1 Now when the Pharisees and some of the scribes who
had come from Jerusalem gathered around him, 2 they noticed that some of his
disciples were eating with defiled hands, that is, without washing them. 3 (For
the Pharisees, and all the Jews, do not eat unless they thoroughly wash their
hands, thus observing the tradition of the elders; 4 and they do not eat
anything from the market unless they wash it; and there are also many other
traditions that they observe, the washing of cups, pots, and bronze kettles. )
5 So the Pharisees and the scribes asked him, "Why do your disciples not
live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled
hands?" 6 He said to them, "Isaiah prophesied rightly about you
hypocrites, as it is written, "This people honors me with their lips, but
their hearts are far from me; 7 in vain do they worship me, teaching human
precepts as doctrines.' 8 You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human
tradition."
14 Then he called the crowd again and said to them,
"Listen to me, all of you, and understand: 15 there is nothing outside a
person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what
defile."
21 For it is from within, from the human heart, that
evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, 22 adultery, avarice,
wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. 23 All these
evil things come from within, and they defile a person."
You’ll see one in every
restaurant restroom and in just about every gas station with a public toilet.
Sometimes (usually depending on the quality of the place) it will be a nice,
installed piece, clearly identifiable; sometimes it might be just a piece of
notebook paper taped to the mirror. Whatever the case, by law, public restrooms
are required to post a sign that says something to the effect of “Employees
must wash hands” (my favorite response to this was when someone on the internet
complained because they waited for a while and no employee ever showed up wash their hands for them). I suppose
such signs are posted to make us feel better about the potential cleanliness of
those who are handling our food, those who are touching our groceries and
whatever snacks or trinkets we happen to be picking up at the convenience
store. Of course, it goes without saying (or at least it should!) that we want
those folks to wash their hands—we want to wash our own hands before handling
food, before sharing a meal, before performing major surgery, or even visiting
a sick loved one. Why? Well, because a man named Louis Pasteur confirmed what
is known as Germ Theory with his experiments in the late 1800s, proving that
infection, disease, and fermentation were in fact caused by microscopic
organism that live on the surface of things and in the air. So, we wash our
hands to clean them of as many of these potentially harmful, disease carrying
germs as possible.
We
wash our hands to help prevent sickness, but these Pharisees in our text this
morning aren’t complaining to Jesus about some of his disciples because of
their unsanitary negligence at washing their hands. No, folks back in Jesus’
day had no idea that disease and illness could be spread by unwashed hands.
These Pharisees are complaining because some of Jesus’ disciples aren’t keeping
with tradition—they aren’t being “good Jews.” You see, there’s no law in the
Hebrew Scriptures commanding that all the people wash their hands before they
eat (though that wouldn’t have been the worst
law to put on the books); however, there was a law requiring the priests to wash
their hands and feet before ministering before the altar of God and
(presumably) before eating their portion of the sacrifice (this law is found in
Exodus 30:19-21). So, the priests had to wash their hands, but here again, this
isn’t about hygiene—it’s about sanctimony, about the ceremonial preparation of
the priests before they carried out their religious work. Therefore, clean
hands were understood to be more “religiously clean” hands, prepared to honor
God more than prevent the spread of bacteria.
The
Pharisees in Jesus’ day took many of the requirements of the priests seriously,
believing that God had in fact called all of Israel to be a “priestly kingdom
and holy nation,”[1]
and, therefore, all the faithful of Israel should adhere to the requirements
and traditions of the elders and priests. So, when these Pharisees (who have
been watching Jesus and his followers closely, hoping to find some point of
incongruency, some thing about which to complain) witness some of Jesus’
disciples eating with “defiled hands” (which, by the way, more accurately means
something like “common hands” as opposed to “sanctified hands”) they are quick
to move on the opportunity to reveal Jesus for the lax leader he is. After all,
if these Jewish disciples of a Jewish rabbi aren’t willing to observe the
ceremonial cleansing of their hands before a meal, how righteous could they
really be? They ask, "Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the
elders, but eat with defiled hands?" They give away their intentions by they very way the
ask the question: “"Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of
the elders…?"
Traditions
are fine things in and of themselves. Objectively, a tradition can be a
wonderful thing, something that can unite a group of people, giving them a
sense of shared identity. I’ve been a part of more than a few traditions in my
life: there was the tiled wildcat in the hall floor of my high school with the
tradition that no one was to step on the wildcat or else he or she would have
to clean it with a toothbrush. There was the “Lighting of the Way and Hanging
of the Green” ceremony at Samford, a traditional worship service, in which I
was invited to take part. Then there are those less serious, more informal
sorts of traditions, like my dad always receiving an ink pen and sunglasses
from my step-sister at Christmas, while she always gets a can of coke and jar
of peanut butter (don’t ask me where these traditions come from or how they got
started!). Sure, traditions are fine things in and of themselves, but when they
become litmus tests for who’s deserving and who isn’t, when they become the way
one measures the value of another individual, when traditions become lines
drawn, wall built, or qualifications enforced keeping “them” separate from
“us,” then traditions have to be called out for what they really
are—hypocritical sin!
Jesus
does just that with these traditions that the Pharisees are holding over his
disciples, when he quotes from the prophet Isaiah: "Isaiah prophesied rightly
about you hypocrites, as it is written, ‘This people honors me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching human
precepts as doctrines.' You abandon the
commandment of God and hold to human tradition." What these
Pharisees have done is place more importance on the practice itself rather than
choosing to focus on the purpose of the practice. In other words, a practice
that was meant to testify to the holiness of God, to the importance of
recognizing the source of one’s sustenance, became a practice of piety, a
measuring stick used to tell how much more righteous one was from another.
“Sure,
you might pray over your chips and salsa, but I have washed my hands in the
ceremonial fashion of the priests, which means I love God just a bit more than
you do!” Can’t you hear it? Can’t you hear how traditions, rituals, and
religious practices can subtly transform from acts meant to remind us of who we
are and who God is into works of self-righteousness wielded as weapons of
delineation and division? Can’t you hear how such warped traditions and beliefs
can reveal they hypocrisy at the heart of those who seek to hold others to
them?
I
remember talking to Ted[2]
one Sunday morning before the worship service. Ted’s family was strong in that
little church; in fact, most of the folks who were there on a Sunday morning
were related to him in one way or another. I was talking to Ted because I had
noticed his recent absence from Sunday School, and I wanted to be sure nothing
bad had happened causing his absence. “Haven’t seen you during Sunday School in
a while, Ted. Is everything alright?” He sort of grimaced a little and said,
“Well, Chris, here’s the thing: a few years ago, I tried to come to church
every time we had service. I’d be here for Sunday School, for worship, Sunday
night service, and Wednesday night prayer meeting, but then they changed our
work schedule and I couldn’t get here on time on Wednesday nights anymore. I’d
come to Sunday School and the first thing I’d be asked is where was I Wednesday
night. Well then, my son and daughter-in-law moved, and Sunday afternoons were
the only times we got to see our grandkids, so we would spend Sunday afternoon
with them and miss church traveling back home. Then I’d have to hear ‘where
were you Sunday night?’ every time I came to Sunday school. So, I just gave up
going to Sunday school because everyone wanted to know why I wasn’t coming to
those other services, like it made me some kind of lesser Christian. They don’t
get that just showing up for another church service doesn’t make you a better
Christian, do they?” All I could say was, “No Ted. No they don’t.”
You
see, all that sort of stuff is surface level; it’s window dressing. Yes, come
to church Yes, read your bible. Yes, say your prayers. Yes, do all of those
things that draw you closer to God and to one another, but beware when
practicing your own piety that you do not give in to the temptation to judge
those who aren’t living as “holy” as you. Beware that you do not give into the
temptation to think of others as less than you because you’ve been to church
more in the past six months than they have or because you know your Psalms from
your Proverbs or because you don’t say the words they say, watch the shows they
watch, drink the things they drink or because you have made your mind up on
things about which they are still searching. You see, that temptation leads to
believing that somehow you are better than they are, that somehow, you are
actually more deserving of God’s love, forgiveness, and grace than they are.
That
was the hypocrisy of these Pharisees. They weren’t concerned for Jesus’
disciples or the cleanliness of their hands. No, they pointed out their
ritualistic infraction because the Pharisees wanted to show just how much
holier they were than Jesus and his disciples, how much more right they were in
their convictions, in their practices, in their ways of living. This is why
Jesus addresses the crowd (in a sort of over-speaking to the Pharisees and all
of us who may be tempted to think we are better than anyone else because of
what they do or do not do): "Listen to me, all of you, and
understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but
the things that come out are what defile…For it is from within, from the human
heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery,
avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All
these evil things come from within, and they defile a person." In
other words, Jesus says that it isn’t about all the holy pretenses, it isn’t
about all the surface-level righteousness we try to pass off as being “good
Christians,” it isn’t about eating the right things, attending the right
services, reading the right versions of the Bible, sharing the right posts on
social media, or making sure everyone knows what side of the line you’re on by
causing a fuss. It’s about what comes out of who you are, what comes from your
heart.
You
see, friends, you can try to cover over selfishness with all kinds of pretty
words and prescribed actions, but that selfishness always finds its way out.
You can try to ignore your own sinfulness by pointing to the sin in others’
lives, but that sinfulness is still there. You can look at someone’s dirty
hands and feel better about your dirty heart, but it won’t change a thing! And
that’s what I think so many of us need to hear, because it is easy—so easy—to
see the sin in someone else and excuse our own. Because it’s easy—so easy—to
look at someone else’s life, their misdeeds, their mistakes, their failures,
their faults, and all the ways they fall short of our own personal piety and use
our own sense of self-righteousness to keep them away, away from us and away
from God. That’s how the sin comes out—how our
sin comes out, whenever we think we’re better than someone, more deserving
than someone, better than anyone in the eyes of God, that’s when we expose our
sin to the world.
See,
following Jesus isn’t about keeping a check on others. It isn’t about scouring
the Scriptures in search of the greater moral failures of others so that we may
feel better about our own, seemingly lesser, failures. It isn’t about
separating ourselves from those we deemed “defiled, unclean, or unworthy.”
Following Jesus is about realizing that we are all—without exception—sinners,
stained by our own selfishness, and that none of us is better or more deserving
of God’s love than the next. Following Jesus is about seeing others as Christ
sees them, as Christ sees us, and choosing to love them as Christ loves them,
as Christ loves us, no matter how defiled our hands, no matter how unclean our
hearts, no matter what goes into our stomachs or what come out of our hearts.
God loves us anyway. Christ loves us anyway. Let us love as God in Christ loves
us. Amen.
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