Then Jesus said
to the crowds and to his disciples, “The scribes and the Pharisees sit on
Moses’ seat; therefore, do whatever they teach you and follow it; but do not do
as they do, for they do not practice what they teach. They tie up heavy
burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they
themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them. They do all their deeds
to be seen by others; for they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes
long. They love to have the place of honour at banquets and the best seats in
the synagogues, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have
people call them rabbi. But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one
teacher, and you are all students. And call no one your father on earth, for
you have one Father—the one in heaven… The greatest among you will be your
servant. All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble
themselves will be exalted. [Mathew
23:1-12]
Jesus was clearly exasperated, at any rate on that day,
by people practising religion. By any
standards his speech is judgemental and dismissive. He was angry, and what triggers his anger is
his awareness of burdened and suffering people for whom this kind of religion
is no help at all. They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders
of others; but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them. And there are examples of precisely that in
the Auckland religious scene, and far beyond, today. That section of chapter 23 morever is tame
compared with what he goes on to say.
Jesus calls us to live differently. It is really a shameful thing when this seems
to be understood better by a secular society than in the congregations and
councils of the church. The call of Jesus is a call to live simply and
humbly. Even atheists understand that. It is not a question of how much or how little
we own. Simplicity and humility become
apparent, or not, whatever car we drive and wherever we choose to live.
Basil Hume was a Benedictine monk of Ampleforth
Abbey. More or less out of the blue he
was appointed Archbishop of Westminster.
At his ordination and induction, amid great colour and panoply, the
preacher was one of his fellow monks who warned his brother: It will make
everything harder for you, including your prayer. A bishop, said Basil Hume, quoting St Augustine,
is a man who knows the weakness, fears
and anxieties of all people; who, as well as sensing the presence of God,
experiences the darkness of his apparent absence; whose job is not to stifle
but to release, not to impose but to draw out, not to dominate but to animate.
Basil Hume wrote a book for children,
about himself, called Basil in
Blunderland. He once told his
priests, Remember, when you die, someone
will be greatly relieved. These are
signs of a humility, acquired in the Spirit of Christ, apparent through all the
noise and colour of high church office.
We learn
simplicity in our prayer of silence and stillness. We have set aside for the present all the
things other people might admire us for, and things we do for a sense of
justification and worth. We are not
seeking here any huge enlightenment – indeed, as Basil Hume pointed out, prayer
may often have more to do with the apparent absence of God. It is only genuine humility which can bear
the sense of evil in the world, and the weight of our own personal history in
places. So our phylacteries, you might
say, are diminishing. We are free
because the only requirement of us here is simplicity.
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