What's Conceivable?
Epiphany 5 (Fourth Before Lent)
Matthew 5.13-20
Miss Ev just couldn’t believe an ordained minister of
religion would do such a thing. It was simply impossible. The standard she applied to herself was the only way a Christian could behave. When I suggested
that I actually did it differently, she was incredulous.‘You’re kidding me, Vicar,’ she said. ‘I know what you say can’t be true.’
Now, in case you get the wrong impression, I should say
that the behaviour we were talking about was paying the power company’s quarterly bill. It was Miss Ev’s practice to settle the bill the same day as she
received it. As she was severely disabled and unable to get out of the small cottage in which she lived, that meant her asking a visitor or passer-by to take
cash to the local post office. I was one of those visitors, so on occasion I was dispatched to settle the account. And that’s where the incredulity came in. When I suggested that I never settled my own bill until well after the reminder statement appeared Miss Ev couldn’t believe me. In fact she never did believe me!
I tried to convince her that it was sensible to keep your money until the last moment; that as far as the power company was concerned ours were rolling accounts that they knew would always be paid so deadlines weren’t that significant; and that because of frequent estimated usage accounts the customer often in reality paid a significant part of costs prior to consumption. Miss Ev just laughed. For some reason she didn’t fully appreciate her minister was kidding her. Every Christian – and hence ever ordained minister – settled
bills as soon as they were received. No question about. Miss Ev couldn’t conceive of any other way.
No other way – I’m sure I know what Miss Ev would have said about credit cards, internet management of cash flow, and debts serviced by yet other debts. Impossible! If you’ve got some inkling about Miss Ev’s take on the world – perhaps because your grandparents were just like her – then you’ve also got some insight into Jesus’ saying ‘that not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law.’
Those who guarded the laws and practice of the Jewish faith in Jesus’ day were suspicious of what he taught. In their eyes Moses had delivered the law from the mountain top and here was Jesus delivering another teaching from the mountain top. For the Gospel writer it’s clear that ‘the Sermon on the Mount’ indicates that Jesus is to be thought of as a second Moses. What he says are words from ‘on high’ – words delivered from a profound
encounter with God. But to the scribes of the law this is impossible. They held that the traditions of faith and its practice were inalienable. Who is this Jesus setting himself up to be? To them it is inconceivable that this teaching from the mountain could have anything to say to the faith once and for all given to them through God’s action in Moses generations before on another mountain top. This is a new teaching that must be condemned as inauthentic; a corruption of what they held dear. There is no other way: this man is a sham. This is corruption.
Matthew the Gospel writer is all too aware of this hostility. In the years since Jesus was active in Galilee and Jerusalem things have only got worse for the followers of Jesus. The suspicion, the incredulity, the animosity once directed at Jesus, has now come in their direction. And yet Matthew and his companions know that this is neither just nor justified. Jesus is not a corruption of the faithful believer’s way – but rather a fulfilment of
it, if only others could see it.
Yes, Jesus is properly thought of as standing in the hoes of Moses. Matthew frames Jesus’ teaching so there can be no doubt – Jesus the prophet, Jesus the inheritor of Moses’ mantel, climbs the mountain and teaches in an awesome and ordered way that is reminiscent of the Moses delivery of the ten commandments:
Blessed are the poor in spirit ...
Blessed are those who mourn ...
Blessed are the meek ...
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness ...
Blessed are the merciful ...
And so the voice of Jesus resounds in hearts as well as minds. Is this a new teaching? Or is it an expression of God’s graciousness that has been there all along? Is it an attack on the traditions of the elders? Or is it that tradition made new in a radical application of its consequences? Is Jesus to be brought down because he is bringing down the law and the prophets? Or is he to be exalted because he is raising up the loving character of that
tradition?
Matthew is plain and direct about how he answers those questions. Jesus had been condemned and killed, but it was malice that led to those terrible consequences not anything that Jesus taught. And to make that absolutely clear, Matthew records Jesus as saying, ‘Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish them but to fulfil them.’
The Torah and the prophets can be conceived of in another way without being destroyed or denigrated. This is good news, according to Matthew. Why? For two reasons: first, it says to those who are Jews that to follow Jesus does not mean giving up on their beloved heritage of faith. The traditions of their forebears by which they define their very selves still
stand. To follow Jesus doesn’t mean turning your back on all that – ‘not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law.’And second, it says to those who aren’t Jews who follow Jesus that to know him fully they must recognize him as a good and devout Jew – ‘I have come not to abolish but to fulfil.’ Every dot, every comma, every little word in the Law –the Torah – is holy to Jesus. This is what nourished and coloured his very soul. This is a word to both Jewish and Gentile Christians.
And this remains a gospel word to us: do not despise or denigrate the Jewishness of Jesus. In order to know him we must strive to know the faith that nurtured him; the worldview that comes from a people steeped in the story of a God who creates, calls, and frees, and who is constant through all the vagaries of a long history. Simply put there is no way to know Jesus
without knowing what we call ‘the Old Testament’ – the Bible that Jesus knew as his own.
That, I think, gives us a way into understanding Jesus’ words ‘You are the salt of the earth’ and ‘You are the light of the world.’ These are words to disciples and would-be disciples and uncommitted onlookers. They point to the resources of faith that those who first heard Christ knew, and they ask that the saltiness and the light of those things be fully
realised.
Salt is more than a preservative. This isn’t about saving the old and always looking to the past, rather it’s about what allows the best to be savoured, tasted for what it really is. We won’t taste Christ for what he really is if we ignore what brought savour and spice to his own experience of God.
Light is so ubiquitous that we often fail to notice its’ contribution to way we see the world. The brilliance of searing light during blazing sunshine to the twilight shadows of falling light. Light changes the way we see things – changes what we see. How are we to be light for Christ? How shall we reflect his light – with the sharpness of the spotlight or with the
subtlety of a candle? To make the choice of what’s appropriate to whatever circumstance we find ourselves in means first letting the Christ-light shine on our very souls. That light will shine for us when we acknowledge what enlightened him.
It is inconceivable that we can know Christ without knowing something of what brought taste and sight to his own experience of God.
Remember his words:
‘Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish them but to fulfil them.’
religion would do such a thing. It was simply impossible. The standard she applied to herself was the only way a Christian could behave. When I suggested
that I actually did it differently, she was incredulous.‘You’re kidding me, Vicar,’ she said. ‘I know what you say can’t be true.’
Now, in case you get the wrong impression, I should say
that the behaviour we were talking about was paying the power company’s quarterly bill. It was Miss Ev’s practice to settle the bill the same day as she
received it. As she was severely disabled and unable to get out of the small cottage in which she lived, that meant her asking a visitor or passer-by to take
cash to the local post office. I was one of those visitors, so on occasion I was dispatched to settle the account. And that’s where the incredulity came in. When I suggested that I never settled my own bill until well after the reminder statement appeared Miss Ev couldn’t believe me. In fact she never did believe me!
I tried to convince her that it was sensible to keep your money until the last moment; that as far as the power company was concerned ours were rolling accounts that they knew would always be paid so deadlines weren’t that significant; and that because of frequent estimated usage accounts the customer often in reality paid a significant part of costs prior to consumption. Miss Ev just laughed. For some reason she didn’t fully appreciate her minister was kidding her. Every Christian – and hence ever ordained minister – settled
bills as soon as they were received. No question about. Miss Ev couldn’t conceive of any other way.
No other way – I’m sure I know what Miss Ev would have said about credit cards, internet management of cash flow, and debts serviced by yet other debts. Impossible! If you’ve got some inkling about Miss Ev’s take on the world – perhaps because your grandparents were just like her – then you’ve also got some insight into Jesus’ saying ‘that not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law.’
Those who guarded the laws and practice of the Jewish faith in Jesus’ day were suspicious of what he taught. In their eyes Moses had delivered the law from the mountain top and here was Jesus delivering another teaching from the mountain top. For the Gospel writer it’s clear that ‘the Sermon on the Mount’ indicates that Jesus is to be thought of as a second Moses. What he says are words from ‘on high’ – words delivered from a profound
encounter with God. But to the scribes of the law this is impossible. They held that the traditions of faith and its practice were inalienable. Who is this Jesus setting himself up to be? To them it is inconceivable that this teaching from the mountain could have anything to say to the faith once and for all given to them through God’s action in Moses generations before on another mountain top. This is a new teaching that must be condemned as inauthentic; a corruption of what they held dear. There is no other way: this man is a sham. This is corruption.
Matthew the Gospel writer is all too aware of this hostility. In the years since Jesus was active in Galilee and Jerusalem things have only got worse for the followers of Jesus. The suspicion, the incredulity, the animosity once directed at Jesus, has now come in their direction. And yet Matthew and his companions know that this is neither just nor justified. Jesus is not a corruption of the faithful believer’s way – but rather a fulfilment of
it, if only others could see it.
Yes, Jesus is properly thought of as standing in the hoes of Moses. Matthew frames Jesus’ teaching so there can be no doubt – Jesus the prophet, Jesus the inheritor of Moses’ mantel, climbs the mountain and teaches in an awesome and ordered way that is reminiscent of the Moses delivery of the ten commandments:
Blessed are the poor in spirit ...
Blessed are those who mourn ...
Blessed are the meek ...
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness ...
Blessed are the merciful ...
And so the voice of Jesus resounds in hearts as well as minds. Is this a new teaching? Or is it an expression of God’s graciousness that has been there all along? Is it an attack on the traditions of the elders? Or is it that tradition made new in a radical application of its consequences? Is Jesus to be brought down because he is bringing down the law and the prophets? Or is he to be exalted because he is raising up the loving character of that
tradition?
Matthew is plain and direct about how he answers those questions. Jesus had been condemned and killed, but it was malice that led to those terrible consequences not anything that Jesus taught. And to make that absolutely clear, Matthew records Jesus as saying, ‘Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish them but to fulfil them.’
The Torah and the prophets can be conceived of in another way without being destroyed or denigrated. This is good news, according to Matthew. Why? For two reasons: first, it says to those who are Jews that to follow Jesus does not mean giving up on their beloved heritage of faith. The traditions of their forebears by which they define their very selves still
stand. To follow Jesus doesn’t mean turning your back on all that – ‘not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law.’And second, it says to those who aren’t Jews who follow Jesus that to know him fully they must recognize him as a good and devout Jew – ‘I have come not to abolish but to fulfil.’ Every dot, every comma, every little word in the Law –the Torah – is holy to Jesus. This is what nourished and coloured his very soul. This is a word to both Jewish and Gentile Christians.
And this remains a gospel word to us: do not despise or denigrate the Jewishness of Jesus. In order to know him we must strive to know the faith that nurtured him; the worldview that comes from a people steeped in the story of a God who creates, calls, and frees, and who is constant through all the vagaries of a long history. Simply put there is no way to know Jesus
without knowing what we call ‘the Old Testament’ – the Bible that Jesus knew as his own.
That, I think, gives us a way into understanding Jesus’ words ‘You are the salt of the earth’ and ‘You are the light of the world.’ These are words to disciples and would-be disciples and uncommitted onlookers. They point to the resources of faith that those who first heard Christ knew, and they ask that the saltiness and the light of those things be fully
realised.
Salt is more than a preservative. This isn’t about saving the old and always looking to the past, rather it’s about what allows the best to be savoured, tasted for what it really is. We won’t taste Christ for what he really is if we ignore what brought savour and spice to his own experience of God.
Light is so ubiquitous that we often fail to notice its’ contribution to way we see the world. The brilliance of searing light during blazing sunshine to the twilight shadows of falling light. Light changes the way we see things – changes what we see. How are we to be light for Christ? How shall we reflect his light – with the sharpness of the spotlight or with the
subtlety of a candle? To make the choice of what’s appropriate to whatever circumstance we find ourselves in means first letting the Christ-light shine on our very souls. That light will shine for us when we acknowledge what enlightened him.
It is inconceivable that we can know Christ without knowing something of what brought taste and sight to his own experience of God.
Remember his words:
‘Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish them but to fulfil them.’