In this solo episode of the Smashing Idols podcast, host Jake Doberenz unpacks the cultural and theological habit of sidestepping Jesus’ teachings in the Sermon on the Mount.
To say the least, I could be an infuriating child.
By sixth grade, I had pretty much figured out the world (so I thought), and I adopted quite the pedantic, know-it-all attitude. My best friend at the time was also an egghead, and together we could be insufferable with our bloated senses of our own intelligence.
We were rebels… but nerdy about it.
In choir class that year—chosen because it sounded easier than band or orchestra—we carried full-sized dictionaries as some kind of ridiculous brand statement. During downtime, while the tenors weren’t being worked with, you’d find us leafing through entries as if it were the latest bestseller. I have no idea why we did it.
For my birthday, I received a little red-and-blue Webster’s pocket dictionary. Now I could lug my lexicon around in my cargo shorts with ease. But then something happened… a thought implanted by the Devil, perhaps. I began to utilize my pocket dictionary for evil.
What if, I surmised, I could get away with things on a technicality? What if my ability to reference definitions could let me dodge trouble? Could this pocket dictionary be more than a prop for maximum nerd cred?
The test came quickly. One day I was out of my seat when my homeroom teacher told me—quite plainly—to sit down. I flipped open my pocket dictionary and asked it a very particular question: “What does ‘sit’ really mean?” Maybe, on a technical level, I was “sitting” even if I was up around the classroom. “Sit” had a variety of definitions—could I choose one and ignore the context that clearly showed what she meant?
Can you imagine how well that went over? Not well. Makes me cringe just thinking about it. I’m so sorry to the adults who endured that. And though I’m against child abuse, if I could time-travel back to that moment, I’d probably give my sixth-grade self a swift slap for being ridiculous.
As penance, years later I taught sixth grade, where kids tried the exact same shenanigans on me. I’ve really tried hard not to be “that guy” anymore. I don’t carry a pocket dictionary—unless you count my phone—and I don’t twist people’s words looking for the 15th definition. As a theologian, I do dig into semantics from time to time, but only with good reason. Above all, I know that when someone says “sit down,” my response should be to—you know—sit down.
Now, childish as that silliness was, I’ve come to realize that adults—especially religious adults—often do the same thing with far more serious consequences. We bend and dodge the plain words of Jesus. Too many of my brothers and sisters in various Christian traditions try the same move with his commands.
I’m sure you’ve seen it: Jesus gives a blunt rule of life or ethic, and people jump through hoops to claim, “Well, Jesus didn’t mean to take that so seriously!”
A classic example is what he says about rich people in Mark 10:25:
“It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.”
Now, a rumor got started that this “eye of a needle” was actually the nickname of a small gate in Jerusalem. According to the story, camels had to stoop low to pass through, so it was only “a bit hard” for the wealthy to enter heaven. This explanation still crops up today, often accompanied by a knowing nod to the super-rich congregant who just funded a new jumbo screen.
But here’s the problem: there’s no evidence this Needle Gate ever existed. The Old Testament meticulously lists the gates of Jerusalem, and none is called “Needle.” The earliest mention of such a gate is in Thomas Aquinas—twelve centuries after Jesus walked the earth—quoting an unknown source. In reality, Jesus used hyperbole to make a point: a real camel through a real sewing needle is—all but—impossible. Good luck, rich people, getting into heaven! As Jesus goes on to explain, it’s only possible if God radically transforms both heart and wallet.
Of course, the biggest chunk of material people wonder about isn’t wealth but the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5–7). You can pause here and read all three chapters—you should!—but here’s a quick overview of what the sermon covers:
Blessings for the poor and persecuted.
Deeply personal ethics on anger, lust, oaths, revenge.
Spiritual disciplines like prayer and fasting.
Warnings on judgment, false prophets, and empty professions of faith.
These teachings cut to the core!
Turning the other check? The humble are better than the strong? Giving up more than you need to in a lawsuit? Love your enemies? Anger = murder? Lustful intention = adultery? Give to the needy without announcing it? You cannot serve both God and money? Worrying is bad? Don’t judge unless you want to be judged? Not every professing follower of Jesus will make it to the Kingdom?
That’s WILD stuff! Hard to swallow. Those are some tall orders and inconvenient truths. And these values don’t sound very American. Capitalism would like a word too! Some of it doesn’t even sound like the traits we hear from the pulpits of big-name pastors.
And this is where people pull out their pocket dictionaries, so to speak. Do we really have to take that seriously? Can I just film one YouTube video helping in a soup kitchen and call it good? Can I ignore peacemaking and loving my enemies and just kill a few people I don’t like? Is it possible I could serve God and money together—maybe money gets the weekdays and God can take the weekends!
The Sermon on the Mount is probably the most influential sermon ever—yet we don’t like to do what it says. We enjoy Jesus as concept, person, Savior… just not as commander of our lives.
History is full of “yeah, but” takes on that sermon. Some traditions say it’s only meant to show us our need for grace: “here’s an impossible bar, so trust Jesus to reach it for you.” So Jesus did a big sermon, never talking about how hard it would, and then expected us to make the connection. That echoes more of Luther’s law-and-grace continuum than Jesus’ own words.
The American theologian, Reinhold Niebuhr, took a slightly different approach. He admitted the Sermon is the ideal model but argued that human sinfulness and power dynamics make it unworkable. This is often called “Christian Realism.”
In Niebuhr’s view, we have to be a bit “realistic” about the lofty goals of Jesus’ teachings. He is right in saying that no one will perfectly manage to match this model—we will never be perfect. And he correctly points out that you can’t be in government and live out these teachings, for governments kill their enemies, not love them; and governments worship money, not God; and governments totally judge others while dodging their own criticism.
But the solution isn’t to dump the Sermon on the Mount or to see its entire function as Jesus saying, “Anyways, you guys can’t do that—it’s too hard… so just kind of make up your own thing that’s vaguely similar.”
Call me crazy, but I think we should take Jesus seriously. We should not approach the Sermon with the same skeptical attitude I had when my teacher said “sit down.” We should listen…and then do it.
I’m convinced Jesus meant every word. Here are two reasons why:
1. The early church lived it.
I believe it’s very important to read early church history. Take a look at some of their quotes and the quotes of their enemies—it was crystal clear they lived an alternative radical life even if the bar was high.
For example, the first Christians took peacemaking and nonviolence so seriously that “Just War” didn’t emerge until Augustine centuries later. My friend Jason Porterfield—former guest on the Smashing Idols podcast—recently updated his free eBook with 140 quotes from early believers on not killing. In the early church, Christians were unanimously against violence. “Just War” wasn’t a concept until Augustine. No one in those first few hundred years was saying “yeah, but” to loving enemies and exercising peace.
Get the ebook “140 Early Christian Quotes on Not Killing” for free on Jason’s website.
2. Jesus explicitly commands obedience.
It’s right there in the text that we have to actually do this! When Jesus is wrapping up the sermon, he says:
“Anyone who listens to my teaching and follows it is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock. Though the rain comes in torrents and the floodwaters rise and the winds beat against that house, it won’t collapse because it is built on bedrock. But anyone who hears my teaching and doesn’t obey it is foolish, like a person who builds a house on sand. When the rains and floods come and the winds beat against that house, it will collapse with a mighty crash.”
Matthew 7:24–27
It’s right there. You are SUPPOSED to put these into practice! They aren’t nice ideals. Not a collection of suggestions. Not a measuring stick just to make fun of you for not being perfect. They are prophetic teachings of the Son of God that directly tell us how to live.
Without this foundation, our lives will wash away when the storms come.
Maybe you go to church, haven’t murdered anyone, and consider yourself “nice.” That’s good but it’s not what makes a follower of Jesus. Jesus is calling us to something far deeper.
At the end of the sermon he sternly warns:
“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven”
-Matthew 7:21
Flashing the Christian badge, if our response to the Sermon on the Mount is to say “well technically…”, leads down a dangerous path. No amount of “Lord, Lord” can get us out of the calling to practice this radical path.
Jesus offers a very difficult way of life—no sugarcoating that! Yet we can’t talk our way out of it. If we want to seek first the kingdom of righteousness, it will look like actually living out the Sermon on the Mount to the best of our ability.
Imagine if even a small community took these commands to heart. That world isn’t a fantasy—it’s the kingdom Jesus called us into. His invitation is clear: step into it, build your life on this rock… today.
Your challenge this week: Read the Sermon on the Mount a couple of times. Pick one or two things that make you squirm—something you’re not great at—and put it into practice. Do one act of peacemaking or radical generosity. Love an enemy. Trust God over money. Let’s make the world a bit more like the kingdom of God!
Thanks for reading/listening to this solo episode!
God bless!
Important Links:
“The Fictitious Eye-of-the-Needle Gate” article by The Bible History Guy
“140 Early Christian Quotes on Not Killing” by Jason Porterfield
“What If Jesus Was Serious?: A Visual Guide to the Teachings of Jesus We Love to Ignore” by Skye Jethani
See Also:
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Follow this show and Jake Doberenz’s writings at jakedoberenz.substack.com.
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