Leviticus 19:1-2,9-18; Psalm 119:33-140; 1 Corinthians 3:10-11,16-23; Matthew 5:38-48
The Sermon on the Mount is one of the key texts in Christian tradition. We’ve all heard it, and we know we’re supposed to like it and live by it, but I don’t know many people who feel inspired and energized by it. It’s bookended in our reading by this passage from Leviticus. The two passages together challenge us to examine our lives and our society, and to question what we think we know about power and holiness, and about God.
Many of us were raised with this Gospel thrown at us: “Be perfect.” “Turn the other cheek.” “Love your enemies.” We weren’t taught how to understand these, or why Jesus says them, so they became burdens rather than the empowering message he intended. My hope today is that we might come away seeing this as the path of life, the path of union with God.
Leviticus gives us a code for living among our neighbors, and many of its provisions make sense. If we steal and lie and slander one another, social chaos results. If I’m not trustworthy, I won’t trust you, and we can’t make any plans together or build anything. It’s just common sense, even though it can be hard sometimes not to take vengeance. For some of us, it’s hard to confront another, but the Scripture says we have a responsibility to point out where another is going wrong. The social fabric is endangered when wrongdoers are tolerated.
But some of these provisions provoke resistance in our society. Leaving your gleanings for the poor does not fit with an economy or a society that insists that everyone is responsible only to himself or to her family. Here too, though, there’s common sense as well as compassion. If people are starving, they are likely to be angry and violent. Crime follows extreme poverty. So sharing is actually the prudent course as well as the compassionate one.
It’s important to note, however, that Leviticus isn’t just about common sense. Each provision we hear is backed by the reminder: “I am the LORD.” We’re reminded that our call is not just to be safe and sane, but to be holy, as God is holy. We are to live this way whether we feel like it or not; in fact, if we could be counted on to feel like it, we wouldn’t need the reminder! No, as Paul tells us, we are God’s temple, and that temple is holy. What we do, how we live together, either builds up the temple or destroys it. And when we destroy the temple, we destroy ourselves.
Jesus’ command to be perfect also grows out of the place where practical reality meets God’s desire for us. Leviticus was written for a people with tight borders and ethnic and religious homogeneity. The same law that taught them how to treat one another taught them to exclude others. But the world of Jesus’ time didn’t allow for that kind of boundary. Every day Jews had to confront non-Jews: Jerusalem was a melting pot, if not the New York City of its day at least its Boston. The Jews were faced with an occupying army of non-Jews, as well as pilgrims who honored their God but weren't Jews by birth, and merchants and traders of all races and religions. Hating your enemies could become a full-time occupation in such a place.
Jesus knew what it was like to be subject to a foreign power, as well as the rich and powerful of his own people.
He is answering the question of how to be fully human, fully empowered, in a context not of our choosing. How, when others treat you as an object, do you continue to be a human? And how, in a culture where everyone thinks that violence is the solution to problems, do you stop the cycle of violence?
Jesus tells us to act like children of God no matter what.
Act like children of the one who loves you.
Claim your humanity.
Disarm your opponent by refusing to resist force with force.
Obey when you have to, but do it in such a way that it becomes your free choice. Walk another mile, by choice. Give everything, by choice.
Shame the oppressor by acting like a free human being.
And do good. Pray for your enemies and persecutors, not because God will strike them down in answer to your prayers but because that is what children of God do.
Jesus does not seek to turn the power structure upside down, to put new oppressors in place of the old. He seeks a transformation of the whole society, and an end to the cycle of violence and oppression. He knows that we cannot wait for the other person to go first, and we cannot wait for it to be safe. For the sake of our humanity, for our souls, we have to go first.
Throughout the twentieth century we witnessed the power of non-violent resistance. It is not a tool for cowards: Gandhi once said that, “Where there is only a choice between cowardice and violence, I would advise violence.” Non-violence takes courage. Humility takes courage. Listening takes courage.
In our current society, we see the fruit of the myth of redemptive violence: assassination, terrorism, mass shootings. And before we reach the level of killing, we learn that anger brings power, that violent speech is a sign of strength. We learn that turning the other cheek and loving your enemies is for chumps. But that is not the wisdom of Jesus. It is the “wisdom” of the world that Paul exposes as foolishness.
The wisdom of Jesus takes us to the cross. It looks like failure and weakness. But the cross is the sign of Jesus’ humanity and his power. The oppressor could kill his body, but they could not erase his humanity. No one else can take that from us.
We are currently living in a sea of anger. Families are at odds, friends are cutting off friends, fear and anger are everywhere. And it looks to be that way for a while.
These are the days when we need to listen to Jesus’ words. Non-violence and love for our enemies are not luxury goods. They are basic necessities if we are to go forward together. We cannot wait for others to go first. We are the ones called to follow Jesus. We are the ones called to walk to the cross, with the promise of new life beyond it. We, each of us, is called to be fully human. May we be open to that call and that promise, and may we find the way of the cross to be the way of life and peace. Amen.
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