Following the Call, July 28

Impossible Ideal?

Impossible ideal?  A sure way to fail. A true story. Your Turn.

Impossible Ideal?

Anyone who considers the Sermon on the Mount to be in principle impossible of fulfillment mocks God; for God is the creator and lover of life, and he gives no commandments that cannot be fulfilled. Anyone who considers that the Sermon on the Mount is fulfillable only in the sentiments of the heart, but not in public action, says that Jesus is wrong; for he preached the sermon precisely in order that it might be put into practice. Anyone who considers that it is fulfillable only for himself personally, but not in the context of his responsibility for other people, does not know God the Creator. Anyone, finally, who believes that only one person – Jesus himself – was able to fulfill the Sermon on the Mount, whereas everyone else is bound to fail in the attempt, thus to become a manifest sinner, is stifling the truth of the community of Christ, about which Paul says: ‘Bear one another’s burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ’ (Gal. 6:2).

—Jürgen Moltmann (from Following the Call)

The other day I found myself stuck in traffic behind a bumper sticker that read: “Don’t should on me.” The point? “Lay off! I’m tired of people putting me on guilt trip.”

That, I suppose, is the “moral” of the bumper sticker. But it jettisons every moral dimension of life—of duty and obligation, of fidelity and perseverance—out of existence, replacing it with the psychotherapeutic ideal of “being true to yourself.” The authenticity of desire, of free will, of “being me”—these are today’s hallmarks of what’s good. In light of this ideal, Moltmann’s words ring rather hollow, echoing a bygone era of always having to measure up. Besides, people will counter, didn’t Jesus bring good news, not a bunch of commandments? Wasn’t his message one of liberation and acceptance, of love and connection with God?

            For sure. But such a reading of Jesus’ message comes dangerously close to missing what he was essentially about. Granted, if finding and feeling good about yourself is the ultimate standard, then Jesus’ “But I say unto you….”  cannot help but sound like religious scolding. That’s what one pastor friend of mine told me recently. “When I read the Sermon on the Mount I come away completely defeated. Let’s be honest, Jesus’ command to be perfect is really bad news. Take it literally and you’re condemned to a life, like Sisyphus, of never, ever arriving. What kind of saving message is that?!”

            Good question. But the One who gives these impossible-sounding commands is also our Savior. He actually came to save us from and propel us beyond ourselves.  And this is precisely why Matthew bookends the Sermon on the Mount by telling us how Jesus went around preaching and teaching the good news of the kingdom, and healing all who came to him (Matt. 4:23-25; 9:35-38). For Matthew, the Sermon on the Mount is not a new law with a new list of do’s and don’ts. Least of all is it some impossible ideal. Rather, it is a description of what life is like when God’s kingdom breaks into our midst. As Eduard Thurneysen put it, since Jesus himself is the real content of the gospel, “then this Jesus and he alone is also the whole content of the Sermon on the Mount…The preacher of the Sermon on the Mount is the Sermon on the Mount.”

“Blessed are those….” begins the Sermon on the Mount. Embedded in every command is Jesus himself—God’s promise, the auto basilea (God’s kingdom in person). It’s not a matter of us trying to fulfill some impossible ideal, but of responding to Jesus and allowing him to form our lives. When this happens, duty and desire become one. What we should do is something we now want to do for we are gripped by something greater than ourselves. The Sermon is Jesus’ gracious invitation to experience life with him in his kingdom. The destination and the journey are one. Blessed indeed are those who do what Jesus says, for they shall know who Jesus really is.

A Sure Way to Fail

If you want to be a spiritual failure, then try following the Sermon on the Mount by yourself. But Jesus wasn’t about spiritual heroics or arduous devotion. That’s because Jesus never intended us to go it alone. Plural pronouns are used throughout the Sermon on the Mount. The Lord’s Prayer, for example, is a communal prayer, not a personal one. When Jesus calls people to himself, a new kind of community is born. Life in God’s kingdom means being a certain kind of people together. This is not only a comfort, but a strengthening. Together, we can actually do what Jesus says. For didn’t Jesus say, “Wherever two or three are gathered in my name, there I am with them” (Matt. 18:20)? That is the essential mark and purpose of the church: to be the communal embodiment of the Sermon on the Mount, the visible presence of God’s kingdom.

A True Story

It was midnight, and the jungle lay quiet in the moonlight. Miles from any city, Sarah Corson was certainly not expecting visitors in the remote South American village where she was spending the summer. Yet as she stood on the porch and bent to pull up the blanket over her sleeping son, she heard a sudden thump. Startled, she saw that a soldier had slipped into the water barrel. Peering across the clearing, she saw many more soldiers advancing through the shadows toward her hut.

That summer, the American missionary organization SIFAT (Servants in Faith and Technology) had sent Sarah with a team of seventeen young people to this Bolivian village as part of an ongoing project to develop sustainable agricultural initiatives for the impoverished residents to help develop sustainable agricultural practices.

A military junta had recently co-opted the national election, and unrest had broken out in the rural areas. The junta suspected that the American missionaries were encouraging the resistance, and had decided it was time to eliminate them from the equation.

Sarah was terrified. He heart was beating so fast she thought her blood vessels would burst. She felt as if she was about to have a stroke. She knew she had a responsibility for the team members inside the house, but she couldn’t even call out to them. She was paralyzed with fear.

She had only a split second to pray before the soldiers found her: “God, if I have to die,” she prayed, take care of my family. And God, please take away this fear. I don’t want to die afraid. Please help me to die trusting you.” She was suddenly aware of the presence of God. She was ready to die, and even thought that their deaths might accomplish things that they had not been able to accomplish with their lives.

She bravely stepped up to the closest soldier and uttered words she could never have thought to say on her own. “Welcome, brother,” she called out. “Come in. You do not need guns to visit us.”

The soldier jumped, then blurted out, “Not me I’[m not the one. I’[m just following orders. There’s the commander over there, he’s the one.” At that the soldier jumped, dropped the bullet he was putting in his gun, and shouted, “Not me. I’m not the one. I’m just following orders. There’s the commander over there, he’s the one.”

Sarah raised her voice and repeated, “You’re all welcome. Everyone is welcome in our home.”

The commander ran up to Sarah, shoved the muzzle of his rifle against her stomach, and pushed her through the door into the house. Thirty soldiers rushed into the house and began pulling everything off the shelves and out of drawers, looking for guns. They were convinced that Sarah and her team had political motivations.

Sarah picked up a Spanish Bible and turned to the Sermon on the Mount. “We teach about Jesus Christ,” she said, “God’s son who came into this world to save us. He also taught us better way than fighting. He taught us the way of love. Because of him, I can tell you that even though you kill me, I will die loving you because God loves you. To follow him, I have to love you too.”

 “That’s humanly impossible!” the commander of the troops burst out.

“That’s true, sir,” Sarah answered. “It isn’t humanly possible, but with God’s help it is possible.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“You can prove it, sir. I know you came here to kill us. So just kill me slowly if you want to prove it. Cut me to pieces little by little, and you will see you cannot make me hate you. I will die praying for you because God loves you and we love you too.”

The soldiers rounded up the missionaries and many villagers and were about to haul everyone off in trucks. Suddenly the commander changed his mind and brusquely ordered the women back to their houses. He told Sarah that they would have been gang raped in the jungle camp and he wished to spare them that; but that if it were discovered that he had released them he would probably pay with his life. The men who had been captured were loaded into trucks and driven away. Before leaving, the soldier said, “I could have fought any amount of guns you might have had, but there is something here I cannot understand. I cannot fight it.”

As Sunday approached, the villagers warned the missionaries not to hold a church service, since the military would assume any gathering had a political agenda. But on Saturday night, Sarah received an unexpected message from the commander who had raided the village: he wanted to attend church on Sunday, and said that if Sarah did not come to pick him up in her vehicle, he would walk the ten miles to be there anyway.

The request sounded suspicious. Sarah decided that only those who were ready to risk their lives should attend church on Sunday. She sent around a message: “We will have a service after all, but you are not obligated to come. In fact, you may lose your life by coming. No one knows what this soldier will do. Do not come when the church bell rings unless you are sure God wants you to come.”

When Sunday morning came, the church was packed. Shaking in their boots, the villagers gathered. The commander and his deputy arrived fully armed and sat down in the congregation, their faces giving no indication whether their purpose in coming was friendly or hostile. It was customary for the congregation to greet visitors personally with a handshake and hug during a welcome song before the service. Although Sarah was going to waive all but the song, the congregation spontaneously took up greeting the two visitors with handshakes and hugs. The first one to do so said, as he hugged the commander, “Brother, we don’t like what you have done to our village, but this is the house of God, and God loves you, so you are welcome here.” And all the others did likewise.

The commander was completely taken aback. He addressed the people in the church: “Never have I dreamed that I could raid a town, come back, and have that town welcome me as a brother.” Indicating Sarah, he said, “That sister told me Thursday night that Christians love their enemies, but I did not believe her then. You have proven it to me this morning. . . . I never believed there was a God before, but what I have just felt is so strong that I will never doubt the existence of God as long as I live.”

Two weeks later, all the men who had been imprisoned were returned to the village. The commander’s last words to Sarah would stay with her the rest of her life: “I have fought many battles and killed many people. It was nothing to me. It was just my job to exterminate them. But I never knew them personally. This is the first time I ever knew my enemy face to face. And I believe that if we knew each other, our guns would not be necessary.”

(From my book Bearing Witness: Stories of Martyrdom and Costly Discipleship)

Your Turn

How do you read Jesus and his words in the Sermon on the Mount? Impossible ideal? Hyperbolic? Spiritual advice? Straightforward commands? Practical wisdom? Or what? I welcome your comments, opinions, questions, and personal experiences, and will share a selection with readers each week.