Last fall I broke the rules at the airport.
And I had to pay the price.
Just as I was about to retrieve my carryon suitcase following its journey through the scanning machine, a polite man wearing the bright blue shirt of the Transportation Security Administration motioned me to stand back. He walked my suitcase over to a special examination table, unzipped the top, and with gloved hands began to go through my socks, underwear, and sermon notes.
What was he looking for?
Ultimately his eyes settled on the brand new tube of Aquafresh toothpaste that I had thrown into my toiletries kit the night before. “This is too large,” he explained. “If you want to keep it, you’ll have to go back through security and leave it somewhere, or I can throw it away for you right now.”
Since going back through security had all the appeal of a root canal without anesthesia, I watched as he threw my perfectly good tube of toothpaste into a large wastebasket brimming with dozens of other “too large” personal cosmetic items.
In truth, I had assumed that security officials had long ago relaxed the restrictions on the volume of liquids and pastes that could be carried aboard a flight. I was wrong.
TSA agents are literally airport gatekeepers.
You must embrace their rituals of removing shoes, laptops, and the contents of your pockets. You must cast off contraband items and not make jokes about guns or bombs. Without their approval, you may not go forward. You may not venture anywhere near your gate. Apart from their green light, you forfeit your chance to fly to Orlando and meet Mickey.
For all too many people, trying to get to heaven feels like trying to go through airport security.
In every generation, there even seem to be “spiritual TSA agents” – joy-smothering, legalistic, grace-abolishing killjoys who take it upon themselves to make sure no one passes Go or collects two hundred dollars unless they comply with the Rules. Things simply must be done the right way.
In the time of Jesus, this role was principally filled by a cadre of earnest individuals known as the Pharisees – a name which seems to mean “the set-apart ones.”
This band of brothers, which probably never exceeded 6,000 individuals, was deeply serious about pleasing God. Looking back 20 centuries, modern people tend to write off the Pharisees as the “bad guys” on the New Testament scene. But most of their peers looked up to them as spiritual heroes. They were widely admired even by those who didn't have the energy or the perseverance to keep up with their way of life.
In the Pharisees' version of Judaism, the rules ruled.
They embraced what can only be described as a passion for specificity, especially when it came to the regulations for dining.
According to the Pharisees, the ceremonial cleanness or uncleanness of food, dishes, and utensils was not just about good manners. It was a matter of spiritual life or death. If you ate with unwashed hands, your food was no better than excrement. One rabbi who failed to wash his hands the right way was buried in excommunication.
In his commentary on the seventh chapter of the Gospel of Mark, Scottish Bible scholar William Barclay actually apologized for providing this sample of Pharisaic thinking on the business of managing tableware:
“A hollow vessel made of pottery could contract uncleanness inside but not outside; that is to say, it did not matter who or what touched it outside, but it did matter what touched it inside. If it became unclean it must be broken; and no unbroken piece must remain which was big enough to hold enough oil to anoint the little toe. A flat plate without a rim could not become unclean at all; but a plate with a rim could… Things made of metal could be unclean, except a door, a bolt, a lock, a hinge, a knocker, and a gutter. Wood used in metal utensils could become unclean; but metal used in wood utensils could not. Thus a wooden key with metal teeth could become unclean; but a metal key with wooden teeth could not.”
Most of us merely glance at the small print before we sign a contract.
According to the Pharisees, the small print meant everything. Perfect compliance with the rules, like those above, was at the heart of what it meant to know God.
Jesus could not have disagreed more, which is one reason many of the Pharisees were glad to see him nailed to a cross.
We can't overlook the fact that myriad "irreligious" people in our own time have little interest in pursuing God because they assume it's all about keeping the rules. Why would they want to align themselves with people who seem to care intensely about the spiritual equivalent of right-sized toothpaste tubes, and then judge those who don't "do it right"?
Ethical codes can be wonderful things – God-provided boundaries for wise living.
But we must not bow down to such regulations as if they were God.
Jesus did not come to give us more rules.
He came to bring mercy, truth, and light to an unsettled, fearful, and darkened world.
In this new year, may we refuse to yield to the fear that by giving up our own life and taking on God's way of life we will be burdened forever by a new set of soul-wearying regulations.
Because of God’s priceless gift of grace, followers of Jesus are already cleared for takeoff.
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