“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness. These you out to have done without neglecting the others. You blind guides, striving out a gnat and swallowing a camel.” (Matthew 23:23-24 ESV)
Jesus was posting out great inconsistency in the hearts of the Pharisees. These ‘holy’ men obeyed the letter of the law; going so far as to measure and tithe off the spices growing in their herb gardens. But the greater heart issues addressed by the law were left entirely unchecked. We know this because of their interactions with others, their disdain for the poor, their lack of empathy for the informed, their repulsion for the sinner. The Pharisee’s hostility toward the Gentile was monumental, despite the Torah’s promise that Abraham would be a blessing to all nations. I read in a commentary on Luke that if a Jew were to pass a Gentile woman in labor, it was socially acceptable to keep walking; it was better for the pregnant mother to die in her efforts than to bring one more Gentile into the world. These are the heart issues the religious leadership had. Of course, we know what they did to Jesus. By the end of the gospels these Pharisees are blood-stained by outright murder, yet somehow still smug in their social standing as the moral police of the ancient near-east. Their time would come though. By 70 AD the Jewish nation would be nearly snuffed out, the Temple destroyed and the Pharisees disbanded forever.
It’s easy to read texts like this and come to the conclusion that we have nothing in common with these religious charlatans. But a closer examination might be in order. We might be faithful to tithe, to attend Sundays and Wednesdays and any extra services. We might volunteer on a ministry team or fold bulletins. We might sing every lyric and shake every hand. But I wonder, do we live out the heart of the law? Do we truly love people?
What keeps us from living out God’s heart?
For many of us, it’s unforgiveness that keeps us from re-engaging. It’s unforgiveness that keeps us from upholding the weightier matters of the law.
Sometimes we have been so deeply wounded in the pews that our post-trauma tendency is to stay in our lane, do our expected bit and then go home and recover from the exertion. This feels very letter of the law and completely apart from the heart of God’s word.
I’m realizing it’s loads easier to criticize than to participate. We can point to our old injuries and make an excuse to sit out. We can watch from the sidelines and coach from the arm chair. It’s far less extracting to spend our energies identifying the inconsistencies of others instead of risking it again in the muddy trenches of ministry.
This morning I am thinking about Jesus. How the church accused, assaulted, tried and convicted their own sinless Savior. How they sent Him to a cross to die. Yet three days later, He rose again. He walked the earth a second time, arms wide open to relationship with the very humans who betrayed Him so brutally. Our Savior lived and died and lived again the very heart of the law.
“And they came to the place that is called The Skull, there they crucified Him, and the criminals, one on His right and one on His left. And Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” (Luke 23:33-34 ESV)
I am continually surprised by my Savior’s ability to forgive. Yes, He forgives us of our sin which is nothing short of remarkable. But He also forgave the disciples who abandoned Him, Peter who forsook Him, Judas who betrayed Him. It is unfathomable to me, how He recovered from His wounds so quickly. And I wonder, why are we so bad at that? Why must our heart insist on keeping a record?
I’m reading a book that is rocking my world. ‘Women Rowing North’ has been putting words to thoughts and feelings I’ve had for years. The author, Mary Pipher, writes about how death concentrates our questions, brings them down the five essentials in our story. “I forgive you. Please forgive me. I love you. Thank you. Goodbye.” I know in my heart that she’s right. I’ve stood watching, weeping at the deathbed of each parent. I’ve heard these questions come forth from dying lips and find their answers in a room streaked with last rays of life’s light. I’ve wondered, what if I could live with that kind of clarity now, in the middle of my story, rather than waiting for the last chapter to open?
So I think about Jesus and how on the cross He answered all these questions; His and ours. Forgiveness. Unconditional love. Gratitude. Goodbye. I wonder if it was from His place of deathbed clarity that He could see the essentiality of forgiveness? Or because He is sovereign, if He’s always seen it with crystal clarity? Yet His words of release were most poignant from the cross.
Perhaps we need to die a bit ourselves before we can answer our questions more completely. Maybe it is only in the doorway of death where souls make sense and we can see the big picture in a way that accurately colors every interaction here on earth? Maybe this is what He means by dying to self?
Jesus forgave from the cross, as love dripped from His body to cover the sins inflicted against Him. We require His help, His Holy Spirit if we are going to learn to forgive like that. It turns out that pain is not an adequate excuse to sit out in contempt of the heart of the law. If we are going to live in alignment with God’s agenda, it’s got to be more than skin deep.
Lord, thank You for Your conviction today. Thank You for seeing past our appearances to the heart of the matter. Realign us with Your word, inside and out. Check our motives and heal the scars that keep us from loving well. May we learn to walk or crawl or hang on a cross with forgiveness flowing out of every pore as You, our Savior, demonstrated so lovingly. Amen.