I read Matthew 23 this week. It’s pretty rough. Here is one of those chapters when Jesus is at His most biting. He launches a verbal assault targeted at the religious hypocrisy found in the scribes and Pharisees of the day. Line after line He goes after them, each one – at least in my imagination – rising in volume, as the stinging accusations continue to fly.

• You, who lock up the kingdom…
• You, who are the devourers of the weak…
• You, who pray for the accolades of men…
• You, who swear meaningless oaths…
• You, who are the blind guides, the unwashed dishes, and the whitewashed tombs…

The soliloquy is punctuated over and over again with the statement, “Woe to you!” Woe indeed, for here is the rightful Judge pronouncing rightful judgment that, though not apparent at present, is being stored up. And then the Son of God reaches the climax of the moment:

“Snakes! Brood of vipers! How can you escape being condemned to hell?” (Matt. 23:33). 

And then, suddenly, even abruptly, the volume of Jesus’ voice seems to change. What was boiling anger shifts midstream to heartfelt compassion as Jesus turns toward the city of people who are busily following these of whom he was so critical:

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem! She who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her. How often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks^[z] under her wings, yet you were not willing!” (Matt. 23:37).

Oh, no doubt Jesus’ passion has not abated; it’s still there. But with this transition we see at once the steadfast judgment and pleading love of God. Here we see a message of judgment mingled with tears. And it is a strange sight for us to see indeed.

It’s so strange not because we are unaccustomed to messages of judgment being mingled with something; we are in fact very accustomed to that. We mingle our own pronouncements of judgment with things all the time, but it’s rarely tears. No – when we judge, our judgment is mingled with self-congratulations, self-justification, and self-advancement. No, certainly not tears, but instead with some element of self interest.

Ironically, it’s this same focus of the self why it’s so hard for us to do something as simple as rejoice with our brothers who are rejoicing, and weep with our brothers who are weeping. Oh, we might put on a show of doing so, but that emotion is mingled too. It’s because in the moment we might appear to have our focus on someone else, but in the end, we have one eye on ourselves. And the happiness of another is a threat to our own by comparison; the sorrow of another is a comfort to us for the same reason.

But oh, the elusive purity of Jesus! For here, He is gloriously, astoundingly, purely… sad. He is not backing down from what must be said, for it must be said, and yet His boldness is drenched in the pain of loss.

Surely this is but one prong of the freedom that can only come to us through the gospel. It’s the courage to speak truth, without shame or qualification, but to do so without the sideways smirk of being right. May it be so.