“It’s All About Me – Not!”
Mark 12:28-34, 38-40
We
all know the Great Commandment. To
paraphrase it, “We are to love the Lord
our God with the absolute best of who and what we are, and our neighbors as
ourselves.” With that in mind, let me share with you a wonderful definition of love I heard a while back: “If I can help you, I will. If I can hurt you, I won’t.”
If you are hurting, distressed, or in trouble, and if it is within my
power, I will do all I can to help you.
If on the other hand, whatever might be going on in your life, no matter
how much power, authority, or ability I possess to do so, I will not use you,
abuse you, or in any other way cause you harm.
Even though I may disagree with or take exception to your behavior, I
will not condemn you. If I help you,
it’s with no strings attached. You don’t
owe me anything. If I lovingly choose
not to hurt you, I will make that choice even at the risk of personal loss or
harm to myself. If I can help you, I
will. If I can hurt you, I won’t.
In today’s text Jesus ripped into the scribes and Pharisees. He pointed them out as people who should not
be imitated. Why? In a nutshell it’s because they were a bunch
of self-righteous, self-centered, greedy, envious, vain, conceited, and
ostentatious hypocrites. They loved
attention. They wanted to be
noticed. They acted as if they were
better than others. Even by the way they
dressed, they set themselves apart from the so-called common folk. They wanted the best seats in the house, the
places of honor at religious services and public events, and the almost
worship-like attentions of the masses.
They were the hoity-toity, hotshot, big shots of their day, and to use a
favorite phrase of mine, they were legends in their own minds.
They were the teachers of the Law of Moses, the biblical and
theological experts of
They knew they were supposed to love their neighbors as themselves, but
they didn’t. Instead, they considered
themselves socially and intellectually superior to everybody else. Their aim was to be held in awe by those they
considered the “great unwashed.” They
had it within their power to help the less fortunate, but that might have meant
getting their hands dirty. Even worse, they
used their station in life to help themselves at the expense of their weakest,
most defenseless neighbors: widows, orphans, and such. They maintained their wonderful station in
life and ostentatious lifestyles by being religious parasites.
A story: Years ago in my hometown a newly arrived non-denominational
preacher went to the local bank and told its president, a Presbyterian elder
named Bob Hickok, that God had come to him in a dream and told him that the
bank was going to loan him $10,000. He,
of course, had no collateral. Bob just
looked at him and said, “God didn’t tell
me that.” The preacher didn’t get
the money.
As it later turned out Bob was a pretty good judge of character, or
more appropriately, the lack thereof.
This preacher went on to build one of those tempest-in-a-teapot
religious empires for himself. He lived
in a big house, drove new Cadillacs, and wore expensive suits; all this made
possible by the sacrificial tithes of a lot of hard working, low paid, gullible
folks. Good people. Lousy judges of character.
Whatever, it was their right and privilege as American citizens to be
as gullible as they chose to be. And
they were. They almost worshipped this
guy. But Presbyterian bank president
wasn’t the only one to see him for what he really was, a self-centered legend
in his own mind. And a hypocrite to
boot! My cousin Marlene was a waitress
in one of the local restaurants. One
Sunday she served Mr. High and Mighty Preacher Man. Instead of a tip, he left her a business card
telling her how big a sinner she was to be working on Sunday. Marlene chased him out to the parking lot and
pretty much told him what he could do with his card. Knowing her, she didn’t use Sunday school
language.
Be that as it may, such hypocrisy was only the tip of the iceberg. In order to finance a bigger church and a
television ministry, the good Reverend conned the members of his flock into
taking out second mortgages on their homes in order for the church to qualify
for financing. As often happens, everything
came crashing down around their ears.
The church went bankrupt. People
lost their homes. Assistant pastors and
other employees never collected months of back wages. And what happened to Mr. Pretty Boy
Preacher? He left town in his shiny
Cadillac, not, at least legally, owing a dime to anybody, and went on down the
road to bamboozle another congregation of innocents.
Do you see the connection? He
used those people to boost his ego and polish his image. He lived a lavish lifestyle by means of the
sacrificial offerings of his congregation.
They gave what they gave in the belief that they were supporting the
work of God. They were people of faith. They were also folks who were extremely loyal
to their pastor.
Was he faithful in his ministry?
No. Was he loyal to those who
sacrificed so much for him? No. When it all went south, he walked out and
left them holding the bag. He used them
to glorify and enrich himself.
Ultimately all of his pretty sermons and all of his flowery prayers
meant nothing. They were the empty words
of an egotistical, self-serving, hypocritical parasite. When he could have helped those people who
trusted him, he didn’t. When he could
hurt them, he did.
Every age has its scribes and Pharisees. Every denomination has seen its share of
slick, deceitful con artists posing as pastors.
If we take a close enough look in any congregation’s closet, we’ll often
find a skeleton or two. We’ll discover,
that somewhere in its history, the church has had at least one member who threw
his or her weight around, demanded to be treated special, and wrapped him or
herself in a cloak of false piety. All
the while stomping on the feelings of fellow members and giving the church a
bad name in the community.
I won’t ask the good folks of Grace to name such people in the church’s
past. It is not good to speak ill of the
dead or the living who aren’t around to defend themselves. Even the worst of us have some good in
us. Even the best of us have our moments
of arrogance, self-righteousness, and self-centeredness. We all have within us the capacity to become
latter-day Pharisees. We have all
failed, at one time or another, to help someone whom we had the opportunity and
ability to help. We have all, at one
time or another, used our station in life, our power, our authority, or our
significance in a relationship to gain something at another’s expense, settle
an old grudge, or put someone down in an attempt to make ourselves look
superior.
What is the message Jesus sought to convey in today’s text? “Beware
of those who act that way, and don’t be that way yourself.” We are not to set ourselves up above
others. Or take too seriously that
legend about ourselves that exists only in our minds. We need to quit trying to always run the
show, or more importantly, always trying to be the show. It’s not about us. It’s not about our egos, our status, or our
importance. It’s about living as
citizens of the Kingdom of God: people who love God with all we are and all we
have, and our neighbors as ourselves.
People who help others when we can.
People who absolutely refuse to hurt another person – even if it’s in
our best interest to do so - simply because it is in our power to it.
Or to use the words spoken by the scribe to Jesus in today’s Gospel
Lesson: “You are right, Teacher; you have
truly said that ‘[God] is one, and beside him there is no other’ and ‘to love
him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the
strength,’ and ‘to love one’s neighbor as oneself, ‘ – this is much more
important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.”
Much more important than always having our own way, being the center of
attention, polishing our own image, or satisfying our own ego. In the words of Jesus, “[Those who do such things] will receive the greater condemnation.” Amen.