A sermon Preached on Sunday, October 30th, on the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 23.
Before we come into this thick text this morning, we must remember that Jesus left the Pharisees so stumped that they stopped asking questions.
Yes, the give and take and the push and pull of the last few chapters of the gospel seem to have come to a stand still.
Think back with me that over the last few weeks we have tracked all kinds of conversations that really weren't conversations but were truly verbal "traps."
We had the dichotomy of loyalty to Caesar or to God.
We had the silly question over marriage and the resurrection.
But, finally they thought they could stick it to Jesus by asking him to name the most important commandment.
He nailed it by both quoting Deuteronomy "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and all your mind...score one point for Jesus.
He quoted the shema, but then he added his own spin "You shall love your neighbor as yourself."
When these final verbal duels come to conclusion, the 22nd chapter of Matthew ends with these dire words.
"No one was able to give him an answer, nor from that day did anyone dare to ask him any more questions."
So, now the tables are turned.
Instead of being grilled, Jesus is the griller.
He is on his final journey and he is ready to dispense with any pretense--with any niceties.
He is done playing intellectual or emotional games with his critics.
And, today he is coming out against ostentatious examples of religiosity.
To us, this is probably a funny image.
We live far enough away from enclaves of orthodox Judaism that the picture of esteemed rabbis with flowing fringes and phylacteries is a foreign one to us.
(Phylacteries, by the way, are tied on to men's arms, and they use them for prayer. They are made of leather and contain small pieces of Hebrew scriptures literally tied into them.)
But, imagine if you will, people in public doing their very best to show other people that they are at prayer or that they are publicly religious people.
Perhaps, you have struggled with a dimension of religious ostentation.
I know when I first started to regularly attend Ash Wednesday services, I debated whether to wipe the cross formed from ashes from my forehead when the liturgy was over.
And, if I did, would I go so far as to wipe any sign of dirt off my forehead?
Or would I instead leave my cross on as a sign of the penitential nature of the day?
Would that cross for me be a sign of ostentation or perhaps a sign of humbled obedience?
Of course, no one can answer that question for you;
I have finally surmised that as Christianity takes a pervasive back seat to secularism that my little cross is a way for me to witness to my faith on such an important day.
I leave it on and people in grocery stores point out the dirty smudge on my forehead and I blithely smile.
However, the Pharisees desire for honor and homage was of a different ilk.
The Pharisees desire for prestige and honor comes under fire by Jesus because theirs was a need to draw attention to themselves.
Their "brand" of religiosity put a heavier burden on the poor--especially poor peasants and urban poor.
In many ways, their teachings imposed more burdens on the least of these.
So, in light of the journey Jesus has begun in Jerusalem, the journey culminating in the cross, he has said enough.
And, this is where all those horrible clichés come in.
Things like: They say, but they do not do. They talk the talk, but don't walk the walk.
Unfortunately, it is some of these clichés that give us, the church, a bad rap.
But, really we don't need to take these things to heart if we dig deeply and show people who we are...The church, at her best, is a community gathered without the hypocrisy of those few Pharisees.
Yes, our clergy wear collars.
You may say that is vain.
I merely say it's helpful.
When you go into a restaurant, your waiter usually wears black.
That's helpful, too, so you know to whom you should gesture to place your order.
But, I posit that the church is the one place where we all receive the same treatment before God. In the culture of the church, it is your baptism that you share with everyone else here.
Not one of you got to skip it because of the street you live on, or because you had a PhD by your name, or because your mother was a founding member of the Daughters of the American Revolution.
In the church, we are all asked to pledge of our time and our talent.
But, let's be frank, we are also asked to pledge of our finances.
Some of you pledge a lot of money, some of you pledge a little, some of you don't pledge at all. And, yet, we all gather with our hands, palms up, and receive the body and blood of Jesus Christ.
There are no obstructions to the Sacrament.
Nobody checking your pledge statements at the door.
We are a different kind of place.
We cannot earn special status here.
And, special status cannot be taken from us.
Some people might argue that it's not fair.
And to be sure, churches are that place where there is often a devoted circle of members who make things like the Christmas Bazaar happen year after year.
Sure, we'd love new blood.
But, we will not create Pharisaic laws that will bleed people dry.
A church culture is one of abundant generosity, even when such abundance can feel unfair.
Two weeks ago, the Mentored for Mission group from Redeemer, the high school kids, were invited to worship with the church community at St. Gabriel's.
Pharisaic laws might have kept us from gathering together.
We were different races, different sexes, different socio-economic statuses, and even different nationalities.
But we all made our way to that rail together and were instructed by their priest to say "Amen" upon receiving the sacrament.
Amen to the community of the church.
Amen to the culture of the church.
Amen to the refuge and solace of the church.
Jesus says to the crowds those who exalt themselves will be humbled and those who humble themselves will be exalted.
I think of this most when I recall the unique liturgy of the Burial Office in the Episcopal Church. In our church, the body is born into the church with the amazing words:
As for me, I know that my Redeemer lives and that at the last he will stand upon the earth ...
Every person who crosses the threshold from life to death in the Episcopal Church's liturgy receives the same funeral.
The same comforting words from Scripture.
The same anthems.
The same Holy Eucharist
But what is most striking for me is that all the coffins are covered with a simple pall.
A pall is a cloth that makes a coffin uniform.
Therefore, there is no distinction between wood or pine, gold or vaulted, or even a cardboard box.
Our church makes no distinction between one human being and another even unto death.
Truly, Jesus knew that the faith we are to live is one that is authentically generous.
And when our faith is ostentatious let it be so in its abundant generosity.
For in our abundant generosity the culture we create in the church knows neither male nor female, Jew or Gentile, slave or free.
Perhaps, my friends, the next time someone laments to you the hypocrisy of the church, you might tell them about a funeral in the Episcopal church.
You might quote to them:
For none of us has life in himself,
and none becomes his own master when he dies.
For if we have life we are alive in the Lord, and if we die, we die in the Lord.
So, then, whether we live or die,
we are the Lord's possession.
No clichés there.
just the abundant generosity of the love of Jesus Christ.
