“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I
tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek,
turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your
shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go
with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from
the one who wants to borrow from you.“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5.38-48).
I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had anybody try to sue me and ask me for my shirt. I’ve never had anyone ask me to go a mile with them. I’ve never had someone slap me in the face. I’ve never experienced any of the things that this passage references, and I’m left wondering what to do with it. When I think about the first century Christian who Jesus spoke to, I see that my life is not like their lives. When have I ever experienced oppression? When have I ever been treated like a slave? Well, never. And when I think about the times that I’ve complained about being “persecuted” for my faith—times I was made fun of at school, times people were a little frigid when I saw them in the supermarket, times when people wished to see me fail because I was pursuing righteousness and they didn’t like the guilt that it made them feel, times when I didn’t get invited because people were afraid I might pass judgment—I feel a little sheepish. We’ve made some serious alterations to the definition to the words “persecution” and “oppression.” When I think about the lacerated backs, crucified bodies, flesh ravaged by lions of the first-century Christians, I remember that I have no reason to complain. I can’t justify my complaining and I shouldn’t try. It makes me look like I enjoy being lukewarm and cowardly.
Often, the explanation I hear for this passage has to do with some kind of passive-aggression, with spiting our “oppressors” by responding well to their oppression. A “heaping burning coals” reference, of sorts (which, just so you know, doesn’t even mean what people think it means). Personally, I don’t think that’s what it could possibly mean, not in the context of first-century Christianity. Smug satisfaction wasn’t worth the risk of crucifixion, I don’t think. And I don’t think Jesus calls us to passive-aggressive behavior or doing the right thing because it will make another person frustrated and bewildered, in any century.
Here’s what I think. Say there was another human being who I disliked so much that I intentionally tried to inflict pain upon them. Say I did everything in my power to hurt them, with everything from slander to gossip to speaking unkindly to them when I came into contact with them. Say I did these things to someone repeatedly and their response was always characterized by kindness and love. Say they never tried to hurt me in return. I would certainly want to know why that was their response. Why aren’t they giving up and being unkind back? What is keeping them going? I’d probably want to ask them. And then they’d have the opportunity to tell me that Jesus Christ is the reason why they do everything they do, including being kind to someone as vicious as me.
When we respond this way in these situations, we give people the opportunity to ask. And they give us the opportunity to tell. When we answer the call in the situations that are the easiest to give in to, we are opening the door to share the gospel. And nothing—not our hurt pride, feelings, or wounded ego—is more important. Jesus’ response to mockery was “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Humanity took His life and, in return, He gave humanity everything. Much like being sent into the arena with lions, that’s beyond heaping burning coals. I hope that my pursuit of the gospel can move so far past vengeance that grace and salvation are all I can see. I want everyone to feel the fullness of that gift, even if it means defying their expectations for my reaction to their unkindness, just so I can share the gift of the gospel with them. And I want to remember that my situations of “persecution” aren’t that bad, anyway. The disciple I claim to be should be able to stand strong in the midst of them.
Erin Daugherty, Abilene
Christian University
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