When Moses descended from the heights of Mount Sinai, he juggled in his arms not two but three Tablets of the Covenant, with five commandments inscribed on each. At least that’s how Mel Brooks tells it in his classic comedy “History of the World, Part I.”
‘Hear me, o hear me! All pay heed!’ the movie Moses proclaims. ‘The Lord, the Lord Jehovah, has given unto you these fifteen . . . [One stone tablet drops and shatters. A perplexed Moses looks down and mutters ‘Oy!’] . . . ten, TEN commandments for all to obey!’
Or watch if for yourselves: [You can show the clip of the movie: here is the link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4TAtRCJIqnk
Of course, it never really happened that way. But what if it had? What if God had originally meant to give us fifteen commandments, and five got lost?”
What are the “Lost Five commandments,” the “Other Five Commandments?” We can all wonder what was on that “lost tablet” and can nominate whatever five commandments we would like to add to God’s “perfect ten.” So this is a very personal list.
I think that those lost five commandments had something to do with condemning the human compulsion to create “piles.”
Besides football and fuzzy sweaters, one of the great fall traditions is jumping spread-eagle or head first and full speed into a huge raked up leaf pile. Nothing is more “fully fall” than filling your face and nose with the scruff and scent of a rainbow pile of leafy leftovers. Leaf piles, piles of the past glory of summer’s sweetness, are worth inhaling with our body and our souls.
Other piles are not so worthy or rewarding. Our culture of “too much is never enough” believes in “piling it up,” no matter what the cost to people, to the environment, or to our souls. In today’s gospel reading Jesus specifically warns all his disciples about the inherent dangers in “piling.” The Scribes he lambasts parade a puffy parody of piety. Instead of working to examine and explain the daily importance of the Torah for pious, observant Jews, these Scribes were all about the “walk” — and nothing about the “talk.”
From “flowing robes” (extra long and elegant prayer shawls made from the finest linens and sporting the lengthiest corner fringes) to the first-class “sports-box” tickets they enjoyed at public banquets and in the synagogue, these religious bureaucrats were all about the flash and the cash. The truth and practice of the Torah was buried far beneath everything else they piled up.
When Jesus denounced the ostentatious behavior of these Scribes he was not denouncing a behavior unique to first century Judaism. Instead he was exposing a common shallowness and self-centeredness that pervades everywhere, among all people. And the urge to splurge on “piles” is stronger than ever today in our consumer, commercial and celebrity centered culture.
Perhaps it is time to re-construct those “lost five” commandments as five “Thou Shalt Not Pile.”
1. Thou Shalt Not Pile Up
The Scribes whom Jesus accuses of “devouring widow’s houses” were “piling up” — taking advantage of those who were the weakest and most vulnerable to add to their own already considerable wealth and status.
I’m sure none of us can think of any twenty-first century example of such behavior. Like CEO’s who bail out with a “golden parachute” while hundreds of employees lose their jobs. Or international investors who reap huge profits in other countries without concern for the lives of the cheap laborers they exploit. Or [insert something here from close to home]. No matter how many “earthly treasures” we “pile up,” it never seems to be enough. How many who have wealth ever really feel they have reached a saturation point and relax in true contentment?
Only the “poor widow” in today’s text seems to be immune to the urge to “pile up” what she has. Her faith is not in any thing she has — or doesn’t have. She gives away the tiny amount she does possess because it does not possess her, it does not hold her heart or her hopes.
Her faith is being stockpiled in heaven, not on earth.
Thou shalt not pile up.
2. Thou Shalt Not Pile On
It used to be we were taught “Don’t kick somebody when they’re down.” Or “don’t pile on.” Whether disgraced, downtrodden, or bedraggled, “piling on,” creating a “dog pile” of condemnation and accusation, was decried as bad manners, poor sportsmanship, and just plain un-Christian.
Spend a moment in the check-out line at the grocery store reading the headlines of the gossip rags. How times have changed. “Piling on” is now a national pastime. Whether it is a Hollywood celebrity, a political powerhouse, or a sports star who stumbles and falls from grace, we cannot wait to add our own jeers and judgment to the public dog pile. Few things are more sickening today than these pile-ons, especially the way even Christians jump on people who are down but not proven guilty, like the pile on suffered by the parents of six-year-old JonBenet Ramsey who was found strangled in her Boulder home in 1996. We used to give people the benefit of the doubt. Now we give them a kick in the stomach while they’re piled on.
The moment Jesus arrived at the Temple in Jerusalem and began teaching, he was “piled on” by the Sanhedrin. That “big boys club” of Sadducees, Scribes, and Pharisees each took aim at Jesus and piled on their accusations. They had no interest in anything Jesus was teaching. They plied him with questions only with the hope of tripping him up, pulling him down, and piling on in a public fall.
Jesus foiled their plan by never failing to answer them in unexpected ways. The Sanhedrin “big boys” couldn’t argue with his answers. But Jesus himself never took advantage when he bested his challengers. He never piled on after making his point. When Jesus was confronted with the “life-and-death” dog pile of the woman accused of adultery, he not only refused to pile on, his words, “Let he who is without sin cast the fist stone,” caused those who were warming up their pitching arms to slink off.
Thou shalt not pile on.
3. Thou Shalt Not Pile In
There is an ageless expression, “piling in the bandwagon.” A lively, noisy, attention grabbing “band wagon” drew people to it, encouraging everyone to pile in with the crowd, no matter what kind of music was playing. After all, if everyone else was climbing aboard, surely it was a good idea.
The old-fashioned “band wagon” continues today with daily reports of what is electronically “trending,” or what is being “tweeted” around. We happily “pile in” and go along for the ride, wherever the wave of public opinion is heading. We humans can be such lemmings.
Just look at the power of fashion in our lives. Or remember Candid Camera. Anyone remember Candid Camera? There is a classic Candid Camera episode. In one a man walks into a doctor’s waiting. He has an appointment. What he sees surprises him. All the other patients in the waiting room are in their underwear. After a brief time of surveying he strange situation, the man slowly removes his outer garments, neatly places them next to the other patient’s clothing, and then takes a seat, only wearing his underwear.
The same thing was done on an elevator. A man gets on, and sees that all the other passengers are facing the back wall, even though there’s nothing there. He hesitates, but then does what all the others are doing: turns his back on the door, and faces the back wall.
Piling in is always a great idea because “going along with the crowd” has such a great track record of good decisions throughout history. Right?!?
When Pilate asked the crowd which prisoner he should release-a convicted thief and life-long scoundrel or a pious rabbi who legally had done no wrong -the crowd piled into the Sanhedrin’s wagon and shouted, “Give us Barabbas!” Jesus was crucified by a crowd piling in the bandwagon.
Teaching the love of Christ by offering the unconverted the choice of Christianity or the sword was the crowd-pleasing option during the Crusades. In Puritan New England the crowd piled into the wagons that carried condemned “witches” to the gallows or the drowning pools. Fear and failure got post-Civil War states to pile in a wagon full of “Jim Crow” laws that caused misery for over a century.
The crowd rarely “gets it right.” Piling in without thinking, praying, and soul searching through, is never a good idea. Discipleship isn’t about “piling in.” Discipleship is about following through and daring to be different. We Fear Being Left Behind. Whereas Jesus dares his followers to be different, to dare to be better. Jesus asked his disciples, “What do you different than others?” (Matthew 5:47).
Thou shalt not pile in.
4. Thou Shalt Not Pile Higher and Deeper
A bad idea doesn’t get better just because you proclaim it louder and continually repeat it. The Nazis orchestrated enormous public rallies and brought crowds of hundreds of thousands to their feet chanting, “Sieg Heil.” Do you know what “Sieg Heil” means? It means “Hail Winning.” We have a whole culture that is yelling “Sieg Heil” and doesn’t know it — piling higher and deeper with fake priorities and bunk values.
The former Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, has bemoaned the way we “retreat from dialogue into the impregnable castle of cliché and repetition” (p. 53 of The Truce of God [1983]). The piling higher and deeper of consensus cliches, with the incantation of obligatory political correctness, or what Williams calls “the flight from dialogue into self-justifying, self-perpetuating jargon is then, an aspect, and a very significant one, of a flight from adulthood, decision, relationship and creativity” (p.55).
We are living in a PC world. It used to be the church that told you what to think, and punished you if you didn’t think it. Now it’s a faceless, robeless political correctitude that tells you what to think, and punishes you if you don’t.
Thou shalt not pile higher and deeper.
5. Thou Shalt Not Pile Under
People get piled under with too much busyness, so many expectations, too many commitments, so much nonsense.
We live in the fiery furnace of depression, the lion’s den of loneliness, and the whale’s belly of anxiety. Who among us does not find it nigh unto impossible to shake off three old friends: depression, anxiety, and loneliness. For most of us life is a perpetual struggle to avoid the company of “old friends” — although for each of us the friends are different. But arguably the friend that shows up the most and piles us under the heaviest is anxiety.
Now these abide: depression, anxiety, loneliness. But the greatest of these is anxiety. We are living in an Age of Anxiety, with symptoms as diverse as anxiety attacks, anorexia, and anger. But Jesus reopens the space within which the full range of human emotions can be expressed, and addressed.
Hear Jesus speak to you this morning:
Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? (Matthew 6:25‑27)
Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. (Matthew 6:34)
Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28‑30)
And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? (Luke 12:25)
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. (John 14:27)
Alternative Ending:
At the end of your sermon, have a special delivery announcement made that everyone has an envelope with their name written on it (if your congregation is able to do this, super; if not, you can just have blank envelopes). Have some “FedEx/UPS types” pass out the envelopes to everyone present. Inside the envelope have this letter addressed in the following fashion (with the name filled in by the person who inscribed the envelope, or if that is not possible, have each person write their own names on the envelope and in the spaces below:)
“To my beloved son ... [Len],
Every new day I rejoice when I think of you and the plans I have for you. I have created you for a purpose and it puts a smile on my face when I think about the amazing things you will do in this life. [Len], I know about your troubles, your hardships and your sorrows, but please know that I have not abandoned or forgotten you. I know about every tear that you have shed and for every tear that fell to the floor on earth there was two that fell to the floor in heaven. You are constantly on my mind. . .
The love that you pour into the lives of others builds into a current that has changed lives, even if you can’t always see it. I can see that you know me and understand what I am about. But it troubles me to see you still carrying burdens of anxiety and worry. Remember, I came to give you life and life more abundantly. I ask that you give me your brokenness, your pain, your anxiety, and your cares. I ask that you give those up to me, and I will walk along side you. I will guide you and bring you to my place of peace.
With all my love,
God
COMMENTARY
Throughout the final scenes of Jesus’ public ministry, Mark’s text has documented an ongoing debating match between Jesus and the members of the Sanhedrin. In today’s gospel text chronicling these Temple-located exchanges, Jesus gets in the last word. Although in last week’s text Jesus had praised a Scribe, declaring that he was “not far from the kingdom of God” (v.34), the Scribes who are the focus of this week’s discussion fall at the other end of the ethical spectrum. Instead of the “kingdom of God” these Scribes “will receive the greater condemnation.”
The Scribe in last week’s gospel text engaged Jesus in a serious discussion about the Torah — asking a thoughtful ethical and theological question. In today’s text the Scribes show no heartbeat for their “job description” as lovers and interpreters of the Torah. Instead their primary concerns seem to be showmanship, parading through the central marketplace in “long robes” (“stolai”), status seeking, taking places of honor both in the synagogue (the “tokathedriai”) and at banquets (the “protoklisiai”).
Even worse than these self-serving, self-aggrandizing behaviors, however, is Jesus’ accusation that these Scribes “devour widows’ houses.” Because widows did not directly inherit their husband’s wealth or property, they were dependent upon the benevolence and generosity of either the male children or some estate manager. As respected Torah scholars, effectively the “lawyers” of their day, Scribes were often in a position to serve as trustees for these widows. To “devour widow’s houses” is Jesus’ judgment upon the greed and mismanagement exhibited by these Scribes as they served in that trusted capacity.
The final flaw Jesus exposes in these Scribe’s behavior is their exhibitionist praying. They are portrayed offering flowery, expansive prayers only for “the sake of appearance.” In Matthew 6:5-8 Jesus rejects that kind of ostentatious piety and instead specifically states that prayers should be private, humble, and offered with simple words and short phrases. The soapbox soliloquies of these Scribes may be offered at an elevated level. But they lead to nothing but a “greater condemnation.” Scribes, those learned in the true meaning and importance of Torah (as evidenced in last week’s gospel text) risk a greater judgment against them when they so blatantly trespass on its true nature and intent.
In contrast to the “appearance is all” attitude of these Scribes, Jesus now finds an example of genuine faith and commitment right in front of him. Mark’s text situates Jesus directly across from the Temple, observing the Court of the Women, the outer area where women and children were allowed to pray and worship. As the area open to the greatest number of people, the Temple treasury was located within this first courtyard. The Mishnah describes thirteen shofar-shaped (ram’s horn) chests that were located in this area, with each depository dedicated to a specific offering. Individuals approached whichever shofar chest to which they wished to contribute and put in their offering.
Even as is still true today when the “plate is passed,” a tinny “clink” was not the sign of a big contribution. The “large sums” put in by the “many rich people” parading through the courtyard undoubtedly made a distinctive and impressive tone as they took their shofar-shaped slide into the Temple treasury. But as he stood and watched, Jesus’ eye and ear were caught by a small, seemingly insignificant sound made by the contribution of a small, seemingly insignificant individual.
The “two copper coins” (“Lepta”) the “poor widow” contributes were the least valuable coin in circulation. A “denarius” was the standard coin paid for a day’s labor. A “lepta” was but one-sixteenth of a denarius — truly a mere pittance.
Jesus’ response to this widow’s action is to authoritatively “summon” (“proskaleesthai”) his disciples and then call special attention to what he is about to say with his pronouncement “Truly [or ‘Amen’] I say to you [‘Pay Attention’].” Jesus goes far beyond simply praising the widow for her gift. He declares that she “has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury.” (v.43)
The wealth and abundance of those who contribute “large sums” made their offerings of little or no consequence to their personal lives and livelihoods. Their gifts were parsimonious and paltry when compared to the tiny coins given by the poor widow. Her gift represented “all she had to live on.” The widow’s faith compelled her to “give her all.”