Tuesday of the Second Week of Lent: Matthew 23:1-12
Long before I was ordained, I remember being at a particular Mass where the priest preached rather strongly against a certain sin. After Mass, as people were leaving the church, one man said to the priest, “You really told them, didn’t you, Father?” The priest replied, “I meant that for you, too!” Stunned and speechless, the man walked out.
When we read or hear Jesus’ strong words about the Pharisees in today’s Gospel reading, we, too, might be tempted to say, “You really told them, didn’t you, Lord?” We easily forget that the Gospels are not only about events that happened during the life of Jesus. They are also about the life that each one of us is called to live today as followers of Jesus. As such, the sins of the Pharisees mean very little to us today. However, the stories of Jesus that were included in the Gospels were chosen, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, precisely because they had a great deal to say to Christian life. Unless we can see that we, too, can be like these Pharisees, we have missed the point.
The Pharisees didn’t start out wanting to be hypocrites. They wanted lead lives that were totally faithful to the Lord. But then, others began to notice their exemplary lives and praise them for it. The Pharisees were highly-regarded by most Jews as a rule. This praise, however, became a temptation, at least for some Pharisees. Many, no doubt, remained sincere. But it is hard to resist the lure of the crowd. After a while, some of them ended up playing to the crowd, seeking to impress them, and forgetting that they had intended to be dedicated first and foremost to the Lord.
This particular temptation has continued to be a powerful one among Christians. It can appear in many disguises. I am thinking of my own experiences as a seminarian and then as a priest. As soon as I became a seminarian, people began to treat me a little differently than before. They wanted to show their support for my decision to become a priest. A perfectly good motivation. But see what happens. I get treated differently. I’m given special places to sit at dinners and receptions. I’m given tips when I do baptisms and funerals. People automatically trust me and turn to me for advice, simply because I’m a priest – even in the wake of the clerical sex abuse scandals. People treat me as one who has authority. How easy it becomes to play to the crowd, rather than remain faithful primarily to my commitment to the Lord. I can present myself as one who is truly orthodox, or spiritual, or whatever, to win your esteem. I can preach in such a way as to get you to respect me. I tell you how busy I am, so you will praise and pity me more. Notice that the issue is not so much what I am saying or doing. I may be saying and doing, more or less, all the “right” things. But I’m not doing them now because of the Lord; no, I’m doing them for my ego. I no longer represent the Lord, who empties himself for us. I only represent my pitiful, inflated, overly-sensitive ego.
It can happen to other people. You are in a small parish and inherit a certain ministry. You are praised for doing it, and doing it well. You know that no one else really wants to take this on. You may have started this ministry in all sincerity as a way to serve the Lord. However, temptation begins to creep in – the temptation to see this as YOUR ministry, something that belongs by right to you, and no one else has the right to tell you anything about it. You secretly feel superior, in all your hard work for the parish, to those who come to Mass but do no more. You make sure you do what you need to do to keep the praise and support coming from those who “matter”, so to speak. But, somewhere along the way, you lose sight of why you chose this in the first place. You lose sight of being called and sent. The ministry becomes about you, not about God.
Sometimes, it happens in reverse, so to speak. You are not one to volunteer for ministries in the parish. You prefer to sit in the back half of the church during Mass. Nothing wrong with that. But then you are tempted to notice the little flaws of the people who are “out front”, so to speak: those who are lectors, eucharistic ministers, organizers of meals, and whatnot. You start to feel a little smug in that, unlike THOSE hypocrites, you don’t put yourself out front. You know you’re not good enough! You make sure you don’t get drawn into any activity in the parish, precisely so you can maintain this feeling of superiority. Maybe you were treated badly once or twice by one of the “in” crowd, which will only reinforce this temptation. Like the others in my last paragraph, you begin to lose sight of why you are at Mass in the first place. It’s not about you – or me – or even us. It’s about worshipping God. It’s about letting go of the foolishness of pride, and seeing through all these silly temptations, deflating them with humor where possible. It’s about realizing how much we need to come together to worship God in all humility, and to then follow where God leads.
Lent is a good time to look at how we are living our Catholic commitments. Whatever our place may be in the Body of Christ, we can feel tempted to act in ways that say, “Look at me, I’m better!” Too often, we fall for that trick. But Lent reminds us that we can only become “better” when we stop being addicted to feeding our egos and start trusting that God really does give us all we need – as long as we have faith in God’s love for us. In fact, “playing to the crowd” becomes a heavy burden. A true slavery. Trust in the Lord, and know true freedom.