“Holy and Perfect”
Seventh Sunday after Epiphany
February 23, 2014
Leviticus 19:1-2; 9-18
Matthew 5:38-48
Today’s first lesson begins with God telling the people to be holy, for God is holy. The gospel
bookends it with Jesus telling the people to be perfect as the Father is perfect. So, here’s
todays’ question: What does it look like to be holy? What does it mean to be perfect?
The gospel text today is just as challenging as it was last week—if not more. So, let’s review
some key concepts from last week. Is Jesus just trying to make following the law more difficult?
Last week, we heard him instruct on how attitudes about ourselves and others lead to murder,
adultery, divorce, and the need to make oaths. So, what was Jesus’ point?
Justice. The point is justice. That’s why today’s passage is so much harder. We think we know
what justice looks like. In fact, the Hebrew law had laid it out fairly clearly—eye for an eye,
tooth for a tooth; love your neighbor—it never says hate your enemy, but it’s sort of
understood. That’s how we operate. This eye for eye, tooth for tooth was actually an attempt
at curbing over-the-top retribution.
It keeps people from killing each other over lesser offenses. It makes the consequence
reasonable. And any good parent knows the value of consequence—that making threats
doesn’t work unless there is follow-through, regardless how inconvenient it makes our lives as
parents. I heard of a mom who, in the middle of her child’s rant in the grocery store, told him
they would leave if he kept it up. He kept it up—and she walked away from her cart and out
the door—not buying the things she needed for dinner that night.
Consequences are important for learning and growing; and consequences are a pain for
everyone. So, Jesus’ suggestion that there be no consequences for injustice sounds—
irresponsible. What kind of leader would suggest such ridiculousness? What kind of kingdom
works this way? This is not how chaos is addressed; it’s not how people learn to act
appropriately. Without consequence, the victimization will continue—the injustice will
continue—the sin will continue.
But Jesus isn’t suggestion that we just keep being victims of injustice. He tells us we are to
become servants. The difference is this: people who are victims feel that the world acts upon
them and that they have no choice but to either take it or fight back. Jesus offers a third
option—Jesus offers freedom through servanthood.
And that’s where it gets complicated. We feel safest operating under the dichotomy that
people are either winners or losers. Victims can’t be winners until they have gained power over
oppressors. It’s why we respond so passionately to acts of terror. The only alternative to being
a victim, we think, is to retaliate—to get back, exact vengeance, punish, and win. There is no
middle ground.
So, Jesus’ suggestion that we become servants just sounds like another word for being a victim.
Let the bully hit you twice; let the thief take double; let the terrorist reign terror. We hear it as
a call to be losers—not exactly a favorite message. The problem is, even when we try to be fair
in justice by letting the punishment fit the crime—an eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth—we
can’t stop violence with violence. The world just becomes filled with people who are blind and
toothless.
That’s why gang violence never really ends. It’s why we’re still in Iraq and Afghanistan. It’s like
trying to cut your own hair—first one side is too short, then the next side’s too short, so you go
back to the first side. Eventually, we’re not only blind and toothless—but we’re bald, too.
That’s retribution. That’s the human attempt at justice. That’s what happens when we can’t let
go of our precious victim identity that drives us to keep seeking revenge. It never ends.
But Jesus put an end to it. On the cross, he put an end to it. On the cross, he let go of being a
victim and became a servant. Rather than being helpless and rather than fighting back, Jesus
offers a third option—Jesus offers freedom through servanthood—freedom through
forgiveness.
This isn’t an easy message—it’s not easy to hear; it’s not easy to preach; it’s certainly not easy
to live. But truly following Christ has never been easy. It always means living in a way that
challenges society—sometimes morally, but often more practically. In our processes, in how
we treat others, in how we respond to injustice, in how we respond to fear.
That’s why the Scriptures tell us to be holy and perfect. Just like last week, it’s not a call to
perfect obedience. It’s a call to live into the purpose for which we were created. The word
‘holy’ or ‘sanctified’ simply means ‘set apart for a purpose.’ When God chose the Abraham’s
family to bear God’s blessing to the world, it wasn’t because Abraham was perfect. It wasn’t
because Israel was somehow more righteous than other nations. God started by choosing one
person, one nation, to bear a message to all others. God set them aside for a purpose—a
purpose which got lost over time.
So God did something new—God started again, with another man, a man who would not fail in
his purpose because this man was God. And through this man, God sent a message of new and
abundant life—new life for all nations; new life to be experienced now and lived more fully in
the resurrection. And through Jesus, God sanctified all believers—God set us all apart for the
purpose of bearing this message to the world and living this message as followers of Christ.
That’s what it means to be holy. And to be perfect—well, that Greek word is telos. It simply
means to live toward the end designed for us—to be who we have been created to be, just as
the Father is who the Father should be. It’s not that we might attain perfect attendance or
perfect love or perfect forgiveness or perfect morality. We’re not aiming for a ‘10’ on a scale of
1 to 10. Jesus just tells us that we are free to be who God has sanctified us to be—message
bearers of hope in a world filled with fear and anger and violence. In Jesus, we are freed to be
neither victims of nor oppressors over one another but servants to one another.
Many of you have heard the story of Immaculee Ilibagiza, the young Tutsi woman in Rowanda
who watched her family get murdered during a horrific genocide. When the killing was over,
when those hidden were safe to come out, when other nations had stepped in to stop the
chaos, those who were responsible were imprisoned. It was customary to allow the families of
victims to meet their families’ murderers and seek retribution—an eye for an eye.
Immaculee came face to face with this man—a man who was not sorry for his crime but who
feared his punishment. She stood before him as he groveled, and she forgave him. She refused
to remain a victim of hate and fear; she refused to extend her right to vengeance over him.
Instead, she chose a third option—she became his servant as she offered him forgiveness.
Jesus’ teachings throughout Scripture are a call for us to be holy—to live differently than the
world does—in how we live, how we give, and how we forgive. It’s not meant to be an
impossible task in order to attain salvation; it’s a faithfulness that we spend a lifetime growing
into.
Now, I’ve noticed for myself how hard it is to say the words, “I forgive you.” They feel
accusatory—which they are. They feel strong—which they are. And I’ve realized that I’ve never
learned how to say—or hear—these words. So we’re going to practice together. I don’t
presume that anyone is ready to say these words individually to anyone—that’s not how this
works. But I’d like to just say them together. I forgive you.
That’s one step closer to being ready, when the time is right, to live God’s call to holiness and
experience God’s gift of freedom.
Pastor Tobi White
Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church
Lincoln, NE