Jesus and the Law

Matthew 5:17–20 NRSV

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

There’s a growing conversation in our world right now about artificial intelligence—about what happens when machines begin to make decisions that once required human judgment. On the surface, it’s impressive. Computers can process data faster than we ever could. They can follow rules with perfect consistency. They never get tired. They never forget a step. They never break protocol.

There is even a growing undercurrent of thought who believes that the next large step in societal progress is to move into a form of governance called “Technocracy.” This is where machines do the heavy lifting of governing human affairs, making the best most calculated and logical decisions for society as a whole.

And yet, anyone who’s paid attention knows there’s a problem. And anyone who has seen Terminator, The Matrix, or iRobot is scared to death of this potential reality. But, the prospect of computers deciding to enslave or eradicate humans aside, the problem with computers, even such advanced computers as those that run AI is this:

A computer can follow rules, but it doesn’t understand why the rules exist. It can execute commands, but it cannot discern meaning. It can simulate decision-making, but it cannot love, forgive, grieve, or hope.

And when we ask machines to live by rules without wisdom, the results can be cold, brittle, and sometimes even destructive—because rules without understanding don’t produce life. They produce something mechanical.

I start here because this is the danger Jesus is addressing in the Sermon on the Mount—and it’s the danger many of us have been formed by without realizing it.

Because many of us were taught that faith is primarily about following rules. Do the right things. Avoid the wrong things. Stay inside the lines.

And if you mess up, try harder.

That version of faith can make people compliant—but it rarely makes them whole.

If you’re joining us for the first time today, we’re in a series called Upside Down, where we’re walking through the Sermon on the Mount. And from the beginning, we’ve said that Jesus is not offering advice for how to survive the world as it is—he is announcing that God’s kingdom is breaking into the world, pulling heaven and earth together with the intention of fusing them.

Week 1, Jesus invited us up the mountain to see reality differently. Week 2, he redefined what it means to be blessed—what real flourishing looks like. Week 3, he reminded us that blessing always carries a calling: to be a covenant witness, salt and light, a city on a hill.

And now, in Week 4, Jesus anticipates the question hanging in the air.

Because at some point, someone always asks it.

“Okay… but what about the Bible?” “What about the rules?” “What about righteousness?”

And that’s where Jesus says something that has terrified, confused, and wounded generations of Christians:

“Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

For many people, that sentence has landed like a threat.

So let’s just name that fear now and work through it together.

Some of you heard that verse and thought, I’ll never be good enough. Some of you tried—for years—and burned out. Some of you gave up quietly, convinced that faith was just about managing guilt.

And layered on top of that, many Christians were taught a deeply distorted story: that the Law was a curse, that Judaism was and is about legalism, and that Jesus came to rescue us from rules.

That teaching has done enormous harm.

It has fueled shame. It has flattened the gospel. And it has often crossed the line into anti-Jewish thinking that Jesus himself would have rejected outright.

So let’s slow down. And let’s listen to Jesus carefully.

“I Have Not Come to Abolish the Law”

Jesus says:

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.”

That sentence alone should stop us in our tracks.

Jesus does not oppose the Law. Jesus does not dismiss the Torah. Jesus does not caricature Jewish faith.

Jesus stands firmly inside the Jewish story and says the Law is good, holy, and purposeful.

In Jewish thought, the Law was never a ladder to earn God’s love. It was a gift—a guide for living wisely and faithfully in covenant with God. It was how a redeemed people learned to live redeemed lives.

The really difficult thing for us, living in a modern western society is to read the law and not import our own value system onto it. These were a people who lived in a vastly different world than we do, and God gave them the law in that context. God met with them where they were.

But even understanding that, some of the law just feels wrong to us. And I really think that’s ok. We don’t have to get it… because we don’t follow the law literally (spoiler alert, neither did most of Jesus’s Jewish contemporaries). The law was a gift because it gave the people an ethic to live by and understand that was radically different in many ways than the ways of the world around them.

So then, the problem Jesus addresses is not the Law in itself.

The problem is what happens when the Law is reduced to rule-keeping without transformation.

Mechanical Righteousness vs. Living Faithfulness

This is where the AI illustration matters.

The scribes and Pharisees were not villains twirling their mustaches. They were serious, devoted people who wanted to be faithful. But over time, righteousness became something measurable, technical, and external.

Rules were followed—but hearts remained untouched. Behavior was managed—but desires went unformed. Faith became mechanical.

Jesus is not raising the bar to make righteousness harder. He is changing the kind of righteousness altogether.

He is saying:

I am not forming rule-followers. I am forming whole people.

A righteousness that exceeds is not stricter—it is deeper. Not more anxious—but more alive. Not obsessed with compliance—but rooted in love.

Fulfillment, Not Replacement

To “fulfill” the Law does not mean to discard it.

It means to bring it to its intended goal.

Jesus fulfills the Law by:

Internalizing it

Humanizing it

And rooting it in love of God and neighbor

This is why the very next sections of the Sermon on the Mount don’t say, “The Law was wrong.”

They say, “You have heard it said… but I say to you…”

Jesus moves righteousness from the surface of behavior to the depths of the heart.

Anger, not just murder. Desire, not just adultery. Truthfulness, not just oaths.

He is not creating robots.

He is forming people.

Evangelistic Turn: Apprenticeship, Not Performance

This is where the good news breaks open.

Jesus does not say: “Try harder and maybe you’ll qualify.”

He says: “Come, follow me—and I will teach you how to live.”

Righteousness is not something you achieve for God. It is something God forms in you as you walk with Jesus.

This is not shame-based religion. This is apprenticeship to Jesus.

And that is why the Sermon on the Mount is not crushing when understood correctly—it is liberating.

Because it tells the truth: You cannot program yourself into holiness. But you can be transformed.

Invitation

Some of you are exhausted from trying to be good enough. Some of you have lived under religious programming that treated the Law like a curse instead of a gift. Some of you gave up on faith because it felt cold, mechanical, and impossible.

Jesus offers something better.

Not abandonment of God’s wisdom—but fulfillment. Not rules without grace—but lives shaped by love. Not machines—but fully alive human beings.

So the invitation this week is not to effort—but to trust.

To stop trying to manage sin and start learning a new way of life. To let Jesus re-form your understanding of righteousness. To believe that God is more interested in who you are becoming than in how perfectly you perform.

Because a righteousness that exceeds is not robotic.

It is human. It is alive. And it is learned by walking with Jesus.