Nothing else in the whole Bible is more quoted, more studied
and written about, than the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus,
seated on a mountain in Galilee, gives his own ‘take’ on the
Law that was given to Moses on Mount Sinai. Here Jesus
gives us the definitive standard of behaviour, against which
we should all measure our lives as Christians. And so the
Sermon is recommended reading for penitents preparing to
make their confession. And yet Jesus’ teaching isn’t so much
a list of rules, as a description of the change of heart
that comes from a loving relationship with God. It is about
the transformation of souls.
But first we have to deal with a real difficulty. Jesus
seems to speak of the Jewish law with a veneration that not
even the Scribes and Pharisees could equal. And yet we know
that Jesus often broke the rules that they held dear – he
refused to be limited by the petty rituals that the Law
prescribed, he healed the sick on the Sabbath, and he went
to the cross condemned as a blasphemer and a law-breaker.
So what did Jesus mean when he told his followers to outdo
the Scribes and Pharisees in righteousness? We can’t presume
to know the whole answer – but we can get a bit closer if we
take on board some of the other teaching that Jesus gave in
his sermon. A couple of verses further on in Matthew chapter
5 Jesus says this: ‘It was said (in the Law) that whoever
murders will be liable to judgement – but I say to you that
if you are angry with a brother or a sister you will be
liable to judgement’. Jesus goes beyond and behind the
crime, the raw deed, to uncover the root cause; the anger,
bitterness, jealousy and fear that can lie within our
hearts. And there are several other examples of this
disturbing, penetrating gaze in Jesus’ teaching. To fulfil
the law, Jesus needs our hearts and minds. In other words he
wants us to become holy, not by keeping a lot of new rules,
but by surrendering our hearts to him, in and through his
love.
I think we can see what Jesus was getting at when he talks
about salt and light. In Bible times, salt was a symbol of
purity and of purification: the glisteningly white product
of sea and sun. How much the world needs the pure in heart;
people who are beyond corruption, and who have the courage
to ‘speak truth to power’. In an era of ‘alternative facts’
and ‘fake news’ we must constantly defend truth and
integrity because we know that in the end they will bring
fulfilment and peace. And we must have the courage to speak
out against lies and corruption, because we know something
of the human misery and conflict that they can cause. At the
same time, of course, salt isn’t just a symbol of purity -
we all know that that it enriches and enlivens food and adds
zest to eating. How much the world needs those who hunger
and thirst for right to prevail; people whose concern is for
the enrichment and happiness of the poor and the
disadvantaged. And finally - in calling us to be ‘light’
Jesus ask us to be radiant with his light, the light of the
world, and to be a beacon of hope in the darkness. Yes, all
of this is a big ask, and certainly more demanding than just
keeping the rules. But the potential of God’s love within us
is huge, if only we would allow him to unlock it.
Perhaps we should also have another look at the Isaiah
passage we had this morning, which Jesus would have known
very well. Isaiah warns his hearers of the inadequacies and
failings of the religious customs required by the Law:
fasting, it seems, had become an occasion for self-interest
and division. No, what God asks for, says Isaiah, is the
fulfilling of the law – a complete change of heart that will
see the oppressed go free and the hungry fed, that will see
God’s people offering the hospitality of their own homes to
the dispossessed. I only wish I could surrender my heart to
those standards – perhaps the best I can do is to try to
become the sort of person who would welcome them.
Fasting, worship and prayer – all are done to God’s glory.
But what glorifies him even more is the transformation of
our souls into His image: ‘changed from glory into glory,
till in heaven we take our place’. If worship doesn’t quite
manage to do that for us, perhaps it is because God’s
ambitions are greater than our own. Perhaps in this
Eucharist, which is both the sign and the means of communion
with Our Lord, we should let go of our failings, our
divisions, our guilt at not keeping the rules, and allow
ourselves to fall upwards into his love. Often without being
aware of it we are constantly in that negative gravity, that
transforming force-field of love every minute of our lives,
even in our darkest moments. And In surrendering to it we
can become salt and light, truth and hope, not just for the
church, but for the world. Robert Louis Stevenson once
wrote in his diary, with some surprise – ‘I have been to
church today, and am not depressed.’ Maybe all of us,
whom Jesus calls to total transformation through his love,
should expect just a little bit more.