For a time such as this

 

Queen Esther (אֶסְתֵּר Hadassah) by Edwin Long

"For Such A Time As This"
St. John the Evangelist Episcopal Church, Milton, DE
Pentecost XIV - Proper 21 B
September 29, 2024

Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22
Psalm 124
James 5:13-20
Mark 9:38-50

Of course, I could be wrong, but I think it was Walter Brueggemann who said, “I take the bible too seriously to take it literally.” There is lots of humor in the bible but we miss it because we take it too literally. Take, for example, this morning’s Gospel. Granted, you have to embroider the story a little bit to find the humor, but stay with me and let’s find it together.

Jesus and his disciples have been walking together through Galilee and the Villages of Caesarea Philippi (which sounds to me like one of the many new suburban developments somewhere in Sussex County), through Capernaum. Along the way, the disciples have been talking amongst themselves about “who is the greatest”.  

Jesus says, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” He tells them that the Realm of God must be entered “as vulnerable as a little child.”

This morning, we hear John say to Jesus, “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.” Did you catch that? John did not say, “He was not following YOU.” No, John said, “Not following US.”

Again, with the inflated ego. Follow US, not Jesus. Now, in my religious imagination, I think Mark left out a verse. Or, maybe someone coming after him decided that, since it was such a short verse, it could be dropped. But, I think that in between what John said and how Jesus answers could have probably been one of the most powerful short sentences in scripture since the verse, “And, Jesus wept.”

I think that before Jesus goes into the obvious hyperbole about tying millstones around the necks of people, and cutting off feet and hands and plucking out eyes, is probably the verse: “And, Jesus did a facepalm.”

I mean, seriously! How dense are these apostles? Well, probably about as dense as those of us who take the bible so literally that there have been those who have actually tied millstones around necks of people and watched them drown, or literally cut off body parts, comforted by their self-righteousness that they were only following the words of Jesus.  

The Bible has many funny moments—though you might not know it from the history of Christian interpretation. Nietzsche’s biggest complaint about Christians is that we are a joyless people. Theologian Paul Tillich said he almost left Christianity for the same reason.

One of the best examples of humor in the bible, not as well-known as the story of Jonah and the Whale, is the story of Esther. That reading was one of the options we have for today’s lesson from Hebrew Scripture, but since it was not chosen, allow me a few minutes to summarize the book for you, with the encouragement that you take a few moments out of your afternoon Sabbath, find your bible, dust it off, and read the Book of Esther. You won’t be disappointed. I promise.

I want to use the story of Esther because I think Jesus knew it and understood the tool of hyperbole as a way of making a point. And it certainly seems that the disciples need a verbal hit upside the head to understand something about leadership and ministry.

Fair warning: You may miss the humor in the book if you are reading it with your Victorian scruples intact. The great Protestant theologian Calvin didn’t include Esther in his biblical commentaries. And, the great theologian of the Reformation, Martin Luther, felt it had “too much pagan naughtiness.”

So, admit it. Now you want to run home and read it, right?

So, here's a brief summary: The Book of Esther tells the story celebrated at The Jewish Festival of Purim. It’s the story of how Queen Esther and her cousin Mordecai saved the Jewish people from the plot of the wicked Haman, who was advisor to the Persian King Ahasuerus and who tried to have the Jews destroyed.

Understand: they are Jews living in the Persian diaspora. They are there because they were under threat of genocide, living in a place where the religion at the time was a sort of dualism. Persians worshipped one Supreme God with occasional rare mentions of other Gods. Their Satan was elevated to a much higher power and position, a near equal and opposite to God.
 
Esther is not your typical saint. She doesn’t conduct herself like someone who is zealous about the law, yet she becomes a Jewish heroine. She doesn’t rise up from unsavory circumstances ringed with white blossoms of purity like St. Agnes, who was thrown into a brothel but remained, miraculously, immaculate. Esther is decidedly not a heroine of the nunnish type.

She becomes a heroine because she takes a bold risk of faith. Queen Esther decides to speak to the King about Haman’s plan to kill all the Jews even though an appearance at the King’s Court, without an invitation, is punishable by death. It’s the words of her uncle Mordecai that inspire her:

“For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14)

Who knows but that you have come to your position for such a time as this? I don’t know about you, but I hear an echo of Mordecai’s words in the admonition of Jesus to the apostles:

“Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us.” (Mark 9:38-41)

We also hear an echo of this position in the words of James, the brother of Jesus, which we heard this morning:

“My brothers and sisters, if anyone among you wanders from the truth and is brought back by another, you should know that whoever brings back a sinner from wandering will save the sinner's soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins.” (James 5:13-19)

Whoever brings back a sinner from wandering.

Whoever is not against us is for us.

And, who knows that you have come to your position for such a time as this?

My friends, hear me: I know you are grieving this morning. I am keenly aware that last Sunday was your farewell to your beloved Pastor Tom. Your Senior Warden and I discussed this when we talked about my being with you this morning. As a Hospice Chaplain, I am well acquainted with the workings of grief. I know that the hearts of many of you are probably feeling a bit tender and sore. You are grieving and anxious and that is to be understood.

I know Tom came to you when you were not feeling loved or loveable. I know his love for you built up this congregation from a mere 15 to, at times, 75 – more at High Holy Days. I know some of you are afraid that you will never find another priest and pastor to love you the way Pastor Tom did. It’s going to be hard to trust anyone – me, other supply clergy, your interim priest, or even your new rector when she or he comes.

That’s a reasonable anxiety because here’s the hard truth: There will never be another Pastor Tom. But, here’s another truth: That does not mean that you are not loveable or that you will never find someone to love you again.

Here's another truth: In the midst of the pain of grief and anxiety of the unknown, sometimes we confuse taking things literally with taking things seriously. They are not the same. Taking things literally can cost you one of the strongest medicines known to the entire human enterprise: Laughter.

It’s so important not to take things literally but not so seriously that you lose the ability to laugh at yourself. Don’t be afraid to do a facepalm at yourself every now and again. I have no doubt that Jesus did. Because Jesus knew what it was to be human.

Voltaire said it best: "God is a comedian playing to an audience that is too afraid to laugh.”

Now, even now, God has already prepared people who will be raised up “for such a time as this”. There are those among you who learned the lessons of love of the past decade and are willing to take the risks of faith to trust others. Now, even now, God is already preparing leaders, laity and ordained, “for such a time as this” who will walk with you into the future.
 
In the midst of your grief and sorrow – which is good and right and proper for you to experience because you have had a great loss – know that we are people of the Eucharist and Resurrection. We are people of Thanksgiving and Life Eternal. God will never leave us comfortless. Be assured by the words of our Eucharistic liturgy during a funeral:

“. . . . for we know that life is changed, not ended.”

Life is changed, not ended. That includes our congregational life.

Know that there are Esthers and Mordecais, Eldads and Medads, and Joshua son of Nun, and yes, Hamans and unruly Kings among us. There are also wise teachers like James and Moses, and those who understand the hyperbole in the words of Jesus teaching who can help us laugh at ourselves and do a facepalm when that’s exactly the medicine we need to take.

Open your heart to it all, my friends. Nobody ever looked back and said, “I could have loved less.” Open your heart even though it makes you as vulnerable as a child.

For such is the Realm of God.

For such a time as this.

Amen.

Like a child

 

St. Mark's Episcopal Church - Millsboro, DE
Pentecost XVIII - Proper XX - September 22, 2024

Track 1
Proverbs 31:10-31 Psalm 1 James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a Mark 9:30-37

Some of you may already know – and, if you don’t, you will soon discover – that Ted, your new Priest in Charge, is a big fan of Amy Jill Levine. Huge. I don’t know what he has in store for your Advent Christian Education Series, but I am willing to bet solid money that it – and/or a few of his sermons – will at least include some of Amy Jill Levine’s work.

There is good reason for this. Amy Jill Levine rocks. Hard. AJ (as she prefers to be called) is Professor of New Testament and Jewish Studies at Hartford International University for Religion and Peace. Yes, I said, New Testament AND Jewish Studies. If you stop and think about that for a minute, you’ll see that it isn’t so strange.

The Gospels are all about the teachings of a Rabbi from Nazareth and the Epistles were written by Jewish men. Who better to help us understand the teachings of the Rabbi we follow than a good Rabbinical scholar?

I’ve heard AJ lecture several times. She’s really good: smart and funny and edgy and provocative. She’s a lot like Jesus. During one of her lectures, Levine told us about her son. He was a little boy at the time. He had curly hair, she said. Altogether adorable. Imagine that little boy is sitting in the front row every time you preach, she said. Right there in front of you. Never say anything that will harm that little Jewish boy.

I remember that statement so vividly because I remember preaching in front of my own kids when they were little. I remember thinking that I never wanted to preach a sermon that they would be ashamed of – or that would shame any one of them. Or, that wouldn’t be the truth spoken from my heart. Never say anything that will harm a little child.

In this morning’s gospel, Jesus takes a little child by the hand and says to the disciples, See this child? This child right here? This is what the reign of God looks like. THIS, not some old man or old woman with a crown sitting on a throne.

I know what you’re thinking. Children don’t have any status. They are little more than chattel, which can be bought and sold like the women who are their mothers – despite what we read this morning from the Book of Wisdom about wives.
And yet, this is what the reign of God looks like. This is who the reign of God belongs to. So, says Jesus, wise up and welcome them.

But, the disciples, it seems were pretty clueless. There are 16 chapters in Mark’s Gospel. We’re at chapter 9 – more than half way through. Jesus has said and done lots of things. Amazing things. Astounding things. Miraculous things. And yet, the disciples don’t get it.

After Jesus explains to them – albeit in the third person – about what is going to happen to him, Mark tells us that they had been arguing among themselves about who was the greatest. Seriously! Apparently, the boxer Muhammed Ali was not the first to concern himself with the status of the greatest. Apparently, he isn’t the last. Probably won’t be, either.

I imagine the disciples look at themselves rather sheepishly. I mean, who started that conversation anyway? Was it Peter? Nah, he really hadn’t been the same since Jesus changed his name from Simon. It had to be the Sons of Thunder, James and John. They might have been thinking, “Why did we allow ourselves to get caught up in that discussion in the first place?”

That’s when Jesus, rather than rebuke them, takes a little child by the hand. Maybe the little boy or girl was standing nearby. Maybe playing with a toy. Maybe minding her own business. Maybe paying close attention to the energy in the room. Jesus takes that little one and puts her center stage. I imagine the room goes silent.

Taking the child in his arms, Jesus says to the disciples, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

You see this child? This face? These curls? Keep them in front of you, Jesus says. Let them be your guide to my reign. Don’t do anything that will hinder or harm them. Look to them first, before you speak or offer admission or try to describe what I came here to do. This little one is all you need to know about that. Keep her safe. Keep him safe. And know that whenever you welcome one of these little ones, you welcome me and the One who sent me.

Not a lot of churches I help out in these days have a child – much less children – sitting in the pew. Sometimes, when I look out at you, sitting there in the congregation, I try to imagine your faces when you were little children. If you see me looking at you while the Hebrew Scripture or Epistle is being read, that’s probably what I’m doing.

I imagine some of you were probably as mild mannered as you are today. But, there are others of you . . . . well . . . . I’ll just say this:  You didn’t develop that devilish smile or that mischievous twinkle in your eye just yesterday. And I suspect some of you were born with one hand on your hip and no one had to slip a nickel or a dime into your hand to persuade you to be bossy.

I see the child in you. The playful child. The mischievous child. I also see the child who was bullied. The child who was shamed. The child who never thought she was good enough. The child who thought he’d maybe make the team but he’d never be accepted.

I never want to hurt that child.

When I preach to you, I know that I am not only preaching to the person you are today – the person you have become – I am also preaching to the child you once were. That happy child and that hurt child are also here in this church this morning, maybe minding their own business or toying with my words, paying close attention to the energy in the church right now, trying to determine what “Mother” will say or do next.

As I prepare to preach the Gospel – the Good News – to you, I remember all of your faces and I hear Jesus whisper in my ear: This – THIS – is the realm of God. This – THIS – is what God’s reign looks like. Do everything you can to challenge them to take risks for the Gospel, but keep their souls safe. Protect them even as you encourage them to stretch themselves in their faith.

 

And, if they fall – when they fall – do everything you can to make sure someone – maybe not you, probably not you, probably not even a deacon or a priest or a bishop – but someone in the community is there to pick them up and dust them off and help them back on their way.

For that is what the realm of God looks like, too: The people of God helping the people of God to be better people of God. And that takes the vulnerability and openness of a little child. It also takes the resilience of a faith tested by time.

So, take a minute now to look around this church. Look into the faces of your neighbor sitting next to you or in front of you or behind you. Go ahead, I invite you to do that now. I invite you to say to each other, “You are an image of God.”

And now say, “This is the Reign of God.”

You know, it helps to listen to good Rabbis, those who are Jewish, those who are Christian, those who come to teach us the word of God not as one who is the greatest, but from a place of truth and love in their hearts.

Amen.

Being and Becoming

A Sermon preached at St Mark's, Millsboro

Pentecost XVII - Proper 19 B

September 15, 2024

Track 1
Proverbs1:20-33 Psalm 19 James 3:1-12 Mark 8:27-38

In this morning’s gospel, Jesus is traveling through the villages of Caesarea Philippi when he asks his disciples, "Who do you say I am?"

It’s important to listen to his answer. After he waits for his disciples to respond, Jesus doesn’t so much tell them who he is, as what he was about to become.

Let me say that again: Not who he is, but who he is to become and what he must do in order to become what he was created to be.

He also told the disciples about the process of becoming that they, themselves, must experience if they are to be known as his "followers".

Note, please: Not what he is or they are now – but who they must become and how to achieve it. And that, of course, requires sacrifice of who they are now. For Jesus, that involves death. For the disciples, it means the death of their former self and possibly their actual death.

The other night, I was preoccupied with all that is going on in the world. I couldn't really focus on anything I'm presently reading . Network television was, for me, just junk - game shows, talent contests, reruns, and political commentary, the last being pretty much a combination of the first three.

I decided to watch a British film called, "Me Before You" on streaming TV.

 

So, I'll say this and get it out of the way: Emilia Clarke plays the character Louisa Clark. How many here are a fan of Game of Thrones? I’m not just a fan, I’m a true fanatic.

Emilia is probably best known for playing the Khaleesi (or Princess), Daenerys Targaryen, a most formidable woman. She is known as the Mother of Dragons which were born in the fire of her rebirth.

Her intention is to do what she must to become the first Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Hers was not a baptism of water, but a transformation by fire.

One of her most famous lines - when she wasn't shouting "Dracarys," to make her dragons breathe fire - was the understanding of what she must do to become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Tyrion Lannister, of House Lannister, tells her that it is an impossible task. All of her family in House Targaryen is gone. So is House Stark and none of the others will back her.

She says, “Lannister, Targaryen, Baratheon, Stark, Tyrell: they're all just spokes on a wheel. This one's on top, then that one's on top, and on and on it spins, crushing those on the ground.”

Tyrion responds, “It's a beautiful dream, stopping the wheel. You're not the first person who's ever dreamt it.”

“I'm not going to stop the wheel,” says Daenerys, “I'm going to break the wheel.”

See also: formidable woman.

So to see her go from that character to the silly, flighty, Louisa Clark in this movie, with her funky fashion and impossibly silly rage of facial expressions was, well, difficult. I almost turned it off, but I had paid $2.99 to rent it and I'm cheap so I watched.

I'm glad I did.

 

Very short synopsis: Louisa is a "quirky," irrepressible cheerful, and very kindhearted young lass in Northern UK who moves from one job to the next to help her family make financial ends meet. Her whole worldview is tested when she becomes a caregiver for Will Traynor, a wealthy young banker left paralyzed - a quadraplegic - and deeply cynical from an accident two years earlier.

He wants to go to Switzerland to be euthanized. She wants to show him that life is worth living. During their six-month relationship, they are both changed and transformed. But not in the way you might suspect.

Both have to lose their lives in order to regain them.

 

I've been thinking about that movie in terms of the question Jesus asks his disciples. I've been thinking about how we are not - tomorrow, or next week, or, for some of us, next year - who we are today. Some of us change for the good and some of us, well, life's unkindness has left some of us unkind. Or, grumpy. Or, arrogant. Or, pessimistic and depressed and cynical.

Oh, we have the basic qualities and characteristics that are part of what is referred to as our "nature" - much of which can be tempered by how we are "nurtured".

The point is that we are always becoming.

Depending on how we manage the circumstances of our lives - the curve balls and the strikes and the walks, as well as the line drives, base hits, and home runs - we become more or less of who we are and the image God had of us when we were first conceived in the mind of God.

And, that is the point of our life in Christ: to become more of who we are as we discover why it is we were born here, at this time, in this place, for this purpose.

Not all of us have grand purposes – to become President of the United States, or a research scientist who helps to put a human on a faraway planet or discovers a cure for a previously incurable disease. Not all of us will ever be an Olympian, much less win a gold, silver or bronze metal.

For some of us, it is enough that we have discovered something –  a passion, sobriety, a relationship – that has saved ourselves from disaster or catastrophe.

For some, it is enough that we exhibit courage and strength and bravery in overcoming, to the best of our abilities, an illness that may eventually take our lives.

Some of us have stopped the wheel of patterns of family destruction. Other of us have broken the wheel.

I don’t know why you come to church. I don’t know your individual stories, but I see your faces. I have looked into your eyes. I know that if you have loved, you have suffered. I know that you didn’t get here today to who you are and what you have become without some sacrifice of self.

You can not become who you are without sacrificing at least in part what you once were.

Some of us had parents, grandparents, and great grandparents who sacrificed living with their families in the land of their birth to make a new life in this country. They never knew – could, perhaps dream but not even imagine – the life we have now. Their sacrifice was not so much for themselves but for the dream they had for us before we were even conceived or born.

And that is the point Jesus is making in today’s Gospel. No, we’re not as close to sacrificing our lives as the first disciples were. No, we are not being persecuted for our faith as the early Christians were. But, to be a Christian is to always die – at least a little – to self so that we can become better followers of Christ.

Being in order to become.

Dying to self in order to more fully live in Christ.

Living this life fully until we are called by God to live fully into the gift of Life Eternal.

This morning’s scripture tells us that Jesus “called to the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

Many of you have taken up your cross and followed Jesus into this wonderful little faithful church to become The Body of Christ. The good news is that the journey did not end when you arrived and became a member of St. Mark’s, Millsboro. Indeed, by the grace of God, the journey has only just begun.

Alleluia! And let the church say, “Amen.”

A Short Sermon on Sin

 

A Short Sermon on Sin
Old Christ Episcopal Church, Laurel, DE
Pentecost XV - Proper 17B

When I was planning this sermon and remembering the last time I was here, I recall that it was hotter than the hinges on the gates of hell. Which is a good image for this sermon which I’ve entitled “A Short Sermon on Sin”.

I don’t think I’ve ever preached a sermon on sin. It’s not something Episcopalians do. Oh, we partake in our fair share of sin; we just don’t like to hear about it – especially in church – and never in a sermon, thank you very much.

Might make people uncomfortable. That would be awkward. And, they might not come back to church. Like, ever again. These days, we can’t afford to miss out on one single pledge.

Well, buckle up folks, because whether you want to believe this or not, Jesus just preached a very short sermon about sin. We also heard one in the Epistle of St. James, the son of Joseph and Mary and the presumed brother (Oh, okay, half-brother) of Jesus.  

Here's the difference: the focus of James’ sermon about sin is slightly different from Jesus. James talks about being not only “hearers of the word but doers of the word”.  Jesus is much more concerned about the relationship we have with each other and the world rather than the things we do that are considered sinful.

The religious leaders of his day were horrified that the disciples of Jesus were not strictly following the religious rules of their day. Specifically, they were not ritually washing their hands before they ate. This was not a concern about cleanliness, per se. This was a concern about godliness.

Remember, please the that Levitical Rules that created these cleanliness codes were in reaction to the concern of the Israelites that their time in bondage in Egypt had to have been a punishment from God.

Whatever it was they did, they certainly didn’t want to do it again and make God angry. So, all of these rules were carefully created about what could and couldn’t be eaten, and how they should and shouldn’t be prepared, and what one should and should not do, and all very carefully followed so as not to anger God and find themselves slaves again.

Jesus says, “Listen to me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile. For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.”

Bottom line: Jesus is calling us to pay close attention to the content of a one’s character rather than the content of someone else’s purse. Jesus is calling us to open our eyes to our relationships with one another rather than following the law out of blind obedience to it.  Jesus is saying we must honor God not just with our lips but with our lives.

That’s because sin is whatever leads us away from the first and great commandment: 'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. ' And the second is like it: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’”

Now, those commandments from God have been around for centuries and it seems fewer of us in each succeeding generation have been successful in following them. Otherwise, we wouldn’t still have the sins that Jesus names as coming from the human heart: “fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly.”

Hear me: I am not an anarchist. Rules are not bad. Rules are good things because they can govern and steer a relationship along a good path. They become bad when they become a narrow gate through which relationships must always past. When this happens, the rules become the basis for the relationship. Sometimes, rules become the substitute for the relationship.

I submit that this is so because, while it may be easy for most of us to love God, and for some of us to love our neighbor, for many of us, it’s the “as yourself” part that we mess up on. It’s so much easier to blame others for what we think we don’t have – enough money, a suitable spouse, a good enough home, a good reputation. And so we steal and commit adultery and envy and slander, and so on.

“As yourself.” Love God, love your neighbor AS YOURSELF. It starts here, in the human heart.

Croatian scholar, theologian, and author of many books on reconciliation, Miroslav Volf, wrote, “Forgiveness flounders because I exclude the enemy from the community of humans even as I exclude myself from the community of sinners.”

Understanding ourselves as humans that have also been broken by sin is the key to opening the door to forgiveness and reconciliation. As a Christian, I cannot talk about sin without talking about forgiveness and reconciliation.

 

It's sort of like the Japanese art of Kintsukuroi, the art of repairing broken pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken. When we understand that we have all missed the mark, when confess that we have all fallen short, we open ourselves to God’s grace which is like a gold or silver lacquer that makes us even more beautiful for having been broken. That admission, that confession, allows us to see the beauty in other people’s brokenness and find forgiveness and reconciliation and peace.

And, you know, that’s really all I know about sin. Or, all I know to say about sin. And, forgiveness. And, reconciliation. Except, to say this: There is absolutely nothing – no sin of any sort or manner or condition, intentional or not – that can keep you from the love of God. Not even you.

 

Amen.



The Collect

Lord of all power and might, the author and giver of all good things: Graft in our hearts the love of your Name; increase in us true religion; nourish us with all goodness; and bring forth in us the fruit of good works; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God for ever and ever. Amen.

 

The Epistle

James 1:17-27

Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. In fulfillment of his own purpose he gave us birth by the word of truth, so that we would become a kind of first fruits of his creatures.

You must understand this, my beloved: let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God's righteousness. Therefore rid yourselves of all sordidness and rank growth of wickedness, and welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls.

But be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves. For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like. But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act-they will be blessed in their doing.

If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless. Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.



The Gospel Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

When the Pharisees and some of the scribes who had come from Jerusalem gathered around him, they noticed that some of his disciples were eating with defiled hands, that is, without washing them. (For the Pharisees, and all the Jews, do not eat unless they thoroughly wash their hands, thus observing the tradition of the elders; and they do not eat anything from the market unless they wash it; and there are also many other traditions that they observe, the washing of cups, pots, and bronze kettles.) So the Pharisees and the scribes asked him, “Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?” He said to them, “Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites, as it is written,

‘This people honors me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me;

in vain do they worship me,
teaching human precepts as doctrines.’

You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition.”

Then he called the crowd again and said to them, “Listen to me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile.” For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.”