The Pharisees Weren't Such Bad Guys

The Pharisees weren’t such bad guys. It’s easy to ridicule them, to laugh at them. After all, they are often the targets of Jesus’ harshest retorts and we, having 20/20 hindsight can snicker and say, “How could they have been so blind?”

But you know we often wear the same blinders as the Pharisees. They were appalled that Jesus ate with sinners, unclean people, and tax collectors! Don’t we all have that friend—that person your other friends just don’t ‘get” that person who maybe doesn’t quite fit in? Others may never understand her, but you do, you see something they don’t and so you continue to hang out with the outsider. You see them differently than others. You see beyond what may appear on the surface. For whatever reason you’ve taken a closer look-- you’ve opened your heart to theirs and they’ve open their heart to you. Out of that trust comes friendship. A friendship you wouldn’t have if you hadn’t taken the time to listen, to look and to fully see.

But to those who haven’t taken the time, your friendship with this person remains incomprehensible and hard to take. It seems wrong.

To the Pharisees, Jesus’ actions—his choice of friends, his teachings and his apparent disregard for the rituals of the Jewish faith—were incomprehensible, hard to take and wrong. Jesus was taking everything they loved, everything the held dear, everything they knew and messing with it. When all that you hold dear, all that is familiar and comfortable is threatened, its really easy to become hopping mad.



We in the Anglican tradition, in the Episcopal church are all too familiar with such feelings. The ordination of women, the “new” prayer book, the consecration of Bishop Gene Robinson. People walked out the doors of this Cathedral because of such changes. Every denomination has these upheavals, every religion, every organization. Changes move us out of our comfort zones, and in this fast paced always changing world, comfort zones are important…comfort zones can be, dare I say, sacred.

Sacred cows. We all have them. Families, societies, religions, and parish churches in downtown Buffalo have them. The Pharisees had them too. A sacred cow is simply something which a group has determined to be untouchable, tamper proof, free from editing. Sacred cows generally develop over time and when asked to explain the origin of the sacred cow, we often just shrug and say “well we’ve always done it this way.” Because what matters isn’t how or why it started, what matters is that the action, whatever it is, has been sanctified through tradition.

Our liturgies are full of such traditions. Regardless of the original purpose, our liturgical actions, so familiar to us, have taken on the aura of sanctity.

A great deal of what we do here on a Sunday morning was at one point functional. Processions became a way to move large groups of people from one place to another in an orderly fashion, Sanctus bells helped mark actions happening just out of the congregation’s view, candles provided light before electricity, etc. Over time, though, these actions moved from functionality to sanctity.
But you see, many of these things are enhancements .Our worship is enhanced by candles, music, beautiful vestments and this glorious building. Enhanced. Not validated. Not necessary. Enhanced.

We set aside this place this time and these ceremonies—these instruments of our faith-- to be nourished in our faith, strengthened to do the work God has given us to do.

We get into trouble when our special clothing and music, our candles and bells, our incense and chanting becomes the end instead of the means. We get into trouble when we confuse our rituals with our faith.

And that is exactly what Jesus was saying to the Pharisees in today’s Gospel. Washing of hands is a way to respect God, to consume the gifts of God with reverence and humility. But washing of hands is not what makes something holy. What makes something holy is our full and complete faith in God and the trust that all we need is available through God. To be truly holy we must open ourselves up to that trust, we must release the stranglehold we have on our hearts and allow the Love of God to take up sole residence deep within us. If, after doing that, we engage in rituals to keep us focused, to place us in a holy state of mind, fine….but we must begin with our faith written on our hearts, for if we don’t begin there then our chanting, our kneeling, our processing, our vestments, our vessels and our glorious surroundings become, to use the words of our patron, St Paul, “a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal,” not signifying much of anything.

Jesus wasn’t against ritual, Jesus was against rituals that miss the point, rituals that usurp instead of enhance the Holy.

As I wrote this sermon Friday morning, the services for both Lt. Charles Mc Carthy and FF Jonathon Croom were being held around the corner at St. Joe’s. What I witnessed as each funeral cortège carried their bodies to the cathedral was a ritual which was steeped in the Holy, much pomp and circumstance, signifying something. A ritual which displayed the brother and sisterhood of firefighters the world over, a ritual which helped me remember that nothing is as holy as a person who will run into a burning building to save his brother or sister. Those firefighters who lined the streets in downtown Buffalo on Friday know what is sacred, they know what is Holy-- the rituals they employed to honor the lives of their comrades, helped us all to see the Holy. No doubt Jesus, heartbroken with the rest of us was also pleased, for these men and women clearly get what ritual is all about.

Jesus was telling the Pharisees then and is telling us now---don’t lose sight of the forest of faith for the trees of ritual. For it is the act of meeting the holy, it is the act of opening ourselves fully to the presence of God, which is sacred.

AMEN.