Sunday, September 2, 2012

The sermon for September 2: the Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost



 I have to issue a disclaimer here.  I am occasionally hard on Pharisees, and often they deserve it. 

 But if we examine their actions, often we find them no worse than ours.  They observed distinctive practices, such as kosher food and circumcision, that helped the nation of Israel to maintain its identity as God's people in a world that tempted them to worship their neighbors' gods. These traditions, which come into question in this text, grew out of a need to maintain their religious identity. 

 The Jewish law, called the Torah, while quite detailed, leaves room for interpretation in many situations. The Pharisees, out of a desire to obey God, established rules to clarify the law in those situations.  As time passed, these rules hardened into a surrogate law that Jewish leaders regarded as equal to scripture. 

 They lost sight of the line between God's law and their opinions.

 Both before and after this particular lesson, Jesus has been about the countryside doing good works and miracles. But the Pharisees instead focus on nitpicking about the ways of the law.

 Ritual cleanliness has nothing to do with hygiene. Pharisaic handwashing involved the use of only a small amount of water poured over the hands to wash away ritual defilement, such as that caused by touching an unclean object or person (i.e., a bodily discharge such as blood, a dead body, a leper, or a Gentile).  While most of us would want to wash our hands for hygienic purposes in many of these circumstances, for example, if we came in contact with blood, the manner in which ritual handwashing was done offers no hygienic benefit. 


 Have you ever heard the story of the cat in the temple? 

 Somewhere long ago, in the East, a wise man sat in the front of the village temple, teaching his apprentices and the local villagers the tenets of their religion. But prowling around the grounds of the temple was a yowling tomcat, repeatedly drowning out his words.  Finally, the holy teacher asked his disciples to tie up the cat to one of the pillars at the back of the temple. They did so, and while the cat was still noisy, the disruption was in the background and he was able to go on teaching. 

 And three hundred years later, in an honored tradition in the same village temple, students of that religion and followers of that teacher still tied cats to the temple pillars.  And no one knew why.


 "The tendency that Jesus criticizes in the Pharisees and scribes appears in most religious groups. People come to hold on to merely human traditions as if they were divinely revealed." [1]   

 The Pharisees knew why they did what they did – they had rules that said they did these things to honor God and to keep their religion pure – but they had lost the sense of what God had called the people to do.  Instead they substituted their own rules and opinions.  

 That’s where Corban comes from. Under the law as interpreted in Jesus’ time, the religious scholars had made a determination that in the interests of charity, a person could dedicate a portion of all their possessions to God.  And what you gave “to God” could be what you would otherwise use for supporting your parents in old age. 

 “Gee, Mom and Dad, you know the commandment about honoring you?  Well, I have!  I have given all your support to God!  Isn’t that wonderful!? 

 Huh?  How am I going to support you in your old age?  Well, I don’t know.  It’s not my problem anymore.”

 Corban was a legal dodge, a legal commandment dodge, you might say.  A legal way to avoid the obligation laid on you by the Commandments. 

 It was not only legal, but encouraged by the religious authorities,because of course, they were the ones who benefited from this legal commandment dodge.  Anything dedicated to God ended up in their hands.


 The problem is that both concepts – honoring God and honoring parents – have been honored in the breach, you might say. 

 The Pharisees had so corrupted valid laws from God as to make them unrecognizable.  Corban was a scandal in Jesus’ time because elderly people were left destitute by their children.

 Jesus tells us the story of the Good Samaritan to make a similar point.  The priest and the Levite passed by the injured man because he was bleeding and therefore unclean.  And they would not have enough time to ritually purify themselves before worship.  So, instead of offering comfort to someone injured, they walked right on by.

 And the law that God had given them,to honor and respect other human beings as fellow creatures of God,fell victim to ritual purity requirements. 

 That was what concerned Jesus.  And it should concern us.

 Ritual actions or their lack, do not make one pure and they don’t make one impure.  Eating with Gentiles did not and does not affect your status with God, nor did whether or not you had handled a dead body recently.  And certainly, whether or not you washed before you ate was not as critical as the Pharisees would have you believe. 

 In an interesting turn, Jesus is doing exactly what he accuses the Pharisees of doing:  changing the rules. But Jesus has changed the rules to refocus them:  your religious actions, what we call piety, are not what is important. What is important is your behavior in light of God’s commandments.  Your uncleanness comes from your own heart, not from any external source.   

 The Pharisees, rather than look for some teaching that will guide them to live a better life,
focus on a pious action of human origin. 
 Instead of looking to the words of hope and encouragement that Jesus has been offering to those who hear him,
they are looking for ways to tie cats to temple pillars. 

 I opened with a disclaimer because this is where the Pharisees start to seem quite a bit like us.
 If you asked one of them why they washed their hands that way, I bet they’d reply, “Because we have always done it that way.”

 Okay, Episcopalians, are those some words that sound familiar?

 Because we have always done it that way? 
 Because we have done it that way without thinking about it? 

 We need to be very careful that we know that what we are doing serves to honor God’s commandments – and not our own preferences.

 That’s not always easy to know.  And sometimes the questions need to be asked over and over again.

 When your elderly mother is hooked up to machines that keep her alive and you know that she would not want that, the relationship between commandment to honor human life and the commandment to honor one’s parents can seem pretty hard to figure out sometimes. 

 When a child of eleven is raped by a family friend and ends up pregnant, where does the command to not kill stand between her baby and her own body that is not physically mature enough to bear a child?

 And with apologies to Augustine of Hippo and St. Thomas Aquinas,in a religion with a commandment to not kill, and a savior who tells us to turn the other cheek, is there really such a thing as a ‘just war?’

 This Gospel is not intended to render us helpless, but to make us see a true problem, the challenge before us as people of faith. 

 Because it is not always easy to know the way that God would have us live out the commandments. 

 Despite what some would have you believe,following Christ is not always slam-dunk easy.

 What we do require, at the center of our being, is for God to create a new heart in us.  And this needs to happen, not one time only, but continually.

 Over and over again the transforming grace of Christ must find a home in us, help us understand those difficult places where justice and mercy and commandments all seem to collide. 

 Along with the Pharisees, we have to be set free from our own opinions and speculations, and become susceptible to the transforming work of God at work around and within us. 

 I think there are two basic requirements to knowing what it is that God is asking of us, each and every day.

 The second (yes, the second!) is to discernment in community. 
 Together, we can look at the tough questions of where justice and mercy lie, and struggle with them. And the struggle to find where the lines of justice and mercy lie is much easier when we do it as a community of faith.  We will each bring our various gifts to the table and together seek God’s will for us, both as a community and individually.

 But the first and most important requirement is something that we may not think about often enough. We must be emptied of ourselves. 

 We must let go of human-made rules to be enabled to hear God’s word to us.
 We must let go of everything except Jesus Christ.

 Sometimes our insight into Scripture can be enhanced by hearing a story from another source.  Or another story. 

 There once was a teacher of Zen Buddhism in Japan, named Nan-in.  It seems that one day, Nan-in received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen.  Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor's cup full, and then kept on pouring.  The professor watched the overflow until he could no longer restrain himself. "It is overflowing!  No more will go in!"

 "Like this cup," Nan-in said, "you are full of your own opinions and speculations.  How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?"  [2]

 How can Jesus Christ show us the Way, the Truth and the Life unless we first empty our own cup?  

 When our hearts and minds are free of rules about handwashing AND emptied of ourselves,
 then we will be able to hear and know the words of justice and mercy which Christ speaks to us.




[1] Williamson, Lamar Jr., Interpretation:  Mark.  133.
[2] The story of Nan-in comes from by Sermonwriter Dick Donovan, in his proper 17B email of 8/17/06. 

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