Another Pharisee wants to hear more, see more, know more.  That’s good.  When anyone invites additional conversation, additional connection-building, let’s make the most of the opportunity.  After all, when is the last time someone asked you to tell them more about Jesus?  Of course, we are each of us always telling others about what we know about Jesus, the sort of relationship we have with him.  We tell others through what we say, how we respond and conduct ourselves, as well as how we exercise self-control.  Through our Facebook posts and, for those who have and use it, what gets posted to Instagram and similar apps, also tells others about what sort of relationship we have with Jesus.  And they notice and decide how to file that.  Before any of us lambasts someone online for their dreadful stupidity, vile immorality, or deplorable bigotry, etc., let’s at least pause to consider how Jesus would go about it?

The Pharisees, as we might recall, lived to do all the Law: meticulous observance, to please God in every way and to demonstrate their holiness, to themselves as well as to others.  It is admirable, seeking to please God in every way, in every aspect of our living, thinking, choosing, speaking; this is commendable and remarkably difficult.  Things that pose a significant difficulty for us are often the things we begin to fudge, find workarounds, acceptable substitutes, compromises.  When it’s difficult, we end up talking about it without actually doing it.  The way of holiness, as the Pharisees conceived of it, means entire devotion to God, to God’s way of living here with others.  The Pharisees had become adept at putting on a good show of holiness; they chose to rest content with appearances.  They didn’t like to look any further into the matter because what they saw when they bothered really to look wasn’t so flattering.

Jesus agrees to share a meal with the Pharisee, have conversation, which Jesus knew already would mostly mean being questioned rather than the mutual back and forth of genuine relation building.  It doesn’t take long to figure out what you’re supposed to be there for.  It was a start, though.  The only ones with whom Jesus declines to speak, and this comes late in his ministry, are the members of the Sanhedrin, the majority bent on having him killed, and with Pilate who will order his execution.  Jesus knows there will be no genuine conversation, no genuine relationship building, with these.

As the custom was, Jesus reclines at the table, and “the Pharisee was surprised when he noticed that Jesus did not first wash before the meal” (11:38).  It seems so simple, and we tell our kids all the time, and ladies, maybe you also must remind your husbands, to wash the hands before a meal.  A scrub and rinse under the faucet aren’t what’s in view here, though.  As with everything to which the Pharisees put their hands, there was a ritual, a holiness-demonstrating ritual, for washing hands.  Any dust or loose dirt that might be on the hands had first to be wiped away.  Not that the Pharisees ever had much of that on their hands, I suppose.  I’m sure this part was done with a certain solemn flair.  Water was specially kept in special jars just for hand washing.  You can see how this is shaping up, right?  “Oh, don’t use that water: that’s the water for the ritual hand washing.”  The procedure ran like this: fingers up, water was poured over them; the fist of one hand then rubbed into the other hand, and then the process reversed for the other hand; then, fingers pointed down, more water was poured over them.

This ritual was not about hygiene or public health—germs being unknown at the time.  There may have been some hygienic benefit, but it was a ritual for demonstrating holiness, particular holiness: I take holiness so seriously that this is how I wash my hands!  Just see how I honor God.

Knowing what the Pharisee was thinking—it wasn’t too difficult for Jesus to know, “the Lord said to him, ‘Now then, you Pharisees clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside you are full of greed and wickedness’” (11:39).  So unlike others.  Well, that’s an opening salvo.  Jesus is either tired of dealing with this or knows it is time to be very blunt.  Have you ever had to be candid when that maybe wasn’t exactly going to make the social occasion smooth?  But directness and candor—without any deliberate desire to offend—are actually very helpful.  Jesus is not condemning ritual when it means something, when it has some underlying substance and is saying something true.  Jesus is pointing out that ritual worth something works from the inside out.  It can’t work from the outside in.  There are those drawn to Eastern Orthodoxy, Catholicism, even the Episcopalian Church, because of the rich ritual—the pageantry, basically: the formal processions and recessions, the ornate clothing, censers swinging in their prescribed way, the kneeling and crossing oneself in the prescribed way at the prescribed times—a sumptuous pageant meant to engage the senses—and, yeah, the priest did say some stuff about the Bible and all, but who remembers that?  If we go for the show, I’m afraid we’re missing something rather crucial.

Jesus continues to strip away the sumptuous layers—addressing the Pharisees: “You foolish people!  Did not the one who made the outside make the inside also?  But now as for what is inside you—be generous to the poor, and everything will be clean for you” (11:40-41).  Well, no one likes to be called a fool, even by Jesus.  But if Jesus is saying it, it must be true, because Jesus does not lie, and he does not express mere opinions.  Foolishness is what brings disorder into relationships: unhappy, unhealthy chaos  “Well, that’s just what you say, Jesus!”

The Pharisees have allowed themselves to get locked into a foolish path that cannot get them where they want to go.  And at heart they probably still do want that: that life-giving connection to God.  They can’t find that along the way they have devised.  The Pharisees wanted the closest, God-honoring relationship humanly possible.  That’s not a bad desire!  They read Scripture closely, very closely, wanting to understand the process and procedure: you know—the right way to do things, each thing, everything!  Where law is involved, there is a process and a procedure.  Where grace is involved there is transformation, sanctification: God’s good gift for those who confess their inability, acknowledge their guilt, and who then commit daily to surrendering themselves to God and the healing that comes only by way of taking God’s Word, all God’s Word, into the deepest places in mind, heart, and soul, from where God works His healing, saving work.  The Pharisees had managed to get the Word into their minds, but none of them, of their own will, could ever get God’s Word deep into their hearts.  None of us can, of our own, broken, fragmented will.  That deep rootedness is a work of the Spirit.  It is holy and begets true holiness—real devotion to God.  It works from the inside out.  Law can direct us from the outside; only grace can move us from within, where it matters.

Make no mistake—there is much, inside, that we will always be struggling to set right.  This struggle for holiness is hard and can become discouraging, even very much so.  I think all I’m doing here is telling you what you already know.  We have help.  Jesus, who knows, says, “as for what is inside you—be generous to the poor, and everything will be clean for you” (11:41).  Compassion, beloved.  God values compassion, highly.  Compassion, when it is from God and God-directed, is transformative grace in action.  Not fake compassion or foolish compassion or compassion as dictated by this world, but God’s own compassion, the compassion of holiness, wise compassion, compassion that desires the salvation and sanctification of those around us.  Jesus is not instructing the Pharisees to sell everything and give it all to the poor—though that always remains an option!  The poor are not only those without the material means to support themselves.  We respond to that, sometimes, and very generously.  It can make us feel so good about ourselves, and even that isn’t all bad.

The disposition of the heart, the focus of the heart, the quality of the heart.  We can’t feel just terrible about ourselves all the time!  And God doesn’t want us to.  What He wants is for us to be turning ourselves again to Him, all the time.  What God wants is for all of us not merely to acknowledge our ongoing need in some general intellectual sense, but to feel our need for God, to confess the constant presence of God, and to offer heartfelt thanks to God.  In other words, God would like our love in response to the love He lavishes upon us all, daily.  He wants to restore our hearts, reshape them like His own.

In the Beatitudes, Jesus speaks of the blessedness of those poor in spirit—humble, cultivating self-knowledge, growing awareness both of their need and of God’s faithful, constant supply.  When we strive to be generous towards the poor—relieving material want as we are able, when and where we are able, we are doing a good thing.  When we show compassion to those seeking, genuinely seeking God, we are doing even better.  We are nurturing fellowship in Christ.  Giving alms won’t cancel our sins.  All giving, a generous heart of mercy and grace—all this can do is reflect the nature of God for us in Christ, through the Spirit.  And I’d say that’s a decent start.