Ye have heard that it was said to the ancients, Thou shalt not kill; but whosoever shall kill shall be subject to the judgment.
Here Jesus quotes the law of Moses back to the crowd. Then He says something no teacher before Him had dared to say. Two questions follow. What exactly had the crowd "heard," and by what right does He add to it?
The crowd knew a longer sentence than the commandment God gave. One writer separates the two parts and shows what "judgment" meant:
The Lord Jesus begins the first of the six examples with the words, "You have heard that it was said to those of old." Those "of old" are not only the people of Moses' own day, because the words that follow add something to the original commandment. The crowd listening to the Lord Jesus had heard two things. First, God gave the commandment, "You shall not murder." Second, the scribes had probably added the rest of what they knew, "and whoever murders will be liable to judgment," some time after the exile in Babylon. "Judgment" here seems to mean the judges and officers named, for example, in Deuteronomy 16:18. Israel was to appoint them in every town.
The wording is deliberate. Jesus is not correcting God's commandment. He is correcting the teaching the scribes wrapped around it:
He does not once say: "It is written," not even when He quotes a commandment of the Old Testament such as in verses 27 and 38. With His sixfold reply, "But I say to you," the Lord Jesus did not want to set aside the inspired commandments of God. He meant to expose and judge the false interpretations and distortions of the scribes, and "the tradition of the elders" (Mark 7:3), which they valued so highly.
He begins with a commandment He Himself once wrote on stone. Notice how far its reach went, and where it stopped:
He takes some of the commandments which He wrote on the second table of stone. He begins with this one: "You shall not murder." Murder was the first terrible fruit after the fall, and it sprang from envy in the heart. The penalty of murder is the judgment. This, then, is the letter of the law. It dealt with the outward deed, but the heart itself it did not touch.
There is an order in the commandments Jesus picks up. Violence comes first, corruption after it:
Now He takes up the law in its various parts, at least what has to do with men. Here He does not deal with what touches God directly. He first takes up what flows from human violence, and after that the glaring example of human corruption. Violence and corruption are the two outstanding forms of human wickedness. Even before the flood this was the condition of men: "The earth was corrupt in God's sight, and the earth was filled with violence." Here, in verse 21, the light of the kingdom falls on the command against murder. The law took notice of this extreme form of violence. But our Lord gives it length, breadth, height, and depth.
The reply that follows this verse forces a decision about who the speaker is:
Eight times in this chapter He says, "I say to you." Six of those times the word "But" comes first, setting His statement against what the law had said. We may well ask: who is this who quotes the holy law of God, and then calmly says, "But I say to you"? He alters and enlarges the law — a thing no prophet had ever dared to do! Is this not terrible presumption, close to blasphemy? Yes, indeed, and only one explanation lifts this charge from Him. But that one explanation is true: here we have the original Lawgiver, who once spoke from Sinai.
Measured this way, the careful outward record of the religious expert is worth nothing:
As to the two commandments He quoted, His teaching is plain. God looks not only at the outward act but also at the inward attitude of the heart. He forbids not just the act of murder or adultery, but the hatred and the lust that the act expresses. Judged by this standard, who is going to stand before the holy demands of Sinai? The "righteousness" of the scribe and Pharisee utterly collapses.
- Said — the commandment against murder came from God Himself, written by Him on the second table of stone.
- Heard — Jesus says "you have heard," never "it is written." What reached the crowd carried the scribes' additions along with God's word.
- Judged — the added clause pointed to the local judges in every town. The law handled the deed, not the heart behind it.
- Answered — the original Lawgiver of Sinai speaks the words "But I say to you." From any other lips they would be blasphemy.
- Exposed — God weighs the heart, not just the act. The best religious record of the day collapses, and no one stands on his own righteousness.
But *I* say unto you, that every one that is lightly angry with his brother shall be subject to the judgment; but whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca, shall be subject to [be called before] the sanhedrim; but whosoever shall say, Fool, shall be subject to the penalty of the hell of fire.
The Lord has just quoted the commandment against murder and the penalty attached to it. Now He reaches past the deed to the feeling and the word behind it, and that raises a hard question: how can the sentence for killing fall on a flash of temper and an insult?
The words that open the verse are a claim, not just a comment. One writer notes how often they recur, and who has the right to use them:
The Lord Jesus now sets His own words against this commandment and its human addition: "But I say to you." These words occur five times in this part of the fifth chapter. He speaks with the same authority as the One who had once given the law, for He is the Son of God. Yet His words do not set the law aside. They stretch it to reach the condition of man's heart.
Another notes that the law was left standing, yet it never reached far enough:
The law and the prophets He had vindicated. All must come to pass. Yet the law made nothing perfect. He speaks Who is above the law and gave fulness to all on His own authority.
The commandment took hold of the extreme act. Christ takes hold of everything that act grows out of:
The law dealt with this extreme form of violence, but our Lord gives it length, breadth, height, and depth… He treats every kind of violence, feeling, and expression as now falling into the same class as murder in the sight of God. It covers anything of contempt and hatred, whatever expresses the ill feeling of the heart. It covers any putting down of another, the will to destroy others as far as their character or influence goes. All this is no better than murder in God's searching eye.
Commentators differ on the wording of the clause about anger. Some texts read "without a cause." Others read "lightly angry." One writer defends "lightly" as the original wording, and takes it to mean "even the remotest feeling of displeasure."
"Raca" and "fool" are not random insults. The Lord weighs each word and gives each its own penalty:
The one who called his brother "Raca" (Aramaic: "reka" — fool, lunatic) was liable to be called before the Sanhedrin (the supreme Jewish court at that time). Whoever said "fool" was liable to hell ("Gehenna"): eternal damnation. These three sins hardly differ from one another. If the last of them led to eternal damnation, then the others would do so as well. God does not look at the outward appearance but into our hearts.
The rising scale runs from thought, to a word of scorn, to a word of hate:
He judges men's inner thoughts. But if someone put such thoughts into words of scorn, branding another as "Raca" (vain or empty), he was in danger of being rightly called before the Jewish council to answer this serious charge. Worse still, he might put those thoughts into words of hate, calling someone a fool. If so, he was in danger of hell fire. A character that is hateful at heart has no faith: "Everyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him" (1 John 3:15).
The three penalties come from the courts of that day:
It was not enough not to kill. To nurse anger or contempt was of the same character as murder in His sight. He expressed His judgment of it in the terms of the court proceedings they knew, in their local and higher courts. "The judgment" put men to death by the sword. "The council" (Sanhedrin) did it by stoning. And "the Gehenna of fire" would make the horror of it greater.
The verse is not a ban on all indignation. What decides the matter is what the anger is for:
The source, motive, and aim decide. If of God and for Him by the Spirit, anger has His sanction; if for self, it is evil that exposes to judgment.
One writer takes these words two ways — as coming judgment, and as present exposure:
No doubt this will be so when the kingdom comes to the earth; swift judgment will overtake the offender. But the words lay bare the heart. They show that men cannot stand in their own righteousness before God, who judges the heart. The believer shares the divine nature, and so is righteous and loves his brother. Only receiving eternal life, which is Christ Himself, can produce righteousness and love.
- Authority. "But I say to you" is the voice of the One who gave the law, not setting it aside but pressing it into the heart.
- Root. The commandment forbade the deed. Christ exposes the root — anger, contempt, the will to destroy another's name — and calls it murder in God's sight.
- Words. "Raca" and "fool" carry rising penalties: the local court, then the council, then Gehenna. Speech publishes what the heart holds.
- Motive. Anger of God and for Him has His sanction; anger for self exposes to judgment. The source, motive and aim decide.
- Result. The verse ends self-righteousness. No one stands before a God who judges hearts. Only eternal life received in Christ produces this love.
If therefore thou shouldest offer thy gift at the altar, and there shouldest remember that thy brother has something against thee,
The Lord is teaching how brothers should treat one another. A man at the altar remembers that his brother has something against him — so what does God want from him now?
The first hearers still lived under the temple sacrifices.
We should remember that the Lord Jesus was speaking to His disciples, and the temple sacrifices were still in place. Still, His words have something to say to us too.
The distance in setting does not empty the passage of value for a reader today. One writer insists the opposite:
But it is a serious mistake to think this undeniable fact takes away the profit of a single word for the Christian, though we now stand in a position of grace that could not exist then. There is the richest moral instruction for everyone who honours Him who spoke as no man ever spoke.
Our instinct says God comes first, so finish the worship and sort out the quarrel afterwards. The verse overturns that instinct.
A man brings a gift to honour God, and on the way up to the temple his conscience is at work. Then, at the altar, his conscience reminds him that his brother has something against him. We might have thought it must always be right to put God first: offer the gift, and then go and seek reconciliation with your brother. The Lord, who knows our hearts, shows that in these circumstances the gift is unacceptable.
Notice which way the complaint runs. The man with the gift is not the injured party. He is the one who caused the injury.
In Matthew 18:15 the matter is what I have against my brother, because he has wronged me, and I should go and tell him his fault. But here I know that he has something against me. The case is reversed. Pride shows itself as much as anything in refusing to admit when we are wrong.
That is why the command is so short and so hard. It leaves no room to wait for the other person to come first.
Perhaps it was only a misunderstanding, or I may have deliberately hurt a child of God, a brother or sister. Anyway, he or she has something against me. The Lord says in this case, "Go."
Some read "the altar" as the Lord's Supper. One writer disagrees, but still applies the verse widely.
"The altar" does not mean the Lord's table. Still, we should examine ourselves before taking the Lord's Supper, and we shall have a far deeper sense of grace if we do. These were legal sacrifices. But for us the principle applies whenever we come to God — even in prayer. "If I hold on to sin in my heart, the Lord will not hear me."
Does making it right with the person also make it right with God?
If I wrong another person, that wrong will interfere with my communion with God. Only atonement can restore that communion. Paying the person back is not enough on its own. It might satisfy the injured man, but it could not be the basis of restored communion with God… Still, if the question is an injury done to my neighbour, then repayment must come first.
The Greek word here is not the one used of a sinner being reconciled to God, and the difference shapes what the errand looks like.
The Greek word for "be reconciled" here is di-allasso. It is never used for a man being reconciled to God; that is a different word, kat-allasso. Di-allasso means both sides giving ground after both have been hostile — an idea that is not in kat-allasso. It seems that when believers quarrel or misunderstand each other, the Lord sees that there is usually, if not always, fault on both sides. Both need to give ground.
The same writer turns the verse around, to the case where you are the one holding something against a brother.
Certainly you ought to go to him, if you have anything against him, and be reconciled to him. But instead of this you turn your back on the altar and stay away with your gift of thanks due to God. What blindness — sinning like this against God and against your brother!
- Remember — what starts this is your own memory, not his complaint. You are the one at fault, and pride is what keeps you standing still.
- Leave — do not press on God a gift He will not take. He refuses worship offered while a wrong sits unmended.
- Go — the first step is yours. The word for reconciling expects both sides to give ground, not a verdict on who was worse.
- First — repair comes before sacrifice. Paying the person back never covers sin by itself, yet God will not restore communion while the debt is left unpaid.
- Then offer — the same rule covers every approach to God, prayer included. Sin kept in the heart stops the Lord from listening.
leave there thy gift before the altar, and first go, be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.
The Lord has just placed anger and contempt against a brother alongside murder. Now He presses the point into worship itself. A man stands at the altar with his gift when he remembers a broken relationship. What God tells him to do next is not what most of us would expect.
The teaching about anger does not stop at the heart. It demands action from the one who caused the injury.
The Lord spoke with an authority uniquely and emphatically His own. He was not content merely to condemn the hateful evil of anger in heart and word, even when it never becomes a violent deed. He goes on to carry out the revealed mind of God for the kingdom by requiring reconciliation if anyone has made his brother stumble. Throughout, disciples are in view, not mankind in general.
The scene is the temple. The man is on his way to honour God, and his conscience is already awake. Our instinct would be to finish the offering and deal with the brother later.
We are called to act, and to act as soon as we see there is a problem. A man brings a gift to honour God, and as he goes up to the temple his conscience is at work. Then, at the altar, he remembers that his brother has something against him. We might have thought it must always be right to put God first — to offer the gift first, and seek reconciliation with the brother afterwards. The Lord, who knows our hearts, shows that in these circumstances the gift is unacceptable.
The word behind "be reconciled" points at both people in the quarrel, not just one.
The Greek word for "be reconciled" is di-allasso. Scripture never uses this word for a man being reconciled to God. For that it uses a different word, kat-allasso. Di-allasso means mutual concession after mutual hostility, an idea absent in kat-allasso... It seems that when believers have a quarrel or misunderstanding, the Lord sees fault on both sides, usually if not always. Both need to make concessions.
God refuses the gift because of what He is building among His people.
Our Father will not value our offerings, as His children and worshippers, unless we are growing in affection for our brothers... Our Father is working to fill a kingdom with children and with brothers. Its citizens will know Him as their Father and each other as brothers... He says, in effect, "You must come to Me in the path of brotherly love. Otherwise I cannot receive your gift. My altar is indeed among you, but I cannot receive your gift while you have no love for one another."
The command is to go. It applies too when you are the one holding a grievance. Staying away from worship is a second failure.
So you certainly ought to go to him, if you have anything against him, and be reconciled to him. But instead of this you turn your back on the altar and stay away with your gift of thanks due to God. What blindness — sinning in this way against God and against your brother!
Does this verse mean you should stay away from the Lord's table? Commentators are careful here. They point to what Paul writes.
Some have asked what this means for us. If someone comes to remember the Lord in the breaking of bread, and remembers that another has something against him, should he not break bread until the matter is settled? Scripture does not put it that way. It says instead, "Let a person examine (or judge) himself, then, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup" (1 Cor. 11:28).
Kelly points to the nation that heard these words. They were bringing offerings to that very altar.
What tenderness of conscience He looked for! Brotherly affection, humility, readiness to admit wrong, a desire to win back an offended brother... And the opposite was the case with the Jews. They were so absorbed in bringing their offering to the altar that they were blind to their wrong against Him who stooped to be their brother... They refused to be reconciled and kept on with their offering, however offensive to God. It was presumptuous sin, and high-handed self-will under a cloak of religion.
- Remember — conscience wakes at the altar, not before it. The wrong you forgot, God did not.
- Leave — the gift stays where it is. God will not take worship offered over an unhealed injury. The Father is forming a family, not collecting offerings.
- Go — the move is yours, whether you gave the offence or are holding one. Turning your back on the altar instead is a second sin.
- Be reconciled — the word means mutual concession after mutual hostility. Expect fault on both sides, and confess your own.
- Then come — the aim is a restored gift, not an abandoned one. On the Lord's Supper, writers point to self-judgment and eating, not staying away.