Sermon for Year B, Proper 17  •  September 2, 2018

  Then [Jesus] called the crowd again and said to them, “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.”

  In chapter 7 of his gospel, Mark reports a time when several Pharisees, along with some scribes, came around to hear what Jesus had to say.  It’s certain that they had been dispatched from the “home office” in Jerusalem to check up on this bothersome rabbi.  Seeing that our Lord’s disciples did not practice the hand-washing rituals that the Pharisees subscribed to, they asked Jesus why his friends “eat with defiled hands.”  In other words, why do Jesus’ disciples not observe the “tradition of the elders” which was so central to Pharisaic Judaism?

  Mark tells his readers that the Jewish law is very precise regarding ritual purity.  God is holy and expects his children to be a holy people, particularly regarding worship, meals, and other key activities.  As there were lots of ways in which one might be rendered impure, or unclean, so too there were specific ways in which this impurity could be corrected.  The law required a variety of washings, sometimes combined with sacrifice, to make the unclean person pure again.

  The Pharisees were especially concerned with mealtime practices — what one could or could not eat, how that food was obtained and prepared, and how one prepared oneself for a meal.  The law indicated what foods could be eaten.  The vessels used to prepare and eat the food had to be cleaned just so.  And the diners were expected to wash their hands before and after the meal, and not to share their table with people who were unclean.  They believed that what one ate, what a person put into his or her body, had power to defile — to make the diner unclean.

  So, they take Jesus to task about what his friends are doing.  Jesus responds with the challenging idea that it is actually what comes out of a person that defiles.  What one eats is simply food, sustenance needed to maintain life.  Jesus doesn’t debate the restriction about pork, or how food should be cooked, or even the need to wash your hands before eating.  In this pre-scientific age, it’s likely that many laws about food reflect trial-and-error experience in avoiding foodborne illness.  Rather, what Jesus is concerned with is what comes out of the person, what comes from his or her heart, for that is what truly defiles a person.

What Jesus is talking about is character — the intellectual and especially the moral qualities that define a person.  Basically, he’s saying that it matters little if you eat oatmeal, fried eggs, or beef stew.  But your words and actions — especially how you treat other people — make clear what kind of person you are.  For example, if you spend a pleasant hour or so eating an excellent dinner, and then get up from the table thinking that those who are hungry are to be pitied or criticized, but not helped, then you are — by Jesus’ standards — a defiled person.

  As it happens, two instructive examples of character have been held out before us in the past few days.  The first surfaced in Pennsylvania as a grand jury revealed that hundreds of children and vulnerable adults have been abused by Roman Catholic clergy over a period of nearly half-a-century.  It is especially painful that the abusers were “men of the cloth” — painful, but really not surprising.  Abuse has been reported in every denomination, Christian, Jewish, and otherwise, including our own Episcopal Church.  What is unusual in this case is how long and how effectively this problem has been hidden, the perpetrators shuffled off to some other diocese, the victims ignored or bullied into silence.

  This has been going on a long, long time.  A friend once told me that his grandmother’s sister, an immigrant from Italy, was living in Pittsburgh in the 1920s when the priest at her parish tried to take liberties with this woman’s daughter.  When the little girl told her mother what happened, Mom took a butcher knife, burst into the rectory, and chased the priest around and around the dining room table, declaring in robust Italian that she was going to make some permanent changes to his landscape.  The man barreled out the front door and was never seen again — at least in Pittsburgh.  It’s likely his bishop arranged a transfer, because the institution probably chose to protect itself, not the children.  

Those who abused, and those who covered up the abuse, were not people of good character.  They defiled themselves and their Church, because what came out of their hearts was evil.

  A second and more positive example of character is Sen. John McCain, who later today will be interred at the United States Naval Academy.  So much has been said this week about Sen. McCain that there is very little I can add.  I would note, however, that at the military school where I spent three years of high school, we had an honor code that was clear, concise, and concrete: “We do not lie, cheat, or steal, nor tolerate among us those who do.”  The Naval Academy has a very similar Honor Concept.  In abbreviated form it states, “Midshipmen are persons of integrity; We stand for that which is right… We do not lie… We do not cheat… We do not steal.”

  John McCain was a man of integrity, both in his military service and in his political career.  I did not agree with many of his positions, but there was never any doubt about his courage, fairness, and commitment to the welfare of our country.  At the end of his life he could fairly be described as a good, honest, and honorable person.  He was certainly not perfect.  None of us can claim that, save only our Savior.  Yet as one steps through the gate of death into the nearer presence of our Lord, that’s not a bad place to be: a good, honest, and honorable person.

  He could have turned out otherwise.  Both in the Navy and in Congress John McCain was a man of privilege who wielded great power.  He could have used that privilege and power to benefit himself, his family, and his friends.  But perhaps he knew Abraham Lincoln’s comment: “Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.”

  And I’m sure the Senator would have agreed with John Wooden, the late head basketball coach at UCLA, who said, “Be more concerned with your character than you reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.”
     Jesus’ point is well taken.  Listen, all of us, and understand: what comes out of us — what we do and say, how we treat others, especially the weak and vulnerable — is what defines us.  As John McCain was, so let us also be persons of integrity, who stand for that which is right, so that what comes out of us is good, honest, and honorable.  Amen.