Commentary on Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
One of the things Christians do on Ash Wednesday is to confess sin. We know already that sin motivates our worst actions. The gospel reading for Ash Wednesday reminds us that sin—that is, the power to break faith with God, neighbor, and self—threatens to overtake our best actions as well.
A fake
In Galaxy Quest, a group of actors from a long-canceled Star Trek–like television show are whisked away by aliens (Thurmians from the Klatu nebula) who have seen their show and believe it is real. Jason Nesmith (Tim Allen), who played Commander Taggert, along with the rest of the crew, reprise the roles they played on the show. Now, however, they are doing it in real life on an alien planet, and real lives depend on them.
When the villainous General Sarris (Robin Sachs) boards the Protector, he orders the torture of the Thurmians to gain information about the mysterious Omega 13. In order to stop the torture, the actor Nesmith comes clean. He tells Sarris that the Thurmians do not have the information Sarris wants because they have mistaken a television show for something real. The Omega 13 is a fiction from TV reruns.
Sarris understands the deception that Nesmith is owning up to, but the Thurmians, who have trusted their guests with their lives and who have no concept of “actors” on their planet, cannot fathom what Nesmith is saying. Nesmith explains, “We pretended.” And when Thurmian leader Mathesar (Enrico Colontoni) is still confused, Nesmith says, “We lied.”
“It’s all fake,” he goes on, “just like me.”
Centuries before the writing of the New Testament, the Greek word translated “hypocrite” meant simply “actor.” In New Testament times, the same word had come to connote something more negative: “play-actor,” “pretender,” or, to borrow from Jason Nesmith, “fake.”
No one wants to be fake, but almost no one wants to be rejected by society either. When belonging and honor are at stake, there exists the temptation to make our compromises with authenticity. We may settle for appearing to be what we wish we were.
Shining lights and secret piety
How are would-be pretenders, then, to practice the disciplines of Lent—repentance, prayer, fasting, and works of love—free of that preoccupation with the gaze of others that leads to hypocrisy? The lectionary text suggests a tactic.
For each example of piety, Jesus issues an imperative to secrecy. To ensure that our actions are not aimed at receiving praise from others, we practice righteousness1 away from their gaze. If no one sees your almsgiving, prayer, and fasting, no one will be able to praise it, and you will not be tempted to engage in further virtuous action for self-serving ends. Notice that Jesus does not say, “Stop giving, praying, and fasting so you do not become ravenous for the praise you receive for these things.” Instead, he says, in effect, “Give, pray, and fast away from witnesses so you do not become ravenous for the praise you receive for these things.”
But wait. In this same sermon, Jesus has just said, “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). How does the advice to “let your light shine” align with the directives to secrecy in our text?
The answer is that it is not our light that is shining when the show overtakes the righteousness. At those times, whether we know it or not, at least some witnesses will see the show for what it is. The play-actor’s need for praise outshines the need to be in solidarity with God, neighbor, and the true self. What is the actor’s witness then? It is not the witness of one who knows the eternal, unearned approval of a loving God who sees in secret, and of one whose acts of devotion flow from trust and joy in that love. The actor’s witness is the witness of one who does not and cannot trust such eternal, unearned approval.
The God-sized problem
In the Crossings Method of Bible study, readers look beyond the presenting symptom or problem in a text to find the “God-sized problem” therein. The problem in this text is that humans are tempted to do good works in order to be seen and honored by others. Human beings are tempted toward hypocrisy. The God-sized problem is bigger: Hypocrisy is born of an inability to trust the mercy of God.
If we identify with such actors, it may be because we know that we, too, look elsewhere—that is, away from the mercy of God—to be assured that we matter and are good, or at least good enough. It is possible to look so often and so fervently elsewhere that even one’s best works on behalf of others are swallowed up by the perpetual pursuit of self-esteem. When that happens, we are left with “treasures on earth” (Matthew 6:19), a cache of rewards as impermanent and insubstantial as the praise of others. Imagine guzzling salt water to quench a thirst.
Praying to trust
Close readers of the lectionary will notice that verses are omitted from the gospel reading for Ash Wednesday. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus interrupts himself between the words about praying in secret and the words about fasting in secret. Between these two topics, Jesus teaches his hearers the Lord’s Prayer. He tutors those whom he has commanded to pray in secret by offering them words particularly well-suited to the experience of lacking trust in the enduring provision of God.
“Give us this day our daily bread,” says the prayer. “Forgive us our sins” is there as well. Those praying also ask, “Deliver us from evil” (see also Matthew 6:6–15). The Lord’s Prayer offers words that ask for what is needed to solve the problem of the text that surrounds it.2
As God answers the prayer that Jesus teaches his hearers, those hearers have what they need to let their light shine before others so that God is glorified. While it is not always true with respect to human communication, in communication with God there is no shame in appearing needy rather than generous. The secrecy Jesus commends gives prayer the freedom to be real rather than fake. God’s response to such a prayer is to answer it, and to keep answering it, so that the provision God offers inspires the awareness that God’s mercy is worthy of our trust.
Notes
- The Greek word translated with the English word “piety,” in Matthew 6:1 (New Revised Standard Version), is dikaiosúnē, translated elsewhere in the New Testament as “righteousness.” Pious actions are those that embody righteousness.
- See also Mary E. Hinkle, “The Lord’s Prayer: Empowerment for Living the Sermon on the Mount,” Word & World 22 (2002), no. 1: 9–17.
March 5, 2025