Wash Your Hands- Rev. Wendy McCormick
Wash Your Hands
First Presbyterian Church – Granville
September 1, 2024
We learned more than we ever wanted to know about handwashing during the pandemic, didn’t we? We now know that a quick rinse under the faucet doesn’t do the job. And we also know how long 20 seconds is. Wash your hands for as long as it takes to say the Lord’s Prayer or to sing the ABC song. We always knew handwashing was important, especially during cold and flu season, but now we really, really know, and we won’t soon forget. People had all different opinions about shutdowns and masks and vaccinations, but I don’t remember anyone being against handwashing. On the contrary, perfect strangers felt comfortable reminding us to wash our hands, watching us wash our hands, asking us if we washed our hands and judging us if we don’t.
So we might be on the side of those who favor handwashing in today’s reading even though it’s about ritual handwashing, more than hygiene.
The religious leaders are criticizing the followers of Jesus. It’s all so different from our religious or cultural context. The pious Jewish leaders, the Pharisees, are criticizing Jesus and his disciples, also Jews but more like an upstart or fringe movement in the faith – criticizing them for their failure to observe the handwashing ritual consistent with the practice of their faith. In his famous response, “nothing that goes in defiles . . . . .” Jesus calls to mind not just handwashing but all the dietary rituals associated with faithful religious practice in his religious community of 1st century Judaism.
And so this text has given good modern-day Protestants like you and me the opportunity to THANK GOD that we aren’t like that, that we don’t require people to observe silly, outdated dietary or handwashing rituals. THANK GOD that we aren’t Pharisees. It seems very cut and dried to us. Law bad. Faith good. Pharisees bad. Jesus good. We could get out early.
But, of course, it’s just not that simple. What they’re talking about are the outward signs of faith, to remind themselves and those in the wider culture of who they were and who the God is that they served. This ritual handwashing was an outward sign of faith, of inward cleansing, of a commitment to moral purity. Interestingly, it was not required by the law and the commandments, but it was a custom, a practice, a way that people who were in a teeny tiny minority could set themselves apart as God’s people. And they weren’t saying those character traits Jesus talks about aren’t important. . . .
The outward signs, the rituals and customs, still practiced by those of a variety of faith traditions. Muslims who pray 5 times a day and always wash before they pray; Muslim women who cover their heads and sometimes their faces. Jews who wear the kippa, or perhaps the prayer shawl -- Jews who keep kosher, Muslims who fast during the month of Ramadan, Catholics who follow dietary restrictions during Lent or cross themselves in public. Lots of Christians wear a cross. Outward signs. Rituals.
When I lived in Indiana, I was part of an interfaith partnership among Christian, Jewish and Muslim congregations, as well as an interfaith women’s group. I learned so much about the religious practices of my neighbors, and it really helped me with gospel readings like what we have today.
I don’t know any Jews who practice ritual handwashing the way it’s described from the time of Jesus. But I know Muslims who do. Five times a day, ritual purification before praying. Ritual purification before prayer. These are the kinds of things I learned from my neighbors.
Traditions of washing and traditions of fasting go back thousands of years. Jews fast on the day of Yom Kippur. Muslims fast during daylight hours every day for a month in Ramadan. These disciplines are practiced drawing one’s attention to God and to our need for God. The choice to deny the body some pleasure or to allow the body to experience physical hunger is embraced as a way to remember God, to hunger for God. An Orthodox Christian once told me that the purpose of fasting during Lent was so that on Easter morning even the tongue and the stomach experience resurrection.
I first heard about Ramadan when my kids went to school with Muslim The children who practiced the fast of Ramadan and sat quietly in a classroom or library while everyone else trooped off to lunch. Every year in the month of Ramadan all [faithful] Muslims fast from dawn until sundown, abstaining from food, drink, and sexual relations. Although they will tell you the fast is beneficial to health, it is principally a method of spiritual self-purification. By cutting oneself off from worldly comforts, even for a short time, a fasting person gains true sympathy with those who go hungry, as well as growth in his or her spiritual life.” (islam.com) One friend of mine said ramadan “changes your perception of how much is enough.”
It changes your perception of how much is enough. That sure sounds like a worthy spiritual exercise in this culture where enough is never enough. Super-size me. Couldn’t we all benefit from that kind of spiritual practice?
It becomes harder to read Jesus as condemning outward spiritual practices and religious rituals.
But is that really the take-away? That ritual washing before prayer or covering the head as a reminder of respect or as a way to show the world your faith, not unlike wearing a cross, is a bad thing. That being careful not to drink any water when brushing your teeth during Ramadan . . . . or planning your Friday meals to include no meat or meat products during Lent . . . or eliminating all traces of leaven from your diet during Passover --- is that really a bad thing? Is the conscious, ritual washing of face, hands, feet, in connection with prayer really a bad thing? Are those people self-deluded? Do they not understand grace? Are those of us who don’t typically have such spiritual practices the only ones getting it right?
Of course, we know the answer. The problem isn’t spiritual discipline. The problem isn’t religious ritual. It couldn’t be. The problem is spiritual and religious hypocrisy. One of my Muslim friends told our group, “You’ve probably heard about Muslims who sleep all day during Ramadan so they can eat and drink all night.” Well, yes, I have. “This is not fasting,” she said. “This is not keeping Ramadan. If you have nothing to do all day and you stay in bed for Ramadan, this does not make you a good Muslim.” She went on to explain that Ramadan requires not only abstaining from food and drink but also from emotional outbursts. “Don’t break your fast, Daddy,” one child cried when she noticed the tell-tale signs that Daddy may be about to lose his temper.
In other words, if you keep the letter of the law by reversing your days and nights, you’re not really embracing the spiritual discipline of sacrifice and self-deprivation. And if you perfectly abstain from all food and drink but act like a bear to those around you, well . . . . The letter but not the spirit of the law gets closer to Jesus’ point, doesn’t it?
It’s about religious hypocrisy. And fortunately, religious hypocrisy is very easy to spot, isn’t it ---- as long as it’s somebody else’s religious hypocrisy! We all have an uncanny ability to see anyone and everyone’s hypocrisy except our own. And it’s a favorite theme with Jesus. Remember this is the guy who famously counseled taking the log out of your own eye before you get too exercised about the speck in your neighbor’s.
Hypocrisy is endemic – sometimes it seems like hypocrisy and religion go hand in hand. You’ve probably heard that research and polling show that Millennial and Gen Z adults identify hypocrisy as a chief obstacle to church attendance or Christian commitment. Among those Americans with no use for religion, those who tell pollsters that their religious preference is ‘none of the above,’ according to one poll, 87% say one of their main reasons is the hypocrisy of religious, church-going people. In their book, Unchristian, Dave Kinnaman and Gabe Lyon counsel churches to understand that we all face this perception, even if we didn’t personally create it – even if ours isn’t the congregation with a popular high-profile pastor found to be saying one thing and doing another, even if we think all the hypocrites are Christians who aren’t like us.
The perception touches all of us – that Christians say one thing but live something entirely different. The writers ask, how can we strive to create a new perception: that Christians are transparent about their flaws and that they act first, talk second. The perception is the same. And you know how it is with perception – you have to work consistently and intentionally over time to move the needle.
Pastor Stephen McAlpin a young adult pastor, writes: “Of all the things the millennial generation wants out of church, authenticity may be the most important. As a twentysomething pastor . . . . I see the need for authenticity in the hearts of my neighbors, as well as in my own heart. It's the battle cry of our generation, often expressed publicly with ironic clothing and accessories, or more privately with heart-to-heart conversations . . . . We're fed up with wearing masks and hiding the truth about ourselves in an effort to blend in because it starves our hearts and leaves us empty. We crave a place and people we can be our true selves with and be truly loved. We're crawling out from the bushes and searching for more. We're calling others out to do the same, too, and are creating new standards for relationships.”
Authenticity is a great word for what Jesus is about. Authenticity of religious practice. And authenticity of faithful living.
I think the hardest part of this is that we know the hypocrisy and the inauthentic when we see it in others. But we just don’t see it in ourselves. I don’t think those Pharisees were bad people. I really don’t. And I don’t think Jesus thought they were bad either. Just blind.
Sheila Heen a professor at Harvard Law School and co-author of the best-selling book from the Harvard Negotiation Project entitled “Thanks for the Feedback,” advised those who would be both authentic and effective in the church to consider the importance of identifying and addressing our own personal blind spots. That’s where our hypocrisy lies, in our blind spots. Ask someone you trust, Heen advises, someone who knows you well and has your best interest at heart. Ask that person to tell you what your blind spots are. Because there’s no other way to find out. That takes courage, doesn’t it? It takes risk. To say to someone, I sincerely want to improve. I want to grow. I need to know what I’m missing. So give me the bad news. Pro tip: only ask that of someone who genuinely cares for you and can offer that feedback in a constructive and loving way.
But it’s not just individual, personal advice. We who are the church need to ask those beyond our immediate circle --- we need to ask our guests and first-time visitors, we need to ask those who’ve never been here, those who only know us by perception, reputation, or drive-by. We need to ask them what they see, what they perceive. And we need to really, really listen. That’s the only way we get clues to our communal blind spots. Many congregations do not have the courage to do this.
The Jesus movement emerged in a climate where religious leaders and the established institutional religious communities, were interested in preserving what they had with customs that had become policies and rules and ‘this is the way things are done.’ They couldn’t see their own hypocrisies and blind spots and they didn’t want to try. Jesus came on the scene reaching out to those that established religion was missing, Jesus came on the scene bringing authenticity and a laser focus on God’s boundless love. That laser focus exposed and cut through all the blind spots and the hypocrisy. We are in such an era again.
The bad news is that religious hypocrisy is a fact of life. We can’t really avoid it. The worse news is that we can see it in anyone and everyone except ourselves. But the good news is that we’re all in the same boat! And more than that, the really good news is that the transforming love of God in Jesus is for hypocrites near and far, even and especially the ones we see in the mirror. That ancient, authentic wellspring of love, forgiveness, hope, new possibility, flows most powerfully to those who know they need it, healing the pain of our imperfections, our disappointment with ourselves and with each other, offering authentic and meaningful new life.
