0224 YOU HYPOCRITES!

YOU HYPOCRITES!

A hypocrite is a person whose public image does not match their inner self. Or whose inner self does not match their public image. Either way, I’m glad that I am not one of those people. Aren’t you?

Jesus said this in verse 43: 

Luke 11:43 Woe to you Pharisees! For you love the best seat in the synagogues and greetings in the marketplaces.

So often when I think, “Oh, that’s not a problem for me.” That’s when, if I have a layer or two peeled off, suddenly I begin to see that it is EXACTLY a problem for me. 

Jesus says the Pharisees love the best seat in the synagogue? Based on modern American church culture, I suppose that means they sat in the back pew, kinda facing toward the door to scamper out without having to shake hands with the preacher. 

But kidding aside, here’s what I understand about synagogue seating: First, women and children sat at the back or around the outside, viewing the men, who are up front and in the center. Today, they might hang a mechitza between the two groups, which is a white mesh curtain that can be nearly invisible on one side and nearly completely obscuring from the other side, depending on the lighting. Either way, the women and children are able to be in the room with the men, but the men are not distracted by the presence of others.

Most everything in the synagogue gathering is pre-determined and scripted—memorized prayers, set readings, sung psalms. But the one fluid part of the assembly is the manly open-ended discussions about the Scriptures which are the heartbeat of the daily midrash, and which also serve as the central part of the synagogue. There, up near the center of the room, the heads of households gather to study and apply God’s sacred writings to the daily life of the assembled ones.

A passage of Scripture is recited, and then the men debate about it, while the others carefully weigh what is being said, in an effort to arrive at truth. The discussion often turns into a debate, sometimes of strongly-worded and opposite opinions. 

I say all that to better understand why there are back seats, and then there are good, better and best seats in the synagogue. A little boy would be in the back seats. After his Bar Mitzva, that young man gets to sit in the “good” seats. Then, as he earns respect by being a father, and then a grandfather, he moves forward to the “better” seats. But if he works really hard, he might become a respected man who often wins the daily arguments–I mean discussions–and he gets to move to the well-deserved “best” seats, possibly even earning the public title of “rabbi.”

And with the respected greetings and title come upgrades in apparel. Perhaps you inherit from your grandfather or father the robe or the prayer shawl or the Tzitzit that he had worn, and his father’s father before him. In a culture that respected age, what you wore showed that you were (the big word!) WISE. 

So, all these years and all that study, memorizing the entire Old Testament and reading commentaries and other writings, led to best seats, greetings of honor and clothing of respect. There was nothing wrong with any of it. Respect is to be commended. Right? 

Well, I guess that depends on whether you start to “love” it. We are commanded to love the Lord our God with all of our heart, our soul, our mind and our strength. That doesn’t seem to leave any room for loving a seat, a greeting or a robe of honor, does it?

Good thing I’m not like that. 

I don’t know if you have been around it enough to see this almost exact pattern happen in the world of academia. Graduation ceremonies are still very centered around honor. The faculty parade in while “Pomp and Circumstance” plays, which helps to provide extra credibility to the degrees being awarded to the graduates that day. The presiders sit in the front row, and then there are the rest of the faculty. Wearing a black robe. Possibly with stripes on the sleeves and a long academic Hood, which shows the world just how many academic accomplishments you achieved. It shows your value. Not just your value to your institution, but your intelligence. Your education. Your credentials. I always hated it. Yet, I bought a robe—a nice one. And I was secretly glad one day a year to parade my accomplishments for all to see.

Dr. Read. I spent years earning that title. They say it takes ten years to get a doctorate, and ten years to get over it. And I realized somewhere along the way that earning a doctorate was the only way for a man to have a name (title) change. Nothing changes in my name when I marry, or when I graduate, or even when I earn my third Master’s degree. But when you get that elusive prize, they call you “Doctor Read,” and it sounds so good. I hated it. I hated that I loved it and coveted it so much. So after earning my title change, I insisted that students call me “Ken,” and told them when I hear “doctor” with my name, it reminds me of how proud I am. Besides, I told them, if the apostle Paul could be called by his first name, it would be good enough for me. But to be honest, a part of what kept me continuing in school all those years was not the “education” I would gain; it was the “degree” at the end of the road, something I could put on my vita.

Those are my personal lures. What about you? I suspect that everyone has a love of sitting in the “best seats,” whatever that might mean, and being greeted in public with a word that shows respect. 

A hypocrite is a person whose public image does not match their inner self. Of whose inner self does not match their public image. Either way, I’m glad that I am not one of those people.

Aren’t you?