“But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the
heart, and that is what defiles.”
(Matthew 15:18)
Just
what’s up with the Pharisees? These uber-religious guys are always the villains
in our Gospel story, and Jesus gives them a royal smack-down in the lesson we
have in the Revised Common Lectionary for Pentecost 12, A this year (Matthew
15:10-28). Back at the top of chapter 15 of Matthew’s Gospel, the Pharisees are
getting their shorts bunched up because Jesus’ disciples have eaten without
ritually washing their hands. This has got to make you ask: Don’t these guys
have something better to do than complain about other people’s luncheon
hygiene? Why are they freaking out about something which isn’t going to matter
five minutes from now and will be forgotten by tomorrow? How petty can these
dudes get?
I’ve
always had something of a soft spot for the Pharisees myself. After all, they
are the ancestors of modern rabbinic Judaism, and that should count for
something. As annoying as they are to Jesus, we should consider they really
were very pious people who were just doing their best to live up to the Law of
Moses. Unfortunately, they had their heads stuck so far up into the details of
the law that they had lost sight of its purpose. In a way, I feel sorry for
them. They had a lot of prestige in their day, but they still weren’t the party
in power[i]. They could take pride in
being the descendants of Abraham and relish tales of the glory days when King
David kicked butts and took names or when King Solomon’s reputation was the
envy of the ancient world. In this story, however, they were a minor party in a
tiny, defeated, and occupied country where they didn’t control the religious or
governmental establishment, and the guys who did were themselves puppets
of a foreign dictator in Rome. For all their legalistic piety and knowledge, I’ll
bet it had to suck to be a Pharisee.
I
think circumstances explain a lot about Jesus’ critics. They’d been told about
their glorious past, but their present was far from glorious. When you don’t have
much control over the stuff in your life, you become a psycho fanatic about the
piddly stuff you can control. That explains why Grandpa goes berserk
whenever someone messes with the thermostat. He used to be the guy who brought
home the bacon, could fix anything that needed repairing, and gave detailed
driving directions to anywhere you needed to go. Now he’s using a walker,
wearing Depends, and has been made to surrender his car keys;
nevertheless, he will—by God!—control that thermostat. The Pharisees are the
same way. They may not control much, but they can still be smugly judgmental
about people who are less pious or holy than they are.
Jesus
needed to set these guys straight. The dinky rules the Pharisees were so upset
about—like what or how you ate—doesn’t matter to God. What always matters is
what is in the heart. Jesus even scolds them in front of the crowd for their lack
of insight. He reminds his own disciples—and us, too—that contempt for others is
a defilement.
All
of this seems a little odd when verses 10-20 are juxtaposed with verses 21-28. When
the Canaanite lady with a demonically possessed daughter comes to Jesus begging
for help, he first ignores her and then calls her a dog. I don’t know about you,
but this seems a little contemptuous to me, especially if you consider that, in
the world of the text, dogs didn’t enjoy quite the level of favor they have in
our modern society.[ii]
I’m always a bit puzzled by this. Did this woman’s response to Jesus’ calling
her a dog actually change the Lord’s mind, or did Jesus purposely insult her
just so he could demonstrate to the disciples that even a foreigner was capable
of compassionate insight? I like to thank it was the latter.
As
a parish pastor, I often find myself confronted by people begging for mercy and
compassion. If a member of my congregation—a sheep of my flock—is in need,
there isn’t a whole lot I wouldn’t do if it’s in my power to do it. But, when the
local mendicants come knocking at the church door, I turn into a Pharisee, or—like
the disciples in the story—I want to send them away because they’re often
really annoying. There have been a small number of homeless folks who’ve been
buzzing around Faith Lutheran of Philadelphia for the last few years. One I
know has a drug problem and others are just emotionally immature folks who
either can’t or don’t want to advocate for themselves. I’m embarrassed to admit
it, but they bug the crap out of me.
When
I get judgmental like this, I have to take a step back and recognize the
Pharisee in me. The contempt in my heart is what defiles me. It doesn’t matter
if these unfortunate folks are in a situation of their own making. I don’t have
any control over that. I do, however, have control over what’s in my heart and how
I treat them. I am called to treat them with the same love and regard Jesus
showed to the Canaanite woman. My little church does not have the financial
resources to get these folks off the street, but I can fill their gas tank,
show them how to use the internet to find cheap lodging, let them use the
church’s address for the delivery of their SNAP card, or give them a bottle of
cold water on a hot day. It may be only a crumb, but it’s something.
We
all have a little of the Pharisee in us, and we’re all called to keep a watch
on our hearts.
Thank
you for visiting me again this week. Don’t be shy about leaving a comment. I always
like to know what you think. God bless!
[i] That would be the Sadducees. They were the “money class” and had lots of
influence in the Temple.
[ii] I
am personally quite fond of dogs. In fact, if my wife’s 9-year-old female shih
tzu were magically transformed into a human child, I couldn’t love her any more
or spoil her any less than I do now.
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