#190: On Hypocrisy
A few words from Jesus.
Since November of 2020, I have been preaching through the book of Matthew. Like many expositional preachers, I find that preaching through books of the Bible is the most logical (and practical) way to let the text be my guide in preaching contextually, canonically, and clearly.
For some who may be curious about this approach—or those unfamiliar with my own approach—I will qualify all of this by saying that I haven’t preached from Matthew every single Sunday. There have been many breaks and/or interruptions along the way. Some of these were for guest preachers. Some of these were so I could handle other texts and topics for special reasons. And there were a few pulpit absences due to illness. Nevertheless, each year since 2021 onward I have preached at least 25-30 sermons per year from Matthew. (I anticipate concluding it on the Sunday after Easter.)
Chapter 23 was personally challenging and edifying. The topic? Hypocrisy.
Much of chapters 21-22 revolve around a series of tough questions that various religious leaders/authorities pose to Jesus. Some are theological. Some are political. Some are practical. Some are biblical. And of course, most of the questions straddle several of these categories simultaneously.
One of the obvious but striking qualities of these questions is how they drip with insincerity. They clearly arise from people with axes to grind. They’re designed to humiliate, trap, and/or expose Jesus somehow. All of them fail. Still, they are tricky questions whose answers probably wouldn’t have been obvious to even the disciples.
But in chapter 23 Jesus turns the tables (having literally turned over tables in chapter 21). Jesus begins to press the Pharisees and scribes about their hypocrisy. He does this from several different angles, but it’s what these angles have in common that have been on my mind.
First, hypocrites preach without practicing. They say one thing but do another. This is seen in several ways, including how they hold others to rather high moral standards—ones they refuse to live up to themselves.
Of course, run-of-the-mill hypocrisy is very familiar to us. We point out the speck in another’s eye while ignoring the log in our own. You see, it’s always easier to maintain an internal, cognitive principle. It’s even easy to verbalize it. This brings a kind of comfort and security. “I’ve got this down pat,” we think. But we can maintain that confidence while simultaneously refusing to embody that in our own lives. Hypocrites are good at that.
Second, hypocrites live to be seen and praised. It’s humorous to consider how Pharisees made the fringes on their garments wider, and thus, showier. How obvious can you be? Yet we realize that we all tend to give a lot of thought to both the fact that we are seen, and that we are seen a certain way. Whether it’s what one wears, how and where one prays, or what one is otherwise busy doing in the service of God or people, hypocrites do it to be seen. Even if being seen isn’t their entire motive—they might still do what they’re doing if they weren’t going to be seen—being seen is a real bonus in their mind!
Third, hypocrites don’t see themselves honesty. See point #1. When you’re busy “saying the right things,” you can deceive yourself into also thinking, “I’m doing the right things.” Yet a hypocrite—being spiritually blind—is unable to see the truth: there is a major cleavage between how I perceive myself and how I actually am.
We’ve all met people who fancied themselves to be good at something, whether being a good listener, bowler, marksmen, or any number of other skills or hobbies. Doesn’t it provoke a massive eye-roll when this far from the case? Now, consider how ugly spiritual blindness is.
Finally, hypocrites miss the point of obedience. What’s your “why?” Motives are, admittedly, hard to uncover. They can be elusive to uncover sometimes. But Jesus makes clear in the Sermon on the Mount that he cares about why we do what we do, and why we don’t do what we fail to do. But when our motives are pure and our hearts are aligned with God’s heart, we not only do what we do for the right reason; we start doing the right kinds of things. We give generously, and we do so cheerfully. We flee sin, and not just because someone was looking. We pray earnestly, and not just because it was in a worship service.
Matthew 23 is incredibly rich. Certainly, I did my best to do it justice. I am retreading this ground with my brothers and sisters at the Turbeville Southern Methodist Church this week in Turbeville, South Carolina. Pray for me, and pray for yourselves. Let’s pray that we all flee the perennial problem of hypocrisy.
Last week I wrote about embryo adoption and my own experience with this practice. One might be curious to know of the record set by a birth via embryo-transfer earlier this year. The MIT Technology Review reported on the story of an embryo frozen in 1994 which was transferred and born just in the last year. It’s quite a story.
A baby boy born over the weekend holds the new record for the “oldest baby.” Thaddeus Daniel Pierce, who arrived on July 26, developed from an embryo that had been in storage for 30 and a half years.
“We had a rough birth but we are both doing well now,” says Lindsey Pierce, his mother. “He is so chill. We are in awe that we have this precious baby!”
Lindsey and her husband, Tim Pierce, who live in London, Ohio, “adopted” the embryo from a woman who had it created in 1994. She says her family and church family think “it’s like something from a sci-fi movie.”
“The baby has a 30-year-old sister,” she adds. Tim was a toddler when the embryos were first created.
With an opening like that, how can you resist reading the whole story?
Russell Moore and Douglas Wilson couldn’t be more different when it comes to the question of how the Christian faith should challenge the current cultural order. (Despite this, one humorously notes that they’re both Calvinists with Baptist backgrounds, among many other similarities they’d likely not acknowledge.)
One of the areas their work has intersected in a slightly more salutary way recently is that they both authored “open letters” to President Trump in response to his public musings about bringing peace to Ukraine, and what bearing this might have on him “making it to heaven.”
See Doug Wilson’s letter here.
See Russell Moore’s letter here.
(Strange times make strange bedfellows—though they’d reject the “bedfellow” metaphor!)
With few exceptions:
It doesn’t get easier. You won’t have more time. Things won’t slow down. This isn’t just a season. Either you take joy where you are, or you won’t.
It is said that ideas have consequences, and this is undoubtedly true. Still, it seems that the ideas with the most profound consequences are frequently taken for granted. They are the ideas that lie just behind conscious thought, providing a kind of foundation for the deliberations of everyday life. They are the ideas that define ‘the way things are’ and demarcate the possibilities of life. Indeed, the more consequential an idea is, the most likely that it is deeply embedded in institutions and traditions and habits of thought. This is why the most important ideas are often the most difficult to weigh and to reflect upon. To say that ideas have consequences, then, should not be taken to mean that it is ever very easy to identify the ideas that lie behind the consequences that define our own social and cultural circumstances.
How many people can honestly and explicitly articulate their purpose, or mission, on social media? Is it to gain followers? Sell books? Build a Substack list? What? You have to be able to answer the question. If you have a vague answer, dial it in immediately. Otherwise, your purpose there is being dominated by mimesis for you. Your purpose, quite simply, will be what everyone else’s purpose is. Or the purpose of the person or basket of people you pay the most attention to. To take an anti-mimetic approach to social media, either 1) get off it completely; or 2) be guided by a very clear purpose. Even then, you will have to constantly gird yourself against the mimetic winds—but you will at least have a destination to sail in.
Robert Picirilli, Mere Eschatology: A Biblical Study of the Second Coming & the End of the Age
Andy Crouch, Culture Making: Recovering Our Creative Calling
As you can see, Newsletter #200 isn’t far down the road. Readers, I’d love for you to help me plan for that special commemorate post by sharing with me the following:
1-Your Favorite Past Newsletters/Special Posts;
And/or,
2-A Quotation that Reflects Why You Value Churchatopia.
You can send either of these to me at jacksonwatts@hotmail.com.
Also, to commemorate the 200th newsletter, I will open the paywall up so that you can view the entirety of the Churchatopia archives. Yes, I want to entice you to become a paid subscriber by looking at some of my earlier posts that previously haven’t been available. Moreover, while the paywall is lifted, you’ll be able to leave comments on the site.
In the meantime, please send me your favorites from the past and/or a statement that reflects whatever value you find in reading. Thank you, kindly.