THE CROWDS WERE listening to Jesus as if he were the rabbi to the masses, and he had just said some startling things. First, he insisted that every last bit of the Hebrew Scriptures was to be fulfilled; none of it, not even the smallest dot of ink, was to be set aside. Some of his hearers probably wondered how it was possible for anyone to fulfill every requirement of the Law.

But that was less controversial than what he said next: no one would enter the kingdom of heaven without first surpassing the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees. If anyone within earshot had been at all confident about their piety, that statement would have dashed their conceit to the ground. Today, it would be the spiritual equivalent of saying that no one could make it into the NBA without being better than Michael Jordan, or LeBron James, or Steph Curry.

When it came to following the Law, some folks probably thought they were doing as well as could reasonably be expected for someone who hadn’t been trained as a Pharisee. After all, I imagine them reasoning, who can remember all of it, let alone do it? Sure, I know I’m messing up on some of the minor commandments, but I’m pretty solid on the Big Ten. I observe the Sabbath; I honor my parents. And of course, I’ve never killed anyone or cheated on my spouse. I don’t mean to brag, but I think I’m good on nine out of the ten. On a good day, maybe even a perfect ten. Doesn’t that count for something? I’m doing better than most people I know. Can’t we let the little commandments slide?

But Jesus seems to say, Let me tell you how it looks from God’s perspective. You’re not as solid as you think, not even on Big Ten. Want an example? Let’s start with murder:

You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, “You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.” But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, “Raca,” is answerable to the court. And anyone who says, “You fool!” will be in danger of the fire of hell. (Matt 5:21-22, NIV)

Let Jesus’ words sink in for a moment. Anyone who is angry with a brother or sister is subject to the same judgment, the same condemnation, as someone who has committed murder. To illustrate, Jesus describes the way people treat each other with contempt. At root, the word raca probably derives from the Aramaic word for “empty.” In practice, that meant calling someone “empty-headed” — in other words, a fool. I don’t think Jesus is making a distinction between calling someone Raca and calling them a fool, as if one was worse than the other. Rather, he’s saying that we’re all guilty, because we’ve all done this in one way or another.

Think about it. I’m guessing you’ve never committed homicide. But have you ever referred to someone as an idiot? You know: there’s the person who cut you off on the freeway, or veered into your lane because they were looking at their phone. Or the political candidate you hated and didn’t vote for. Or the guy on the same committee as you who wouldn’t listen to reason. Maybe you didn’t call them an idiot, just stupid or clueless, or some other choice non-Aramaic word.

Maybe you had the restraint to not say it out loud. But your body language may have spoken volumes. And God heard every word muttered under your breath, whispered conspiratorially to a neighbor, or shouted in your thoughts.

If any of this is true of you, then in terms of the kind of righteousness the kingdom demands, Jesus says you might as well be a murderer. So am I. And so is every would-be Pharisee.

OVER THE CENTURIES, many people have read the Sermon on the Mount and despaired at its teaching. That’s understandable, because when Jesus’ words are read in a certain way, it sounds like he’s setting an impossibly high standard, one that may even offend our moral sensibilities: can Jesus really be saying that calling someone a nasty name is tantamount to homicide?

And if not, then what is he saying?

Remember what we’ve seen so far. Jesus is teaching his followers what the kingdom of heaven is all about. The Sermon begins with a counter-intuitive vision of blessedness that fits with what Jesus teaches elsewhere: it’s the spiritually humble, not the proud, who embody the kingdom. They are the ones who hunger for justice and seek to be people of mercy and peace. They are the salt of the earth and the light of the world.

And they are not your typical Pharisee.

Jesus isn’t giving his hearers a stricter version of legalistic piety that not even the Pharisees can live up to. Nor is he dictating an essay on moral theory. This is a sermon meant to deconstruct and reconstruct how people thought about righteousness. Kingdom righteousness, the kind that surpasses the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, isn’t about getting really good at following rules. It’s about being a person who humbly and gratefully embodies the character of God.

LATER IN MATTHEW’S gospel, we read of a very wealthy young man who came to Jesus in earnest, wanting to know what he could do to earn eternal life. Jesus told him to keep the commandments; the man replied that he had. So Jesus told him if he wanted to be perfect, he should liquidate all of his assets and give the money to the poor. This was too much to ask, and the man unhappily trudged away.

Jesus turned to his disciples and said, “I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” The disciples were floored by this, and blurted out, “Who then can be saved?” Meeting their astonished gaze, Jesus answered, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible” (Matt 19:24-26).

Jesus wasn’t giving the rich man an impossible new rule to follow but determining the state of his heart. And in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus is not establishing an impossible new standard for piety. He is not telling the Pharisees to try harder, nor anyone else to outmatch the Pharisees. He is, however, drawing out the implications of saying that the kingdom of heaven belongs to the poor in spirit. We are all guilty. We should all mourn our own sin instead of taking pride in our goodness. We should hunger for God to make things right.

And if that is truly the state of our hearts, then we should also want to make things right between us and other people, as Jesus will say next.

Because with God, all things are possible.