Words have power. The things we say to one another have power. Kids may deal with smart-mouths in the schoolyard by chanting, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me." But that’s rubbish! Don’t you believe it? Names do hurt. Words hurt. The things we say to each other do matter. They have power.
If names never hurt, why is there such an issue right now over racial and sexual tags being tossed around by police officers on their email systems? Names do hurt. Words hurt. The things we say to and about one another matter. And they matter not only because they are like barbs that sting; they matter also because they are indicators of what is really going on inside us. Our words are like little thermometers that measure our emotional temperature. They are powerful; they have power to affect others. And they measure who we are.
In the Middle Ages, some of the kings employed a court jester, sometimes known as the king’s fool. The court jester, the king’s fool, was sort of like the investigative reporter of his day. He was supposed to tell the truth, even the unpleasant truth, to the king. He was supposed to be a gadfly to those in power. He was to needle the pompous and poke holes in the powerful, and he was to do it all with humor. He was to point out that the emperor had no clothes, if you know that old story. He was to tell the truth about the king and the court, and they were to let him do it as long as he was funny. The court jester was something like an Old Testament prophet, but with an extra – in addition to saying, "Thus saith the Lord", he was to do it with a smile and a wisecrack. And that was supposed to make it all right.
But I can just about guarantee, can’t you, that those to whom the king’s fool spoke seethed silently anyway? Nobody really, deep down, enjoys being the object of criticism. And nobody really, deep down, likes being the butt of jokes. I’ll just bet that these medieval kings wished they could have to put their jesters and their fools out in the cold. Because words have power, words reveal feelings, words are living, breathing things that take us over and shape us, like it or not.
April Fool’s Day reminds me that I love to tease people. I love to say things that interpret what I see, with a slightly sarcastic twist. But I’ve found that my brand of humor s not always appreciated; most of you are SO serious! Especially are you serious around the pastor! But deeper than that, I’ve discovered that my playing the fool sometimes reveals more than I want it to. I’ve discovered that it can uncover hidden angers, buried anxieties, and unresolved tensions. Playing the fool can tell others who are listening at the deeper level much about our spiritual health.
And so on this April Fool’s Day, in the midst of our pranks and our jokes, we are going to look with Jesus into the meaning of what we say to one another. We might discover significance at a level we didn’t expect. But thanks be to God, not only will we find out what our words mean; we will also find out what to do about that issue; and, best of all, we will hear the Good News about what God in Jesus Christ is doing for us. I’d like for you then to hear today, as if you had never heard it before, this immensely important teaching of Jesus:
Matthew 5:21-24
In this passage, Jesus identifies three levels of foolish speech. Three layers of fool’s talk. Let’s look closely at each one.
I a
First, Jesus teaches us that what we say to others often comes out of our anger, and that our anger is about ourselves. Anger is not really about that other person. Anger is about our own stuff. Anger is not really about what others have done or not done. Anger is about what we are feeling, sometimes way down deep. We need to identify it. We need to acknowledge it and see where it comes from.
Jesus says whoever is angry with his brother or sister is "liable to judgment." I think that’s His way of saying that when we allow anger to fester, when we do not acknowledge or understand our own angers, it is going to destroy us. It’s going to judge us.
Anger is like a cancer. Once it begins to grow, it will grow out of control into something that cannot be managed, but which will destroy. We need to understand that many of us have deep angers that have never been understood, have never been acknowledged, and have never been healed.
One day, years ago, when I had just been married for a few months, I was walking with my father along a street where at one time there had been the post office at which he had worked. Just around the corner from that post office my grandparents, his in-laws, had lived. Across the main road, on the other side of this post office, was the apartment building, owned by these grandparents, where my father and mother were living, rent-free, when I was born. About a block and half away was the little house to which my parents moved when I was about two years old -- a house bought and paid for by these same grandparents. Now what have you noticed so far? That everything - home, work, grandparents, everything - was very close by. And second, that Grandpa had paid for it all. Now that may sound to you as though my father was living on "Easy Street", with his in-laws paying the freight. You might think that my father should have been everlastingly grateful for all the help he got back in the financially barren 1930’s and 40’s. But twenty-plus years later, here he was, entering his own senior years, and what was he saying to his son? "That old man kept his thumb on me. Stubborn old Dutchman, had to have his little girl close by all the time. I was never good enough for him."
Wow. Listen to that. Anger. Listen to that long-term resentment. Hostile words. I didn’t know what was going on then, but now I can see that my father was finally, after years of sitting on it, coming to grips with his anger. And it really wasn’t about my grandfather. It was about him. It was about his own feeling of inadequacy. "I was never good enough." His own anger at himself. Really He was telling me that now that I was married I needed to break away. He hadn’t had the guts to do it. He was angry at himself. And it was painful, damaging. "If you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment." You will convict yourself and find it hard to live with your own heart.
b
But watch, because Jesus takes it a little deeper. It is not only that harboring anger will destroy us, because it really is about our own stuff. It is also that when anger pops out, uncontrolled, spontaneous, like a firecracker, it hurts others, and we have to be accountable for that. If I just let off steam whenever I feel like it, I am going to have to answer for the effects of that. How does Jesus say it? "If you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council." If you pop off your mouth, you’ll have to answer to those you have hurt.
Recently there was an incident reported in the newspapers an incident in which a prominent pastor had used some kind of label for a group of people who follow a particular sexual lifestyle. It was reported that almost as soon as he had said the words, he wished he could have taken them back, because he knew how they would hurt. As this pastor wrote his apology, I did not hear him recanting his opinion on this lifestyle. I hope he did not. I think he ought to live out of his convictions, and that they ought to be Biblically-based convictions. But I did hear him acknowledging that there was some kind of anger deep down that had made him pop off without thinking. If we do not face our hostilities, if we do not understand that most of us have been shaped by both abusive relationships and by positive ones, then we are going blow off accidentally, and we are going to hurt others. We have to be accountable for managing our anger.
What Jesus actually said in this phrase was, "Whoever says ’raca’ to another will be liable to the council." "Raca" was a spontaneous verbal slap popular in Jesus’ day. It was like using the "n" word today. Some have suggested that "raca" was associated with spitting; the word sounds like you are getting some spittle together to hurl at somebody’s face. "Raca". Hate words and curse words boil up from our unresolved angers.
One day I was working alongside a Christian brother in a ministry project. We were trying to help a family that had fallen on hard times. I was grateful for my brother’s help; but I could not believe my ears, as out of his mouth came curses and hate words about a certain kind of person. His hands seemed to be doing a labor of love; but his heart clearly carried deep resentments, and out they came, like venom from a snake. That family heard him, too; they were deeply hurt. There has to be accountability for that.
One Sunday years ago we were about to gather sheets out of which we were going to make bandages to send to medical missionaries. I wanted to demonstrate to the congregation how we were supposed to tear these sheets into strips before the next Sunday. So I got a piece of sheeting, and, trying to be funny, trying to play the fool, I held up that sheet and showed you how you can release your hostilities while you do missions work. I said, "Deacons, rip; trustees, rip; committee chairs, rip, rip, rip." Everybody laughed; or most everybody did. But Troy Dixon called me that afternoon and said, "Pastor, you’ve got it wrong. Your deacons love you. They are not your enemies. They are your friends." Wow! Was he ever on target! He was on target for seeing that I had some unresolved anger that had nothing to do with the deacons of Takoma Park. And he was on target for insisting on accountability! They are my brothers and sisters and they are not the enemy. I cannot just pop off at them without being accountable.
"If you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council." If your anger pops out, you will be accountable to those you have hurt.
c
But Jesus is not finished with us yet. Jesus goes deeper still. It is not only that we have to acknowledge that harboring anger will destroy us - whoever is angry with his brother or sister is liable to judgment; and it is not only that those spontaneous slaps come from deep down, and hurt others, and we must be held accountable for them - whoever says "raca" to his brother or sister is liable to the council.
But it is also that when our anger is so profound that we dismiss and disrespect others - when our self-hatred writes them off as nothing and worthless - when we do that, we have broken fellowship not just with our brothers and sisters, but also with Almighty God. When we write others off as useless and worthless, we have written off one of God’s creations. So we have broken fellowship with Him, and our case is very serious indeed.
Jesus is utterly clear. He cries out, "and if you say, ’You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire." If your anger escalates to the point where you no longer care whether someone lives or dies, you no longer care whether they are helped or hurt, you have slapped God Himself in the face. If your self-esteem drops to the point where you completely disrespect one of God’s creatures, then you have rejected God Himself. And God has no choice but to let you go.
There is an anger that is worse than violence. And that is the anger that treats someone with such contempt that you won’t even deal that other person. You treat him as if he weren’t there, as if he didn’t matter. I learned some time ago that the most damaging thing anyone can ever do to another is simply to ignore him. He’s hurting, so say nothing, just let him hurt. She’s bereaved, so do nothing, just let the sorrows roll. They are struggling, so give nothing, offer nothing, let them stew in their own juices. Doing nothing is the most hostile act of all. It’s the equivalent of playing them for a fool. It’s equal to Jesus’ warning about calling others fools. If I do not respond when you hurt, it is worse than if I had slapped you in the face. If I do not weep when you weep or rejoice when you rejoice, it is worse than if I had slandered you. If I ignore you, it means that in my sight you are a non-person. And that God will not tolerate. That God will not accept.
II
And so, what are we to do? If we’ve felt some nameless hostility; if we’ve let some angry words fly out of our mouths; if we’ve coldly and deliberately cut somebody off - what are we to do? How shall we manage this anger?
Jesus’ answer is very simple. Reconcile. Reconcile. Make reconciliation a priority. Reconcile.
So when you are offering your gift at the altar, If you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.
Be reconciled. Make it top priority. So much so, Jesus says, that it comes before worship, it comes before church work, it comes before everything else. Be reconciled.
Isn’t this Jesus tough? If you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave, go, be reconciled, then come and offer your gift. You teach a class, but you can’t deal with the people in the class? Then give up the class and do your spiritual work first! You work on a committee, but you dislike its members? Then give up the committee and find God first! Be reconciled. Don’t play the fool. Or God will take everything away.
I have a pastor friend who loves to play the fool. The first time I met him I was leading a retreat for his deacons. For the entire weekend he giggled and joked and put them down. Funny stuff, but there were barbs in it too. I thought at the time, "This man is on thin ice. His jokes cut too close." Well, since then I have seen this pastor forced out of three churches and strongly encouraged to leave a fourth one. Some of us had just better do our spiritual work and tune our own hearts with God’s heart before it’s too late. Be reconciled. Do the work first of seeking the face of God and then of laboring to love one another. Be reconciled.
For, did you know, that God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself? Did you know that all the hostility of human nature was poured over Jesus? Did you know that my unresolved angers are taken out on Him? Did you know that your untreated angers are nailed to His cross? Did you know that the very wrath of God, which is so richly deserved for all who discredit their brothers and their sisters - that that very wrath was poured on Him? That He who knew no sin was made to be sin for us? Did you know?
Did you know? Did you know? Oh, what fools we mortals be! For we have blundered along, out of fellowship with the Father, when before our very eyes, in Jesus Christ, He loves us. He loves us unconditionally. He loves us without hesitation. He loves us even when we play the fool. And by what some call God’s foolishness, the Cross, He has reconciled us to Himself. How dare we do anything less than be reconciled to Him and to one another? Be reconciled; leave the altar and be reconciled.
Myron Augsburger tells the story of a young man who went to church one day and made his way to the altar rail to receive Communion. He looked up at the person who knelt next to him, and almost fell over. He could not believe it! It was the very man who, years before, had killed the young man’s mother. Now having served his sentence, here was this murderer, at the altar rail. Augsburger says that the young man left the altar, went back and sat in a pew, to gather his thoughts. How could he possibly share in the Lord’s Supper with a murderer, a slimebag, a nothing!
But then he heard the minister say, as the Supper was distributed,
So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation.
The young man rose; went back to the altar; knelt by the criminal, and said but one word: Brother. Then both received the Body of Christ, broken for them both; and both shared in the Blood of Christ, spilled for all the foolishness of this world.
