I learned a lot about pastoring from my Baptist grandmother.
She was not a pastor, but she did most every other job in the church so that the pastor could focus on shepherding the flock. At one time, she served simultaneously as youth minister, church secretary, bookkeeper, choir member, and Sunday school teacher. She was paid when she “retired”—not with money but in a special church service that included flowers, tears, and naming that Sunday in her honor.
She did a lot of listening in her various roles, and much of what she heard were (a) complaints or (b) suggestions or (c) complaints disguised as suggestions. One morning, a lady walked into Sunday school talking about something “they” needed to do. My grandmother knew this tactic well. The lady, who happened to be one of her best friends, wanted my grandmother to spearhead whatever it was “they needed to do.” Instead of saying, “I’ll take care of it,” my grandmother said to the lady, “That’s a great idea. You be in charge of it.” The lady immediately said she didn’t want to be in charge. She just wanted to talk about it.
I’ve used my grandmother’s wise words many times in conversations with church members. I’ve also tried to take her advice to heart personally. If I suggest something, am I willing to take the reins, or do I just want to talk pointlessly about it?
When recently studying Matthew 23, I discovered that only the first 12 verses and the last 3 verses were part of the Revised Common Lectionary, a resource many ministers use for preaching. I asked myself, “Why is the rest of the passage not on this wonderful resource of a calendar? Why is it excluded?”
I do not want to head a committee to change anything in the weekly Revised Common Lectionary. God bless the souls who assembled it. Whether or not you are in a church that follows the lectionary, all congregations and pastors overlook important passages—not because we’re negligent but because we’re human. Such passages deserve more than being “talked about.” They deserve a sermon, which is exactly what I want to do with Matthew 23:13-39.
When we reach the 23rd chapter of Matthew’s gospel, it is Passover week, and Jesus has entered Jerusalem to shouts of “Hosanna!” Since his arrival, Jesus has cleansed the temple, cursed a fig tree, endured round one of questioning by religious authorities, told three long parables, and shut down a second round of questioning by the same religious authorities. Matthew 22:46 tells us, “No one was able to answer him a word, nor from that day on did anyone dare question him anymore.”
Matthew tells us that Jesus had primarily addressed the scribes and Pharisees until now, but in verse one of chapter 23, he speaks “to the multitudes and to his disciples.” It’s very likely the scribes and Pharisees were still there, but they were among many in the crowd and not singled out by Jesus anymore—at least for now. In verses 2-7, he talks about the religious leaders: “All their works they do to be seen by men. They make their phylacteries broad and enlarge the borders of their garments. The love the best places at feasts, the best seats in the synagogues.”
We’ve heard this before.
Rewind to the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, when he is speaking to another multitude, not in the temple but out in an open field in what we know now as, “The Sermon on the Mount.” In chapter six, he uses the same language to describe “hypocrites” who fast and pray and do charitable deeds to be seen. It is very likely that there are people in the Jerusalem crowd who heard that sermon on the plain. Others would have heard about it. I imagine the disciples looking at each other and saying, “We’ve heard this before. But last time, he was talking about hypocrites.”
Return to verse 13, the beginning of what is not in the lectionary. Jesus declares, “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!” Eight times he says this with such force and passion that straightforward Matthew actually uses exclamation points. He names eight different ways in which religion is not what it appears to be.
Jesus says, “You shut up the kingdom of heaven…
You devour widows’ houses and as a pretense make long prayers…
You travel afar to find one convert, then turn him into a son of hell like yourself…
You swear an oath ….
You tithe on mint and dill and cumin and neglect justice and mercy…
You cleanse the outside but inside are full of extortion…
You are like whitewashed tombs…
You build the tombs of the prophets but are witnesses against yourselves…
The word, “hypocrite,” was not a synonym for a religious leader. In the Greek, a “hypocrite” was the word used for a play-actor. The actors of Jesus’ day would wear masks to disguise themselves, and their “plays” were in a question and answer format. The Greek word used for the actual questions and answers is our modern word for “hypocrisy.”
Hear the connections. He was bombarded with questions by the religious leaders who were looking for answers of their own scripting. They are not what they appear to be, just as a mask covers the face to distort what is truly present.
Jesus is heartbroken. This is His Father’s house. The people he calls out as hypocrites are those whose vocation should be to humbly care for what is holy but instead they misuse what’s been entrusted to them. He is the Light of the World, and he exposes the works of darkness with these words.
Instead of using the word, “woe,” The Passion Translation of this passage uses the phrase, “great grief upon you.” Jesus is not declaring grief over them. He is naming that they have brought great grief upon themselves. Woe to all of us, for sin brings great grief upon all of us not because of what Jesus says but because of what we have done, how far we have strayed.
Jesus is essentially begging these men whom he loves and desires to love him, “Look at what you have done and are doing to yourselves. Look at how you have hurt so many. I see your heart. I know your motives. I did not create you for religious control but for righteous companionship.”
This is a strong passage of Scripture, a serious and sobering moment that invites us to listen for more, especially when we are uncomfortable or don’t fully understand. That is the atmosphere of Holy Week: a time where we listen to and face what is difficult.
The Lenten season began on Ash Wednesday, when the gospel reading was that passage from Matthew 6 about not being like the hypocrites. It is appropriate to end the Lenten season here with the second half of that story. When Jesus was baptized, John the Baptizer prepared the way by calling out religious leaders as a “brood of vipers” (that’s another sermon for another day). In Matthew 23:33 that Jesus echoes what his prophetic cousin said: “Serpents, brood of vipers! How can you escape the condemnation of hell?”
There are six more verses in the chapter, but I want to end here with the last question Jesus asks before leaving the temple. How do we escape the condemnation of hell? We can’t. We aren’t able. But Salvation itself, the Word made flesh, Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of David will be condemned to death by the ones who were more interested in their own questions than He who is the Answer.
As we walk towards the cross this week, let us not lose heart, but let us also not ignore the wounded heart of Jesus. Let’s spend less time talking about what matters to us and listening for what matters to Him. We might not like what we hear. We may not understand. When someone is grieving, two of the best things we can do are to be near the person and to listen to them. Stay near to the Lamb of God. Listen to his cries. Dry his tears. For truly this man is the Son of God.
Let us pray.
Jesus, you are the Man of Sorrows, acquainted with grief. You meet us in our grief time after time, and we want to meet you in yours this week. We repent of the hypocrisy and religious spirit that so easily entangle your Church. Forgive us, Lord. Open our eyes to the truth you so wish to reveal. Amen.
all good things to each of you,
dr. darian
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