It’s
an incident I don’t think I’ll ever forget.
It
wasn’t long after I’d come to faith at the age of about 18, and one of my
friends, Norman, had been asked along to a big gathering of Christians on
Boxing Day in the King’s Hall in Belfast. And other than that, we didn’t know a
whole lot about it.
Norman’s
friend Bobby stopped in to pick us up on the morning of the event and
straightaway we clocked that something was wrong. Bobby was in his Sunday best,
but Norman and I were just in jeans and sweatshirts, and although he tried to
put a brave face on it, it was pretty obvious that we were about to transgress
some dress code we didn’t know anything about.
Sure
enough, when we got to the King’s Hall, we were the only two out of the 800 men
there who weren’t wearing suits. It turned out that this was a brethren
convention, and although this particular strand of the Brethren weren’t quite
as closed as our neighbours here in Balmedie, they obviously felt it was
important to dress up for worship.
Now
in fairness to them, there wasn’t much in the way of sideways glances or
outright disapproval; in fact they were so nice we began to wonder if they
thought we were unsaved people who’d wandered in off the street out of
curiosity!
But
I wonder what would have happened if folk started coming to their regular
meetings in more casual clothes. How long before someone would have gently
taken them aside and had a quiet word in their ear about what was expected in
terms of dress code. Or the church policy on men having long hair; or women not
having long hair.
Easy
to poke fun at Brethren traditions. It’s not so long ago I sat with a woman who
hadn’t been in church like ours for years because she felt that the last time
she visited, folk were looking down their noses at her because she didn’t have
much money and couldn’t afford to dress as well as they could.
Every
institution. over time, develops its own customs and ways of doing things;
that’s entirely natural. But when, in the church, those things become too
important to us – marking who’s in and who’s out, who belongs and who doesn’t –
that’s when we’ve left the path of wisdom. That’s when we step out of the Way
of Christ.
‘Why don’t your
disciples wash their hands properly?. That’s the latest question the Jerusalem inquisition
throw at Jesus; which is just another way of saying “why don’t you teach them properly, you so-called Rabbi?’
But what do they mean by properly?
Well the fact of the matter is that there’s really not much in the Old Testament law that relates to this, so the disciples aren’t breaking any explicit command. What they are breaking is the intricate system of rights and wrongs, do’s and don’ts that grew up around the law – the teaching that we call the Mishnah. The Mishnah was tradition, developed by the elders of the community, but it wasn’t the God-given law. It didn’t have that status.
The
problem was, the Pharisees no longer saw the distinction clearly. Their customs
had become too important to them. They felt they were binding on everyone, and if
you didn’t toe the line you were – by definition – suspect.
But
they were so busy pointing out the speck in everyone else’s eyes they didn’t
notice the planks hanging out of their own.
“Hang on a minute” says Jesus. “You’re supposed to be the great defenders
of God’s law? You’ve no problem ignoring the law when it suits you! What about
the practice of Corban?”
And they’d no answer to that.
The law of Moses was clear that children should take good care of their parents in their declining years, and that included financial care.
But the Pharisees had developed a tradition called Corban – a loophole which allowed children to opt out of that familial obligation if they pledged the money to God instead. And of course, for ‘God’ read ‘temple’ or ‘religious community’.
So in the name of God, according to their tradition, you could leave your elderly parents destitute and sign over everything you might have given them to the religious community.
The law that was given to protect the vulnerable was overridden by the tradition of Corban. In a culture that was supposed to honour the elderly, it was a disgraceful practice.
“And there are many other things like this that you do.” says Jesus.
Unsurprisingly the Pharisees don’t seem to have much to say in response.
But if they were angry at this first exchange, they were going to be apoplectic by the time Jesus finished the second.
Because having defended the primacy of the law over their tradition, he then goes on to redefine that law – the very law of God given to Moses on Sinai. Now what law-abiding Jew in his right mind would do that? The law was untouchable. There was nothing to be added to it! It’s what they had been living by for generations! It’s what set them apart from other nations!
Only God could redefine the law! And of course, as Christians, we’d argue that that’s exactly what’s happening here! Jesus, as God incarnate, is speaking a new word. A word that is good news.
“Listen to me, all of you, and understand. There is nothing that goes into a person from the outside which can make him ritually unclean. Rather it is what comes out of a person that makes him unclean.”
And in that short sentence or two, Jesus, among other things, sets aside roughly 15 centuries of dietary laws in one stroke.
“It’s not important” he says. That’s just external stuff and it really doesn’t matter very much. What really matters is what goes on in the heart.
And that should reach our ears as good news. Because it punctures everything in church life that would seek to judge us on the basis of externals. How we look, how we speak, what we work as or don’t work as, what colour our skin is, who our people are, where we come from, what level of education we’ve attained. None of that really matters, Jesus is saying.
And in a superficial world that judges solely by exteriors most of the time, that’s doubly reassuring. God is telling us that we count. Even if we don’t have a six pack, gentlemen. Or can squeeze into a size zero, ladies. Or if you’re Jessica Ennis, have a six pack and can squeeze into a size zero.
Externals aren’t important. That’s the good news.
But the next word is not good news. It’s positively bad news.
It’s not what goes into a person that can make him unclean, Jesus says. “It’s what comes out of a person that makes him unclean. For from the inside, from a person’s heart, come the evil ideas which lead him to do immoral things; to rob, kill, commit adultery, be greedy and do all sorts of evil things; deceit, indecency, jealousy, slander, pride and folly – all these things come from inside a person and make him unclean.”
Now is it just me, or when you hear or read a list like that do you switch off a little after ‘kill and rob’? Most of us aren’t the killing and robbing kind, are we? We’re basically good people, aren’t we?
Or are we? Let’s think a little more about that list.
You’d never dream of stealing anything; but do the companies you invest in quietly rob people of land, resources or opportunities?
You’d never kill anyone; but do you remember when Jesus said that if we harbour anger in our hearts towards someone it’s a form of murder?
You might not commit adultery; but when you’re alone do you gravitate towards websites or TV channels that you’d embarrassed to be found watching?
You might not feel greedy; but when 20% of the world’s population controls 80% of its wealth, how do things look if you’re on the poor side of that statistic? Have we so confused need and want in our society that we can no longer distinguish between them?
You might not think of yourself as a slanderer, but are you a bit too quick to talk about other people and their business when it would be far better to hold your tongue?
You might not think of yourself as deceitful, but are you always subtly manipulating people and situations so you get to have things your own way?
Seems to me we can make two equal and opposite mistakes when we think about human nature.
We can be naively optimistic about ourselves as though nothing were really wrong and our little sins don’t really matter that much.
But if sin’s such an insignificant thing, why on earth did Jesus take it so seriously? Seriously enough to die to put things right?
Sin screws up our relationships with God, with others and even with ourselves. It’s the root cause of every conflict and cruelty;every act of selfishness. And no matter how ‘good’ we might think we are, the power of sin is alive in all of us. We have to take it seriously.
But we have to hear the other side of the argument too.
There are theologies which encourage us to be unduly pessimistic about ourselves, as though there’s nothing good that might be said about us and we’re utterly worthless because we’re sinful.
But if that’s the case we might well ask why God would bother to save us at all? If humanity is merely something you’d scrape off the bottom of your shoe, why would God bother giving up his son to save us?
The answer is grace, of course. But it’s also that we’re made in his image, broken though it is, and to that degree I believe we are still of great worth to God.
Some of you out there are parents, as am I. Folks, our children, like us, are sinners. Given their genes, they could hardly be anything else!
But when you look at them, is that all you see? A sinner? Of course it isn’t.
You see their uniqueness, their character, their joys, their struggles. You see all that they were, all that they are, all that they might yet become. And you love them for it; sometimes despite yourself when they tax your patience or make choices you know they should never have made. You see the sin; sometimes all too starkly. But you see all the rest as well.
Why would you think that when God looks at us, his children, all he sees is our sinfulness? Is God less a respecter of persons than we are? Does he see with a less generous eye than we do?
The bad news Jesus brings us today is that we’re sinners. There’s no evading that. There’s no playing it down.
But the good news he brings is that we are loved sinners. And that makes all the difference in the world.
I’ve said it so many times in my time here – but I’ll keep saying it because it’s true. God loves you just the way you are. But he loves you too much to let you stay that way.
So where does all of that leave us?
In a place of healthy realism, I hope.
Christians don’t think they’re better than other people. At least, they shouldn’t think so.
No. Christians are folk with a healthy understanding of their own failings and limitations. Their sin. They’re very realistic about it. They don’t ignore it, or pretend it away. They take it to Jesus. They trust in what he did for us.
They say – Lord, I know what I am, and so do you. I need your help here because the truth is, I can’t fix myself.
Thank you that though I am sinful, I am also loved.
Save me, now and eternally, from the power of that within me which loves to do wrong. And help me in the here and now to learn to do the right, bringing joy to you, and life and health to me and those around me.
And what does that prayer do? Kiss it all better? Turn us into perfect people and paragons of virtue?
No –what it does is give us a new trajectory for our lives and new hope for the future.
Faith is never merely about externals. It never has been and it never will be.
We need more than clean hands or an impeccable record of church attendance to make us right with God.
No. Faith is worked out in the heart as we learn to accept our acceptance as loved sinners.
Those whom God loves, just as we are; but loves too much to let us stay that way.
Amen and thanks be to God for his word.
And they’d no answer to that.
The law of Moses was clear that children should take good care of their parents in their declining years, and that included financial care.
But the Pharisees had developed a tradition called Corban – a loophole which allowed children to opt out of that familial obligation if they pledged the money to God instead. And of course, for ‘God’ read ‘temple’ or ‘religious community’.
So in the name of God, according to their tradition, you could leave your elderly parents destitute and sign over everything you might have given them to the religious community.
The law that was given to protect the vulnerable was overridden by the tradition of Corban. In a culture that was supposed to honour the elderly, it was a disgraceful practice.
“And there are many other things like this that you do.” says Jesus.
Unsurprisingly the Pharisees don’t seem to have much to say in response.
But if they were angry at this first exchange, they were going to be apoplectic by the time Jesus finished the second.
Because having defended the primacy of the law over their tradition, he then goes on to redefine that law – the very law of God given to Moses on Sinai. Now what law-abiding Jew in his right mind would do that? The law was untouchable. There was nothing to be added to it! It’s what they had been living by for generations! It’s what set them apart from other nations!
Only God could redefine the law! And of course, as Christians, we’d argue that that’s exactly what’s happening here! Jesus, as God incarnate, is speaking a new word. A word that is good news.
“Listen to me, all of you, and understand. There is nothing that goes into a person from the outside which can make him ritually unclean. Rather it is what comes out of a person that makes him unclean.”
And in that short sentence or two, Jesus, among other things, sets aside roughly 15 centuries of dietary laws in one stroke.
“It’s not important” he says. That’s just external stuff and it really doesn’t matter very much. What really matters is what goes on in the heart.
And that should reach our ears as good news. Because it punctures everything in church life that would seek to judge us on the basis of externals. How we look, how we speak, what we work as or don’t work as, what colour our skin is, who our people are, where we come from, what level of education we’ve attained. None of that really matters, Jesus is saying.
And in a superficial world that judges solely by exteriors most of the time, that’s doubly reassuring. God is telling us that we count. Even if we don’t have a six pack, gentlemen. Or can squeeze into a size zero, ladies. Or if you’re Jessica Ennis, have a six pack and can squeeze into a size zero.
Externals aren’t important. That’s the good news.
But the next word is not good news. It’s positively bad news.
It’s not what goes into a person that can make him unclean, Jesus says. “It’s what comes out of a person that makes him unclean. For from the inside, from a person’s heart, come the evil ideas which lead him to do immoral things; to rob, kill, commit adultery, be greedy and do all sorts of evil things; deceit, indecency, jealousy, slander, pride and folly – all these things come from inside a person and make him unclean.”
Now is it just me, or when you hear or read a list like that do you switch off a little after ‘kill and rob’? Most of us aren’t the killing and robbing kind, are we? We’re basically good people, aren’t we?
Or are we? Let’s think a little more about that list.
You’d never dream of stealing anything; but do the companies you invest in quietly rob people of land, resources or opportunities?
You’d never kill anyone; but do you remember when Jesus said that if we harbour anger in our hearts towards someone it’s a form of murder?
You might not commit adultery; but when you’re alone do you gravitate towards websites or TV channels that you’d embarrassed to be found watching?
You might not feel greedy; but when 20% of the world’s population controls 80% of its wealth, how do things look if you’re on the poor side of that statistic? Have we so confused need and want in our society that we can no longer distinguish between them?
You might not think of yourself as a slanderer, but are you a bit too quick to talk about other people and their business when it would be far better to hold your tongue?
You might not think of yourself as deceitful, but are you always subtly manipulating people and situations so you get to have things your own way?
Seems to me we can make two equal and opposite mistakes when we think about human nature.
We can be naively optimistic about ourselves as though nothing were really wrong and our little sins don’t really matter that much.
But if sin’s such an insignificant thing, why on earth did Jesus take it so seriously? Seriously enough to die to put things right?
Sin screws up our relationships with God, with others and even with ourselves. It’s the root cause of every conflict and cruelty;every act of selfishness. And no matter how ‘good’ we might think we are, the power of sin is alive in all of us. We have to take it seriously.
But we have to hear the other side of the argument too.
There are theologies which encourage us to be unduly pessimistic about ourselves, as though there’s nothing good that might be said about us and we’re utterly worthless because we’re sinful.
But if that’s the case we might well ask why God would bother to save us at all? If humanity is merely something you’d scrape off the bottom of your shoe, why would God bother giving up his son to save us?
The answer is grace, of course. But it’s also that we’re made in his image, broken though it is, and to that degree I believe we are still of great worth to God.
Some of you out there are parents, as am I. Folks, our children, like us, are sinners. Given their genes, they could hardly be anything else!
But when you look at them, is that all you see? A sinner? Of course it isn’t.
You see their uniqueness, their character, their joys, their struggles. You see all that they were, all that they are, all that they might yet become. And you love them for it; sometimes despite yourself when they tax your patience or make choices you know they should never have made. You see the sin; sometimes all too starkly. But you see all the rest as well.
Why would you think that when God looks at us, his children, all he sees is our sinfulness? Is God less a respecter of persons than we are? Does he see with a less generous eye than we do?
The bad news Jesus brings us today is that we’re sinners. There’s no evading that. There’s no playing it down.
But the good news he brings is that we are loved sinners. And that makes all the difference in the world.
I’ve said it so many times in my time here – but I’ll keep saying it because it’s true. God loves you just the way you are. But he loves you too much to let you stay that way.
So where does all of that leave us?
In a place of healthy realism, I hope.
Christians don’t think they’re better than other people. At least, they shouldn’t think so.
No. Christians are folk with a healthy understanding of their own failings and limitations. Their sin. They’re very realistic about it. They don’t ignore it, or pretend it away. They take it to Jesus. They trust in what he did for us.
They say – Lord, I know what I am, and so do you. I need your help here because the truth is, I can’t fix myself.
Thank you that though I am sinful, I am also loved.
Save me, now and eternally, from the power of that within me which loves to do wrong. And help me in the here and now to learn to do the right, bringing joy to you, and life and health to me and those around me.
And what does that prayer do? Kiss it all better? Turn us into perfect people and paragons of virtue?
No –what it does is give us a new trajectory for our lives and new hope for the future.
Faith is never merely about externals. It never has been and it never will be.
We need more than clean hands or an impeccable record of church attendance to make us right with God.
No. Faith is worked out in the heart as we learn to accept our acceptance as loved sinners.
Those whom God loves, just as we are; but loves too much to let us stay that way.
Amen and thanks be to God for his word.
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