Sermon for August 16th, 2026

Matthew 5:38-48 (NT p.5)

38 ‘You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” 39 But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also; 40 and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well; 41 and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile. 42 Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.

43 ‘You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.” 44 But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, 45 so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. 46 For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax-collectors do the same? 47 And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? 48 Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

Higher Education Part III: Love Your Enemies

It was Sunday morning in a little country church, and the pastor was preaching about the importance of loving (and forgiving) one's enemies. Halfway through the sermon, he paused and said, "raise your hand if you are ready to forgive your enemies today." About half the congregation raised their hands, so he continued preaching even more fervently. Fifteen minutes later, he paused again, and said, "What about now? Raise your hand if you are ready to forgive your enemies now." Almost everyone raised their hand this time...only a few holdouts. This went on several more times until just one person was left. Finally, in exasperation, the pastor stopped and said, "Mr. Jones, why can't you forgive your enemies like Jesus taught us to?" Mr. Jones yelled out from the very last pew, "Because I don't have any enemies!" Seeing a teaching opportunity here, the pastor descended from the pulpit and walked right back to Mr. Jones, and asked him to stand up. Which he did. "Mr. Jones," said the pastor, "can you tell us how old you are?" The old man answered, "I'm 97 years old."

"And you have no enemies?" asked the pastor, incredulously. Mr. Jones emphatically replied, "None whatsoever!"

"Well, then, Mr. Jones--please enlighten us all. Tell us, if you would, how a person can live to be 97 years old, and have no enemies whatsoever. There must be quite a secret to it!" Mr. Jones thought about it for a moment, then said, "Simple. I just outlived the bastards."

I suspect that's not exactly what Jesus had in mind when he told the crowd in today's scripture reading to "love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." And I suspect that most of us still have enemies we haven't outlived yet. Some of them might even share our last name. Or the pew we're sitting in.

If you are just joining us this week, we are about halfway through a series called "Higher Education: The Difficult Teachings at the heart of Jesus' Sermon on the Mount." Two weeks ago, Jesus went up the mountain and began to teach. Last week, he said it's not enough to avoid murder, you have to deal with your inner anger, too. It's not enough to avoid adultery, you have to deal with your inner desire, too. I warned you that these teachings were difficult. But today, difficult becomes, well... impossible.

If someone strikes you, don't retaliate. Turn the other cheek instead. If someone demands your coat, give them your shirt, too. If someone forces you to go a mile with them, go two miles. Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you. By the way, our church would like to borrow a few thousand dollars from each of you today. I mean, Jesus said...

Some modern scholars have read these verses as clever, subversive acts of civil disobedience--ways to shame your oppressor while technically obeying. A backhanded strike to the right cheek was an insult, so offering the other cheek supposedly forced the aggressor to treat you as an equal. Surrendering your outer garment as well as your undergarment might shame the creditor by leaving you naked in court. A Roman soldier could compel you to carry his pack for one mile, but a second mile might expose him to military discipline.

I admire the creativity of this reading, and I do think that civil disobedience can be an effective tool for political change. I'm just not convinced this is what Jesus is trying to accomplish in these verses. Shaming your enemies--even if they're wrong, even if they deserve it--is probably not the best precursor to loving them. I don't think Jesus is giving us (or anyone) three clever ways to win a confrontation--I think he's taking away our need to win.

Now I want to be careful to point out one thing: This doesn't mean that a victim should submit to violence at the hands of an abuser. "Don't retaliate" can also look like removing yourself from a dangerous situation. Love is not the same as access or trust. But even from a safe distance, Jesus does not let us strip another person of their humanity through shame or humiliation.

Instead he tells us to "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." Let's try that for a moment: Think of your least favorite politician, whomever that may be. Now let's all say a silent prayer asking God to grant that individual health, happiness, success, and a long life. No? Can't bring yourself to do it? I told you this was a difficult teaching. And then in verse 48 we get the final, impossible word: "Be perfect, therefore, as your Heavenly Father is perfect."

Perfect. Some scholars try to soften that word, by saying that in Greek it actually means "whole" or "mature." Those sound more achievable than perfect... until you remember who we're comparing ourselves to: God isn't just whole or mature. God is, in fact, perfect. Jesus says to be like that.

And we know, just like the crowd listening to Jesus, that this is impossible. We can't do it. But I believe this is exactly what Jesus wants us to understand. It's not a flaw in his teaching--it IS the teaching. Jesus isn't showing us how to get ourselves into heaven. He's showing us how much we need God's grace and forgiveness to get there. Ourselves, and the enemy standing right in front of us. We're both in the same boat. The sun shines on both of us, and the rain falls on both of us. Oppressed and oppressor alike. Neither of us measure up.

So then why does Jesus even bother with all these commands at all? Why tell us to be perfect if he knows we can't? To answer that, let me bring back my two favorite theologians from last week's sermon: The 16th century Reformer John Calvin, and the 21st century children's television show host, Fred Rogers.

Mr. Rogers says, "You are special. You are loved. And I like you just the way you are."

And John Calvin says, "You are a miserable worm, totally incapable of any goodness when left to your own devices."

And as strange as it may seem, both of them are correct. And both ideas meet right here in Jesus' most difficult teaching.

Mr. Rogers points us to Genesis chapter 1--the image of God, breathed into every one of us at the dawn of creation. Our family resemblance to our heavenly parent.

Calvin points us to Genesis chapter 3--the brokenness we inherited from Adam and Eve, our earthly parents. We see it all around us, every day, in the violence, greed, and selfishness of humanity, even if we don't always acknowledge it in our own selves!

Two truths. Two inheritances. Both of them are ours. We are loved, but we are lost. We have great worth, but we need grace. We bear God's image, but we break that image on a daily basis, and we cannot repair it on our own.

Later in Matthew, the disciples ask Jesus who is greatest in the kingdom of Heaven. Jesus points to a small child and says, "That one." He says that unless we become like children, we will never even enter the kingdom of heaven. And here's the thing: Children don't "earn" their place in our families. They can't. They depend on their parents for everything. And yet they belong--fully, perfectly, from day one--not because of anything they've done, but because of who they are.

I think that's what Jesus is saying, and it sounds a lot like Mister Rogers: You are already God's child. You already carry the family resemblance. You already have everything you need, just the way you are. You can't earn the inheritance; you can only recognize it and embrace it.

And here is Calvin's half of the equation: When you look at your enemy--that vile worm who is incapable of any goodness--you are also looking in the mirror: God made your enemy and God made you, two vile worms from the same family, both incapable of any goodness without the grace and mercy of God!

But when you finally embrace that grace and mercy, it begins to fill your life and radiate outward, overflowing into everything and everyone around you. And maybe that's how you love your enemy after all. Not by gritting your teeth and trying harder. By standing in God's sunshine long enough that it starts to reflect off of you--onto the people who love you, as well as the people who don't.