The choices we make

Sir 15: 15-20; Psalm 118; 2Cor 2, 6-10; Matt 5:17-37

As Sirach says, each person must choose between life and death … and whichever one chooses will be given. The choices we make every day have a life or death quality. Every day we are choosing in one direction or the other. We all have reasons for the choices we make. Sometimes we are seeking approval and acceptance, wanting to fit in and be liked. We choose based upon the costs, benefits and risks involved. Sometimes we may just give up and refuse to choose. Sometimes we choose power, control, or security. Often our choices are about self-protection or making ourselves feel happier. Or we might choose to make another feel bad, and attempt to get back at him or her; or more positively, we may choose to make amends and make up.

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ, today the Lord invites us to listen with fresh ears and open hearts to His teaching in the Sermon on the Mount. These are not merely ancient words spoken long ago on a hillside; they are living words, spoken to us here and now. Jesus takes the familiar commandments—words we have heard since childhood—and He lifts them to a new height. He shows us that God desires not only obedience in our actions, but conversion in our hearts.

Every one of us lives under the law. Even our Lord Jesus Christ chose to live under both human and divine law. He never condemned the law itself; His concern was with the way it had been twisted, narrowed, and reduced by the religious leaders of His time. For them, righteousness meant checking off the boxes—fulfilling the letter of the law and nothing more. But Jesus calls us to something far deeper. He reminds us that God is not satisfied with outward compliance. God looks at the heart. So, Jesus invites us to examine not only our actions but also our thoughts, our desires, and the quiet movements of our hearts. Today, let us listen carefully as He raises the law to a new and higher standard.

The old commandment said, “You shall not kill.” But Jesus tells us that the roots of violence begin long before a hand is raised. They begin in the heart. He warns us that even anger toward a brother or sister is forbidden. It is not enough to refrain from striking someone; we must not even wish them harm. We must not allow resentment to take root. Jesus speaks against the anger that broods, the anger that refuses to forgive, the anger that nurses old wounds and dreams of revenge. That kind of anger has no place in the heart of a disciple. As the ancient thinkers said, anger clouds judgment and blinds the soul. Seneca called it “a brief insanity,” and we know how true that can be.

Jesus then turns to the way anger spills into our speech. He warns us against calling someone Raqa—a word of contempt, a tone of voice that belittles and demeans. Contempt is a serious sin, for it springs from pride. It can come from our background, our status, our wealth, or even our knowledge. But we must never look down on anyone for whom Christ shed His blood.

Then Jesus speaks of calling someone a “moral fool”—not a comment on intelligence, but an attack on character. To destroy a person’s good name is a grave offense. Jesus tells us that such a person is liable to the severest judgment. Words matter. They can heal, or they can wound. They can build up, or they can tear down. And God hears every one of them.

What Jesus is teaching us is this: the commandment against murder is not only about the act itself. It is about anger, contempt, and the slander that lives in the heart long before the act is ever committed. A person who harbors these things may never lift a hand in violence, but in the eyes of God, the seeds of murder are already there.

Jesus then gives us a second new standard. The old law said, “You shall not commit adultery.” But Jesus calls us to purity of heart. He warns us against the quiet infidelities that begin in the imagination—the fantasies, the temptations we entertain through images, media, or emotional withdrawal. These things can dry up love and create distance even within the same home. A couple may share a roof, yet be miles apart in heart, because fidelity of spirit has been neglected.

Finally, Jesus gives us a third new standard. The old law said, “Do not bear false witness.” But Jesus goes deeper. He tells us that our word should be so honest and dependable that we do not need to swear an oath at all. No loopholes. No half-truths. No hidden meanings. Christ calls us to be people of truth—people whose “yes” truly means yes and whose “no” truly means no.

In all of this, Jesus is teaching us to look within. Attitudes come before actions. The real measure of violence in our society is not found only in crime statistics, but in ways we belittle others, hold grudges, and allow hatred to simmer. The breakdown of family life does not begin with divorce rates, but with the slow erosion of commitment, presence, and responsibility. And the measure of untruth in our world is not found only in perjury, but in the everyday evasions, the small lies, the half-truths that have become so common.

Let us end with a prayer. Lord Jesus, You search our hearts and know us completely. You call us beyond outward obedience into the deeper truth of love. Cleanse our hearts of anger, resentment, and contempt. Guard our minds from thoughts that lead us away from You. Make our words honest, gentle, and life-giving. Strengthening our families with a heart of fidelity. Heal our relationships with the grace of forgiveness. Teach us to walk in Your ways with sincerity and joy. May Your Spirit transform us from within, so that our lives reflect not only the letter of Your law but the love that fulfils it. We ask this in Your holy name, Amen.