6th Sunday in Ordinary Time

To The Epiphany Community

The Law is Fulfilled on the Cross: Where Obedience Becomes Self-giving Love and Righteousness is Written in Wounded Mercy
(Sixth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Mathew 5:17-37, 15 February 2026)

Today’s liturgy presents us with another passage of the Sermon on the Mount, which we find in the Gospel of Matthew (Mathew 5:17-37). In this passage, Jesus wants to help his listeners to reread the Mosaic law. What had been said in the ancient covenant was true, but that was not all: Jesus came to bring to fulfillment and to promulgate in a definitive way the Law of God, up to the last iota (Mathew 5:18). He manifests its original aims and fulfils its authentic aspects, and he does all this through his preaching and, even more, with the offering of himself on the Cross.  (Pope Francis, Angelus, 2017)

Beloved Brothers and Sisters in Christ
In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks words that could easily be misunderstood: Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill (Mathe 5:17). Fulfillment here does not mean simple obedience taken to its limits, nor stricter moral accounting. It means that the Law reaches its deepest truth—not on stone tablets, but in a living heart. What was given as command is now revealed as communion. The Law is no longer merely something to be observed; it becomes something to be embodied.

When the Rule Was Kept, but Love Was Missing
Some years ago, a parish priest was called late one night by a hospital nurse. A man was dying and asked for a priest. When the priest arrived, he discovered that the man had not been to church in decades. He knew the rules well—too well, perhaps—and he began immediately apologizing: Father, I broke many commandments. I failed my marriage. I didn’t raise my children well. I’m not worthy. The priest listened quietly. Then he asked a simple question: Tell me—whom did you love?

The man paused. With effort, he spoke about a daughter he had not seen in years, about a neighbor he had cared for quietly, about small acts of kindness he had never mentioned to anyone. His voice weakened, but his face softened. The priest then said gently: The Law was meant to lead you here—not to despair, but to love. And love is what God recognizes.

As the priest anointed him, the man wept—not out of fear of judgment, but relief. The rules had once condemned him in his own eyes. Mercy now named the truth of his life. Later, the priest reflected: the commandments had not failed. They had done their work. They had brought this man to the Cross, where righteousness is not measured by perfect obedience, but by love that survives brokenness.

From External Command to Interior Conversion
Jesus moves the Law from the realm of external compliance into the interior life. You have heard it said, but I say to you. With these words, Christ does not contradict Moses; He radicalizes him. Murder begins in anger. Adultery begins in the heart. Truthfulness is more than correct speech—it is integrity of being. The Law now addresses not only what we do, but who we are becoming. Conversion is no longer cosmetic; it is ontological.

A Righteousness That Exceeds
Jesus speaks of a righteousness that must exceed that of the scribes and Pharisees. This is not a call to moral perfectionism or anxious self-scrutiny. It is a summons to a deeper logic—one not governed by fear of transgression, but by love that gives itself. True righteousness is not measured by how flawlessly we obey, but by how fully we allow love to transform us. It is the righteousness of the heart that has learned mercy.

The Cross as the True Interpretation of the Law
The Sermon on the Mount cannot be understood apart from the Cross. There, the Law is fulfilled definitively. On Calvary, obedience ceases to be mere submission and becomes total self-gift. Christ obeys not because He must, but because He loves. The Law reaches its summit when Jesus stretches out His arms—not to accuse, but to embrace; not to condemn, but to forgive. The final word of the Law is not judgment, but mercy written in wounds.

From Legalism to Living Love
Legalism seeks control; love risks vulnerability. Legalism draws boundaries; love crosses them. Jesus exposes the danger of a righteousness that is technically correct but spiritually sterile. The Gospel calls us beyond minimal compliance toward maximal communion. The commandments are not fences to keep us contained, but pathways that lead us into freedom—the freedom to love as God loves.

Written Not on Stone, but on the Heart
What Moses received on Sinai, Christ inscribes on the human heart. This is the new covenant: a law no longer imposed from without, but breathed from within. The Christian moral life is not a burden to carry, but a life to be received. Grace does not weaken the Law; it fulfills it by making love possible where fear once ruled.

Standing Before the Cross
Each of us stands, sooner or later, before the Cross. There we learn what righteousness truly means. Not the righteousness of flawless performance, but the righteousness of faithful love. Not the righteousness that points fingers, but the righteousness that bears wounds for others. Here, obedience becomes gift. Here, the Law finds its heart.

Cumulative Summary
Jesus fulfills the Law not by abolishing it, but by revealing its deepest meaning, drawing the commandments from external observance into an interior call to conversion of the heart. True righteousness is no longer defined by perfectionism or legal precision, but by a life gradually transformed by love and mercy. In the Sermon on the Mount, Christ’s words—You have heard it said, but I say to you—unmask the roots of sin within the human heart and invite a deeper freedom.

The Law thus reaches its true summit not on stone tablets, but on the Cross, where obedience is transformed into self-giving love rather than fearful compliance. Legalism yields to a righteousness shaped by compassion, truth, and mercy. In Christ crucified, God fulfills the Law through wounded love, revealing mercy as its final word. The Law is now written on the human heart, animated by grace rather than fear. Disciples are therefore invited to live a righteousness that flows from love poured out, a righteousness born not of obligation, but of communion.

As we stand before the Cross, we discover where the Law truly finds its fulfillment. Not in flawless observance, but in love poured out; not in fear of transgression, but in mercy that bears wounds for others. Here, obedience becomes gift, and righteousness is revealed not as moral superiority, but as communion with the heart of God.

The Law, once written on stone, is now inscribed upon the human heart by grace, inviting us into a freedom shaped by love. May we leave this Gospel not anxious to be correct, but courageous enough to be converted—living a righteousness that exceeds not by stricter rules, but by self-giving love, revealed and offered to the world from the Cross of Christ.

The Choices We Make
As Sirach says, each person must choose between life and death, and whichever one chooses will be given. The choices we make every day have a life-or-death quality. Every day we are choosing in one direction or the other.

We all have reasons for the choices we make. Sometimes we are seeking approval and acceptance, wanting to fit in and be liked. We choose based upon the costs, benefits and risks involved. Sometimes we may just give up and refuse to choose. Sometimes we choose power, control, or security. Often our choices are about self-protection or making ourselves feel happier. Or we might choose to make another feel bad, and attempt to get back at him or her; or more positively, we may choose to make amends and make up.

Our experience of making choices brings us back to our reading from Sirach. There is one fundamental choice to be made — the choice between life and death. Where will I spend eternity? The choice that really matters in the end is between life and death. This ultimate criterion should affect all other choices. What good does it profit a person to gain the whole world, and lose ones soul?

Bringing this to an everyday level: could our daily lifestyle be described as life-giving? Do we choose to help sustain and nurture life for ourselves and others? Or do we choose to diminish or ignore the good of others? Do we try to make our world a better place? While Jesus sets us a very high standard, Sirach claims that we can keep the commandments if we really want to. Both readings call us to evaluate our habitual ways of choosing.

The Sermon on the Mount offers high moral ideals, not a set of firm commandments. Jesus forbids not merely murder but also lesser forms of injuring others. The importance of forgiveness is so great that it comes before strictly religious duties. He tells us: leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your neighbor. We must respect not simply people’s right to life but also their right to dignity and self-respect.

Concluding Words
Dear Epiphany, the Law is fulfilled where love is poured out. In Christ crucified, command becomes compassion, duty becomes devotion, and righteousness becomes mercy. As we listen again to the Sermon on the Mount, may we allow ourselves to be drawn—not toward stricter rules, but toward deeper conversion; not toward fear, but toward the freedom of self-giving love revealed on the Cross: Love, and do what you will.

Fraternally
Fr. John Peter Lazaar SAC, Pastor