Deuteronomy 30:15-20; 1 Corinthians 3:1-9; Matthew 5:21-37
I am concerned. I have said it before, and I am saying it again, I am concerned that, as a society, even as just a city, we are entering a time of increased polarization and division. I am concerned that we are going to become more entrenched in our views, that we are going to stop listening to one another, that our diversity is going to turn into division. I am concerned that we are being moved into an us-versus-them mentality, where the guiding principle will become, “if you’re not with me, you’re against me.” I am concerned that we are moving, or being herded into, extremist positions that will pit us against one another.
And I’m concerned that, at first hearing, Jesus’ words to us in the Gospel reading seem to encourage that. He does, after all, seem to be radicalizing the Commandments given by God - don’t murder becomes don’t insult, don’t steal becomes chop off your hand first, don’t commit adultery becomes don’t even get a divorce. He takes the straightforward commandments given to Moses, meant to give the people of Israel a better life, and pushes them to the extreme. Yes, to give us a better life, to be sure, but has extremism ever gotten us that?
Did you know that just decades before Jesus was born, the people of Israel were immersed in a civil war? You see, before the Roman Empire and King Herod came into power, the people of Israel were ruled by the Greeks––the Hasmonean dynasty. But it wasn’t a peaceful time––some Jews sided with the Hasmonean rulers, and others didn’t. Some Jews were very comfortable with the Greek culture, while others felt that these Greek-ified Jews were betraying God, and so they began organizing rebellions. And, soon, hostilities and divisions got so bad that Jews began killing Jews. Families were divided, neighbours killed one another, the people were plunged into a civil war. These hostilities, this polarization, ended only when Rome took control over Israel, just a few years before Jesus was born. Jesus’ mother and father, his aunts and uncles, his neighbours, they all knew what conflict was.
It was the same situation for the writer of the Gospel of Matthew. Biblical scholars tell us that this Gospel was written between the years 80 and 90 C.E., which was only a few decades after another time of intense conflict. This time, the conflict was between those Jews who benefitted from Rome’s rule, and those who didn’t. Again, neighbours killed neighbours, riots took place regularly, and diversity became division. Our ancestors in faith, the first Christians, Jesus’ own disciples, knew what it was to be polarized.
This is the background of Jesus’ words to us in the Gospel today. This is what’s behind these extreme words that seem to push the letter of the law to its limit, that seem to leave no room for nuance, that seem to contribute to black-and-white thinking. The first conflict I mentioned, the Hasmonean revolt, was within the living memory of those whom Jesus knew. He would have heard stories from the elders in his community about how dangerous that conflict got, how terrible a thing it was when neighbour fought against neighbour. The second conflict I mentioned would have been in the living memory, possibly even being daily experienced, by the writer of the Gospel of Matthew who selected and arranged Jesus’ words for us. With this in their minds, Jesus utters, and Matthew arranges, the words that you should not murder, not even insult someone else, and, a few lines later, that we should pray for our enemies and those who persecute us. Jesus pushes us to take God’s commandments to us to the extreme, even as we face of impending conflict. Especially, I would say, as we face impending conflict.
But the extreme that Jesus pushes us to is not actually about chopping off hands or plucking out eyes or about escalating punishments for transgressions. The extreme that Jesus pushes us to is love. Extreme love. Radicalized love. You see, these commandments, all the commandments that God has given are meant for life, as we hear in our first reading. They are meant to give life to the whole community, they are meant to allow us to have diversity without division, to have disagreements without descending into civil war. They are about caring for one another, working for one another’s well-being, for the good of the entire community. They are about loving our enemies because they are part of our community––because they are part of God’s community.
Jesus’ words are about the extremist pursuit of love. Love above all else. And if we follow them, if we take them to heart, if put them into practice in our daily living, they will keep us together, even with our differences.
There are some here among us this morning who strongly support building the Coastal Gaslink liquid natural gas pipeline in BC. There are some here among us this morning who strongly support the protestors blockading the train lines in solidarity with the Wet’suwet’en hereditary chiefs and the right to indigenous self-determination. Jesus’ words do not clearly tell us which side to choose or whom to stand with. I wish they did, it would make things much easier. But they don’t. What they do tell us, though, is to love one another. To refuse to insult those who disagree with us. To pray for those on the other side. In this conflict, and in every one to come, whether about politics or the economy or the environment, Jesus’ words to us mean that we are to be radical in love: to listen to one another, to consider each others’ words carefully, to open our hearts to those who hold different opinions than we do. It doesn’t mean that we stop sharing our opinions; it means that we take the challenging and risky step of asking others for their opinions, aware that we might disagree, but trusting that even as we are loving and praying for that person, they are loving and praying for us.
This is what the church is. This is what the Christian community is called to be. It is, in this time, our gift to the world––to be a place where we have a diversity of opinions but do not descend into polarization. To be a community where we disagree, perhaps strongly, but do not break down into hostility and hatred. Last year, I was deeply struck by an American theologian who said that in the States, the church is the only remaining place where people can be together who strongly disagree. There are no more places like that in the States. The church is it.
I suspect, although I hope that I am wrong, that this is coming to be true in Canada, too. But even if there are still places in Canada where we can still disagree and be together, that does not lessen the call and the gift of the church, which is the call and the gift of extreme love, for the good of the world, as shown to us by Jesus. Remember, Jesus healed the daughter of a Roman soldier. Jesus ate with those who lived their faith differently than the priests. Jesus shared the last supper with Judas. Jesus asked for forgiveness for those who had put him on the cross. Jesus took love to the extreme.
We will not always be successful at this. Even from the time of Paul, as we hear in his first letter to the Corinthians, differences have threatened to divide the Christian community. We forget, or we fail, to be extreme in our love for one another. But over the course of two thousand years, through thousands of conflicts, the church is still here. The love of Christ continues to be with us, and it continues to manifest in our love for one another. God continues to use us, to build us up, to draw us, with all our diversity, into a “common purpose,” which is life for the world. And so we will continue to be extreme in love, guided by the love of Christ, which is the healing of the world. Thanks be to God. Amen.
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