Matthew 6:1-4 · Giving to the Needy
The Right Reason
Matthew 6:1-4
Sermon
by David O. Bales
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Two mornings a week I drive from Ontario, Oregon, to Caldwell, Idaho, to teach at College of Idaho. When gas prices shot up I got into the habit of driving slowly and increasing my miles per gallon. Driving slowly isn’t a hazard while in the country between the two towns. However, when I draw near Caldwell, the signs reduce speed to 65. There, in order to stay up with the larger flow of traffic, I must increase my speed so I don’t jam up traffic. We all end up driving a safe speed, but we do so for different reasons.

Our Lord Jesus in Matthew 6 mentions three religious acts that are being performed for reasons that are “different” from what he approves. He talks about people who give alms, which means money for charity; yet, their doing so is theatrical, making their giving with a flourish and a bow, all so they’ll be noticed and admired by others.

Jesus is upset over the reason they’re doing it. A few sentences earlier in this same Sermon on the Mount Jesus commands his students, “let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven” (Matthew 5:16). It’s not wrong to do good things; it’s why you’re doing them.

Second, Jesus instructs in prayer not to be like the show-offs who stand to pray on the street corners in order to be seen. Jesus isn’t against public prayer. He prayed publicly. It’s the reason you do so. If your praying tempts you to dramatize your religion for the sake of others, go somewhere private to pray.

Finally, Jesus takes a swipe at the phonies who cosmetically publicize that they’re fasting. Again, Jesus fasted for religious reasons but did so away from everyone.

It’s not as though Jesus is just a religious contrarian who takes a stand against everything the way it is. The physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer was instrumental in creating the atom bombs dropped on Japan to end WWII. When he was in graduate school in Germany, his fellow students remember how irritating he was. He’d often interrupt people, even the professor, to step up to the blackboard, take the chalk, and declare, “This can be done much better in the following manner.”[1] You quickly get tired of people like that.

Jesus isn’t out to force all of life to his whim. We recognize people who do such things as having what’s called an authoritarian personality. Such people must control everything in the world around them because within them they are so insecure. That’s not Jesus. Jesus concentrates here upon the reasons people do religious things.

At the beginning of the last century the American financier J.P. Morgan said, “There are two reasons why a person does anything. There’s a good reason, and there’s the real reason.”[2] Jesus knows the human heart. He knows our real reasons, so he states, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (v. 21). He puts his finger on what

J.P. Morgan noticed and what the poet T.S. Eliot indicts as, “the greatest treason,” which is “to do the right thing for the wrong reason.”[3]

Jesus isn’t attempting to frighten us into an emotional jumble, constantly worried about our every motive. He’s not trying to do what happened when a fellow on the ground watched a tightrope walker practice. He looked up, “How do you do that?” The tightrope walker looked down, “I practice a lot and I’ve got this pole.” “Yes, I see that,” he said. “But how do you really, really do that?” The tightrope walker put one hand on his chin said, “Well….” and fell off.

Jesus knows our hearts, thus he knows we’ll never perfectly understand the Christian faith or have perfect motives. He doesn’t want to unhinge us like that unfortunate tightrope walker or like those sad Christians who every minute take their spiritual temperature to see how they’re doing with God. Jesus isn’t binding us, but freeing us; and, above all it’s important to know why Jesus does so.

Maybe you remember the musical “The Man of la Mancha”? It’s a rewriting of Cervantes’ novel Don Quixote mixed with a dramatic retelling of Cervantes’ life and folded into a musical. Don Quixote was Cervantes’ character, written in the seventeenth-century Spain. The novel has Quixote so addled by tales of chivalry that he sets off with his neighbor, Sancho Panza, to bring justice to the world. Most people know about his jousting with the windmill in the novel and today most everyone recognizes the song, “The Impossible Dream” from the musical. There’s another song in the musical, almost forgettable unless you’ve been in the production yourself. It’s titled “I Really Like Him,” and that’s the bulk of its lyrics — a dull, even insipid, song for what appears to be a pedestrian, ordinary reason. People write thousands of love songs. The radio wears us out with them. How many “like” songs have you heard? The sidekick Sancho sings his “like” song about this rather crazy self-proclaimed knight. And as moderate as the song sounds, it explains why Sancho sticks with Quixote and suffers all kind of indignities because of him.

Sancho likes him. Because he does, in the novel Don Quixote and Sancho Panza talk all the time. They might frustrate one another, but they talk mile after mile on their strange quest. When you like someone, you want to be with them and talk with them. Pretty soon you find yourself devoted to one another. A multitude of marriages have come about that way.

Here’s the reason that Jesus tells us to drop our religious phoniness: God likes us. Sounds pretty underwhelming; yet, as I’ve counseled with people, Christians often don’t think that God really likes them or wants to be around them. They might assent to some general belief that God loves them. But that doesn’t always affect them. How about thinking of Jesus singing this song about you, “I Really Like You.” Has somebody said that to you? Maybe it was from the opposite sex, and maybe you were younger. What would happen if Jesus just showed up with you now — say in worship, in prayer, or even a dream or vision — and spoke your name and added, “I really like you.”

When you really like someone, you spend your time, energy, and emotion with them. If I really like my wife, I tell her. I don’t stand in the grocery store parking lot announcing it to every customer.

If we aim our religious actions merely to be seen by others, Jesus says we’ve been paid in full. We submit our religious bill to those around us, and they pay us with their admiration. God isn’t included in the transaction. Jesus refers to this as where our treasure is. Where we turn our entire attention, that’s where our heart will be also. Jesus invites us to live with God through all things and to trust that God likes us. Then we’ll want to talk with God about all things.

When we look at our lives from this perspective, we figure out why Jesus uses such strong speech here in the Sermon on the Mount. If Jesus seems tough on us, insisting upon our having the right reasons, it’s because so much is at stake: our genuine relationship with God.

Another variation on Cervantes’ character of Don Quixote is a book by Graham Greene titled Monsignor Quixote, set in Spain just before the death of the dictator Franco, which was 1975. It ends after a journey around Spain with a modern day “descendant,” he says, of Don Quixote and his friend, whom he calls “Sancho.” Monsignor Quixote, a Roman Catholic priest, normally a mild and kindly man, is infuriated to realize that in a religious procession the honor of carrying a statue of the Virgin Mary, with money from the faithful pinned to it, goes to those who paid the most. The highest bidder gets the prime spot of carrying in the front. The monsignor tries to stop the procession and begins to rip the money from the statue. This should remind us of Jesus’ flipping over tables of moneychangers in the temple. Our devotion to God alone is that important. As Monsignor Quixote protests, he’s hit in the head. Soon his friend Sancho drives him away from the church while the Civil Guard shoots at his car. Monsignor Quixote dies the next day.

I cite this fictional attempt to portray Quixote because the author, Graham Greene was a devout Roman Catholic. He attempted in modern garb to demonstrate how important it is for Christians to respond to God as we would to anyone else who is devoted to us.

When Jesus was alive he summoned people to believe as he did that God likes us, wants to share our lives, and is devoted to us. It’s hard for humans to believe that. It helps us to see evidence in this world that God values us so highly.

Rick Hoyt was born with cerebral palsy, having no control over his arms, legs, or tongue, but his family included him in every activity. He learned to operate a computer by head movements in order to communicate. He was able to graduate from high school and in 1993 from college. While in school he heard an announcement for a benefit run. A cross country athlete had become a paraplegic in an accident. Rick communicated with his father that he would like to participate. His father Dick pushed him in a two wheel running chair.

When they returned home, Rick was connected to his head switch to type on the computer. He told his dad that the joy he had in those five kilometers gave him the feeling that he wasn’t handicapped.

His dad began getting into shape to push him in races and learned to swim so they could participate in Ironman races: Dick swimming and towing Rick on a raft behind him, then Dick bicycling with Rick connected to Dick’s special bike, then Dick running, pushing Rick in a running chair. As of August 31, 2008, they had completed 229 Triathlons, 66 Marathons, and hundreds of shorter races. Their best time in a triathlon Ironman competition was thirteen and a half hours. You might be interested to know that the father, Dick, is 68 years old.[4]

Sometimes we need a startling demonstration to see how much someone likes us, which we now have with Jesus’ death and resurrection. In Jesus God has been on a quest to find us and free us to respond wholeheartedly. God has found us in the handicap of our sin and loved us, or “liked” us if that makes more sense to you. Maybe the message of Jesus’ death for us seems a little crazy or weak as the apostle Paul said. Or maybe it’s the impossible dream come true that finally focuses all our devotion to God.


1. Jeremy Bernstein, “The Merely Very Good,” in Cynthia Ozick, ed., The Best American Essays 1998 (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1998), p. 40.
2. Jean Strouse, “The Real Reasons,” in William Zinsser, ed. Extraordinary Lives: The Art and Craft of American Biography (New York: American Heritage, 1986), p. 163.
3. T.S. Eliot, The Complete Poems and Plays (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1934), p. 196.
4. www.teamhoyt.com.

CSS Publishing Company, Inc., To the Cross and Beyond: and other Cycle A sermons for Lent, Easter, by David O. Bales