Lectionary focus: Matthew 23:1-12
I used to love to loathe the Pharisees. As a young teenager growing up during the rise of the Religious Right, I would cling to the scathing critique of the Pharisees throughout the gospels as a way to stand defiantly within a religion that seemed so very far removed from my own values. Those modern-day Pharisees “make strict rules and try to force people to obey them!” I would declare to anyone who would listen. “But they are unwilling to help those who struggle under the weight of their rules.” The Religious Right has it wrong, I would convince myself in frustration. If Jesus were here today, he’d be railing against them!
But now that I, myself, am a religious leader the critique cuts closer to home.
How could I possibly deny that I do good things so that the people I supposedly “serve” will see them? How could I possibly deny that I take great care in choosing what to wear when I preach (not too trendy, not too mousy) and how I will fix my hair and makeup (don’t forget the bright lights and how you will look “on stage”)? How could I possibly deny that I enjoy sitting in that fancy chair behind the pulpit with my well-planned sermon and studying with the “most brilliant” scholars in the field and attaching the name of an Ivy League divinity school to my resume? How could I deny that I have become what I used to love to loathe?
The matter becomes even more complicated when we bring in the historical context in which Matthew is writing his gospel. Those who follow “The Way” of Jesus are literally in a political struggle with the Pharisees to pick up the pieces of Judaism after the destruction of the temple. The harsh rhetoric against the Pharisees may, perhaps, come from the mouth of Jesus, himself. It may just as likely be hyperbole on the part of the gospel writer in order to win over a frightened public. And it is just the kind of hyperbole that has led to centuries of (sometimes violent) Christian anti-Judaism. My frustration with the Religious Right pales in comparison with what “good” Christians have done to those “other” Pharisees.
Yet if we are to be honest about our motivations, regardless of our religious tradition, how can any of us deny that this description of the Pharisees is really the description of ourselves? Especially in a tough economy when job security is everything and being noticed by the most important people might mean the difference between a salary and bankruptcy. Because it’s not just about practicing our religion, Jesus seems to suggest. It’s about practicing our lives. And don’t we love to have the people greet us with respect in the marketplace?
“Whoever is your servant is the greatest among you,” Jesus said. “Whoever makes himself great will be made humble. Whoever makes himself humble will be made great.”
Yes, we have a whole lot to lose by following this teaching. We have our jobs and our homes and our prestige. But so did the disciples. And so did the post-Easter, post-Temple community to which Matthew writes. They, in fact, had more to lose than we do. They, in fact, lost it all.
What does it profit if we gain the world but forfeit our soul? Now more than ever, our greatness comes from our service to others. May we have the courage to serve in the coming weeks and months. Amen.
But now that I, myself, am a religious leader the critique cuts closer to home.
How could I possibly deny that I do good things so that the people I supposedly “serve” will see them? How could I possibly deny that I take great care in choosing what to wear when I preach (not too trendy, not too mousy) and how I will fix my hair and makeup (don’t forget the bright lights and how you will look “on stage”)? How could I possibly deny that I enjoy sitting in that fancy chair behind the pulpit with my well-planned sermon and studying with the “most brilliant” scholars in the field and attaching the name of an Ivy League divinity school to my resume? How could I deny that I have become what I used to love to loathe?
The matter becomes even more complicated when we bring in the historical context in which Matthew is writing his gospel. Those who follow “The Way” of Jesus are literally in a political struggle with the Pharisees to pick up the pieces of Judaism after the destruction of the temple. The harsh rhetoric against the Pharisees may, perhaps, come from the mouth of Jesus, himself. It may just as likely be hyperbole on the part of the gospel writer in order to win over a frightened public. And it is just the kind of hyperbole that has led to centuries of (sometimes violent) Christian anti-Judaism. My frustration with the Religious Right pales in comparison with what “good” Christians have done to those “other” Pharisees.
Yet if we are to be honest about our motivations, regardless of our religious tradition, how can any of us deny that this description of the Pharisees is really the description of ourselves? Especially in a tough economy when job security is everything and being noticed by the most important people might mean the difference between a salary and bankruptcy. Because it’s not just about practicing our religion, Jesus seems to suggest. It’s about practicing our lives. And don’t we love to have the people greet us with respect in the marketplace?
“Whoever is your servant is the greatest among you,” Jesus said. “Whoever makes himself great will be made humble. Whoever makes himself humble will be made great.”
Yes, we have a whole lot to lose by following this teaching. We have our jobs and our homes and our prestige. But so did the disciples. And so did the post-Easter, post-Temple community to which Matthew writes. They, in fact, had more to lose than we do. They, in fact, lost it all.
What does it profit if we gain the world but forfeit our soul? Now more than ever, our greatness comes from our service to others. May we have the courage to serve in the coming weeks and months. Amen.
Gusti Linnea Newquist
(Additional Lectionary Texts: Psalm 107:1-7, 33-37; 1 Thessalonians 2:9-13; Matthew 23:1-12)
No comments:
Post a Comment