Preaching Paths 15 February 2026

Sally A. Brown, Professor of Preaching Emerita, Princeton Theological Seminary

In the verses before us today (Mt 5:21-37), Jesus speaks as any rabbi of his day might have done. To interpret the Law faithfully was a rabbi’s chief responsibility. The formula, “You have heard it said …” was a characteristic rabbinic phrase when one was asked how to apply the precepts of Torah in a particular set of circumstances. Yet, here in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus’ purpose is different. Instead of discussing a case-based application of the Law, Jesus describes a different relationship to the Law’s precepts: not perfunctory compliance motivated by other’s perception of us, but action that flows from inward integrity. Jesus teaches that life shaped by the guardrails of the Law is not a childish game of avoiding stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk; rather it is a life rooted in respect for the integrity and freedom of every other person, unsullied by secret jealousy, resentment, or covetousness. Yet, humans react to insult or aggression—or, for that matter, to something they desire—instantaneously. How can we avoid preaching a sermon that simply shames congregants (again!) for their all-too-human penchant toward fantasies of vengeance or possession?

A better starting point as one prepares to preach is to ask, “What fresh vision of human interaction does Jesus project here?” and then, “What might this look like in my listeners’ range of experience?” How would it change our social reality if we were to treat every teenager, every older adult, every neighbor, every stranger and every immigrant with dignity? What would it look like to treat every family member—even that one who most tries our patience and disrupts family harmony—as beloved of God? To borrow a term from Emmanuel Levinas, each of us must come to terms with the “face”—the truth, the suffering, and the humanity—of the “other.”* Might it be precisely in the effort to understand the other’s truth, beliefs, fears, and hopes, that our envy, resentment, spite—or even covetous desire—toward another person begins to dissipate? As we understand the other, our own fears and ignoble ambitions reveal themselves. Might respect and love for the integrity of the other gradually displace our tendency toward resentment, scapegoating, or covetous desire?

Perhaps most difficult for congregations (and their preachers!) is Jesus’ teaching about divorce (vv 27-32). Here, it is crucial to explain to listeners that Jewish society in Jesus’ time was thoroughly patriarchal, and marriage was an economic contract between families. Taking another’s wife was to trespass on a man’s property, threaten his heirs, and sow enmity in the wider community. Divorce was a male prerogative, one that could be disastrous for rejected wives in a society where women were utterly dependent on males for shelter, food, and protection. Today, marriage has economic implications, but is a covenant based on mutual affection, common goals, respect, and trust. Stress can break these bonds, leaving the marriage lifeless—or even damaging. While we should not take divorce lightly, a perfunctory or bitter marriage can be destructive for everyone, including children. Counseling may lead to repair; but when it does not, supportive grace—not legalism—is called for.

To live a life shaped by the Law, according to Jesus, means refusing to objectify, defame, scapegoat, dehumanize or use another human being. It means refusing to regard any person as an object to be used (or pushed aside) in the pursuit of our desires and ambitions. When we have forsaken a vision of life that centers on self-satisfaction, we are at last free to say a clear “yes” and a faithful “no,” without reservation (vv 33-37). Truthfulness and mutual respect, in word and in deed: these are the building blocks for communities of mutual care and sustaining hope. It begins, by grace, with us.

*Emmanuel Levinas, Totality and Infinity: an Essay on Exteriority (1961; Eng. transl. Duquesne University Press, 1966).