It was a great joy to be able to watch our granddaughters last weekend while their mother went to a concert in Denver . . . we had them for nearly five whole days. Five days gets everyone beyond the pleasantries that family typically go through when they are together and are putting their “best” out for everyone to see. You know the old saying about what fish and visitors have in common . . . after three days, they begin to stink. So, we had the granddaughters long enough for them to pretty much be themselves . . . good and bad.
At one point the oldest granddaughter, Harper, was exerting her seniority over her younger sister, Finley . . . you know the stuff, being bossy, teasing, and just irritating her sister to death! Of course, it made Finley upset and she began to cry. Crying granddaughters bring out the “protector” in Grandpa . . . and I quickly swooshed down to confront the offending grandchild.
The confrontation consisted of a series of questions: Are you bossing your sister around? Are you picking on your sister? Are you being mean to your sister? The response was typical of any child caught doing something wrong, but not wanting to admit it . . . stone silence with a straight ahead stare into the cosmos (anywhere but into Grandpa’s eyes). Repeated questioning did not change the response . . . just more silence. The oldest granddaughter was not going to admit being guilty of anything.
And, yet, her silence convicted her. She knew she was wrong in the way she had been treating her younger sister. She knew she was guilty of the things she was asked. I don’t know if it was embarrassment or anger, but she was not going to admit anything. Little did she understand that silence sometimes says more than words ever will.
That is the situation we are dealing with this morning in our scripture reading. At first glance the reading seems to be talking about the sabbath . . . Jesus and the disciples are walking through a field on the Sabbath, some are plucking the heads off of grain and eating them much to the chagrin of the Pharisees watching them. The Pharisees raise a ruckus about them breaking the Sabbath laws.
Then later, in a synagogue, there is a man with a crippled hand . . . anticipation rippled through the crowd as to whether or not Jesus would heal the man’s hand . . . of course, it would be another violation of the Sabbath laws. And, of course, Jesus does. The Pharisees rush out “. . . and began to plot with the Herodians how they might kill him.”
In both situations the focus is on what is happening on the Sabbath that should not be happening on the Sabbath . . . the Sabbath laws that were being broken . . . which the Pharisees had no trouble pointing out to Jesus. Each time, Jesus confronted them about the Sabbath and its purpose. In his first response he reminds them that the Sabbath was created for humanity by God . . . that it was God’s determination as to what Sabbath would be, not humanity’s . . . and, that as the Son of God, he was Lord of the Sabbath . . . and that he alone would decide the true meaning of Sabbath.
Which brings us to his second statement to the Pharisees in this reading. Jesus asks them: “Which is lawful on the sabbath: to do good or to do evil, to save life or to kill?” It does not take an advanced degree in theology to know the answer to that question . . . to do good and to save life. Yet, no one in the crowd--especially the Pharisees, would answer the question. We are told: “But they remained silent.”
It was their silence that convicted them.
Behind their silence they knew the answers to the questions . . . they knew the Shema and its meaning to love God and follow God’s desires . . . of which, as Jesus reiterated, were to love God completely and wholly, and to love others as you would love yourself. So, yes, the Pharisees knew the answer to Jesus’ question . . . their answer screamed out in their silence. Instead of doing the right thing . . . the godly thing . . . they choose to go their way as opposed to God’s way. They would allow the dogma, the laws, and their own desire for power and control to keep their mouths shut instead of following God’s desires.
The writer tells us: “He (Jesus) looked around at them in anger and, deeply distressed at their stubborn hearts, said to the man, ‘Stretch out your hand.’ He stretched it out, and his hand was completely restored.”
Jesus draws the line in the sand . . . God’s way or humanity’s way? Who is in control?
I think that this is the whole foundation of the argument when it comes down to the conflict between Jesus and the Pharisees . . . who is in control? In Jesus’ heart it all comes down to God . . . in the minds of the Pharisees it comes down to the following of the dogma, rules, and laws. In Jesus’ heart it comes down to the relationship between each individual and God . . . in the minds of the Pharisees it comes down to keeping the dogma, rules, and laws--not relationships. In Jesus’ heart it comes down to the relationship people have between each other . . . and, in the minds of the Pharisees--well, you know--dogma, rules, and law.
What is being worshipped? For Jesus it was God demonstrated by the relationship of people with God and one another. For the Pharisees it was the structure of that dogma, those rules and laws. In the minds of the Pharisees, if people followed the rules they would be saved whether or not they actually had a intimate relationship with God or not.
When confronted with the truth, the Pharisees were not going to jump the ship and join Jesus to do the right thing. No, they weren’t going to give up their control and power. Their only recourse was to stand there in silence . . . and, the silence convicted them.
As I look back on the weekend with the granddaughters, and I think about the little confrontation I had with the oldest one over her behavior towards her younger sister, I am reminded that silence is a pretty loud answer in our lives. All of us have been in situations which called for us to respond in some way, and we have stood there in silence instead of responding with words or action. And, we know that our silence convicted us of our inaction.
We know what the conviction of silence feels like.
The reality is that it is not our silence that convicts us and makes us feel a certain way . . . it is the Spirit of God . . . the Holy Spirit that holds us accountable for our silence and inaction when we have been called upon to do the “right” thing. It is the Spirit that is reminding us of that call to intimacy in our relationship with God and others . . . that is reminding us to love . . . to love God and each other. The silence just seems to trigger the Holy Spirit’s prodding of our hearts.
In those moments where our silence convicts us, let us not run out as the Pharisees did to avoid doing God’s will. Instead let us open our hearts to respond in such a way that God’s will is revealed, embraced, and lived . . . to do good . . . to save lives . . . to love as we have been loved. If we can do this, imagine what a world this would be. Amen.
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