Stanford Memorial Church
August 30, 2009
WHAT’S ON THE INSIDE
C. George Fitzgerald, S.T.D.
Epistle: James 1:17-27
Gospel: Mark 7.1-8, 14-15, 21-23
When we take the gospel lesson at face value, it appears rather obvious that Jesus was wrong and the religious leaders were right. . . at least from the perspective of contemporary health care. Of course you should wash your hands before you eat, especially if you have been working in the field or some other form of manual labor. Moreover, things that are brought home from the market should be washed before eaten. And it is certainly standard practice, after every meal, to wash the utensils like pots, pans, and kettles.
In all likelihood these prescribed habits and behaviors cited by the religious leaders were derived from closely observing day to day experience. It would, for example, be difficult to ignore several people dying in the aftermath of a meal or festive occasion. Early observant individuals, for example, must have been struck by the fact that an inordinate number of people were dying from eating pork. While it would be centuries before diseases associated with pork were discovered and treated, it was evident to a careful observer that it was not a good idea to eat pork; indeed it would have been quite tragic and painful when those who died were friends, neighbors and family members. Before long, what began as a matter of careful practice and survival became an article of faith: a faithful Jew or Muslim elevates the prohibition against pork to a commandment from God: Thou shalt not eat pork. Ironically, today pork is one of our most popular meats, and has been recommended by some as the healthiest meat of choice.
Of course the broader issues of sanitation and cleanliness were not truly understood until centuries later. But in the history of medicine, nothing—no drug, no treatment, no exercises or practices—nothing contributed more to the prevention of disease and the saving of lives than the basic sanitation practice of separating the sewer line from the drinking line. So when we review our gospel lesson for today, we have to say that—in terms of health and sanitation—Jesus was wrong and the religious authorities were right. Maybe some might find this an interesting example of the humanness of Jesus, as a person of his time he did not know everything.
Jesus, however, was not focusing on issues of health and sanitation. Rather his primary concern—in response to both his disciples and the religious leaders—had to do with the much more basic and universal question about the nature of our faith and how we live it. While we know he observed religious festivals, such as going to Jerusalem to celebrate Passover, he also approached them with some ambivalence and wariness. He appeared to view religious rites and rituals as a double edged-sword. On the one hand he realized rites, rituals, the wearing of religious symbols, could help the development of faith—especially if they occurred as expressions of gratitude. But as he observed the religious practices and expressions about him—the lighting of candles, the prohibitions of certain foods, sanitation requirements, ostensive and generous contributions—he became increasingly aware of the other edge of the sword, the way in which religious rites and rituals can hinder and undermine faith. They seemingly provide such certainty and satisfaction, particularly for the religious fanatic. They take the uncertainty out of whether or not one is living the true life of faith. They provide a way of measuring who is in and who is out. There is the perennial temptation to assume, “if I practice my religious rites and rituals, if I say the right words, then I am a true person of faith . . . I and those like me are among the chosen . . . while all the others are—at best—second class in God’s sight. . . and it is such a comfort to know who is in and who is out.”
Time and again when we review religious history, we are repeatedly reminded of how often rites, rituals and power--have destroyed faith rather than enhanced or strengthened it. Whether it be the crusaders charging off to rescue Jerusalem, pillaging along the way, the inquisition, the trials of women as witches-- whenever churches and religion achieve a position of power, faith languishes on the vine. Religion seems to work much better, and is less likely to be abusive when it is on the perimeter of power or even under persecution.
Did Jesus have all these thoughts in mind when he and his disciples encountered the religious leaders of his day? Perhaps, because we do know that they touched a raw nerve when they chastised him and his disciples for not washing their hands before meals as well as other ritual transgressions. Jesus rebuked them immediately and harshly, saying, “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’” (Mark 7.6,7). He then proceeds to clarify his remarks by saying to those gathered about him, “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” (Mark 7.14). Rites and rituals, lighting candles, religious processions—and all the rest—are byproducts rather than the essence of faith. While they may enhance faith, they may also extinguish it. Do the rites and rituals flow out of love and compassion, or are they used to discriminate, to feel superior and to find fault and chastise? Jesus emphasizes the importance of what is within, and his words call to mind a statement by the well-known psychiatrist Carl Jung who said, “Your vision will only become clear when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.”
“Looking within” may sound rather straight forward and self-evident, not a terribly difficult thing to do. In point of fact, it is quite challenging and demanding. When we ask, “What is within?” The answer is, “Everything!” Everything is within, and much of it we would like very much to avoid, or at least pretend—to ourselves and others-- that it is not there. Jesus pulls no punches in identifying these inner components we would rather ignore or avoid by saying, “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” (Mark 7.21-23). Not a terribly pretty picture, and certainly not the words find any comfort in hearing.
During the last few years it seems we read or hear so many stories about a seemingly very religious person abusing a child, sometimes, tragically, resulting in the child’s death. Friends and acquaintances of the perpetrator are in shock and disbelief. This cannot be the neighbor they have known, or thought they knew. They were church leaders, others taught in the Sunday School, some were even ordained! We cannot help but wonder if their almost excessive religious behavior represented an effort to keep their evil inner demons under control? But rather than trying to deny these demons or cover them over with excessive religious practices, rites and rituals, we are better served to remind ourselves—as Jesus does in the gospel lesson today--that evil is ever about us—both without and within.
At this point, our epistle lesson provides a helpful guideline for us when James declares, “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” (James 1.21). This was the bedrock for Jesus: faith emanates from within. Along with the inner demons that trip us up, we also have the much more significant gifts of faith that affirms the ultimate power and goodness of God, of love that reaches out in compassion to others, and of hope which believes in the enduring goodness of life.
The challenge for James revolved around the question of how do we translate our gifts of faith, love and hope into the day to day vicissitudes of life? As he so succinctly declares, “faith without works is dead.” Then he offers some very distinct and simple guidelines when he states to the early Christians: “let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger” (James 1.19). Anger hardly ever serves a very useful purpose. And so oftentimes we are much better at speaking than listening. But listening is always first and foremost.
Yet what is it that makes it so difficult for us to just listen, to recognize what a precious gift it is? Maybe the problem is it seems too easy or so obvious, and we have bought into a productive mentality that says we only have value when we do or produce something. Dr. Rachel Remen, a highly honored Bay Area physician, writes so eloquently about listening in her book Kitchen Table Wisdom:
I suspect that the most basic and powerful way to connect to another
person is to listen. Just listen. Perhaps the most important thing we
ever give each other is our attention. And especially if it’s given from
the heart. When people are talking, there’s no need to do anything but
receive them. Just take them in. Listen to what they’re saying. Care
about it. Most times caring about it is even more important than
understanding it. Most of us don’t value ourselves or our love enough
to know this. . . This simple thing has not been that easy to learn. It
certainly went against everything I had been taught since I was very
young. I thought people listened only because they were too timid to
speak or did not know the answer. A loving silence often has far more
power to heal and to connect than the most well intentioned words.
Hearing through loving silence may sound a bit strange, but a very good example of it was reported last weekend in the San Jose Mercury. I suspect some of you here may have read a lovely and moving story about a new program the Spiritual Care Service has started at Stanford Hospital called No One Dies Alone. Perhaps you have heard of this program which was initiated by a nurse in Eugene, Oregon and is being duplicated by medical centers across the nation. In some ways it represents an attempt to recover some of the traditional way in which most people died: at home, surrounded by one’s family and loved ones. But with the rise of modern medicine, and the use of complicated and specialized medical devices, an increasing number of people, unfortunately, die in the hospital. Moreover, families today are often separated by thousands of miles, and it is not always possible to be present at the time of a loved one’s death. It is a difficult situation to confront, especially as no one wantstheir loved one, or themselves, to die in a sterile, dehumanizing medical setting. When we decided to establish this program at Stanford, about nine months ago, we limited what we called the Compassionate Companion volunteers to hospital employees and volunteers who had at least six months of hospital experience. We thought we would start with a dozen volunteers and work out way up to 60 in about a year. But when the program was announced at the hospital the response was overwhelming, and we had 60 volunteers within two months. To date our Compassionate Companion volunteers have been present with 5 patients who dying, and the response from family members, as well as physicians and nurses who know, or who have heard, about the program have been quite enthusiastic in their support. It has been such a comfort for a family member in Pennsylvania, unable to get Stanford in time, to know that someone was there for their loved one. A nurse can now go home after her shift, knowing that a patient she has come to know and care for will die without the comfort of any human presence. A fascinating footnote to the article occurred last Monday when we received over 50 requests to volunteer for the program from people who had read the article. People are beginning to recognize the immense value of simply listening, of being present and caring.
This outpouring of care and concern calls to mind the final words of our gospel lesson for today when Jesus defined religion as “to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world” (Mark 7.27). I think he would have agreed to including in this list “sitting with those who are dying and abandoned.” And this love and compassion that comes from within, that reaches out in so many ways in caring for others happens in so many ways. This came to mind when, this past week, we experienced the passing of one of the most significant political eras of our generation, with the death of senator Edward Kennedy. The outpouring of interviews, commentaries, and shared stories have, understandably, been overwhelming. But the one interview that continues to remain with me had to do with a colleague of the senator, who remarked that one day he asked Kennedy where he social concern came from. Kennedy paused, looked him in the face, and replied, “Have you never read the New Testament?”
Compassion, love and concern begin on the inside. They come from the heart, and cannot help but find expression, not by rites and rituals, but by caring for others less fortunate and in need. Amen.
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