Apparently I am not a proper folder of church linens.
How do I know?
Many years ago when I had entered formation for the priesthood, one of the monsignors in charge of overseeing the house jobs we were assigned would tell me quite often that the creases on the altar cloths that I was in charge of ironing were not crisp enough. Sometimes the fold wasn’t perfectly centered. Occasionally, the ends were “nubby” – whatever that means.
He wasn’t wrong. I was a terrible ironer of the church’s linens. They sometimes looked a little sloppy – like a 5-year-old tried his hand at the job for the first time.
And just in case you think Father was being too particular about all of this, there are in fact rules in church handbooks everywhere which remind us: altar linens used in the celebration of sacred liturgy shouldn’t look as though they just came out of the clothes hamper (my paraphrase).
So again, that was not my issue. I was really bad at it – and I own it.
Where I did struggle, though, revolved around the fact that this particular priest chose to tell me of my shortcomings while I was in chapel praying. He would sit right down beside me and with an angry whisper tell me: “You do a crappy job at this,” while shaking one of my nubby linens. He also didn’t use the word “crappy.”
Sadly, I also overheard him one time in the sacristy mocking my efforts to the other priests and seminarians who happened to be preparing for the morning Mass. They laughed quite heartily.
It took me a long time – and a lot of grace -- to work through my hurt, anger and unforgiving heart. Father Formator took a church “rule” and through its enforcement nearly destroyed my vocation.
That’s why this Gospel resonates so deeply with me: how is it that we can become so Pharisaical in the ways in which we live and practice this beautiful faith of ours?
Jesus in today’s Gospel was not saying religious traditions were bad. He knows that we thrive on them; center our lives around them. Many are beautiful and hold us together as families and communities: a Rosary prayed with the school children in October and May, perhaps; ringing bells at the Eucharistic consecration; using a special chalice on certain feast days.
But what happens when our particular faith traditions and interpretation of Scripture overshadow the reason for worship in the first place? How do we keep the traditions and Word from becoming weaponized?
Unfortunately, that was what the Pharisees – the religious leaders of Jesus’ day – began doing with so many of the religious rules and regulations they clung to … or forced others to follow when they themselves made exceptions for their own inner-circle.
Case-in-point: there is something to be said for washed hands when engaging in a meal, be it religious or otherwise. No doubt the tradition developed from an understanding of God’s commands that required an observant Jew to purify himself/herself before eating. “Wash yourselves clean” was a constant refrain in the lives of God’s chosen ones.
But as it always seems to be with people of religion: the original intent of God’s command becomes warped overtime by the human need for power and dominance. Many in leadership allow their own sinful behaviors and insecurities (often hidden) dictate how others deemed “lesser” than they are to follow impossible-to-keep rules as a way to control them.
Again, Jesus wasn’t against rules and commandments. As he would often remind the Pharisees, he did not come to abolish the law. But what he truly desired was an understanding that God’s commands are in place in order to radically change hearts and lives. The Law is the guardrail that leads us to true freedom when commands aren’t used in a way to manipulate or allow some to have power over others.
Too often, that has been the case. And we have spent our lives overly-concerned with the outer appearance – following the law for all to see – when we never let the reason behind the rule really and substantially change our hearts and lives.
A few years ago, I heard the story firsthand of a parish that requires its attendees to dress in a manner worthy of worship – the sign says so as one enters the vestibule. By all measures, it is a good rule. How we dress indicates our attitude toward a person or event. We wouldn’t wear jeans at a wedding, nor would we dress in beach attire for a prom. Thus, our Mass attire should reflect Who we are worshipping and what we say about our own duties toward honoring God’s commands.
At this particular aforementioned church, a young teen came with her mom wearing an outfit that was not scandalous by any measure, but may not fit what the regular congregants would consider worthy. One woman turned to tell the teen that very thing, and even pulled the pastor into the conversation to back her up. The pastor agreed and berated the young lady for her shorts and tee-shirt. The girl left in tears; the family left the church.
If only the righteous woman and scolding pastor had taken the time to actually engage the young woman and her family, they would have discovered that the teen had body dysmorphia and was struggling to make her way in the world. What she was wearing was, in fact, her way of showing respect to the time and place of worship. Too bad no one looked past the rule of dress to see the real person who stood before them seeking the Lord in her struggle, pain and brokenness.
James in his letter (our second reading this Sunday) hits the nail on the head when he says this: Religion that is pure before God is one that sees – really sees – another person without judging and throwing stones and closing doors on searching and broken hearts.
Commandments are meant to be kept and rules meant to be followed as a means of letting God’s grace transform us, empty us of ego, and help us love as he loves. When lived rightly, they free us from evil thoughts, unchastity, malice, arrogance and all the other things Jesus mentions as heart-pollutants.
If your church rule or way of living out the commands of God make you or me more judgmental and closed-off to fellow sinners, the lost and the brokenhearted, then we aren’t doing it right.
Let’s face it: in the world and church in which we are living these days, it is so easy to become a Pharisee without realizing it’s happening. As a parish community and a Church, let’s take stock of how we are embracing and living the commands of God and the rules of His Bride.
Are they freeing us to love and see the others who truly need this community to make the journey with them … or are the ways we interpret the rules making us criticize how others fold altar linens?