Saturday of the Tenth Week in Ordinary Time
“I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me, God.”
“I do.”
These phrases—so familiar, so simply stated, so easily deciphered. And so easily misunderstood. Not as to their meaning. But as to their significance.
Back in 1955, a philosopher by the name of J.L. Austin taught us that words don’t just convey meaning. They also do things. Phrases like “You’re under arrest,” or “You’re fired,” or “You’re the next contestant on the Price is Right” don’t just send a message; they change the status quo. One moment, you’re gainfully employed, and the next, you’re not. One moment, you’re a citizen going about your business at will, and the next, you’re handcuffed and on your way to jail for who knows how long. One moment, you’re cheering on contestants from a seat in the audience, and the next you’re on stage with a chance to win a new car!
That’s pretty incredible, when you think about it—that when we utter certain words and phrases we’re not just telling others what we’re thinking but actually making something true now that wasn’t just a moment ago. I was free; now I’m in police custody. I was a spectator; now I’m a player. I was an employee; now I’m unemployed.
Like any vow (or sacrament), “I do” is an especially important speech act. It both conveys a meaning and transforms the one who utters it into something they were not just a moment ago—namely, a spouse. Even more than that, it performs a promise; the one who utters it commits (just by saying the words) to being with that one other person for the rest of their life, or thereabouts.
Similarly, the oath spoken in a court of law doesn’t just say that the speaker is going to tell the truth; it commits them to it with serious consequences to follow if they do not. And the logic behind that makes a lot of sense. Giving false testimony on a witness stand can potentially ruin someone else’s life. So, the words spoken in that context need to be true. And the oath is our culture’s way of guaranteeing, as best the system can, that the testimony is true.
The same was true in Jesus’s time. Oaths and vows carried enormous weight. Given that Jesus lived in a largely oral culture, it was even more crucial that words spoken in certain contexts be true. And so, to add a super powerful credibility boost to a word spoken in Jesus’s time, a person would take the oath in the name of some deity with the understanding by all that if the person lied or somehow did not make good on their oath/vow, that deity would hold them accountable. They’d have to answer to that god for their moral failure and the harm they may have caused. And that was sure to be unpleasant.
This whole business of taking an oath or vow and doing so in the name of a god makes a lot of sense. Indeed, it has made so much sense over time, that we still do it today. That being so, what is up with Jesus in our reading from Matthew today? In a matter of just 4 verses, he turns this perfectly reasonable practice (along with its supporting logic) upside down.
For Jesus, no disciple of his should call upon God to guarantee the truth of their words. That’s not because Jesus thinks that what people say isn’t worthy of God’s attention. The importance Jesus places on the practice of prayer certainly puts that notion to rest. And it’s not because Jesus doesn’t think people need to tell the truth. On the contrary!
Jesus absolutely wants his disciples to tell the truth. In fact, he wants them to do it all the time. What he doesn’t want is for them to call on God as the guarantor of that truth. Jesus knows full well that we humans, at our best, try to tell the truth. But we don’t always get it right. Rather than slap God’s name on our particular take on the truth, as if God has given it the nod, Jesus tells us to let our yes be yes and our no be no. And, he goes on to say, if we are true to our word, that is enough. By contrast, invoking God’s name when we say something, which may or may not be true, is a problem. Indeed, Jesus says, “anything more is from the Evil One.”
From these four verses, I draw three discipleship maxims:
- Tell the truth, as best I know it and as often as I am able.
- Do not slap God’s name on it. Remember that my truth is not synonymous with God’s truth. I’m just a human, after all.
- Finally, if I do speak the truth, to the best of my ability, with humility, then I am not only conveying a meaning. I am engaged in an act of Christian discipleship.
I can imagine a time when these maxims would have sounded ever so ho-hum. Of course, Christians are supposed to tell the truth. Of course, we’re not supposed to speak as if we are the mouthpiece of God. But these days . . .
Lord, may we, your children who aspire to be your disciples, take your teachings to heart. May we endeavor to know your truth, to speak it, and to do so with humility.
As I write this, I can’t help but think, oh my, Jesus. What an upside-down world it would be if we all did that.
—Susan Trollinger