August 30, 2015 – The 14th
Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 17B
© 2015 Evan D. Garner
Audio of this sermon can be heard here.
You know those moments
when your mamma asks you if you’ve washed your hands, and you tell her “yes,”
and then she asks to smell your hands just to be sure, and you turn around and
walk back to the bathroom to wash them with soap this time? You know those
moments? We seem to have a lot of those moments in our house these days, and
almost all of them involve smelling something. Did you wash your hands? Let me
smell them. Did you brush your teeth? Let me smell your breath. Did you wash
your hair? Let me smell the top of your head. That works well around the house,
but it’s a strategy that breaks down in other venues.
Last week, I watched an
employee at fast-food restaurant walk out of the bathroom without washing his
hands. I wasn’t worried since I was only there because my son needed to go to
the bathroom, but I wondered whether I should warn the other guests. And then I
laughed to myself as I imagined the manager or an angry customer demanding to
smell the guy’s hands. I got into my car still chuckling at the imaginary
scene, but then I started to wonder how you screen for other character flaws. Bad
hygiene shows up on the outside, but where do you smell to determine whether an
employee is skimming off the top? How can you look at someone and tell whether he
is an honest, upstanding sort of person or a deceitful, scheming criminal?
We know that the outside
and the inside don’t always match up. We’re familiar with stories of people who
are supposed to be impeccable in their public persona but end up letting us
down: politicians whose names appear on the Ashley Madison list, teachers who
engage in sexual relationships with their students, priests who steal money
from their church. More often than not, you can’t look at people—or smell them—and
tell what they are like on the inside. There’s a long list of people who have
been pulled down from their pedestals because the world discovered that they’re
human after all. But I’m more interested in the list of people whom the world
looks at and thinks that they are rotten to their core only to discover that
beneath a grimy exterior is a person of deep faith and remarkable holiness. I’d
much rather spend time with people whom you have to get to know before you can
tell that they’re religious.
When the Pharisees and
scribes noticed that Jesus’ disciples ate without washing their hands, they
approached him and asked why they ignored the tradition of the elders. Although
eating with dirty hands is gross in any culture, traditional Judaism calls upon
individuals to ritually wash their hands not only as a matter of hygiene but
also a way of expressing their identity as faithful Jews. If you’re Jewish, it’s
just what you do. But Jesus’ disciples weren’t doing it, which is kind of like
a Baptist preacher buying a beer at a baseball game—it’s not the end of the
world, but it’s pretty darn close. But Jesus wasn’t interested in hearing what
religious customs his disciples were breaking because he knew that what happens
on the outside doesn’t always match what is going on on the inside. The only
thing he cared about was whether their hearts were in the right place.
But how can you tell whether
someone’s heart is in the right place? What does that look like? How can you
spot holiness in a lineup? It isn’t as easy as looking to see who washes his
hands, nor is it as simple as seeing who goes to church. That’s because
behavior doesn’t make someone good or bad. Our character isn’t a product of
what we do or what we say or what we eat or drink. As Jesus said, “There is
nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come
out are what defile.” In other words, our behavior is a product of our
character—not the other way around. And that simple, little principle
represents the difference between hypocrisy and true faith.
What do you think makes
someone a good person? What do you think makes someone holy? Do you think it matters
whether they go to church? Do you think it matters whether they say their
prayers? Can’t atheists be good people too? Maybe it’s how they treat other
people. Do you think being nice to strangers and helping little old ladies
across the street is what makes a person good? Is the Golden Rule the
definition of goodness? Are Boy Scouts the epitome of holiness? Perhaps being overwhelmingly
generous and giving most of one’s fortune to charity is what makes someone a
truly good person. Actually, all of those things are nice, but God doesn’t care
one bit about them. And thanks be to God for that because, if God’s kingdom
were reserved for nice people, I’d be in big trouble—and so would you.
People judge by outward
appearance, but the Lord looks upon the heart (1 Sam. 16:7). What you do makes
no difference at all because nice doesn’t matter to God. Only our hearts
matter. Our behavior doesn’t make us holy. It is God himself and God alone who
can make us holy. It is God who reconciles us to himself, who wipes our slate
clean and grants us a share of his holiness. That’s the story of Jesus Christ. God
sent his Son to take upon himself all of the evil of the world so that the
world might become holy to God. We don’t do anything to become holy. God did
everything to make us holy. That’s where true religion lies. Everything else is
just for show.
We practice our faith to
show ourselves that God has already made us holy. We don’t do any of this
because we want God to think better of us. Unconditional love means
unconditional—as in not conditional on anything we think, say, or do. And we
don’t do it to show the world that we are holier than they are. Again,
hypocrisy is built on the premise that our behavior is what counts. We do all
of this—we come to church, we say our prayers, we give to the poor, we tutor
students at Banks-Caddell, we work in the Free Clinic, and we serve lunch at
the CCC—not because we want God or anyone else to think that we are holy. We do
all of these things because God has already made us holy, and, as God’s holy
people, we need a way of making that holiness real to us.
Ritual is humanity’s way
of expressing something that cannot otherwise be said. We ritualize the big
moments of life like coming of age, marriage, and death not because we need a
liturgy to make them happen but because we need a way of writing the
inexpressible truth of those moments on our hearts. All of the trappings of
Christianity are supposed to have their root in the inescapable truth that God
has made us holy through the life, death, and resurrection of his Son, Jesus
Christ. But too often our traditions lose their focus and become vain attempts
to produce what God has already given us. If you think that going to church
will make you holy in God’s eyes, your faith has become hypocrisy. And, if
you’re here because you care what other people think about you and you want
them to know that you’re a church-going kind of person, your faith has become
hypocrisy. We aren’t here because we want to seem holy in the eyes of God or of
our neighbor. We’re here to remember and celebrate that holiness is a gift from
God. It’s where we start—not the destination we seek.
Ask yourself why you are here. If you’re looking for holiness, you can stop looking; you’ve already found it. Come to church because you are holy. Say your prayers because you are holy. Receive Communion because you are already holy. There is nothing you can do to make yourself a good person. God has already given you his holiness. God has already made you good in his eyes. Practice your faith not as an attempt to manufacture that which God alone can make, but practice your faith as a way of remembering that eternal truth. You are holy because God alone has made you holy.
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