7 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 wash their hands,[a] thus observing the tradition of the elders, 4 and they do not eat anything from the market unless they wash,[b] and there are also many other traditions that they observe: the washing of cups and pots and bronze kettles and beds.[c]) 5 So the Pharisees and the scribes asked him, “Why do your disciples not walk 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.”9 Then he said to them, “You have a fine way of rejecting the commandment of God in order to keep your tradition! 10 For Moses said, ‘Honor your father and your mother,’ and, ‘Whoever speaks evil of father or mother must surely die.’ 11 But you say that if anyone tells father or mother, ‘Whatever support you might have had from me is Corban’ (that is, an offering to God[d]), 12 then you no longer permit doing anything for a father or mother, 13 thus nullifying the word of God through your tradition that you have handed on. And you do many things like this.”
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.”[e]17 When he had left the crowd and entered the house, his disciples asked him about the parable. 18 He said to them, “So, are you also without understanding? Do you not see that whatever goes into a person from outside cannot defile, 19 since it enters not the heart but the stomach and goes out into the sewer?” (Thus he declared all foods clean.) 20 And he said, “It is what comes out of a person that defiles. 21 For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: sexual immorality, theft, murder, 22 adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, debauchery, envy, slander, pride, folly. 23 All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.”
(Mark 7:1-23)
I was always bothered by the Bible’s portrayal of the Pharisees. Christians see these followers of The Law as an example of what NOT to be. There was a time when I took this personally. What was so wrong with following the rules?
I empathized with the Pharisees. A love of the Law and the need to be RIGHT once defined my life, too.
But following Jesus has a knack for changing your life. In my case, it even changed my Enneagram type and two decades of Myers-Briggs results, scooching me away from Judgement and closer to Perception. In other words, something weird started going on during my senior year in college.
I had spent the first three years figuring out how to get honors and accolades from every possible department and club. While other students had social lives, dates and free time, I had goals and checklists. And, when I graduated, nine bright honor chords hung around my neck. I looked like I was auditioning for Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.
Crossing the stage to receive my diploma, I should have been elated. I had proven I was a great student and a good person. But I did not feel that way. Just empty, ashamed – and not enough.
My old Inner Critic hissed at me. “You could have finished the Honors Program and worn that fancy medallion, too.” “You would be Summa Cum Laude if you were smart enough to get more than a B- in music theory.” “Why aren’t you engaged – and why are you broke?”
Was I going to succumb to another debilitating panic attack right here on the stage? The first had struck at the start of senior year, leaving me broken, bawling, barely breathing and feeling like a loser. Others had followed. But now, as I said, something weird had started to happen.
I was finding Jesus again in the lowest moments of my life. And he was holding me up that sunny May day.
To be clear, he had come looking for me. I had avoided any thought of a faith life since high school graduation. I thought I knew enough about the God stuff and needed to learn about more important things. So, I explored policy, business, law and politics. None could give me what I really wanted: absolute control of my world.
In the meantime, studying biology, sociology, history, and philosophy – and going from church to church with the Doane Choir – kept dragging me back to God. I hated that.
Finally, over winter break senior year, I got a call from my longtime mentor, the Pastor who had baptized me and listened to years of my religious rantings. He took me to lunch, gently asked a few probing questions, and I stopped ranting. I think you can guess the rest of the story. I ended up in Divinity School the following fall, then here at Plymouth, the last place I would have expected to be.
It was not easy for me to draw closer to God this way. I would have preferred that checklist. So, I empathize with the Pharisees. I know exactly what they wanted: a surefire path to a sure thing. Unfortunately, like me, they were going about it all wrong: trying to power through, master the rules, and earn salvation.
Like a stern but loving parent, Christ called them out. He knows the danger of loving purity rather than God and each other.
No doubt, the Law is good. It guides our worship and relationships. But perfectly following the Law – purity – was never the goal. The Law shapes us into the people we are meant to be, into the relationships we are meant to enjoy. Jesus warns the Pharisees (and us) that blind adherence to rules and traditions, no matter how well-intentioned, may ultimately lead us to violate God’s greatest commandments.
For example, the Pharisees encouraged people to honor God by giving all they could to the Temple. They even suggested making the Corban offering mentioned in our text instead of supporting an aging parent. Jesus reminds the Pharisees that God commands us to honor our fathers and mothers. Taking care of one another is more important than giving outsized offerings.
The Pharisees also displayed their piety by following complex food purity codes. Again, Jesus calls them out. God is more worried about the state of our hearts than our stomachs. Making a show of our reverence while allowing evil to fester in our hearts defiles us.
So why does Christ call us out? It is not out of cruelty, but kindness. Christ sees a love of external metrics and challenges us to live, not act, to not be hypocrites.
Not hypocrite as we understand it, but as the Greeks know it, hypokrites, which the Daily Study Bible defines as “one who answers” (170). It goes on to define this “one who answers” as “one whose whole life is a piece of acting without any sincerity behind it at all” (170). So, when Jesus confronts the Pharisees, is he insulting them, or is he just inviting them to drop the act?
If you do nothing else, you will have made all the difference in the world if you are gentle and kind, if you have the courage to be compassionate. Slander, pride, wickedness and other ills do not manifest out of nowhere, and, according to this passage, are not from the outside. They come from the heart. It is not a question of whether you are guilty of any of these things, it is a warning of what comes from allowing them to fester. One does not simply get out of bed and like a Disney villain declare, “today I will be wicked!” Honestly, the world might be kinder if it was that easy, as if these things were some on or off switch. But they are not, and it is much more complex. And that leads us back to Jesus, it keeps each of us coming back here.
Christ calls us to us to be gentler and kinder than the world we know, to move our hearts closer to God. Cast out pride, greed, slander and wickedness – there is no room for them in God’s kingdom. Fill your hearts and the world with gentleness, kindness and compassion. Strive to be God’s loving people, ever caring for one another.
As for my heart, I wish I could say taking a one-eighty turn changed everything instantly. But it’s a process.
I have had a few panic attacks since 2019. And I have been tempted to cling to “law and order” for security, pretending it is possible to control every outcome. On the plus side, I have given up chasing accolades and regularly cross out of my comfort zone, which has its rewards.
For instance, the old me, busily padding a resume, wouldn’t have found the time to make stop-motion LEGO videos for kids during a pandemic. He would have scoffed at creating a Christmas village to draw people of all ages together, which I found incredibly rewarding. And I am sure he is shaking his head in disbelief as I consider my next call, focusing on what I am meant for rather than impressing old Divinity School classmates.
The truth is, occasionally, I still hear the voice of my old Inner Critic. “Are you ever going to get your Doctorate and become a real pastor?” Maybe you hear a voice, too.
What if, when you and I hear the vicious whispers, we look to one another for support? Perhaps we could call on the best of each other’s hearts. Together, with gentleness, joy, love, and kindness – and in Jesus’ name – we can accept that we are saved not by our perfection but by the grace of a loving God.
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