulfills whatever dimensions Ezekiel is giving regarding the new temple. He fulfills these words, not some modern re-building of the temple in Jerusalem. And the Church is His body. So yes, the Church is the new Israel which fulfills every – every! – dot and tittle of the Old Testament, including the civil laws.

Here’s where things get interesting, because the civil laws had a specific context which in our modern context has two unique interpretations. Consider “Suffer not a witch to live.”

On one hand, there are implications for the Church. Witches embraced wrong gods and false religion; they were to be ejected from the people of God. The Church since the Middle Ages – in keeping with early Church practice – rightly doesn’t kill heretics. But it certainly takes a harsh, strict stance against heresy, as it should.

But on the other hand, there’s a secular implication. Witches were not only heretics relative to God’s people and His doctrine. They were also insurrectionists who threatened to unravel Israel’s constitutional order. Doesn’t the US still have the death penalty for traitors and insurrectionists? Of course they do, because just about every nation does.

We could go on and on with various Old Testament laws and prophecies. We’ve given just a few examples. But Jesus is giving some pretty all-encompassing teaching about His relation to the Old Testament. He doesn’t invalidate it. He fulfills it. There isn’t a single teaching of the Old Testament that somehow we can’t show to reveal and support Christ, His teaching, and His ministry.

Though this general teaching is all-encompassing, the specific application regarding individual Old Testament teachings requires subtle and flexible thinking. I personally find it one of the most fun tasks as a preacher, to find Christ under every Old Testament rock and to see how He fulfills every jot and tittle of its words.

And in fact, as we said, we get in trouble when we apply general rules and principles to solve specific issues. “Jesus fulfills the Old Testament, therefore Old Testament statements about homosexuality don’t apply.” “Jesus ended the ritualism of the Old Testament, therefore anything smacking of formalism or rote-ness is ‘Pharisaical’.” These are misapplications of Jesus’ teaching, and far be it from anyone to teach anything but the absolute importance of every jot and tittle of God’s Law.

 

We now leave St. Luke and his themes for Matthew. We begin with some of Jesus’ first teachings in the Scriptures. Thematically, it’s primary. The beatitudes are the first primary teaching of Jesus in the Bible and very nicely lay down a solid foundation for Jesus’ teaching, but this Gospel comes in a literal close second, being right after the beatitudes.

Thematically, it lays down what has always been unique to Christian theology, its central ethical principle, that mere outward performance of God’s Law is not the sort of righteousness the Lord is looking for. Jesus’ understanding of righteousness exceeds this, and this was what the Pharisees taught.

People naturally have a “how to do” approach to ethics, or “give me the basics of what I have to do.” Do not murder means not taking anyone’s life. Do that, and you’re righteous. Jesus says, “no.” God’s heart, and His will, are something more. It’s a world where even the heart isn’t mustered in the cause of murder.

For we murder in the heart all the time. It’s hate. It’s name-calling. It’s anger. It’s anytime we wish that a particular person were not in our world. What does it mean to not want a person in our world than to want him dead? Think about it. We may hide in an objective evaluation of the world, thinking things like, “Oh, I don’t want that person dead. I just don’t want them in my world anymore.” Essentially we want them “dead to me.” Gone. Out of sight, out of mind.

But it’s God’s world, and each person is made in His image and redeemed in His Son. There is no such thing as another world other than “mine.” Jesus’ teaching is a call to leave our world behind, and embrace the mind of our Lord. Jesus doesn’t deny anyone at His altar. The Father doesn’t hate anyone whom He has made and placed in His world. We are to have that mind.

Really, Jesus is rephrasing much of what He taught us through St. Luke’s Gospel two weeks ago. “Judge not…condemn not…have mercy…forgive…give.” It’s the mind of our Lord to be this way, to have a creation in which no heart seeks to abandon another soul to abandonment and wrath. Mere avoidance of thrusting a knife into another person’s heart isn’t enough. The heart must be on board.

This is the righteousness Jesus teaches. Yes, it’s difficult. Yes, it’s out of reach. But this is not an occasion for, “Oh well, we can’t do it; thank God there’s a Jesus! Let’s go on a-hating.” No, what Jesus teaches should induce certain attitudes in our soul.

Who doesn’t know his spiritual poverty when hearing Jesus’ teaching about the disposition of the heart? Who doesn’t feel some sadness at a world where people wish each other’s non-existence all the time, and where we ourselves take part in this? Who isn’t humbled by the Lord’s incredible mercy – to embrace even the likes of Hitler has one made in His image – while we can hardly avoid cursing the one who cuts us off in traffic?

And who doesn’t want to have that sort of heart that the Lord reflects? Who doesn’t hunger and thirrst for it?

Ahhh, do you see where this is going? This is the brilliance of Jesus’ sermon on the mount. As you hear these words of Jesus, if you are hearing them correctly, you are being led through the first four beatitudes. Jesus lays down the foundation of the beatitudes, and then He teaches things that inspire the very attitudes laid down in the beatitudes! Truly, it’s brilliant.

Whenever I teach the Sermon on the Mount, I always first read the entire sermon. And then I ask the hearers how they feel. What’s going on inside? How are they hearing it? Usually, they begin articulating the attitudes described in the first four beatitudes: “I feel like I fall short.” “I wish I could do better.” “It certainly humbles me.” “It’s sobering to think what Jesus wants.” And on and on. I give a spiritual wink to Jesus and think, “Mission accomplished.” Jesus has just created disciples.

Here’s the really subtle thing about what Jesus has done. He never once laid down Who He is. He never said, “I am the Lord thy God! Kneel before me and heed my words!” No, He just taught. He taught words with the force of the Holy Spirit behind Him. This is exactly how the people first heard the Sermon on the Mount, and it’s how we continue to hear it today. When finished, the people recognized that Jesus taught as someone with authority, that is, the authority of God behind Him.

So also us. Seriously, who in their rational mind would conclude calling someone “moron” would be tantamount to murdering him, unless the one who taught those words were God Himself? In fact, so much of the Sermon on the Mount is counter-intuitive, yet we embrace it as divine. Why? Because the one teaching it is divine, that’s why.

So, Jesus subtly teaches His divinity even as He teaches the Sermon. Again, it’s brilliant.

But also brilliant is the inherent grace in the teaching. We hear this week’s Gospel and we hear difficult teaching. We hear going to hell for calling someone “fool.” But Jesus is changing hearts with these words. He’s creating the “blessed ones” even as He baptizes their hearts in His teaching, leading to that poverty of spirit, mournfulness, meekness, and hunger for righteousness He describes in the beatitudes.

It’s not unlike the other subtle grace teaching in the Sermon on the Mount, that Jesus refers to God as our “Father” 12 times. He’s sharing what He alone possesses! He’s giving His ascension gifts already, clearly doing in lieu of His coming sacrifice.

In other words, the posture of the Sermon on the Mount is Jesus teaching the “family code.” This is how children of the Father behave. That doesn’t take away one word from the forcefulness of the Lord’s Law, but it also comforts us that we learning inside the family, so to speak, and not at the receiving end of the Lord’s condemnation of us.

So yes, we strive to do as Jesus teaches here. We don’t dismiss it as “Jesus is just making things so hard to obey that we rely on His forgiveness” and leave it at that. No, these are actual standards for Christian behavior. If they don’t remain as such, we will no longer realize our poverty, mourn, become meek, and have that hunger.

And yes, Jesus does fill us with the righteousness He teaches and fulfills regarding murder. He fills us as He fills us with bread, His body, His own person who loved His enemies til the end, who receives at the altar all His brethren, and who wants His altar to be a place of forgiveness.

His Sacrament has made it so.

I recently visited an Orthodox Church. It was a tourist location but people were coming in to confess their sins to the priest. They stood in line. The priest received them at the screen that separated the sanctuary from the place where the people came; on the other side of the screen was where women dare not tread. Yet it was all women coming for confession – don’t men know they’re sinners? In any event, it was a stark visual reminder of what Jesus teaches in the Gospel. The altar is a place of forgiveness, where no hatred, anger, or name-calling exists, but only forgiveness.

This is true in all churches, particularly those who have a theology of the altar going on. Jesus, of course, teaches the altar here, and He’s not just talking Old Testament theology here. The Church has an altar. It’s the place where Jesus gives out forgiveness. It’s the cross. It’s the place where Christ gives out His blood shed for the forgiveness of all their sins. It’s where those hunger and thirsty for righteousness – a hunger Jesus has just induced – get filled.