I’ve been meaning to write this post since Monday, but I keep getting distracted.  On Sunday I rediscovered a fantastic set of stories while teaching the youth at Valley.  They are studying the book of Mark.  Last Sunday we were on chapter two, which I fondly title, “The Pharisee Freak Out!”

If I were to be completely vulnerable and raw with you, if I were to bear the deep recesses of my soul to you, then I would tell you that I relate a lot to the Pharisees.

I know in the Gospels they are the “bad guys.”  I know they and Jesus go head-to-head a lot.  I know Jesus calls them not-nice names like, “Snakes and vipers!” or “White-washed tombs!”  I know they have a big hand in having Jesus killed.  But I get them.  I think I understand what’s going on in their souls.

You see kids, I had a fantastic dad.  He was crazy smart, and successful, and kind, and generous, and famous in his corner of the world.  I mean, I’m just going to say it, he was awesome.  The power of his presence and personality had a deep effect on.  Even though he loved me exactly how I was and never put unhealthy pressure on me, I still tried to please him by living up to self-imposed high expectations.  There was this voice in my head constantly questioning with hopeful desperation, “Will this make dad happy?”  As a young man, the voice was there when I played sports, tried to succeed in school, or made decisions about my future.  And when I messed up, the voice got sad and depressed.

It got worst after Dad died because I couldn’t run things by him, so I was left to float and imagine.  An young man’s insecure imagination can be a dangerous thing.  I’m thankful I met an amazing woman like Wendy who was able to keep me grounded during those difficult years (we started dating right before Dad died).

Age and maturity (the tiny amount I have) has shown me that this voice and the expectations it conveys are all of my own creation.  I have no doubt Dad loved me and was happy with me, even when I was making massive mistakes.  I have my own kids now and I remember things he said to me that tell me he felt the same way about me as I do about them.   But still the voice is there.  When I finish projects at work, make decisions for my family, or try to be a good father, I hear the voice say, “I wonder if Dad would like this?  I wonder if Dad would be proud?”  Even though I know the answer is “yes” in my head, it doesn’t loosen the hold the voice on my heart.

I think the Pharisees were like this.  They had a voice in their heads to, a voice of hopeful but desperate insecurity.  They deeply wanted to please God.  They were terrified he was going to dislike them.  They were afraid they would let him down.  It didn’t matter how much scripture they read, or how many teachings they listened to about being “God’s chosen people.”  They had this deep longing to earn God’s approval.

So they obsessively obeyed every rule.  They practiced with precision every ritual.  When they weren’t sure how the rule should be applied or how the ritual should be followed, they fought and debated and made lists.  More rules were created to clarify the rules they already had.  Generations and generations of men desperate to please a Heavenly Father who already loved them exactly as they were.  My heart aches for them.

One thing the Pharisees longed for more than anything else was the Messiah – the super-special, God sent, anointed leader who would bring the mysterious “Kingdom of God” into being.  I think they believed the Messiah’s arrival would be a sign of approval from their Heavenly Dad.  If they could just do enough of the right stuff, then God would give them a thumbs up in the form of a charismatic leader  who would kick some Roman butt and put them in charge.

This is why they got excited in the first chapter of Mark.  Jesus arrives on the scene.  At his baptism there is crazy dove-like-light falling on him and a voice is coming from the sky saying, “This is my Son!  I’m pleased with him.”  Then this Jesus dude started running around healing people, and casting out demons, and teaching with a charisma and authority no one has ever seen.  I imagine when he first began his public ministry, Jesus brought the Pharisees a huge amount of joy and satisfaction.  The Messiah had come on their watch.  God didn’t send them during their grandfather’s era.  God didn’t send him during their dad’s era.  It was their faithfulness, their work, their adherence to the rituals, their disciplined loyalty to the rules that had finally please God.

I bet they were even willing to forgive Jesus when he chose a few meat-head, Torah-school-drop-out, fishermen as his disciples instead of Pharisees.  I imagine Pharisees debating in coffee houses the merits of such men.  I mean that Peter guy was big.  Dumb.  But big.  And when Jesus picked up swords and started mopping the floor with Rome, he was going to need big strong dudes like Peter and those two idiot brothers who called themselves “The Sons of Thunder.”

But the more they followed Jesus around, the more frustrated they became with him.  In chapter two, Mark tells us about three different times when Jesus let the Pharisees down.   He didn’t act like them.  He didn’t do the things he is suppose to do.    He didn’t obsess over the rules like they did.  He didn’t agonize over practicing the rituals with precision.  In fact, some of the rituals he didn’t practice at all.   Jesus wasn’t at all what they expected the Messiah to be like.  They’d envisioned an ultimate Pharisee.  How could the Father be pleased with this guy?  He didn’t do anything he was suppose to do.

One of the things the Pharisees obsessed over was Sabbath.  They had strict rules about the Sabbath.  Resting on the Sabbath, they believed, made God happy.  It was one of those rules God had set down for them to follow.  But how does one perfectly rest?  What is work and what is not work?  They fought, they debated, lists were made, and rules were piled upon rules.  

So this happens…

One Sabbath Jesus was going through the grainfields, and as his disciples walked along, they began to pick some heads of grain.  The Pharisees said to him, “Look, why are they doing what is unlawful on the Sabbath?”

He answered, “Have you never read what David did when he and his companions were hungry and in need?  In the days of Abiathar the high priest, he entered the house of God and ate the consecrated bread, which is lawful only for priests to eat. And he also gave some to his companions.”

Then he said to them, “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.  So the Son of Man is Lord even of the Sabbath.”

Forget the David stuff for a minute.  It’s important for the Pharisees in the conversation, but it isn’t what I want to focus on right now.  Ponder with me for a moment Jesus’ statement, “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.”

In their attempts to please God, the Pharisees had misplace stuff.  God had given them some tools – some rituals and rules.  He gave them these tools because he loved them and he wanted to help them have amazing lives – lives spent growing in relationship with him.  But the Pharisees obsessed over these tools and forgot that God had already chosen them and loved them.

It was as if God asked them to help Him build a house, so he bought them a hammer.  But then they forgot they were suppose to be building a house with God.  Instead they focused on the hammer.  They tried to use the hammer to do everything, because God had given it to them, so using it must have been the point – right?  Need to hammer in a nail?  Get the hammer!  Need to make your bed?  Get the hammer!  Need to eat cereal in the morning from a bowl?  Get the hammer!  Bam-bam-bam!  Whack-whack-whack!  Hammer-hammer-hammer!

In their insecurity, they took the tools God had given them and made those tools the point.

I think we do this a lot.  I think with the best of intentions, we fall in love with our tools and forget that they are not the point.