“Nobody ever believed in Jesus because they lost an argument.”
I wish I could remember the name of my seminary colleague who said that in class one day. I’d gladly pay him royalties for the number of times I’ve quoted him.
In today’s contentious environment, I think it’s a salient reminder.
It seems everywhere we turn, church people are fighting. Not just with non-Christians but, even more frequently, with one another.
Who’s selling out to who?
A few years before her untimely death, one of my favorite bloggers, writers, and public theologians, Rachel Held Evans, shared this post, where she noted that the most frequent argument levied against liberal/progressives from the conservative/evangelical camp is that we are “selling out” to the culture around us.
That we compromise the truth of scripture in order to win friends from the “world” so that we can appear to be “relevant” or even “cool.”
But, Evans pointedly noted, the very same people who voice those accusations are also very often the first to “sell out” to the “worldly” notions of retributive violence, economic elitism, racism, sexism, and secular class warfare:
“…I am concerned that the Church is indeed conforming to the world—every time it preaches violence as a way to achieve justice, every time it glorifies celebrity and success, every time it reduces womanhood to subordination and manhood to power, every time it justifies cruelty or unkindness in the name of proving a point.”Rachel Held Evans
Treasures in heaven
Not surprisingly, Jesus has something to say about all of this.
In addition to the rather obvious issue of splinters and planks (Matt. 7:4-5), there is a somewhat obscure and almost universally misapplied passage wherein our favorite itinerant Galilean rabbi challenges his followers to a radically different perspective:
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. […] No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.”—Matthew 6:19-20, 24 (NASB)
Contrary to popular belief, I don’t think Jesus is primarily talking about money in this passage.
Nor is he advocating some kind of pious “investment” in a distant, post-mortem future.
Those interpretations take the passage out of its context as the climactic words of what we now refer to as the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5-7).
In the buildup to this statement, Jesus is encouraging the marginalized amongst his followers and admonishing the religious watchdogs of his day.
He tells the oppressed and disenfranchised that, contrary to social convention, they are blessed.
He tells the religious leaders that their scrupulous adherence to the law falls far short of its intent.
“Treasures on earth” doesn’t necessarily refer to wealth itself, but to the trappings of power, influence and status.
Because those things often accompany wealth, it becomes an apt metaphor for anything other than Jesus to which we attach value.
“Treasures in heaven,” similarly, are not good deeds which we store up in some sort of religious bank account to cash in when we…well…cash in.
Instead, it is a call to treasure Jesus himself and to embrace his way of being.
Righteousness of the Pharisees
Early on in his sermon, Jesus informs his listeners that their righteousness must surpass “that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law” (Matt. 5:20, NIV).
A bit later, he tells them to “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matt 5:48).
Jesus is not laying down a new, more stringent legal code to follow.
He is challenging his followers to integrate his life into theirs.
In doing so, he directly contrasts that kind of life to that of the “Pharisees and teachers of the law.” The religious elite. The self-appointed gatekeepers.
The Pharisees were not evil people. They were convinced they were doing what God had commanded of them.
They were adamant that legalistic morality, even at the expense of those who were thoroughly unable to achieve it, was the path to realizing the kingdom of heaven.
Unfortunately, they were missing the big picture. Which made them miss the whole point.
Throughout his discourse, Jesus’ agenda is not for his followers to try to obey some set of behavioral mandates.
It’s to reorient their lives around him and the kind of radical, unconditional, thoroughly inclusive love he displays…especially to those who seem to deserve it the least.
The “treasures on earth” Jesus rebukes are the systems and structures that oppress, objectify and dehumanize others at the altar of self-righteousness, exclusivity and superiority.
Systems which, incidentally, the Pharisees had embraced in their behavior-management-based righteousness.
“Treasures in heaven,” then, are not deposits on some cosmic ledger, but an orientation toward love as the highest universal value.
Not just love as an emotion or sympathetic feeling, but as a radical, forgiving, inclusive force that rejects all manner of self-interest for the benefit of others. [Check out Episode 6 of the Accidental Tomatoes Podcast for more on this concept.]
For Jesus, the kingdom of heaven is not a place or even a way of life.
It is the ultimate reality, where love reigns and rules, and which he embodies.
Moths and rust
The Pharisees were sincerely trying to do what they thought was right. The problem was, they were misunderstanding the story God was telling.
In their zeal to be holy, they had sold out to the worldly systems and structures of status and power.
And Jesus’ message to them is that their earthly treasure—as noble as they believed it to be—was ultimately unsustainable.
In fact, he tells them, it will consume and destroy them.
The church should pay attention.
When we obsess over our arguments and the defense of our particular beliefs over against a hermeneutic of love, we are falling into the same trap.
Eventually, it will consume us.
And we’ll miss the reality Jesus is offering.
Adapted from an article originally published May 15, 2014.