Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Epiphany

Preached at Grace Lutheran, York and Canadochly Lutheran on Feb 19, 2017
Scripture text: Matthew 5:38-48

Last Sunday, as you may recall, I concluded my sermon with a quote from Dietrich Bonhoeffer. There’s an amusing story behind the quote I used. I was, at first, looking for a different quote from Bonhoeffer and, in my quest for it, stumbled upon the one I used. That substitution has proven providential, because the original quote I was seeking is far more fitting for today’s text than last week’s.

“Being a Christian is less about cautiously avoiding sin than about courageously and actively doing God’s will.” That was the quote I was originally seeking and it is a good fit for today’s message.

Because what is Jesus doing here? Between this week and last, he’s turning the law on its head. He’s not changing anything, but he is asking his listeners to look at God’s commandments differently. Stop spending all your effort on avoiding sin, he seems to say, because you’ll never avoid it all. You’ll always stumble somewhere, somehow. Instead focus your energy on actively doing good to neighbor and yourself and let God take care of the rest.

As we saw last week, none of us is as morally upright as we’d like to be. Even the mere impulse or thought of sin can make us guilty of it, making sinning near impossible to avoid. That high standard, as I pointed out, is deliberate, forcing us to rely on God’s love and mercy instead of our own futile efforts.

But what are we to do with ourselves? If we are the “light of the world,” as Jesus pointed out even earlier in his sermon on the mount, how are we to do that if we do not hold ourselves to some high standard of moral perfection?

That question reflects the old way of thinking, the old understanding of morality, the very thing from which Jesus is trying to steer us away. You see, if you’ve ever done debate or rhetoric in school, there is a simple rule that you’re to follow. Never try to prove a negative, because it’s nigh on impossible to do so.

What do I mean by that? Well, I can’t prove to you that I’m not a bad person. You’ll never see the sins I don’t commit. But what I can prove to you is that I am a good person, by showing you kindness, acts of charity, etc. That’s the logic Jesus is running with here. Don’t try to prove you’re not bad by avoiding sin. Prove that you are good by actively doing good.

Or as Bonhoeffer put it, “Being a Christian is less about cautiously avoiding sin than about courageously and actively doing God’s will.”

And what is God’s will? Love, plain and simple. That’s his standard of goodness, how much you love. Love God. Love neighbor. Love yourself. Upon these hang all the law and the prophets. Jesus says this elsewhere in Matthew’s Gospel, but he introduces the idea here.

But how do you do that? Jesus gives us some concrete examples in our text today. The first is the famous and sometimes controversial passage about “turning the other cheek.” All too often, people have seen this as passivity. Be a doormat to those who mistreat you. That was never Jesus’ intent here, but to fully understand what he’s saying, you have to remember a bit about Middle Eastern culture.

Turn the other cheek. Walk two miles when forced to walk one. Give your cloak as well as your coat. All these actions are predicated on shaming the one who is mistreating you. Middle Eastern culture is centered on honor and shame. If you turn your cheek, your opponent must strike you with his left hand, the shameful “toilet hand” (for lack of a better way of putting it.) Giving more and going that extra mile (this is the origin of that cliche) are meant to embarrass your opponent, revealing you as the better person.

Gandhi and MLK understood this and when they wanted to bring change to their societies, they embraced this ethos. Non-violent resistance. The end result were onlookers increasingly horrified by the brutality inflicted on people who were doing nothing wrong. They shamed their enemies and changed the world. And they did it without hurting their opponents.

Turn the other cheek. Do not avenge, but love. Love yourself enough to get out and get away. Love your enemy enough to do what you can to change their ways. That may mean turning them over to authorities or forcing them into rehab or some other form of tough love. But don’t be a doormat. This is not passively just “taking it,” it’s actively and courageously loving yourself and them enough to do what is right.

Love your enemies. Not an easy thing to do, but they too are our neighbors. In tense times of violence and fear, it is all the harder. But perhaps that’s why it’s so necessary right now. Can we embrace those who are different in religion and national origin? The Muslim, the immigrant. They too are our neighbor and we have often come to see them as our enemy. Can we embrace those whose political affiliation is different? They too we have often come to see as our enemy.

If we can do that, if we can show love for those we hate (or who hate us), the world will take notice. We will have proven our goodness for all to see. And when they see us, they will see him, the one who loved his enemies enough to forgive them even as they drove in the nails. The one who died for his enemies and rose again for them. The one who loved all, even those who did not love him back.

That’s what it’s all about my friends. As the old camp song says, “We love, because God first loved us.” Go out and love. Love your neighbors. Love your God. Love yourself. And yes, even love your enemies. And as the other camp song goes, “They will know we are Christians by our love.” Amen.