Our Roman Catholic friends celebrate a feast day known as Corpus Christi (the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ). In some countries such as Ireland which is heavily Catholic, this is an important celebration. In many rural communities there is a Corpus Christi procession through the streets of the parish. Altar boys go ahead of the procession ringing bells to alert the faithful that the procession is coming near. People come out of their houses, kneel, and cross themselves as the Holy Eucharist passes by.
A priest here in this country tells about some recent Irish immigrants who had just arrived in his parish and were unpacking their belongings in their new home. Suddenly they heard bells ringing in the street outside. The whole family immediately stopped what they were doing, went outside, knelt down, and crossed themselves--just as a Good Humor ice cream truck went by. (1) Well, it could have been a religious procession. For some people eating ice cream is a sacrament. Let’s talk for a few moments about the power of tradition.
Mark tells us that the Pharisees and some of the teachers of the law who had come from Jerusalem were gathered around Jesus when they spotted something that offended them. Some of Jesus’ disciples were eating without first going through a ritual of ceremonial hand washing. Now this was not a matter of hygiene. The people of that time knew nothing about germs or viruses. But it is interesting that some of their dietary restrictions and practices undoubtedly protected them from some diseases. However, in this case, this was a matter of religious ceremony.
So the Pharisees and teachers of the law asked Jesus, “Why don’t your disciples live according to the tradition of the elders instead of eating their food with defiled hands?” That’s a good question. Why didn’t the disciples keep this tradition? They, like Jesus, were devout Jews. They obviously kept other traditions of their faith. Why not this one?
Remember, their fondness for traditions has been one reason the Jewish community has survived. Through much of their history the Jews have been a persecuted minority. Their traditions served as a key ingredient in maintaining their identity. This is one way they could demonstrate their “Jewishness.” So a father would instruct his son and a mother would guide her daughter. As you know, there were special laws for diet, for relationships within the family, as well as with outsiders, etc. It made for a vibrant and cohesive community.
Some of you have seen the inspiring musical Fiddler on the Roof. The story is set in 1905 in a small village in Imperial Russia. It centers on Tevye, the father of five daughters, and his attempts to maintain his Jewish religious and cultural traditions. It is a constant struggle. For example, he is forced to cope with the strong-willed actions of his three older daughters who wish to marry for love rather than having their marriages arranged by their parents, as was the tradition. Unfortunately each one’s choice of a husband moved the family further away from the customs of their faith.
For Tevye tradition is everything. It governs how he eats, how he sleeps, how he wears his clothes. For instance, in his village the men always kept their heads covered and always wore a little prayer shawl to show their constant devotion to God. Because of their traditions, everyone knew who they were and what God expected them to do.
There is a certain comfort in living by such traditions. There is order and a certain security. But for a group such as the Jews living as a minority in an often hostile world such traditions were really the only way to survive as a community. And still they were not always successful.
Even Tevye is threatened when his youngest daughter asks his approval to marry . . . horror of horrors . . . an atheist. On this he cannot compromise as you might imagine. Tevye loudly declares, “Some things I will not, cannot allow--tradition!”
Most of us can appreciate his predicament. Others of us would feel smothered by such restrictions. But it is doubtful considering all the persecution they have experienced that the Jewish community would have survived without its traditions.
Rabbi Allan C. Tuffs tells a wonderful true story out of World War II that is the perfect example of the value of tradition. It was about a Private Winneger who was with the U.S. Army as it marched through Europe at the end of the war. Winneger’s unit was assigned to a European village with the orders to secure the town, search for any hiding Nazis and to help the villagers in any way they could.
Winneger was on patrol one night when he saw a figure running through a field just outside the village. He shouted, “Halt or I’ll shoot.” The figure ducked behind a tree. Winneger waited and eventually the figure came out and, thinking that Winneger was no longer nearby, went to a spot near a large tree and started to dig. Winneger waited until the figure had finished digging and was once more on the move before he stepped out and again shouted, “Halt or I’ll shoot!” The figure ran. Winneger decided not to shoot but to try to catch the furtive figure. He shortly caught up with the fleeing figure and tackled it to the ground.
To his surprise he discovered he had captured a young boy. An ornate menorah had fallen from the boy’s hands in the scuffle. You’ve seen a menorah. It is a nine-branched candelabrum lit during the eight-day Jewish holiday of Hanukkah. Winneger picked up the menorah. The boy tried to grab it back shouting, “Give it to me. It’s mine!”
Winneger assured the boy that he was among friends, that he himself was Jewish.
The boy who had just survived several years of the Holocaust and had been in a concentration camp was mistrustful of all men in uniforms. He had been forced to watch the shooting of his father. He had no idea what had become of his mother.
In the weeks that followed, Winneger took the young boy, whose name was David, under his wing. As they became closer and closer, Winneger’s heart went out to the boy. He offered David the opportunity to come back to New York City with him. David accepted and Winneger went through all the necessary paperwork and officially adopted David.
Winneger was active in the New York Jewish community. An acquaintance of his, a curator of the Jewish Museum in Manhattan, saw the menorah. He told David it was a very valuable historic, European Menorah and should be shared with the entire Jewish Community. He offered David $50,000 for the menorah.
But David refused the generous offer saying the menorah had been in his family for over 200 years and that no amount of money could ever make him sell it.
When Hanukkah came, David and Winneger lit the menorah in the window of their home in New York City. David went upstairs to his room to study and Winneger
stayed downstairs in the room with the menorah. There was a knock on the door and Winneger went to answer it. He found a woman with a strong German accent who said that she was walking down the street when she saw the menorah in the window. She said that she had once had one just like it in her family and had never seen any other like it. Could she come and take a closer look?
Winneger invited her in and said that the menorah belonged to his son who could perhaps tell her more about it. Winneger went upstairs and called David down to talk to the woman and that is how David was reunited . . . with his mother. He was reunited with his mother because he faithfully kept the traditions of his people. (2)
Tradition has been the primary glue that has kept the Jewish community together over the centuries. And the Pharisees treasured the traditions of their people. What’s wrong with that? As we said, tradition can be a wonderful unifying force in a community. Traditions help us hold on to our past.
Nostalgia is a powerful emotion. I won’t ask how many of you are into antiques. Someone spotted a sign in an antique shop: “Come In and Buy What Your Grandmother Threw Away.” Antiques like traditions help us hold onto the past.
And some of us can be hypocritical in our condemnation of tradition-keepers. There is a story about a so-called assimilated Jewish woman--that is, one who no longer keeps the traditions of her faith--from the Midwest who was visiting Philadelphia. She boarded a bus. A few stops later, a man with a wide‑brimmed black hat, white shirt, long black coat, black pants, black shoes, and a long curly black beard gets on and sits down beside her.
The woman looks at him with disgust. “Jews like you,” she hisses at him, “give us all a bad name.”
He looks up at her, puzzled, and says, “I beg your pardon madam?”
She says, “Look at you. All in black, a beard, never take off your hat! It’s Jews like you that give the rest of us a problem!”
He says calmly, “I beg your pardon, madam, but I am not Jewish. I’m Amish.”
The woman looks back and smiles. “How nice,” she says sweetly, “You’ve kept your customs.” She could accept an Amish person who maintained the traditions. It was only her own people who did the same thing that she looked down on.
Tradition is a mighty force in our lives. It is important in our worship, in our celebrations, in the way we conduct business and in the way we judge what is acceptable behavior in all of life. From time to time many persons in our culture have tried to liberate themselves from the chains and shackles of tradition as they have understood it. They have seen very limited success.
Tradition helps us discover meaning in our lives. It helps us give form and substance to life. We are not builders of a brave new world at all. We are but builders on foundations already carved out by generations of thoughtful and courageous men and women who have gone before us. No wonder the Pharisees and teachers of the law asked Jesus, “Why don’t your disciples live according to the tradition of the elders instead of eating their food with defiled hands?” Traditions are important.
However, for some reason this question asked at this particular moment touched a sore spot with Jesus. He replied, “Isaiah was right when he prophesied about you hypocrites; as it is written: ‘These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. They worship me in vain; their teachings are merely human rules.’ You have let go of the commands of God and are holding on to human traditions.”
This was a rather stark condemnation by Jesus of the Pharisees’ faith. Could it be that in Jesus’ eyes these traditions had taken on almost idolatrous significance for the Pharisees? We’re told that the Babylonian Talmud, dealing with such traditions comprises no less than 60 volumes. Sixty volumes! Even a good thing can be taken to extremes. Even worse, there is a sense in which we can keep God in abeyance through the use of tradition. We can keep other people at a distance as well. And when that happens, when we get comfortable with our rituals and procedures and schemes of doing things, we’re no longer open to God’s moving and liberating spirit. And we are not open to God’s call to serve others. God then remains on our lips, but not in our hearts. And it is our hearts that Christ is concerned about. It is the inner person that Christ came to redeem.
For the Pharisees religion was primarily external. It was a badge of accomplishment, not a gift of grace. It was a means of dividing society into layers, not uniting it in love. Religious traditions have often been used to put people down, rather than lift them up. All of this was what Jesus meant when he said that the Pharisees had God on their lips, but not in their hearts.
That, of course, has been true of many persons besides the Pharisees, including many Christians. In fact some of the most evil people who have ever lived have had Jesus on their lips.
Historians tell us that once there was a politician who had God on his lips. Indeed, he made free use of religious language. He talked about the blessings of the Almighty and how Christian principles would become the pillars of his new government. He handed out pious stories to the press, especially to the church papers. He showed the public his tattered Bible and declared that he drew the strength for his great work from the Holy Book. Scores of pious people welcomed him as a man sent from God. His name? Adolph Hitler. Historians tell us that Hitler was a master of outward religiosity‑-with no inward reality! (3)
God was on his lips, but not in his heart. Jesus knew that just because a person says all the right things, it doesn’t mean that their hearts are where they should be. That, of course, could be true of each of us. It is the great temptation of people in any religion. In fact, it has happened so often in our own faith, that there are many people in the world for whom the greatest barrier to coming to authentic faith in Christ is that they associate him with many Christians whom they have met who are in no way like Jesus. Truly they have God on their lips, but not in their hearts.
I know it sounds judgmental, but that does not keep it from being true: many people who call themselves Christians do not follow Jesus at all. Do we seek after his love, his compassion, his commitment to a better life for all people? Or are we satisfied with looking like a Christian, keeping the traditions of our faith? Tradition can be a wonderful thing. It only becomes destructive when we use it as a means of looking like a follower of Jesus rather than actually following him.
How about you? Where is God? Is He at the center of your heart? Is He the One who determines your attitudes toward others, or is He simply an excuse for your attitudes? When you read in 1 John 4:8, “Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love,” what does that mean to you? Can you honestly say that you know the God whose name and whose nature is love? Is God simply on your lips, but not in your heart?
We all have our traditions that are sacred to us. That’s good. Let’s not use them to look down on others whose traditions are not our traditions. Instead let’s focus on the God who is at the center of our traditions. Let’s seek to imitate the God whom we have encountered in Jesus Christ, whose nature and whose name is love.
1. Ed McManus, The Jokesmith.
2. This is retelling from memory (so some of the details may be wrong) from a true story told to the congregation at Matthew Weil’s Bar Mitzvah, Temple Shalom, Levittown PA, December 7, 1996. Found on the Jewish Humor List.
3. Today in the Word, June 3, 1989.