Living on the side of the coin

Matthew 12:1-8

            One day, Jesus and the disciples were walking the wheat fields on a Saturday—Sabbath-day in the Jewish world. You probably know the story. They’re hungry so they grab a few grains to eat, infamously breaking that commandment of honoring the Sabbath day by keeping it free from work. The eating is not the problem; the plucking, however, is strictly forbidden. They also might be breaking the stealing commandment as well, since we have no reason to believe this was a field any of them farmed, but putting that aside let’s focus on the Sabbath-violation because that’s what the Pharisees are most concerned about anyway.

            They have Jesus dead to rights. This is a clear violation of the law. More to the point, no holy person—if that’s what Jesus really is—would allow this kind of sacrilege under his sight. It’s an affront to their religion; they might as well be Roman pagans.

            This sets the stage for a conversation that we are still having today. You might not realize it, but this debate between the Pharisees and Jesus is happening in Christianity in the modern world every single day. It is scripture like this around which many of the biggest disagreements between Christians are staged, because it is scripture like this that calls into question the law and the law is a big deal for Christians.

            Here’s what I mean: Imagine a scenario where Jesus agrees with the Pharisees. He says, “Yep. No plucking grain on the Sabbath. You are no longer my disciples. You can’t be disciples because my disciples are perfect followers of the law.”

            Imagine what that would mean. It would mean that we—today—would have no choice but to be orthodox followers of the law if we were to call ourselves Christian. It would mean that the Christian faith was only about making good choices, being good people, following the prescriptions set forth by the law—found in our Bible—and that would be it. End of story. Honor the Sabbath. Period. No excuses. No lake homes. No sports. Nothing. No doing homework. No turning on the TV to watch football. To do any of that would be anti-Christian.

            Imagine a world where Jesus took the law to its fullest conclusion, as he does with the rich man who comes to him and tells him how holy he is—to whom Jesus says, “Give it all away”—and imagine that world without the follow-up, “For mortals it is impossible but for God all things are possible.” This would be an easier faith. It would be about absolute devotion. Christianity would be like Hassidic Judaism or Orthodox Islam. For some, Christianity is exactly like this, even if the devotees of this kind of Christianity often seem to be the biggest hypocrites.

            But for most of us we have, whether we realize it or not, sat with scripture like the one today and begun to ask the question, “What is the purpose of the law?” Is it to make us holy? There are a lot of people who would say “Yes” to that question. They are Christians, Jews, Muslims—some people of all faiths believe this. For them it is about devotion, submission, complete observance. Others have taken scripture like this and said, “It’s a free-for-all! Look, Jesus says there are no rules!” So we have relativists who use the parts of the Bible they find palatable, but as with so many things if you go around the circle of belief far enough you end up in the same place. Relativists, too, tend to judge their worthiness based on how faithful they are to a cause, whatever that cause may be, and so whether you are a right-wing fundamentalist, who claims the ultimate authority of the law, or a left-wing fundamentalist, who claims there is no law, you tend to find yourself in the same place: Justifying yourself by your observance of principles.

            So many people find themselves on one side of the coin or the other, but Jesus—like Jesus always seems to do—straddles that tiny grooved notch between the sides of the coin. Jesus seems to be the only one not at all interested in the things we are doing in and of themselves but instead he turns around and asks the Pharisees (and us along with them), “Why are you doing what you are doing?”

            Plucking grains on the Sabbath in itself could be good or bad. If it’s about your own selfish hungers, if it’s because you planned poorly or because you don’t care about stupid traditions, then it’s a real problem; but if it’s because you’re feeding somebody in need, if it’s because your love of God and the people around you trumps your love of yourself then by all means break the stinking law because the law exists for God, not God for the law. This is a radical statement. Have you thought about this? The law exists for God, not God for the law, which means in every point of the law we are to ask ourselves “Am I observing this law for God or to feel better about myself?” And if it’s the latter then we are condemned even by following the law!

            So, this gets really interesting for us today, because just about every contentious issue we face as Christians exists on this continuum of law and gospel that comes out of scripture like this. And it’s not a free-for-all. We can’t do anything we want, but Jesus does change the rules. The question we face is the same one Jesus implies to the Pharisees: “Why are doing what you are doing?” That might be the biggest question for any Christian to answer. “Why are you doing what you are doing?”

            But the thing about that question is that it’s a personal question. It’s for you and God. Too often our debates in Christian circles become about other people. We like to imagine we have God’s boundaries all figured out, so other people need to get themselves inside the boundaries, but more often our desire for others to get into the box of the law has more to do with us than it has to do with them. How often when somebody talks about sin do we imagine the way we most often sin and then apply it to others?

I’ll give you an example. Some of you may recall the story of the Prodigal Son. Here’s the Cliff notes version: Father gives Son his share of the property, he goes away and squanders it, he returns and the father welcomes him home, and the brother of the Prodigal Son gets his underpants all in a bunch. I want to call attention to the blunt, stupid response of the elder son who gets stark, raving mad at his father for throwing his brother a party—that prodigal son who went away and squandered all his share of the family fortune. The elder son says, “When this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you [threw him a party]” (Luke 15:30). This seems like a valid criticism, except nowhere anywhere in the story does it say the prodigal son did anything with prostitutes or had any sexual endeavors whatsoever. The elder son is projecting his own sinful desires on the brother. He is projecting what he would have done on his brother, because he is assuming his brother’s sin is the same as his own. His brother did mess up but his vices were different. When we assume we know how others sin we are usually only projecting our own sin.

There’s one more example of this that came to mind for me. There’s a cartoon that goes around Facebook in pastors’ circles every once in awhile. I assume it’s only in pastor’s circles because, let’s face it, most of you don’t share pastor-related memes on Facebook because most of you have a life. Anyway, this cartoon has a pastor in the pulpit preaching on the woman at the well, who you might recall is called a “sinful” woman according to scripture, and the pastor says, “And we all know what her sin was…” And in the pews are several men thinking, “Adultery… prostitution… sexual indiscretion...” And then there’s a woman in the back thinking, “Wanting to kill all the men who assume a woman’s sin has to be something to do with sex.”

It’s funny but it’s true. We love to assume sin on other people. Instead, we need to turn again as Jesus would have the Pharisees turn and look inside ourselves and ask “Why am I doing what I am doing?” Not “Why are they doing what they are doing?” It starts, and ends, with me. It’s a lot easier to tell other people about their own shortcomings than it is to deal with your own, and it’s easier still when you become confident in your own standing before God to tell other people that they should be practicing their beliefs just like you. God doesn’t call each of us to be the same. We are called to different things in life and we are called differently to be followers of Christ. To assume otherwise is foolish and it leads to thinking that, “Well, probably only a few people like me will be in heaven.” That, my friends, is blasphemy and its own special kind of sin.

I know because Jesus died so we can forget about nonsense like that. Jesus died so that this law-business is more than wisdom given or taken at a whim, but so that all it is null and void in the face of the grace of the cross and the empty tomb.

            Because of Jesus’ death we are free to live a life worthy of the Gospel, not confined to living a life in worry of the law. We are Easter people; not Pharisees; which means we live on the side of the coin. Not trumpeting the law because we see the sin in others; not saying “Anything goes!” and everything is true; but instead clinging to Jesus as the one way, even as we see Christ in all the unexpected places doing all the unexpected things, even breaking the law. It’s easier to live on one side of the coin or the other, but the one nice thing about living in that challenging place between the law and the gospel is that you have Jesus on your side. And that’s a pretty good thing to have.