Matthew 5:38

Berean Standard Bible

You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye and tooth for tooth.’

King James Bible

Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth:

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Matthew 5:38, nestled within the Sermon on the Mount, presents Jesus’ teaching on retaliation: “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’” This verse, part of a broader discourse where Jesus reinterprets the Mosaic Law, invites a profound reflection on justice, mercy, and the human impulse toward retribution. To unpack its meaning, we must consider its historical context, its theological weight, and its radical call to transform personal and communal ethics, all while grappling with the tension it creates between human instincts and divine ideals.

The phrase “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth” originates in the Torah, specifically in passages like Exodus 21:24, Leviticus 24:20, and Deuteronomy 19:21. Known as the *lex talionis*, or law of retaliation, this principle was not a barbaric endorsement of vengeance but a legal framework designed to limit it. In the ancient Near Eastern world, where blood feuds and disproportionate revenge could spiral into chaos, the *lex talionis* established a boundary: punishment should be proportionate to the offense. If someone caused harm, the response should not exceed the damage done—a broken tooth does not justify a life taken. This was a step toward order and fairness in a society where tribal conflicts could escalate rapidly. By invoking this principle, Jesus’ audience would have recognized it as a familiar standard of justice, deeply embedded in their legal and cultural tradition.

Yet, Jesus does not merely recite this law; he sets the stage for a radical reinterpretation, as he does throughout the Sermon on the Mount with the repeated formula, “You have heard that it was said… but I say to you.” This pattern signals that Jesus is not abolishing the Law but fulfilling it, pushing beyond its letter to its deeper spirit. In the verses that follow (Matthew 5:39-42), he challenges his listeners to forgo retaliation entirely, advocating nonresistance to evil, turning the other cheek, giving more than is demanded, and going the extra mile. To understand Matthew 5:38 in isolation, then, is to miss the transformative ethic Jesus is about to unfold. The verse serves as a pivot, contrasting the old standard of measured justice with a new vision of radical love.

The historical context of Jesus’ teaching adds layers to its significance. His audience lived under Roman occupation, a reality marked by oppression, humiliation, and systemic injustice. A Roman soldier could legally strike a Jew or force them to carry a burden for a mile, as Jesus references in the subsequent verses. The *lex talionis*, while originally a Jewish principle, could feel hollow in a world where power imbalances made equal retaliation impossible. A Jew striking back against a Roman risked severe consequences, not just for themselves but for their community. Jesus’ teaching, then, is not abstract moralizing but a practical response to a world of unequal power dynamics. By invoking “an eye for an eye,” he acknowledges a human desire for justice in the face of wrong, but he prepares to redirect that desire toward a higher ethic.

Theologically, Matthew 5:38 invites us to wrestle with the nature of God’s justice and how it differs from human instincts. The *lex talionis* reflects a human attempt to mirror divine justice—fair, proportionate, and orderly. Yet Jesus suggests that God’s justice transcends this framework. The call to relinquish retaliation points to a God who does not repay evil with evil but overcomes it with good, as later echoed in Romans 12:21. This is not a passive surrender to injustice but an active choice to break the cycle of violence. Jesus’ teaching aligns with the character of a God who, in the cross, absorbs human evil rather than retaliating against it. The verse, then, is a doorway into understanding the upside-down logic of the Kingdom of God, where strength is found in self-giving love, not in asserting one’s rights.

This teaching also challenges the listener to rethink personal identity and dignity. In a culture where honor and shame were paramount, retaliation was not just about justice but about restoring one’s status after an offense. To lose an eye or a tooth was not only a physical injury but a public humiliation, demanding a response to reclaim one’s standing. Jesus’ call to forgo retaliation, as expanded in the following verses, subverts this cultural script. By choosing not to strike back, the disciple asserts a different kind of dignity—one rooted not in human approval but in alignment with God’s character. This is a radical redefinition of power, where true strength lies in self-control and love, not in matching blow for blow.

The implications of this verse extend beyond personal ethics to communal and societal levels. The *lex talionis* was a communal principle, often applied in legal settings to maintain social order. Jesus’ teaching, while directed to individuals, has ripple effects for how communities handle conflict. A community that embraces nonretaliation becomes a countercultural witness, demonstrating that reconciliation, not retribution, is the path to healing. This does not mean ignoring justice—Jesus elsewhere condemns exploitation and hypocrisy—but it reframes justice as restorative rather than punitive. In a world fractured by division, this vision challenges societies to seek solutions that prioritize mercy over vengeance.

Yet, the teaching is not without its difficulties. The call to abandon retaliation can feel impractical, even dangerous, in situations of abuse or systemic oppression. Does Jesus expect victims to passively endure harm? The broader context of his life and teachings suggests otherwise. Jesus himself confronted injustice, driving out money-changers from the temple and challenging corrupt authorities. His call to nonretaliation is not about passivity but about redirecting the response to evil. Turning the other cheek, as he instructs in verse 39, is a subversive act—it exposes the aggressor’s injustice while refusing to perpetuate the cycle of violence. It demands immense courage and trust in God’s ultimate justice, a trust Jesus embodied in his own suffering.

The verse also raises questions about the balance between justice and mercy. The *lex talionis* ensured fairness, preventing the weak from being trampled by the powerful. Jesus’ teaching does not negate the need for justice but reorients it toward a divine perspective, where mercy triumphs over judgment (James 2:13). This creates a tension: how do we uphold justice without falling into the trap of vengeance? Jesus’ answer lies in the transformative power of love, which seeks the redemption of the offender rather than their destruction. This is not a naive idealism but a call to embody God’s redemptive purposes in a broken world.

In practice, living out this teaching requires discernment. There are contexts—such as protecting the vulnerable—where resisting evil may take forms other than retaliation, such as advocacy or nonviolent resistance. Jesus’ own example, coupled with the apostles’ later teachings, suggests that the principle of nonretaliation is not absolute passivity but a posture of the heart that seeks peace over vengeance. It challenges believers to trust that God’s justice will ultimately prevail, freeing them to respond to evil with creative, redemptive love.

Matthew 5:38, though brief, is a fulcrum on which Jesus’ radical ethic turns. It acknowledges the human longing for justice while pointing to a higher way—the way of the Kingdom, where love absorbs evil and transforms it. This teaching is not a rejection of the Law but its fulfillment, revealing the heart of a God who calls his people to mirror his mercy. It invites disciples to live as citizens of a different kind of kingdom, one where the cycle of retribution is broken, and the power of love reigns supreme. In a world still marked by conflict and vengeance, this verse remains a provocative call to embody a justice that heals rather than destroys.

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Beloved in Christ, grace and peace be to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, who has called us out of darkness into his marvelous light. I write to you, not as one who has mastered the way of our Savior, but as a fellow pilgrim, compelled by the Spirit to reflect on the words of our Lord in the fifth chapter of Matthew’s Gospel, where he declares, “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’” These words, spoken on the mount, echo through the ages, piercing our hearts with the radical call of the Kingdom. Let us, then, ponder together the depth of this teaching, its demand on our lives, and the grace that enables us to walk in it, that we may be a people who reflect the heart of our God in a world torn by strife.

Consider, dear friends, the context of these words. They are not new to the ears of God’s people, for they are drawn from the Law given through Moses, a law etched in the stone of justice: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. This was no cruel decree, but a mercy in its time, a restraint on the chaos of human vengeance. In a world where a single offense could ignite a feud that consumed generations, the Law set a boundary—retribution must not exceed the harm done. It was a guardrail against the spiral of violence, a reflection of God’s order in a fallen world. Yet our Lord, who came not to abolish the Law but to fulfill it, takes this principle and turns it on its head, not to negate justice but to reveal its deeper purpose. He calls us beyond the letter of fairness to the spirit of love, a love that does not repay evil with evil but overcomes it with good.

Let us not misunderstand this teaching, as though it were a mere suggestion or a lofty ideal for the spiritually elite. No, brothers and sisters, this is the very ethic of the Kingdom, the way of the cross made manifest in our daily lives. When Jesus speaks of the old law, he addresses a human instinct we all know too well—the urge to strike back, to restore our honor, to make the wrongdoer pay. In the days of our Lord, under the heavy yoke of Roman oppression, this instinct burned fiercely. A slap from a soldier, a demand to carry a burden, a coat taken unjustly—these were not mere inconveniences but assaults on dignity, cries for retribution. And in our own day, do we not feel the same? When we are slandered on social media, betrayed by a friend, or wronged by a system that seems deaf to our cries, the heart demands justice, an eye for an eye. Yet Jesus, in his divine wisdom, calls us to a higher way, a way that seems folly to the world but is the power of God for salvation.

What, then, does this mean for us? It is not a call to passivity, as though we should lie down before evil and let it trample us. Far from it! Our Lord himself, who turned no cheek to the moneychangers defiling his Father’s house, shows us that righteousness may confront wrong. But the confrontation he commands is not born of vengeance but of love, a love that seeks the redemption of the offender rather than their destruction. To forgo retaliation, as Jesus will unpack in the verses that follow, is to refuse the cycle of evil, to say with our actions, “This far and no further shall hatred reign.” It is to turn the other cheek, not out of weakness, but out of a strength that trusts in God’s ultimate justice. It is to give the cloak when the coat is taken, to go the second mile when the first is demanded, not because we lack courage, but because we bear the courage of Christ, who bore our sins without returning curse for curse.

This teaching, dear ones, is no light matter. It cuts against the grain of our flesh, which cries out for retribution. It challenges the wisdom of the world, which equates strength with dominance and justice with repayment. Yet consider the cross, that scandalous throne of our salvation. There, the Son of God, who had every right to call down legions of angels, chose instead to absorb the evil of the world. He did not repay the nails with fire, nor the mockery with wrath. In his silence, in his surrender, he broke the power of sin and death, revealing a justice that does not destroy but restores. This is the mystery we are called to embody. When we refuse to curse those who curse us, when we bless those who persecute us, we participate in the very life of Christ, who lives in us by the Spirit.

But how, you may ask, are we to live this way in a world that thrives on retaliation? In your workplaces, where colleagues undermine you for their gain, in your homes, where misunderstandings breed resentment, in your communities, where division festers like an open wound—how do you walk this path? First, beloved, you must root yourselves in the love of God. It is only by knowing that you are secure in the Father’s affection, justified not by your own righteousness but by Christ’s, that you can relinquish the need to defend your honor. The one who knows they are loved by God can afford to lose the approval of the world. Second, you must pray for the Spirit’s power, for this way is not natural to us. It is a supernatural calling, sustained by the same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead. Third, you must seek wisdom, for there are times when love demands action—protecting the vulnerable, speaking truth to power, or standing against injustice. Yet even in these moments, let your actions be guided by the desire to heal, not to harm.

I urge you, brothers and sisters, to consider the witness of a community shaped by this ethic. In a world where vengeance fuels wars, where outrage spirals through our screens, where every slight demands a counterattack, a people who refuse to repay evil with evil shine as a city on a hill. Your choice to forgive, to show kindness to the unkind, to seek reconciliation over retribution—this is a testimony to the God who reconciled us to himself through Christ. It is not weakness but power, not defeat but victory. And let us not grow weary, for though the world may mock or exploit such love, our God sees, and his justice will prevail. The day is coming when every wrong will be righted, not by our hands but by his, and until that day, we are called to live as ambassadors of his Kingdom.

Therefore, my beloved, let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. Let us lay aside the old ways of retaliation, which belong to the flesh, and clothe ourselves with the new self, created in the likeness of God. Let us be a people who reflect the mercy of our Father, who causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good. And when you falter—as we all do—remember the grace that abounds, the blood that cleanses, and the Spirit that strengthens. May you walk in this radical love, not as those who strive in their own power, but as those who are filled with the fullness of God.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

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O God of justice and mercy, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, whose love endures forever and whose righteousness upholds the heavens, we come before you with hearts humbled by the weight of your Son’s words, spoken on the mount, piercing our souls with their truth: “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’” In the presence of your holiness, we stand convicted, for we are a people prone to vengeance, quick to demand what we believe is ours, yet slow to reflect the boundless grace you have shown us. You, O Lord, are the source of all justice, the one who sees every wrong and rights every injustice in your perfect time, yet you call us to a higher way, a way that mirrors your heart, a way that breaks the chains of retribution with the freedom of your love. Hear us now, we pray, as we seek your face and the strength to walk in the path of your Kingdom.

We confess, O God, that our hearts are often stirred by the old law, the cry for an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. In our pain, we long to repay those who wound us, to restore our dignity with the currency of justice we understand. We see the world around us—its betrayals, its cruelties, its systems that crush the weak—and our spirits burn with the desire to make things right by our own hands. Yet your Son, our Savior, speaks a word that unsettles us, a word that calls us to lay down our weapons of vengeance and take up the cross of love. Forgive us, Lord, for the times we have clung to our right to retaliate, for the moments we have cursed those who curse us, for the ways we have let bitterness take root in our hearts. Cleanse us by the blood of Jesus, who bore our sins and repaid our evil with his mercy.

We praise you, O God, for the mystery of your Kingdom, revealed in Christ, who fulfilled the Law not by abolishing it but by unveiling its deeper purpose. You are not a God who delights in punishment but in redemption, not in destruction but in restoration. In Jesus, we see the one who absorbed the evil of the world, who took the blows of our sin and offered no curse in return, who went to the cross not to demand an eye for an eye but to give his life for ours. Your justice, O Lord, is not like ours—it is higher, purer, mingled with a mercy that triumphs over judgment. We stand in awe of your love, which does not repay evil with evil but overcomes it with good. Teach us to reflect this love, to embody the ethic of your Son, who calls us to turn the other cheek, to give beyond what is taken, to walk the extra mile in a world that knows only the way of vengeance.

Grant us, O Father, the courage to live this radical calling. In our homes, where misunderstandings breed resentment, give us grace to forgive as you have forgiven us. In our workplaces, where competition and betrayal tempt us to strike back, fill us with the Spirit’s power to respond with kindness. In our communities, where division and injustice fester, make us ambassadors of your reconciliation, bearing witness to a Kingdom where love, not retribution, reigns. We pray especially for those among us who suffer under oppression, who face abuse or systemic wrong. Guard them, Lord, from despair, and show them the path of resistance that aligns with your heart—not a resistance that destroys but one that exposes evil while trusting in your ultimate justice. May they find refuge in your promises, knowing that you see every tear and will one day wipe them all away.

We lift up to you, O God, those who wrong us, those who in their blindness or malice cause pain. We confess how hard it is to pray for them, to bless those who curse us, yet we ask for your Spirit to soften our hearts. Transform our enemies, Lord, as you transformed us, turning hearts of stone into hearts of flesh. Where we cannot yet pray with sincerity, work in us until our prayers align with your will. And for your church, scattered across the earth, we plead for unity and boldness to live as a countercultural people, a community that shines as a light in the darkness, refusing the world’s cycle of retaliation and embracing the way of the cross. Make us a living testimony to your gospel, that the world may see your love in our actions and be drawn to your Son.

O Lord, we know that this way is not ours by nature, but yours by grace. We are weak, prone to stumble, yet you have given us your Spirit, the same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead, to empower us for this holy calling. Fill us afresh with your presence, that we may walk in the strength of Christ, who did not revile when reviled but entrusted himself to you, the righteous Judge. Keep our eyes fixed on the hope of your coming Kingdom, where every wrong will be made right, where justice and mercy will kiss, and where your love will reign forever. Until that day, let us be your hands and feet, bearing the wounds of love in a world desperate for healing.

To you, O God, be all glory, honor, and power, through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, now and forever. Amen.