The Pharisees reacted so strongly against Jesus because they were confident in their own righteousness. They were the leaders of the community, the in-crowd, and the ones that people wanted to befriend. Maybe, unlike the stories we tell, they weren’t overly obnoxious, pompous know-it-alls who refused to listen to others and walked around with their noses in the air. Maybe they were the people that we would admire and tell each other we wish we could be like—the people that we want to be around because we know we look better just by being in their company. Maybe they are the missionaries who have crazy stories of the Spirit moving and of saving entire villages from an eternity in hell. Maybe they are the community workers who have single-handedly restored hope to the inner city by the sweat of their brows. Maybe they are the moms that home-school beautiful, intelligent children who say “ma’am and sir.” Maybe they are the kids at Christian colleges who have more scripture memorized than Fanny Crosby and whose only goal in life is to “serve the Lord where He puts me.”
There is absolutely nothing wrong with the things above, and I think that is the point. I think that the Pharisees weren’t necessarily “doing” anything wrong or even consciously choosing to put their trust in their own righteousness. I think they were people who started out hungry for God, a bit embarrassed and self-conscious about their own unworthiness, but confident in the justness of their pursuits. Then they gradually slipped into a routine, where they went to work (or temple, or home, or school, or whatever) and did their jobs, then returned home. Every day they got a little more confident in what they were doing as they saw success, and every day they received a little more credit for it. People started telling them: “Wow, I could never do what you do!” and although they responded: “Oh no, it is all the power of God working through me,” in their hearts they were saying: “Dang straight, you couldn’t, because I am AWESOME.” Gradually, they started resented those who didn’t put in extra hours volunteering in the community, or owned an extra car instead of giving the money to the church, or lived in the suburbs. Gradually the idea that that they were better than others started slipping into their brains. Maybe they justified it by saying “Oh, but I’m not judging those who don’t know God, only those who should know and do better!” And maybe, just maybe nothing changed on the outside at all. They were still outwardly humble, if a bit-obsessive, servants of God.
I know this, because this is me. I struggle every day with not judging the Christians around me-with not making proclamations in my head about the kind of person they are based on their behavior. I act like it is an act of righteousness when I refuse to spend money on a new couch instead of just reusing the old one. I boast inwardly about how awesome I am because I don’t have cable. The things that shame me become things like “Oh no, I watched too many episodes of Bones instead of finding some poor people to love on.” And I fear my heart is growing hard to what is true. I fear my heart is seeking human approval and recognition for my deeds instead of admitting openly that I am all unrighteousness. My big sister sent me a letter when she was in college. It was in response to a letter where I was complimenting her and saying I wished I could be like her. She said “Sister, I am a white-washed tomb and someone needs to run me out of town.” What a response! A bit extreme, but I think she had the right idea. No matter how long we struggle on this earth or how long we wash in the stream, we are still nothing but filthy rags. We are all wickedness and impure motives with just a dash of insecurity and pride.
And that is what frees us-the moment we fall to our knees, speechless because God has given us a peek into our own mucky hearts, begging Him to make us clean, and thanking Him over and over again because He loves us, contrary to common sense. No matter how long I am a Christian, I should never get beyond that moment of utter despair and utter delight. I truly believe that life and joy comes from owning the fact that I am a screwed up piece of, um, junk, and that despite that I am completely and totally loved because Jesus took my sin and blasted it away once and for all, so that when God looks at me He sees only the righteousness of Christ.
I am a Pharisee, and I probably will be forever, but at least today I know I am one, and for that I’m grateful.
