REFLECTIONS ON HUMILITY AND ABILITY

Matthew 23:1-12

October 30, 2011 – Rev. Jerry Duggins

The last two weeks, we’ve been following an encounter between Jesus and the various religious leaders of the day: Herodians, Pharisees, Sadducees and scribes. The encounter took the form of a question and answer session in which the leaders played a much less friendly form of “stump the pastor.” Jesus proves himself an able combatant, parrying the thrusts of his opponents’ swords, astounding the crowd with his answers, but only deepening the bitterness and hatred that the scribes and Pharisees felt toward him. The text does not say so, but we can imagine these leaders slipping away to plot in private as Jesus turns to the crowd and his disciples to begin a lecture, by which I mean not an academic teaching but a scolding.

It begins mildly enough. In fact the lectionary committee that selects passages for each Sunday has done us the service or disservice, depending on how you see it, of excluding the most inflammatory parts of the speech. In the portion we read he accuses the scribes and Pharisees of failing to practice what they teach, burdening the people with excessive requirements, failing to offer relief, boasting about the good deeds they do, seeking their own honor, securing the best seats in the synagogue, seeking titles and acclamation.

Imagine that a scribe stayed behind as in all likelihood one did if only to report on Jesus’ words to his friends. Let us call him Ezekiel because I like that name and the Old Testament prophet that goes by that name belonged to the tradition of the scribes. Now Zeke (he doesn’t mind if we shorten his name because he was rather short in stature and since he’s fictional we can just say that he doesn’t mind), Zeke was not so pretentious as his colleagues, being the shortest and youngest and just out of seminary realizing he had much to learn yet.

Zeke is surprised to hear Jesus begin with an affirmation of their teaching. “Do whatever they teach you and follow it.” This was precisely why Zeke had become a scribe. It had nothing to do with his father being a scribe. He had learned the teachings, believed them to be full of wisdom and when practiced led to a meaningful and fulfilling life.

“But what’s this Jesus is saying now? Accusing us of not practicing what we teach?” Zeke had never thought of his occasional failures to live up to the law as a refusal to practice the faith. He’d never seen it as hypocrisy. The law was strict and there were so many of them and well sometimes there were good reasons to exceed the limit for walking on the sabbath. His mentors were always able to give him sound advice for how to hold to the letter of the law, tricks that allowed one to do the necessary thing without violating the code. Eventually, his teachers told him, he would learn all the tricks, and be able to comply with every letter of the law.

But Jesus was moving on, and Zeke’s thoughts tried to keep pace. This accusation of laying heavy burdens on the people seemed particularly unfair. “We didn’t make the law and no one can follow it for another. I’m sure my brothers would be willing to lighten the load if we only knew a way to do so. But really isn’t it better for people to struggle through these things on their own? Isn’t that what builds courage and character in a person?”

“As for our public deeds, we’re just setting an example for the people to follow. That’s good leadership. They need to see that there are those who pray a lot to God.” Zeke was beginning to wonder whether Jesus had ever sat down and really talked with one of his friends, tried to understand what they were trying to do, but then Jesus began to question their integrity, accusing them of seeking honor and recognition. “What’s wrong with addressing a rabbi as ‘Rabbi’?”

Zeke hadn’t meant to utter the question aloud. He was getting lost in his thoughts a little and often when this happened, he would start talking aloud so that he could actually hear the words. It usually helped him sort things out. But he was standing near the front and Jesus heard him, paused, and looking straight at him said without interrupting his line of speaking, “But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all students…. You have one Father – the one in heaven…. you have one instructor, the Messiah.”

Jesus said a great many other things about scribes and Pharisees but Ezekiel wasn’t listening any more, He was still pondering this “one teacher… one Father… one instructor” stuff when he finally slipped away himself. He didn’t go to the meeting place where his colleagues awaited him. He went home… to think.

One teacher… the rest of us are students. One Father or Mother… the rest of us are children. One Messiah… the rest of us in need of salvation. Here he was studying to be a teacher and hoped to have his own students one day, hoped to be considered a “father in the faith,” hoped to stand in for the Messiah while all the people waited.

And then Ezekiel understood how his dream was no more than a temptation to set himself above the people, to pass himself off as one who knew things.

Ezekiel became a great scribe among the people and he was greatly loved. Asked by his daughter one day about this, he told her: “I never saw myself as more than a student of God’s ways and as a child loved by God.

The Reformation referred to this as the priesthood of all believers, that we are all students of Christ and children loved by God. It was a doctrine that attempted to reunite the clergy and laypeople in the common walk of faith together. This scolding by Jesus of the religious leaders of his day carries a weighty lesson for us today. We will never arrive if we make distinctions among ourselves, if we consider some more righteous than others, some more important than others. We will get there together or not at all.

Jesus tells us how to be together, remembering that we are all still learning from one teacher, Jesus Christ and remembering that we are all children still growing and maturing in faith by the grace of God alone. Amen.