Living With An Open Heart

Rev. Ann Beaty
Tarrytown United Methodist Church


August 31, 2003


Text: Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23
In the Scripture that was just read, we have the story of one of the classic confrontations between Jesus and the Pharisees. At stake was nothing less than the question of what constituted true religion: Was it the observation of various rituals or ordinances, or was it a condition of the heart? As I reflect on my own inner spiritual life and also watch others in the world around me, it seems to me these are important questions, which continue to speak to us.

At first, it might be easy for us to jump to the conclusion that the Pharisees and scribes are over reacting with all their fuss towards the disciples. All that happened was a few of Jesus' disciples neglected to wash their hands before they ate. But as with all religious ritual, it helps to know some of the meaning behind the act.

The Pharisaic tradition of washing one's hands before eating was a long one. Since the Book of Exodus when the Law was given to the Israelites, it was required that the high priest, before he even entered the temple, ritually wash both his hands and his feet. Over the years since that time, it had become the norm for all followers of Pharisaic tradition, not just the priests, to wash their hands before eating, as a way of identifying with the high priest, and more importantly, as a way of sanctifying the particular act of eating.

What is important to see here is that the followers of the Pharisaic tradition, by performing these external rites and acts, hoped to sanctify the common things of life, hoped to make holy the rather common act of eating. They wanted to add a religious dimension to everything they did.

For the Pharisees, then, these were not just empty acts, without meaning. The devout Pharisees were very sincere in their ritual washings. They were making the common holy. In fact, in our day and time, we try to do a version of the same thing when we pray before eating a meal. We pray that God will bless the food and we give thanks for it having been provided for us. Many of us pray before sports events, school tests, before making a presentation to our colleagues, or a sales pitch to the customer, believing that everything we do is somehow within the realm of God's mercy and guidance. The most common and ordinary things we do can be set apart as events made holy by God.

Understanding their tradition, we might find it harder to fault the Pharisees for wondering why some of Jesus' disciples did not wash their hands before eating a meal.

But Jesus does fault the Pharisees. He notices that there has developed a gap between the Pharisees' external religious practice and their internal belief. The Pharisees have concentrated so much on these external measures of religious practice that the internal marks of faith are forgotten, or worse yet, deliberately avoided.

The external religious ritual doesn't do any good if it meets a closed heart on the inside.
Mark's gospel tells us: "There is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile." Do we sometimes lose sight of the state of our inner heart because of our focus on the external acts? Does our ritual become empty act?

Though the tradition of washing hands had begun for the Pharisees in all sincerity, by Jesus' time a certain fear had set in. Their system of ritual and legal performance had grown so rigid that it had taken control of them. Everything they did hinged on the concern that maybe they would be breaking a law, and if one part of the tradition were to be broken, then maybe the whole tradition would die out, and if the tradition died out, then maybe the whole faith would die. They were afraid of losing their faith. And in their fear of losing their faith, they moved towards being more legalistic in their external actions and in that, lost the ability to keep their heart open to God's love.

Fear does that to people. It turns minor concerns into obsessions. Fear tricked the Pharisees into thinking that if they did the proper external acts, they would be made inwardly clean. If they washed their hands before every meal, then nothing unclean would ever enter them.

The reality is we do have uncleanness inside of us. When I say "uncleanness" I mean those parts of our inner thoughts and feelings that keep us from having an open heart towards God's love. Each of us has this "uncleanness" in us in the form of doubts, fears, prejudice, times when we don't act out of our best selves. Those times when we close our hearts to God's love.

Because I'm a pastor, I have many opportunities to be involved in the external acts of religion. And I can tell you from knowing what goes on in my own heart that these external acts do not, by themselves, make one a religious person. Just like you I struggle at times with doubts, fears, prejudice and times when I don't act out of my best self. I'm sure my family and close friends would be quick to tell you this is true!

One of the ways uncleanness takes form in me is that I tend to jump to conclusions before I have all the data. This sometimes causes me to make assumptions or miss out on opportunities because I have prematurely decided the answer or outcome. Perhaps this comes from my own insecurities and wanting to be sure I have everything under control. Perhaps it comes from my desire to do things right. Wherever it comes from, I do know it sometimes keeps my heart closed from living fully into God's love.

Charles Rice, an author, wrote this story about a trip he took. "We were waiting to board the plane in Nashville. After a grueling three days of meetings among church hierarchs and seminary professors, I was looking forward to some sleep on the way to Newark. I did not notice the young woman until the baby started crying and then all eyes and ears were on her as she moved to the other side of the waiting area. She boarded first, carrying the now screaming infant, and by the time I entered the plane she was sitting in the first row and everyone else was as far back as possible.

I took a seat toward the rear and hoped that the child would soon stop crying. At the last moment a young man entered the plane. How to describe him?...The time he had spent on his hair and the sophisticated cut of his clothes did, at least, seem to announce self-indulgence. He was no sooner through the door than he had sized up the situation:

The isolated young mother with her crying baby, everyone else huddled at least two rows away. He tossed his shiny leather coat into the overhead bin, sat down by the woman, and reached for the baby, who before too long, was asleep on his shoulder.

By the time we got to Newark, the mother was sleeping, too. This was, to say the least, beyond all appearance, living from the heart."

I'm embarrassed to say that I probably would have been one of those people huddled at the back of the plane. And I'm fairly certain I would have formed the same judgment about the young man who entered the plane based on his appearance and many other assumptions I would have already made.

Our deepest fear may be that we know that uncleanness does live inside us, and despite whatever we do to be made clean - wash our hands before eating or pray before going to bed at night - despite anything we do, our fear is that there is no way to be made clean, no way to be made whole. That's the fear that prompts us to present false images of ourselves. That is the fear that causes us to deny the uncleanness that lives inside of us. That's the fear that drives us to do all we can on the outside to clean ourselves up when the inside is closed off from God's love.

The gift of the gospel is this: Jesus shows us that we don't need to be bound by our uncleanness. We don't need to be held hostage by our fears. It is to our fears that Jesus speaks a word of freedom.

The way to deal with our uncleanness is the way of freedom because it is freedom that is the opposite of fear. It was the freedom of Jesus that troubled the Pharisees so much. They found him to be blatantly disregarding the tradition of the elders. He ate with outcasts… people considered unclean. He plucked grain on the Sabbath. He ate without washing his hands.

But it was also the freedom of Jesus that drew people to him. He was free not to be scared of society or of his enemies but to speak truth to them in love. It was the freedom of Jesus that enabled him to accept those who were different: the outcast, the unclean. It is freedom in Jesus Christ that allows us to look at ourselves honestly and to see that, yes, indeed, there is uncleanness in us. But it is freedom, too, free will, which enables us to accept the mercy of Jesus Christ. It is freedom, finally, which enables us to accept ourselves in love and then reach out in love to others.

When we are released from our fears, we find that all of life is sanctified. Common things can be made holy. Ordinary things can be made clean, not by saying the right prayers over them or by washing our hands in the proper way, but by seeing those common events and ordinary people in a new way.

When I am able to move beyond my insecurities and encounter others as children of God, I find the most extraordinary people in the world to be my friends and acquaintances. When I am able to move beyond my early drawn conclusions, I find myself in places where God gives me the strength and courage to offer the love of Christ to others. Ordinary events like airplane rides and screaming babies become opportunities to touch the sacred. Chance encounters with others at the grocery store, or work or school, become opportunities to touch the sacred in someone else. We meet these encounters with an open heart because we are seeing through the eyes of Jesus Christ. Jesus freely accepted the outcast, the lonely, the unclean, the guilty. Jesus accepted the common things and broken things of this world, which is why he accepts us.

Let us strive not to escape our short comings and uncleanness, but to touch the unclean and broken in ourselves and others with the freedom and love of Jesus Christ. Then we shall all be made holy and transformed in God's love.