Perfect Love

“Perfect Love”

Matthew 5:38-48

Daniel J. Ott

 

You can learn a lot about human nature by watching a three-year-old.  My three-year-old knows all the rules.  He can recite them.  He especially likes to recite the rules when it is his sister who is breaking one of the rules.  To his credit, sometimes he will recite a rule to keep himself out of trouble.  But quite often, even though he knows the rules, he has to be reminded of the rules, usually because he has broken one.

I’ve noticed, though, that sometimes he seems almost compelled to break the rule against his own better judgment.  Three-year-olds need to push the limits a little.  They’re not only learning the rules, but they have to test and see what happens when you break the rules.  Sometimes it seems like my little guy wants to do good.  He knows the rule and wants to follow it, but he’s at odds with himself and he has to test the boundaries.  Perhaps there’s a little of that three-year-old in all of us.

But Jesus doesn’t want us to be at odds with ourselves.  He wants us to know the rules and follow them.  Actually, he says he wants us to be perfect with respect to the rules. “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”  That’s startling, isn’t it?  What does Jesus mean by asking us to be perfect as God is perfect?  Does he mean that we should be completely holy as God is holy?  Wouldn’t we have to be all-knowing and all-wise like God, in order to be all-holy like God?  Was Jesus asking the impossible?

Perhaps not.  The Hebrew equivalent of the word translated “perfect” here is the word “tamim.”  Tamim means wholeness.  Jesus is asking us here in the Sermon on the Mount to be ethically whole, to be wholehearted, to be single-minded.  He’s encouraging us to stop being at odds with ourselves.  In order to do this, though, we must transcend mere adherence to the law.

We call this section of the Sermon on the Mount “The Six Antitheses.”  Each of these antitheses asks us to go beyond the law and penetrate to the spirit of the law.  Not only should we not murder, but we should also learn to deal with our anger and reconcile with people who offend us.  Not only should we not commit adultery, but we must also learn to see people as children of God rather than mere objects of our desire.  Not only should we be fair in divorce, but we should also work to heal our marriages and renew our commitments.  Not only should we be truthful when the stakes are high, but we should be people who are always dependable and trustworthy in our speech.  Not only should we refrain from violence, but we should also sow seeds of peace.  Not only should we love our neighbor, but also our enemy.

All of these antitheses teach us that not only are we called to know the law and obey the law, but also we are to be holy in our inward being. We need to write the law on our hearts and minds. We can’t just follow the rules.  We need to allow the spirit of Christ to transform us inwardly so that we can do what we know to be good and right and loving.   Not only should we follow the rules, but we should be whole, perfect.

Now, of course, being perfect isn’t easy, not even when it comes to doing something that sounds like it should be easy like loving.  Perfect love is far from easy.  This comes into sharp contrast when we hear Jesus tell us that perfect love requires that we love our enemies.  “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

Notice what Jesus does not say here.  He doesn’t say, “You have heard it said, Love your neighbor and hate your enemy, but I say love everybody.” I think it might have been easier to hear if Jesus had left it general like that.  But Jesus makes it very specific:  “I say love your enemies.  Love and pray for the ones who do you harm.”  Can you hear him saying to us today, “Love the terrorist and the jihadist.  Pray for the Taliban.  Love Ahmadinejad and Kim Jong Il.  Pray for Osama bin Laden.  Love the communists in China.  Pray for dictators.  Liberals love conservatives.  Republicans love Democrats.”

Maybe we should bring it even closer to home.  Can you picture that person who has really done you harm?  Perhaps that person told lies about you, or broke your heart, or hurt you in business, or betrayed your trust.  Jesus says love even that person.  Love your enemies… tough stuff.

Martin Luther King Jr. understood well Jesus’ call to love enemies and pray for persecutors.  He wrote, “In struggling for human dignity the oppressed people of the world must not allow themselves to become bitter or indulge in hate campaigns.  To retaliate with hate and bitterness would do nothing but intensify the hate in the world.  Along the way of life, someone must have sense enough and morality enough to cut off the chain of hate.  This can be done only by projecting the ethics of love to the center of our lives.”[1] King taught that we love people not because we necessarily approve of their ways and ideals; but we love people, even our enemies, because God loves them.  This is whole love.  This is perfect love.  Perfect love transcends hatred.  Perfect love cuts off the chain of hate.

But what does this perfect love look like?  What does it mean to love our enemies?  Does this mean that we let our enemies walk all over us?  Does this mean that we smile and nod as ruthless people do terrible things to us or to others?

No, perfect love does not demand that we all become wet noodles.  It certainly does not mean that we stand idly by while injustice is done.  But it does mean that we adopt a different strategy from the “eye for an eye” strategy that is so prominent in the violent and vicious world in which we live.

Jesus says that perfect love requires that we turn the other cheek.  He gives us some examples of what this looks like and the examples are much more active and radical that they might at first appear.  He says that if someone sues you for your coat, that you should give your cloak as well.  If you were to follow Jesus’ teaching literally here, you’d be standing in court naked.  Do you think that might rattle the cage of a litigious adversary?  Jesus says, “If one of these hotshot Roman soldiers conscripts you to carry his equipment for a mile. Don’t stop there. Keep going.  Carry it a second mile.  Carry it until you keel over, maybe then his conscience will be pricked.”

Albert Winn calls this strategy “reverse fighting” and he sees a portrait of the reverse fighter in Isaiah.  “The reverse fighter is the servant of [God]… This servant, however, is no warrior… He gives his back to those who strike him and his cheeks to those who pull out his beard, not hiding his face from insult and spitting.  He knows contempt and rejection, suffering and infirmity, wounds and bruises, oppression and injustice.  In all this he does no violence, makes no complaint.  Yet he wins the victory!  The reverse fighter is honored in the sight of [God].  God becomes his strength.  Kings stand up in his presence; princes prostrate themselves.  He prospers, is exalted and lifted up, startles many nations; kings shut their mouths because of him.”[2]

Mohandas Gandhi was a reverse fighter.  The little man from India dressed only in a loincloth stood up to the great English Empire armed only with the weapons of peaceful demonstration, fasting and the conviction of the power of truth.  The result was indeed that Kings bowed low and Gandhi fathered a nation.  Martin Luther King was a reverse fighter.  The young preacher from Atlanta took on the powers of racism and white-supremacy armed only with the weapons of boycott, powerful oratory and an abiding faith in perfect love.

Jesus was a reverse fighter.  He didn’t choose the violent way of the Zealots.  He didn’t retreat to the desert to merely pray.  He didn’t strike a deal with the Roman powers to keep them out of his hair like the temple priests did.  Instead Jesus chose to be a reverse fighter.  He chose the way of perfect love.  He chose the way of the cross.  John Howard Yoder writes, “Here at the cross is the man who loves his enemies, the man whose righteousness is greater than that of the Pharisees, who, being rich became poor, who gave his robe to those who took his cloak, who prays for those who despitefully use him.”[3]

By now I’m sure you’re saying, “But, Dan, what about me? I’m no Gandhi or King.  I’m surely no Jesus. What am I supposed to do?”  And you’d be justified in asking, I think.  But remember, Jesus did call us to be perfect.

So let me turn the question back to you.  What can you do, reverse fighters?  What can you do to oppose racism in our community?  What can you say or do the next time you hear racist comments about our Mexican neighbors?  What can our church do to oppose white supremacy and foster racial reconciliation?

What can you do to counter violence in our community?  How will you get involved to prevent bullying in our schools?  How can you help the victims of spousal abuse?  How can you help shelter our children from the idolization of violence in video games and TV?  What can we do to insist that our leaders seek non-violent solutions to international conflict?

What can you do to enact perfect love and stand with the poor and the oppressed?  How can we reach out to the jobless?  How can we welcome the poor into our churches and help them to feel a real part of our community?  How can we lend what little power we have to the truly powerless?

The answers to these questions are not easy.   But I’m sure that as I’ve asked these questions, you have thought about some things that you can do – some things that we can do.  Perhaps you thought of some small thing that you can do or perhaps you had a grand vision.  In either case, let me encourage you, reverse fighters, to be bold and courageous, because God has given you the only weapon you’ll need to fight the good fight, the weapon of perfect love.

---

[1] Martin Luther King, Jr., “Nonviolence and Racial Justice,” in A Testament of Hope:  The Essential Writings and Speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr. p. 8.

[2] Albert Curry Winn, Ain’t Gonna Study War No More:  Biblical Ambiguity and the Abolition of War, p. 99.

[3] As quoted by Albert Curry Winn, Ain’t Gonna Study War No More, p. 145.