Matthew 7:21-27

 NINTH SUNDAY ORDINARY TIME – YEAR A

Commentary of Fr. Fernando Armellini

We are at the end of the discourse on the mountain. Jesus has presented the new Torah, which is the fulfillment of the old. Let's take a second look at the radical nature of his moral proposals (the beatitudes, the condemnation of repudiation, accumulation, and idolatry of money, the demand to offer the other cheek, to love the enemy, of being perfect as the Father in heaven). It is not surprising that his listeners were astonished (Mt 7:28) but, indeed, were also disturbed and lost.

Their reaction is no different from that of the Christians for whom Matthew writes his Gospel and that of today’s disciples. The danger for all is to keep listening and admiring the Teacher without having the courage to practice what he has taught. This is the reason for which Jesus concludes his discourse with a severe admonishment: Not everyone who says to me, “Lord, Lord,” will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my heavenly Father (v. 21).

To whom is he turning? Or—who is he turning to for hope?

He is speaking to the disciples, who pay tribute to him with the title ‘Lord.’ In Matthew’s Gospel, only strangers call him ‘teacher’ (Mt 8:19; 12:38). Therefore, within the Christian community, these convictions can infiltrate: a proper adhesion to Christ is enough; impeccable religious practice, along with the performance of rites and devotions to enter the kingdom of heaven, are sufficient. 

James, too, in his letter is preoccupied with this risk and denounces it firmly: “Be doers of the Word and not just hearers, lest you deceive yourselves. The hearer who does not become a doer is like that one who looked himself in the mirror. He looked and then he promptly forgot what he was like. But those who fix their gaze on the perfect law of freedom and hold onto it, not listening and then forgetting, but acting on it, will find blessings on their deeds” (Jas 1:22-25). Jesus is not denouncing either small or big inconsistencies, like the weakness and fragility that accompanied the great saints through their lives, but the false security of those who feel comfortable with God because they profess their faith in Christ the Lord. 

In the following verses (vv. 22-23), an accurate description of those who delude themselves about being disciples is made: They not only invoke Jesus, calling him ‘Lord!’ but also speak in his name, perform extraordinary things, drive out demons, and do the incredible. 

For many, miracles constitute an irrefutable confirmation of the holiness of a person and the truth they teach. It is a widespread conviction that comes from the need to base faith on unopposed proof. It is dangerous because it goes to the root of a reasonable belief but cannot be reasonably demonstrated. The Old Testament already invited people to prudence, recommending they not put their trust in signs and wonders because false prophets can also perform them (Deut 13:2-6). Jesus also affirms it: “False messiahs and false prophets will appear and perform signs and wonders so great” (Mt 24:24). The seer of the Apocalypse is convinced of it. He acknowledges that the beast can work “great wonders, even making fire descend from heaven” (Rev 13:13). Even the anti-Christ—assures the author of the second letter to the Thessalonians—will present itself “performing miracles and wonderful signs at the service of deception” (2 Thes 2:9). It is enough—I believe—to dissuade one who interprets miracles as proof.

In today’s passage, Jesus indicates the unique criteria that allow us to individualize who belongs to the Kingdom of God and who remains outside: not the miracles but doing God's will. In the second part of the passage (vv. 24-27), Jesus develops this theme with a parable: two men, one wise and the other foolish, decide to build their houses; the first builds on rock, the second on sand. 

Saint Augustine has identified the tempests that tested the two buildings, temptations that make the weak and fragile vacillate. He said the rain is superstition; the river is the carnal desire, and the wind is vain to talk. The verse is in the future (in the original text, it reads: It will be similar to a man…) and pushes us towards a different interpretation. It is not about the vicissitudes and difficulties of life. It deals with the approval or condemnation of God on the life of every person. In the Bible, the images of rain and wind are used to describe the judgment of God. 

The battering of floodwaters has shown the destination of the wicked (Gen 6–7). The prophet Ezekiel has presented the judgment of God against the people with images such as: “torrential rain,” “huge hailstones,” and violent winds that will destroy “the wall you daubed with whitewash” (Ezk 13:10-16). Paul has a different image; he speaks of fire, which will test the quality of each person’s work; construction in gold, silver, or precious stones will resist while those in wood, grass, and chaff will go into the fire (1 Cor 3:12-17). 

People's judgment is soft and artificial; it blows like a gentle wind, caressing the fragile buildings lightly, giving an illusion that they are stable and resistant. People tend to let themselves be enchanted by appearances; often, they appreciate what merits gentle correction. What reflects the stage of this world has gone. The days are past when the photographic reporter is always on hand, with admirers asking for autographs. The crowd will vanish, and all that will be left of a life played out in vanity will be an ephemeral residue. The judgment of God will be like a violent wind where only the solid constructions will be left standing, those founded—Jesus says—on his Word, on the values he proposes, on his Beatitudes. 

The call of the parable is addressed to disciples who, having heard the Word of Christ, pin their lives on totally different principles. They fool themselves into thinking they are Christian because they participate in spectacular liturgies, in-salon discussions, or bigoted devotional practices. Jesus asks each one to seriously verify the solidity of the foundation on which they build life.