The great poet Robert Frost sets the scene for us this morning, alongside the picture on the cover of your bulletin. He speaks of a journey, where “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,” and he is prompted to make a decision between them. The final stanza reads:
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference[i].
In the first part of our passage this morning from the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus puts the disciples, those gathered on the hillside, and even us, at a fork in the road. He lays out two clear paths to follow, and then, without much discussion, definitively points in one direction. One commentary describes this teaching as “Jesus at his ornery best: offering “advice” that makes no sense divorced from the nature of the one giving it[ii].” “You have heard it said” he offers on one hand, quoting from the Hebrew Scriptures and rabbinic traditions things that would have been commonly understood. “But I say to you,” Jesus continues, offering another alternative perspective and direction to take, often completely contradicting the commonly held belief, and no doubt being the more difficult option. He points to the road less traveled. Compared to the first smooth path, this secondary way presented by this Rabbi on the hillside seems to be an uphill climb, fraught with bumps and holes and rocks. In fact, it goes against some of our most base instincts for survival and self-preservation. It will probably make us uncomfortable, and stretch our capacities. Given this dilemma, we might just stand at that fork in the road for a few minutes, to consider all our options.
In the first part of each pairing in our text, Jesus references the well-traveled path, what people knew as Torah, God’s law. While many of us skip past these laws, dismissing them as irrelevant or just too confusing to attempt to understand, they are a rich resource for us to understand how the people of Israel understood their commitment to each other in light of the covenant with their creator. We read how God encouraged people to live in ways that supported and cared for one another. This was a hallmark of what it meant to be the people of God. And, when one area of this communal life was violated, whether it was because of theft, injury, or even accident that caused harm, there were appropriate responses that sought to provide a sense of balance, equity, and retribution. “An eye for an eye” echoes Exodus 21:24, which along with Deuteronomy and our text this morning from Leviticus 19 offers similar summary of a jus talionis, a principal of the law of retaliation. What goes around comes around. Everything is made right by equal reprisal. By the first century, rabbinic tradition had shifted the understanding of retribution away from some of the violence that these verses can seem to espouse; it was more likely that instead of literally taking an eye or a tooth, for example, that a fine or penalty commiserate to the loss of livelihood would be paid, but the basic principles still applied.
For many, this is a good definition of fairness and contributes heavily to an understanding of justice. It makes sense, and appeals to our basic sense of evenhandedness. We often seek to “settle the score” when we feel we have been wronged in some way, or “make things up” if we have caused harm to someone else. It is a concept still woven deep into our fabric of life today, as well as throughout history. Consider the Code of Hammurabi, dated around 1754 BCE, which mirrored many of the same philosophical beliefs. It is a way to mend what has been wronged, presumably to set us back on the right path of equality where we can continue in our relationships with one another without resentment or hurt from the harm that has happened. “You have heard that it was said,” Jesus reminds the crowd, and we can imagine them nodding along. This is what it meant to be a faithful follower of God, seeking justice and walking humbly.
“But I say to you,” Jesus says, prompting us to reconsider our approach. Relationships with others, life in the kingdom of God, must be about something different. In each instance, Jesus counters with a measure that goes above and beyond what would be understood as the “required” response. Turn the other cheek. Give not just the outer coat, but your undercoat as well. Walk an extra mile. Do more than is expected or anticipated. This is a different path. This is the path of the disciple; the road less traveled. It is a path that is less focused on “making things even,” and more focused on making a path for a better future. Matthew Boulton imagines it in this way:
Do not fight fire with fire, Jesus says; rather, fight fire with water, and thereby refuse to take part in the incendiary, all-too-familiar work of injury and domination[iii].
Such an approach takes extra work, to be sure. It requires us to pause for a moment, think about things on a deeper and bigger level, and then respond. To be less reactionary, and instead more responsive to one another in ways that indicate we have a relationship, even though it might be strained and cracked and problematic, with one another.
On our best days, I think we as good Christians want to embrace this way of thinking. We take a deep breath and do our best to follow in Jesus’ footsteps. We imagine a peaceful response to those who are against us, speaking to them calmly and rationally. The problem with this is, of course, then we actually have to deal with other people. And some of them really get on our nerves. They don’t seem to be playing by the same rules, and some are downright hateful. Things get ugly. People get hurt. Real people. Ones that act with their own free wills that often conflict with ours. Real pain is inflicted, the kind that hurts deeply and leaves things in ruins. Words are said that can’t be taken back. Actions are done that can never be undone or even forgotten. Loss is palpable on every level imaginable. We are left scarred. Suddenly, this new path is an even more difficult one to choose. It doesn’t satisfy our visceral need for revenge. In fact, it leaves us vulnerable and potentially hurt twice as hard. Why would anyone chose this path? Barbara Essex notes that:
Some of us are too suspicious of the outcome and may resist living the values of God’s realm. We are more intent on making sure no one has a chance to abuse or tyrannize us again. Some of us are so stubborn we would rather be right than be in relationship with others[iv].
I think, if we are honest, we don’t always want to take the path to which Jesus is pointing us. It’s a lot of work that requires a tremendous energy on our part that doesn’t seem likely to have any real personal benefits in the immediate term. It demands a level of perfection that we imagine impossible for those with whom we interact. Essex continues to say:
. . . Jesus offers an alternative we find difficult to imagine and embody. . . . It is easier to be mean, hold grudges, ignore those in need. If I give to everyone who begs, I will have nothing left for myself. If I turn the other cheek, I will get slapped again. If I get sued, I am hiring the best lawyer I can afford to find a loophole in my favor. If I love my enemies, I will be more persecuted or even killed. If I am too nice, I will be seen as weak, a pushover, a doormat[v].
This might have been a similar response to those first listeners of the gospel. In fact, they might have been quite offended at what Jesus was saying. Consider that they were faithful people of God, who were doing their best to live faithfully and follow God’s commandments. Now, this Jesus guy comes along and tries to turn what was well-known into something long gone. He calls them to a higher level of accountability, one that is closer to reflecting the God they claim to worship.
In many ways, Jesus’ instruction is calling the people of God to consider more closely the root of those holiness codes in the Torah. The vast majority of these regulations, particularly the ones in Leviticus 19 regarding holiness, paint a vivid picture about human relationships. These verses:
are concerned with internal integrity and outward behavior in daily life . . . in how the condition of our hearts affects the conduct of relationships. The settings may be wide ranging, but the common concern is love of neighbor[vi].
They are more than just a series of codified laws. For the people of Israel, their behavior was linked directly to their understanding of what it meant to be holy. To walk alongside the Lord their God would be to walk in God’s ways, which indeed, were marked by holiness. Leviticus 19 calls the people to this way of life, characterizing ways of being that pay attention to those around them, extending a sense of hospitality and compassion to those on the margins, and most importantly, modeling lives of integrity and truthfulness.
Jesus reminds them of this call to a life walked closely with God in the Sermon on the Mount, giving tangible and practical ways in which this can be lived out. In the second part of our text, Jesus drives home the idea of what it means to love, this time calling attention to the idea of loving enemies. It is worthwhile to note that in this instance, the gospel writer’s use of “You have heard it said” does not seem to actually quote any words from the Torah, Hebrew Scriptures, or rabbinic tradition. There is much about loving the neighbor, but nothing said to instruct the people of God to hate. However, we might infer that some interpreted the idea of “neighbor” quite literally to reflect geographic neighbors, and in turn showed animosity towards others labeled as enemies. This would help explain why it was necessary for Jesus to later tell a parable, recorded in Luke’s gospel, prompted by the question “who is my neighbor?[vii]” Jesus clarifies more simply here in Matthew, implying that the call to Christians is to more than just love for those who are like-minded. It is all-inclusive. Yes, even to those who are against you in every way.
Here, I bet the people gathered began to grumble. We would, too. Or we would become snarky. “Sure, Jesus, I’ll pray for them . . . to change their ways and see the light.” But Jesus makes it abundantly clear: if we pick and choose who we love and play favorites, we are no better than those who don’t claim to act out of faith. Even the tax collectors, meant to be heard with a bitter taste in one’s mouth, are that way. Going further, Jesus is pointed in highlighting that our love not be limited to just our brothers and sisters, those friends and family members. Of course we are willing to go the extra mile for them. The question inherent at the end of this section is, “are we willing to go the extra mile for others – even others whom we hate as enemies, who hate us, or who are otherwise “others” in our lives?” This is where the rubber meets the road of our faith, and we are convicted by Christ’s sermon to consider which fork we are going to take.
You might imagine the scenario a little like those cartoons when a character is trying to make some sort of moral decision. On one shoulder, the little devil pops up, appealing to your vanity and base instinctual desires to only satisfy yourself, often encouraging you to make the selfish decision that harms another. Then, though, the little angel pops up on the other shoulder, urging the decision that brings light and love to others. Can you hear it? “An eye for an eye!”; “turn the other cheek!”; “walk that required mile begrudgingly”; “go the extra mile!” Of course, it’s not an equal battle. And I don’t just mean that because of the obvious nature of Jesus as that angel side, the one who overcame every bit of evil and darkness in the world. The final words are not just of a battle won, they are instructive “be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect.” This echoes Leviticus 19:2, “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.” What tips the scale is the reminder that we are not just walking the path alone, left to our own devices. We are walking that path with God. God interlaces God’s fingers with ours and gives a squeeze “You’ve got this. I’m with you. I know it’s not going to be easy, but I am with you every step of the way. So come on, take that deep breath, and walk the path that I am walking. Go the extra mile . . . with me by your side.”
When we go that extra mile, we begin to walk more closely with God. We begin to find our steps in rhythm with God’s. We see things more like God sees them. And maybe, if we keep at it enough, we begin to love like God loves. This is what Jesus, and even those priestly writers of the Torah, are getting at. We are to seek, day by day, to be more and more like the one who created us, in God’s own image, and who loves us that extra mile and beyond. The path is laid out before us – which will be the road that we travel? Amen.
~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
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[i] Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken,” The Poetry of Robert Frost: The Collected Poems, Complete and Unabridged, Edward Connery Lathem, editor, (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1969).
[ii] Jason Byasse, “Theological Perspective: Matthew 5:38-48,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).
[iii] Matthew Myer Boulton, “Homiletical Perspective: Matthew 5:38-48,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).
[iv] Barbara J. Essex, “Pastoral Perspective: Matthew 5:38-48,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).
[v] Essex.
[vi] Kimberly L. Clayton, “Homiletical Perspective: Leviticus 19:1-2, 9-18,” Feasting on the Word: Year A, Volume 1, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).
[vii] The Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37)
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