“I would summarise Jesus’ teaching
under two headlines: forgiveness and
inclusivity. You go through His
teachings. You can see why they killed Him.”
— Fr.
Richard Rohr OFM
I’M going to ask you to channel
your inner Pharisee for a moment. Sure, we’ve all got one. It’s that self-righteous
self that views others through the lens of the law, and ourselves through the
lens of grace. Be honest. That inner Pharisee is never too far away. None of us
is so full of Jesus that we don’t recognise how quickly we resort to judging
and condemning others. Even as we intellectualise our rationale — (‘Oh, I have
logic and data on my side that tells me how wrong they are!’) — we only put a
more self-deceptive mask on. (That ‘logic’ and that ‘data’ never normally finds
others innocent and ourselves guilty.)
Most of those red-letter Bible
verses our inner Pharisee hates.
Those red letters highlight
everything he can’t do, because to do them requires denial of self, the taking
up of one’s cross.
The reason we have to enter our
inner Pharisee is it’s the only way
to see something so fundamental to our visceral condition.
Unless we see that we are
the ones with the log in our own eye we cannot enter the kingdom of heaven.
Until we concede their sin is a speck from our point of view we cannot be
healed and will remain utterly broken. Lest we see that, as far as Jesus is
concerned, He can only heal us as we allow Him to, we’re forlorn.
Our healing has nothing to do with
the person who besmirched us five or fifty years ago. But the bitterness we
harbour at their betrayal forever holds us marooned to the mast of misery.
The reason we learn to dislike the
real Jesus — even though we ‘love’ Him — is we detest having to soften our
hearts before the person we despise
has, never understanding it’s more blessed to give than to receive. And even
more so when they never soften
their heart, forgetting the judgment they may bring upon themselves that has
nothing to do with us, and that we’ll never know anything about.
Our relationship with Jesus is
manically bipolar when we consider we love Him for all He’s done for us, for the
gospels, for who He is, yet when we see Him looking at us with those forgive-that-person-who-has-hurt-you
eyes, we hate it. Sure, we don’t want to think we dislike Him! But we can
certainly begin to avoid those who bring His discipline our way.
Jesus wants disciples — those who
disciplined in bearing the weight of their cross.
Nobody likes to do this. It’s like the apostle Paul. We all have a thorn in the flesh
that torments us. It prevents us getting too conceited. The only way we can
bear the tremendous burden — the gargantuan weight — of our cross is to
surrender the burden of our pride to Jesus by being honest. By drawing to
conscious awareness that which would latently reside in our unconscious mind.
Pride causes division, and this is
where Jesus also divides. Those who would remain prideful, choosing to remain
bitter, or refuse to reconcile, choose to be lukewarm. They say they love Jesus
but they show they dislike His teaching. They ought more to say they dislike
Him. But, honesty will cause us all to wriggle in at least mild discomfort.
None of us are that perfectly surrendered, although the perverting inner Pharisee
in us is persuasive in fooling us into thinking we are.
The Jesus of the gospels — the real
Jesus — is less interested in doctrine, tradition and protocols, and more
interested in honesty that leads to repentance and transformation.
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