The Outcome of Faith
Mark 7:1-23 and James 2:1-26
September 6, 2009
When I was growing up, out text from Mark today seemed to me to be a true godsend. I’ve always enjoyed trying different foods from various parts of the world, and this passage theologically backed up my curious palate. Especially coming from the south, where barbecue is a staple dietary food, Jesus’ declaration of all foods being clean paved the way for my own joyous consumption of pounds of pulled pork, pork rinds, pork tenderloins, and, of course, bacon!
Furthermore, this text didn’t only allow the gustatory delight of pigs-in-a-blanket, but also allowed my taste buds to tingle with the flavors of escargot, braised rabbit, boiled lobster, crab cakes, and turtle soup—all of which would most likely have been banned by Torah laws and interpretations of uncleanliness.
From my own historical family standpoint, I am happy to know that when my grandmother cooked up squirrel stew for her six children, she was in no way violating precepts of cleanliness. Perhaps some of you here today can breathe a similar sigh of relief.
And while we’re on the topic of foods, I must tell you that I do have one major food regret. It happened when Lisa and I were on our honeymoon and one of the local delicacies was flying fox, which is simply a very large bat. Lisa was not too set on sharing this meal with me, I’m not sure anyone would blame her, but I insisted that we must at least have a taste. So we walked for several miles before finally getting to a restaurant named L’Houstalet, which served the best flying fox in the city, only to find that it was closed that night. Fortunately, I can still dream of that missed meal, and hope for another opportunity knowing that fruit bat is but one taste in our delectable world that we humans can try without remorse.
However, Jesus did not reinterpret Jewish dietary restrictions simply because he knew how delightful warm, fresh barbecue was. Rather, there are greater reasons at play here that we need to investigate.
Most critical are the historical situation of our passage and the patterns of interpretation that differ between Jesus and the Pharisees. Both Jesus and the Pharisees could be considered strict interpreters of Jewish law; they just each emphasized different parts of it. The Pharisees find the “tradition of the elders” to be supreme. This “tradition” is an oral tradition which had been passed down for hundreds of years and contained interpretations and elaborations of Mosaic laws—kind of like the Supreme Court of the United States uses precedent to interpret the Constitution.
Jesus, on the other hand, expresses his view that the Mosaic Law—the laws of the books of the Torah, trumps the tradition of the elders. In other words, he says that if the tradition of the elders violates the Mosaic Law and doesn’t live up to God’s standards of justice and righteousness, then the tradition is void.
But, we may ask ourselves today, what is wrong with washing our hands before we eat, or washing our food before we consume it? Weren’t the Pharisees merely being supportive of the health of the people when they encouraged washing?
One of the words used here to describe how the Pharisees wash their hands and food is bapti,zw (“baptizo”), which means immersion and is frequently used in a symbolic way, in much the same way our baptisms as Christians is a symbolic cleaning. The Pharisees weren’t washing their hands and food for hygienic reasons, but for spiritual reasons. The food they ate was considered unclean if at harvest time a proper tithe had not been separated, or if it had been sown or harvested in an impure manner.
These traditions don’t seem to be too harsh, do they? What’s wrong with symbolically cleaning one’s food, after all? Is this not merely taking God’s law seriously and acting in good faith on the precedent of centuries of learning?
We can understand this passage better when read a little further and hear Jesus’ criticisms of the Pharisees. The Pharisees, it seems, have been using the same tradition that promotes the washing of foods and hands in a practice called “korban.” Korban comes from a Hebrew word that simply means “offering.”
Jesus accuses the Pharisees of using this tradition of “offering” to the Jewish Temple to undermine the Mosaic Law which says “Honor your father and your mother.” It was the tradition in Jewish society at the time that children had an obligation to take care of their parents when their parents could not longer provide for themselves. But the Pharisees, according to Jesus, were advising people to dedicate a part of their land and property as an offering to God, instead of using it to support their families.
There is a novel by southern writer Erskine Caldwell called God’s Little Acre. In the story the patriarch of the family, Ty Ty, lives on a beautiful parcel of land. As part of his pledge to God in thanks for such a pristine piece of real estate, he sets aside one acre as “God’s Little Acre” from which every bit of profit will be given to God. A seemingly superb idea.
However for the past twenty-seven years, Ty Ty has had the itch that he will find gold on his land so he has been pock-marking his land by digging vast holes in search for nuggets of wealth. And what has happened to God’s Little Acre during this time? That’s the question that a man named Pluto asks of Ty Ty.
“Where’d you say that acre of land was, Ty Ty?” Pluto questioned.
“Over there near the woods. You won’t be able to see much of it from here.”
“What did you put it ‘way over there? Ain’t that a sort of out-of-the-way place for it to be Ty Ty?”
“Well, I’ll tell you, Pluto. It ain’t always been where it is now. I’ve been compelled to shift it around a heap during these past twenty-seven years. When the boys get to discussing where we’ll start digging anew [for gold], it seems like it always falls on God’s little acre. I don’t know why that is either. I’m set against digging on His ground, so I’ve been compelled to shift it around over the farm to keep from digging it up.”
“You ain’t scared of digging on it and striking a lode, are you Ty Ty?” Pluto asked.
“No, I wouldn’t say that, but I’d hate to have to see the lode struck on God’s little acre the first thing, and be compelled to turn it all over to the church. That preacher’s getting all he needs like it is. I’d hate something awful to have to give all the gold to him. I couldn’t stand that Pluto.”
In a way, Jesus’ criticism of the Pharisees’ practice of korban, of encouraging people to commit a portion of their holdings as an offering to God, is a little bit like Ty Ty’s use of God’s little acre. Ty Ty was a poor farmer. And though he made a mockery of his land by digging it up in search of gold, even if he had planted and harvested, he probably wouldn’t have been able to make a decent living. This was in a time when crops were increasingly being controlled by larger companies and smaller famers were being put out of business. Furthermore, Ty Ty recognized that even if he gave the proceeds of God’s little acre to the church, it would simply fall into the hands of the apparently corrupt preacher who didn’t need it anyway.
One of the reasons the Pharisees may have encouraged the practice of korban in Jesus’ time is because the resources that were gained from promised property went straight to the Temple treasury which, in turn, provided resources for the Scribes and Pharisees. Jesus is accusing these religious leaders of financially benefitting by exploiting resources that should be used to care for people in their old age.
Just as Ty Ty shifted God’s little acre all around his farm to avoid giving to a corrupt church, so Jesus lambasts the Pharisees because they were encouraging the people to shirk their duties of caring for the elderly in order to enrich their treasury. Both Jesus and Ty Ty were rebelling against what they saw as unfair practices by unjust religious structures.
What is most important, Jesus asserts, are not symbolic offerings of korban or ritual cleansings of food, but how people in society are treated and cared for. This is the true mark of God’s Law given by Moses.
Religious rituals and practices are empty, unless they point us toward greater community with God and greater love for one another. And this is the underlying reason why Jesus declares all foods to be clean. Jesus no longer wants ritual to take away from the practical aspects of faith.
Our passage from James today is based upon the same idea. What you do is important. How you care for one another is critical. Treating everyone with justice and fairness is essential to our faith. If our faith leads us only to rituals, only to superficial cleansings, only to a legalism that trumps human needs, then our faith is dead.
Outward symbols and signs, rituals and recitations, do little to combat the problems of the world. We can come to church every Sunday, sit in these pews for a full hour, listen and comprehend every word that leaps from the preacher’s mouth, but if we fail to act with kindness and love, if we fail to share with those in need, if we fail to try and heal the broken places of our world, then our faith is dead.
If we pray every night before dinner, if we pray every night before we go to sleep, if we pray every second of every day of our lives, but we fail to lend a helping hand to a stranger, if we fail to welcome the outcasts, if we fail to visit and care for the sick, then our faith is dead.
Just as the Pharisees did, we have our own rituals that tempt us, don’t we? If we go to church enough, perhaps we think that will absolve us of some responsibility in the world. If we read our Bibles everyday and pray for God to save the troubled world, perhaps we think this tradition of our elders is enough.
A life of faith is not bound solely to tradition. It is not tied merely to ritual. A life of faith is a practical one. A life of faith realizes that it is not what goes into a person that defiles them, but what comes out. And this is the question I would like to leave you with this morning. What is it that comes out of our bodies? What is it that emanates from our hearts? What are the works of our hands?
In a world entranced by the notion of income, our passages today ask the opposite question, what are the outcomes of our faith and lives, what are our responses to a world in need?
When we hear of bankruptcies and of millions of people without access to health insurance, do our hearts ache and do we attempt to understand the situation more deeply and try to work for a better system, a more wholesome reality, and more just way of making sure all people are cared for?
And when we who have enough see someone in need of care, in need of help, do we generously care for them as a fellow member of our human family, or do we say to ourselves, I’ve already given my share; my korban of faith has already been promised elsewhere.
What are our responses of faith? Is our faith alive or dead? In what ways are the broken places of the world receiving our healing touches? Where have our hearts been changed? What is the outcome of our faith? What is it that comes out of you? Amen.
