Sally A. Brown, Professor Emerita, Princeton Theological Seminary
Today’s gospel reading, Mt 22:43-46, is a drama in two scenes. In the wake of Jesus’ acclaimed entry into Jerusalem and his bold clearing of the Temple court, the hostile verbal assaults of the Pharisees and Temple leaders (whom Jesus has criticized) have intensified. In scene 1 (vv34-40), a lawyer asks Jesus which is the greatest commandment. Jesus’ response challenges us to direct all we are and all we have to loving God and neighbor. In the second scene (vv 41-46), the roles shift. Jesus is the challenger, posing a question about the identity of the Messiah which his opponents cannot answer.
Rabbis in Jesus’ time regularly debated which of the commandments were primary and which secondary. A lawyer whose aim is not to learn from Jesus, but to test him (v 34) demands that Jesus name “the greatest.” Jesus avoids miring himself in the never-ending, primary-vs-secondary-law debate by citing the central affirmation of Jewish worship, the Shema: “Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength” (Dt 6:4-5). Jesus adds that “a second is like it” (of equal importance): ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself’” (Leviticus 19:18b). Jesus declares that the rest of the Law and prophetic writings derive from these two commands. Notably, Leviticus 19, from which Jesus quotes, stresses care for the alien and, strikingly, even enemies (see also Ex 23:4-9). The Pharisees devoted much energy limiting who counts as “neighbor,” so as to curtail obligations. By contrast, Jesus has established in word and deed that “neighbor” is to be interpreted in the broadest way possible.
Jesus’ reply forges an unbreakable link between worship and ethics. Preachers might ponder with their listeners ways that our worship practices can reflect this linkage. While contemporary Christian songs celebrating God’s love “for me” are immensely popular, ought not our songs also marvel at God’s love of the Other, the resident alien, and our enemies? If we mean to celebrate the God of the biblical tradition in our worship, we must name these; otherwise, we are extolling a God of our own making—a soothing, convenient deity whose only interest is our personal needs and concerns.
Jesus’ ongoing critiques of certain hypocritical practices of the Pharisees and Temple leadership and his bold clearing of the Temple court have exacerbated the Jewish leaders’ hostility. In v 41, Jesus deflects their assault by posing a riddle. In Ps 110:1, David testifies to a vision of God’s Anointed One (Messiah): “The Lord says to my Lord, ‘Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies your footstool.’” The Messiah shall be a son of David; so how is it that David calls him “my Lord”? Jesus’ opponents are silenced, and he leaves them to their quarreling. He is quite aware that his enemies’ frustration will only make them more determined to destroy him. Their strategy will be to accuse him of sedition, in the hope that Jesus’ execution on a Roman cross will stifle the speculative whispers in Jerusalem’s streets that this trouble-maker may be their deliverer, God’s heaven-sent Messiah.
We know, of course, that cross and tomb will not end Jesus’ story. Yet, God’s redemption of humanity through the ministry of a son of David who suffered an excruciating death on a Roman cross still confounds us, even as we celebrate his victory over death. We can only breathe, with David the psalmist, “My Lord!” and then, like David, raise our voices in a paean of grateful praise.
