Consider the Source
Commentary
I was a young man and fairly new to the ministry. I was feeling stung by some criticism that I had received, and so I was talking to my parents about it because they knew the person involved. And along the way, my mother said to me, “Well, you’ve got to consider the source.”
At that point, I had not previously heard that particular idiomatic expression of wisdom, and so I asked my mom what she meant. And then she went on to explain that what is said needs to be heard and interpreted within the context of who said it. Did it come from someone who is expert in the field, or is it just a case of Monday morning quarterbacking? Is the newspaper column a truly thoughtful editorial, or is it just a predetermined conclusion about an issue or candidate? Did the complaint come from someone who is a genuinely judicious and reflective observer, or did it come from someone who is always complaining about something or other?
Consider the source, you see. The thing that is said can be judged by the person who said it.
Except in scripture.
Now at an ordinary human level, of course, the same principle applies — and can be seen — in scripture, too. When Abigail prevails upon David to be merciful, for example, she is effectively saying about her husband, Nabal, “Consider the source.” And the narrator of the fourth gospel has the same principle in mind when telling the story of Judas’ objection to the use of expensive perfume on Jesus.
But scripture adds another, sobering layer to the principle. The idea is not merely that what is said can be judged by who said it. Rather, we discover that the person who said something can be judged by what he or she said.
The ultimate expression of that truth is found in Jesus’ own warning that, in the end, we will be justified or condemned by our words (Matthew 12:26-27). That teaching is not a part of our assigned texts for this week, but it does reinforce the larger principle for us. And at least two of our three texts for this Sunday help us to explore and flesh out that principle.
The selected passage from the Song of Solomon reminds us of the significance and impact of who speaks certain words. But it is the episode from Mark and the teaching from James that really serve to illustrate and unpack the truth that a person is judged by their words. And why should that be? Well, Jesus would say, “Consider the source.” For the source of our words, he says, is our heart, and that is surely the ultimate factor in heaven’s evaluation of us.
Song of Solomon 2:8-13
Perhaps no other book of the Bible has elicited such a range of reactions across the history of the Jewish and Christian scriptures. Some have insisted that it is the most beautiful and perfect book, while many others have questioned whether such a book should even be part of the canon. Well, it is part of the canon; and it is part of our preaching assignment for this week.
While many interpreters have favored an allegorical reading of the Song of Solomon, the “plain meaning” is unmistakably a series of love songs between a man and a woman. And this is not platonic love: it is highly sensual, romantic love. Frankly, not every excerpt from the Song of Solomon would seem like suitable reading from the lectern on a Sunday morning.
Yet that very fact is its own sort of testament to God’s word, is it not? After all, not every part of human life would be appropriate for the lectern on a Sunday morning, yet that doesn’t mean those things are not or should not be part of the human experience. Rather, it simply means that the lectern is smaller and narrower than human life is. And, ironically, it is smaller and narrower than scripture, too. And so we affirm in the Song of Solomon a larger principle: namely, that the holy scriptures speak to the full scope of the human experience. And love — sensual, romantic, passionate love — is a significant part of the human experience, so it is good and right that the canon includes such a book.
Our selected passage is full of the highly picturesque language that characterizes the book as a whole. Observe the similes and metaphors. Notice the vigorous quality of the verbs. And enjoy the smorgasbord of senses.
A person could walk through almost any selection from the Song of Solomon, you see — including the present one — and identify within it appeals to all five of the senses. The author is conscious of touch, of sights and sounds, and of smells and tastes. We might invite our people to close their eyes and listen to this passage, encouraging them to “feel” all of it.
In terms of the specific passage assigned to us for this week, it is a portrait of loving invitation. The male lover comes, and his beloved beholds his coming. This is, in any love relationship, a beautiful sight. Whether parent-and-child, dear friends, or romantic lovers, the sight of him or her coming is a happy delight.
In this particular case — the setting of romantic love — the arrival of the male lover pulses with strength, virility, and anticipation. Then, when he arrives, it seems that he is still separated from his beloved. It appears that she is inside and he is outside. Again, in any love relationship, we discover that the principle is the same: love resists separation. Love desires togetherness. And so, even though the distance has been covered, still there is an obstacle to be overcome.
So it is that he calls to his beloved. She has seen him; now she hears him. And his words are an invitation to love. They paint a picture of beauty, and they communicate a message of union. He has come to her, and now it is time for her to come to him. And then there is the lovely prospect of their going off into the time and the place of love together.
The scene lends itself naturally to the gospel message. For our Lord — the one who loves us — comes to us. He is the one who, because of his love, covers the distance that separates us. Yet, still, even after he has come, there is still a separation. As in the marvelous image from Revelation 3:20, he stands outside, and the one within hears his voice. The invitation is to union — togetherness rather than separation.
Taken in its original context and meaning, the passage is full of the beauty that is romantic, human love. Expanded beyond that original setting, we also see the beauty that is characteristic of all of our love relationships, not only the romantic ones. And then, best of all, we see in this passage a marvelous metaphor for the greatest, strongest love of all.
James 1:17-27
Our selected passage from James for this week feels like Proverbs but in prose. Most of the Book of Proverbs is written in the characteristic parallelism of Hebrew poetry, and its statements of wisdom are rather terse. These verses from James are not poetic, but they have some of the same feel of economically expressed wisdom. And, like Proverbs, James’ wisdom covers a gamut from general observations about how things work to specific exhortations about how the reader should live.
We begin with a magnificent affirmation: that every good gift originates with God. I was in a bit of a debate with a friend recently about whether Thanksgiving is a secular or a religious holiday. My contention was that the very term suggests that we are giving thanks to someone, to some source of our blessings. Thanksgiving is not self-congratulatory: it assumes a benefactor. And James makes it clear that there is one source to which all our blessings can be traced back.
James’ exhortation that each person should be quick to hear and slow to speak is reminiscent of the old observation that the Lord gave us one mouth but two ears for a reason. And, of course, such a cautious approach to speech is consistent with James’ later, longer lament about the tongue. Furthermore, sober consideration of our own experience reveals that we do both ourselves and others a favor when we speak less and listen more: ourselves, because we learn and grow more by listening than talking; and others, because listening is an excellent way to love.
It’s interesting that James so closely connects “slow to speak” with “slow to anger.” Words (and the accompanying tone of voice) are so often the way that our anger is expressed. Or perhaps “expressed” is too generous a way to say it. For many folks, their mouths are simply the opening through which their anger erupts.
Whether through words or through some other expression, however, James insists that our anger should not come quickly. “Slow to anger,” of course, is one of the characteristics repeatedly attributed to God himself in scripture, and so this is a way that we are called to be like him. And then, in a noteworthy insight that has currency for some Christians in every age, James says that the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.
Ever the pragmatist — and in this, James is again like the wise writer of Proverbs — the apostle distinguishes between hearing and doing the word. On this point, we remember the parable of the two housebuilders with which Jesus concluded his teaching in the Sermon on the Mount. Both the wise and foolish builder, you recall, had heard Jesus’ words. Likewise, all of the soils in the parable of the sower had evidently heard the word. But merely hearing is not enough, and James reminds his audience of the fruitlessness of hearing only.
The concluding section of our assigned passage returns initially to the matter of the human tongue and speech. James, like his older brother and Lord before him, is unafraid to call out the hypocrisy of self-satisfied religious people. For all their purported piety, James insists that even minimal religiosity must begin with the bridling of the tongue. And then, at a more positive level, he points to the pan-biblical concern for those who are vulnerable and unable to provide adequately for themselves. This removes “religion” from the manicured world of doctrine and ritual, and it places religion back where it belongs: near to the real heart and character and will of God.
Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23
My mother-in-law used to say, “No one can smell their own bad breath.” Her point, of course, was not merely just about breath. Rather, she was acknowledging that we human beings are often badly limited in our ability to recognize our own weaknesses. And one of the ways that we are most severely limited is in the matter of “missing the point.”
We know what it is to be on the other side of such communication. We know what it is to be speaking to someone else and to be frustrated by the way that they have missed the point. It happens routinely with children. It even happens sometimes in humor. The other person focuses on the wrong thing or fails to understand the real issue at hand.
What we may not be so aware, however, of is when we ourselves have missed the point. How often might we have gone merrily on our way in some situation without realizing that we have focused on the wrong thing or failed to understand the real issue. You don’t know what you don’t know, after all.
This is perhaps especially a risk for us before the Lord. As human beings, after all, we are naturally tuned in to human things; but how often are we obtuse to the divine? As physical creatures, we are naturally in touch with physical concerns; but how often are we insensitive to spiritual things?
Jesus told the Pharisees that they were missing the point. Conscious to the “enth” degree of external righteousness, they were often negligent of matters of internal righteousness. That is both understandable and problematic. It is understandable inasmuch as we human beings are naturally more conscious of what we can see and more comfortable with what we can measure. It is exceedingly problematic, however, inasmuch as we belong to a God who does not look on the outward appearance but rather looks on the heart (1 Samuel 16:7).
But the situation is even more concerning, for the teaching of Jesus in the selected verses from Mark 7 suggests that our righteousness is an inside-out proposition. That is to say, outward righteousness — superficial compliance to the rules and rituals — does not guarantee a heart within that is pleasing to God. That is poignantly clear from the scriptural pattern of people’s physical acts of worship being displeasing to God (e.g., Genesis 4:1-5; Isaiah 1:10-17; Amos 5:21-24; Matthew 5:23-24; 1 Corinthians 11:17). But if our hearts are right, then almost certainly our outward behavior will reflect the truth and goodness that prevail within.
So it was that Jesus redefined what it is that defiles a person. The externally-minded Pharisees were so conscious of the cleanness of what went into their mouths. Jesus, however, redirected attention to the cleanness of what comes out of one’s mouth. For the former goes through the digestive and waste systems. But the latter emanates from the heart, and that is where true cleanness or uncleanness resides.
The Pharisees had missed the point. That is easy for human beings to do in the spiritual arena of life. Fortunately, we have a record of how Jesus corrected and redirected them, and so we are better equipped not to miss the point in our own lives.
Application
Scripture takes seriously words and speech. The power and significance of words is seen from the very beginning when we observe that God creates by speaking. And “the word of the Lord” continues to be arguably the central factor in Israel’s history. It is no wonder, then, that a heavy emphasis is also placed on the power and potential of human speech and the tongue.
When the wise writer of Proverbs lists the things that the Lord hates, three of the seven are tied to the tongue. The equally wise psalmist prayed that his words would be pleasing to the Lord. The Apostle Paul affirms the role of speech in both our salvation and the salvation of others. And Jesus, as noted above, warns that we will have to give account for every idle word we speak and that we will ultimately be judged by our words.
Within that larger scriptural theme, James contributes his own helpful and significant insights. Cognizant of the tongue’s power — including especially its power to harm — James urges his readers to be slow to speak. Indeed, he urges nothing less than that we should bridle our tongues. How many people have we known whose tongues are clearly unbridled, and how much embarrassment and offense have those tongues caused? And, likewise, how often have we ourselves regretted that our tongues have sometimes shaken off proper restraint and direction?
Meanwhile, Jesus’ teachings in the selected episode from Mark increase our appreciation for the importance of our mouths and what comes out of them. The story begins with the Pharisees’ preoccupation with what goes into one’s mouth. That is the level at which they see significant obedience or disobedience to God. Yet it turns out that they are precisely wrong. It is not what goes into our mouths, Jesus declares, that is of ultimate importance, but what comes out of our mouths.
When he refers to the Isaianic condemnation of people’s lip service to God, we are reminded of yet another jarring reality. The fact is that some of what comes out of our mouths may be disingenuous. But the Lord knows our hearts. He knows if our speaking (or, for that matter, our singing and our praying!) are out of harmony with the rest of our life.
And then, ultimately, Jesus turns to the literal heart of the matter. He urges us to consider the source. For what goes into our mouths only passes through the stomach and the digestive track. Ah, but what comes out of our mouths originates in — and therefore reflects and reveals — our hearts. Whether our words are cheerful or grumpy; whether charitable or unkind; whether truthful or deceptive; whether speaking of that which is beautiful, that which is petty, or that which is coarse: whatever it is that comes out of our mouths has served to strip back the facade and disclose what is inside of us. And, consequently, it is not only that words can be judged by the person who speaks them; the person who speaks can be judged by the words that he says.
Alternative Application(s)
Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23 — “Heart Healthy”
Some years ago, I heard a man who was deeply antagonistic to scripture and to Christian faith make a reference to God as “the thought police.” Reacting against the biblical standards like not coveting, not harboring anger against another, or not looking with lust, he lamented that the God of the Bible is undesirably intrusive. His contention is that no one should dictate to us what we may or may not think about, and we should not be condemned for our thoughts.
His error, of course, was in the inclination to think of God as a sort of divine government. And in such a paradigm, the prohibition or monitoring of our thoughts and feelings sounds onerous, indeed. But he had misunderstood the fundamental nature of biblical faith. For it is not a distant and loveless thing, like government. And it is not the mindless ritual or dos-and-don’ts checkboxes of mere religion. Rather, biblical faith is about relationship — and, specifically, a love relationship at that.
While I would be appalled at the prospect of the government inquiring about or regulating my thoughts and feelings, I take for granted that my family members care about these things. How routinely do we ask one another within our home, “What are you thinking about?” or “How are you feeling?” These are not intrusive questions: they are natural byproducts of a love relationship.
Furthermore, we know that within the context of a love relationship, some thoughts and feelings are, indeed, out of bounds. It matters to my wife what I think and feel about other women. Should I condemn her for being like “the thought police”? Not at all. On the contrary, it would be a troubling sign if she were indifferent to such things.
Likewise with my children. The affections and priorities of their hearts are a deep concern for me. Precisely because I love them I care about the things they think and feel. And precisely because I love them I would caution them about dwelling on certain thoughts or nurturing certain feelings.
So it is that Jesus meaningfully quotes the lament that God expressed through the prophet Isaiah: “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me.” Ours is no superficial god, easily satisfied by empty praise or mindless worship. He is not placated by trinkets of sacrifices and offerings. No, for he looks on the heart. And if our hearts are far from him, then all the lip service is worse than meaningless; it is an insult and an offense.
Time and again in the teachings of Jesus, we see him pressing the heart of the matter. The issue is not just murder (an external act), but anger (an internal feeling). The divine concern is not just adultery, but lust. And so, too, in our selected Gospel lection. While the Pharisees were busy washing their hands before eating, the Lord was seeing — and being troubled by — the uncleanness within.
Preoccupation with the externals comes naturally to us. Box-checking righteousness always has its appeal. But we are invited into a relationship with a God who is love. And as with all of our other love relationships, what goes on in our minds and hearts is profoundly consequential. Let us be deliberate, therefore, about purifying our hearts as carefully as those Pharisees washed their hands.
At that point, I had not previously heard that particular idiomatic expression of wisdom, and so I asked my mom what she meant. And then she went on to explain that what is said needs to be heard and interpreted within the context of who said it. Did it come from someone who is expert in the field, or is it just a case of Monday morning quarterbacking? Is the newspaper column a truly thoughtful editorial, or is it just a predetermined conclusion about an issue or candidate? Did the complaint come from someone who is a genuinely judicious and reflective observer, or did it come from someone who is always complaining about something or other?
Consider the source, you see. The thing that is said can be judged by the person who said it.
Except in scripture.
Now at an ordinary human level, of course, the same principle applies — and can be seen — in scripture, too. When Abigail prevails upon David to be merciful, for example, she is effectively saying about her husband, Nabal, “Consider the source.” And the narrator of the fourth gospel has the same principle in mind when telling the story of Judas’ objection to the use of expensive perfume on Jesus.
But scripture adds another, sobering layer to the principle. The idea is not merely that what is said can be judged by who said it. Rather, we discover that the person who said something can be judged by what he or she said.
The ultimate expression of that truth is found in Jesus’ own warning that, in the end, we will be justified or condemned by our words (Matthew 12:26-27). That teaching is not a part of our assigned texts for this week, but it does reinforce the larger principle for us. And at least two of our three texts for this Sunday help us to explore and flesh out that principle.
The selected passage from the Song of Solomon reminds us of the significance and impact of who speaks certain words. But it is the episode from Mark and the teaching from James that really serve to illustrate and unpack the truth that a person is judged by their words. And why should that be? Well, Jesus would say, “Consider the source.” For the source of our words, he says, is our heart, and that is surely the ultimate factor in heaven’s evaluation of us.
Song of Solomon 2:8-13
Perhaps no other book of the Bible has elicited such a range of reactions across the history of the Jewish and Christian scriptures. Some have insisted that it is the most beautiful and perfect book, while many others have questioned whether such a book should even be part of the canon. Well, it is part of the canon; and it is part of our preaching assignment for this week.
While many interpreters have favored an allegorical reading of the Song of Solomon, the “plain meaning” is unmistakably a series of love songs between a man and a woman. And this is not platonic love: it is highly sensual, romantic love. Frankly, not every excerpt from the Song of Solomon would seem like suitable reading from the lectern on a Sunday morning.
Yet that very fact is its own sort of testament to God’s word, is it not? After all, not every part of human life would be appropriate for the lectern on a Sunday morning, yet that doesn’t mean those things are not or should not be part of the human experience. Rather, it simply means that the lectern is smaller and narrower than human life is. And, ironically, it is smaller and narrower than scripture, too. And so we affirm in the Song of Solomon a larger principle: namely, that the holy scriptures speak to the full scope of the human experience. And love — sensual, romantic, passionate love — is a significant part of the human experience, so it is good and right that the canon includes such a book.
Our selected passage is full of the highly picturesque language that characterizes the book as a whole. Observe the similes and metaphors. Notice the vigorous quality of the verbs. And enjoy the smorgasbord of senses.
A person could walk through almost any selection from the Song of Solomon, you see — including the present one — and identify within it appeals to all five of the senses. The author is conscious of touch, of sights and sounds, and of smells and tastes. We might invite our people to close their eyes and listen to this passage, encouraging them to “feel” all of it.
In terms of the specific passage assigned to us for this week, it is a portrait of loving invitation. The male lover comes, and his beloved beholds his coming. This is, in any love relationship, a beautiful sight. Whether parent-and-child, dear friends, or romantic lovers, the sight of him or her coming is a happy delight.
In this particular case — the setting of romantic love — the arrival of the male lover pulses with strength, virility, and anticipation. Then, when he arrives, it seems that he is still separated from his beloved. It appears that she is inside and he is outside. Again, in any love relationship, we discover that the principle is the same: love resists separation. Love desires togetherness. And so, even though the distance has been covered, still there is an obstacle to be overcome.
So it is that he calls to his beloved. She has seen him; now she hears him. And his words are an invitation to love. They paint a picture of beauty, and they communicate a message of union. He has come to her, and now it is time for her to come to him. And then there is the lovely prospect of their going off into the time and the place of love together.
The scene lends itself naturally to the gospel message. For our Lord — the one who loves us — comes to us. He is the one who, because of his love, covers the distance that separates us. Yet, still, even after he has come, there is still a separation. As in the marvelous image from Revelation 3:20, he stands outside, and the one within hears his voice. The invitation is to union — togetherness rather than separation.
Taken in its original context and meaning, the passage is full of the beauty that is romantic, human love. Expanded beyond that original setting, we also see the beauty that is characteristic of all of our love relationships, not only the romantic ones. And then, best of all, we see in this passage a marvelous metaphor for the greatest, strongest love of all.
James 1:17-27
Our selected passage from James for this week feels like Proverbs but in prose. Most of the Book of Proverbs is written in the characteristic parallelism of Hebrew poetry, and its statements of wisdom are rather terse. These verses from James are not poetic, but they have some of the same feel of economically expressed wisdom. And, like Proverbs, James’ wisdom covers a gamut from general observations about how things work to specific exhortations about how the reader should live.
We begin with a magnificent affirmation: that every good gift originates with God. I was in a bit of a debate with a friend recently about whether Thanksgiving is a secular or a religious holiday. My contention was that the very term suggests that we are giving thanks to someone, to some source of our blessings. Thanksgiving is not self-congratulatory: it assumes a benefactor. And James makes it clear that there is one source to which all our blessings can be traced back.
James’ exhortation that each person should be quick to hear and slow to speak is reminiscent of the old observation that the Lord gave us one mouth but two ears for a reason. And, of course, such a cautious approach to speech is consistent with James’ later, longer lament about the tongue. Furthermore, sober consideration of our own experience reveals that we do both ourselves and others a favor when we speak less and listen more: ourselves, because we learn and grow more by listening than talking; and others, because listening is an excellent way to love.
It’s interesting that James so closely connects “slow to speak” with “slow to anger.” Words (and the accompanying tone of voice) are so often the way that our anger is expressed. Or perhaps “expressed” is too generous a way to say it. For many folks, their mouths are simply the opening through which their anger erupts.
Whether through words or through some other expression, however, James insists that our anger should not come quickly. “Slow to anger,” of course, is one of the characteristics repeatedly attributed to God himself in scripture, and so this is a way that we are called to be like him. And then, in a noteworthy insight that has currency for some Christians in every age, James says that the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God.
Ever the pragmatist — and in this, James is again like the wise writer of Proverbs — the apostle distinguishes between hearing and doing the word. On this point, we remember the parable of the two housebuilders with which Jesus concluded his teaching in the Sermon on the Mount. Both the wise and foolish builder, you recall, had heard Jesus’ words. Likewise, all of the soils in the parable of the sower had evidently heard the word. But merely hearing is not enough, and James reminds his audience of the fruitlessness of hearing only.
The concluding section of our assigned passage returns initially to the matter of the human tongue and speech. James, like his older brother and Lord before him, is unafraid to call out the hypocrisy of self-satisfied religious people. For all their purported piety, James insists that even minimal religiosity must begin with the bridling of the tongue. And then, at a more positive level, he points to the pan-biblical concern for those who are vulnerable and unable to provide adequately for themselves. This removes “religion” from the manicured world of doctrine and ritual, and it places religion back where it belongs: near to the real heart and character and will of God.
Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23
My mother-in-law used to say, “No one can smell their own bad breath.” Her point, of course, was not merely just about breath. Rather, she was acknowledging that we human beings are often badly limited in our ability to recognize our own weaknesses. And one of the ways that we are most severely limited is in the matter of “missing the point.”
We know what it is to be on the other side of such communication. We know what it is to be speaking to someone else and to be frustrated by the way that they have missed the point. It happens routinely with children. It even happens sometimes in humor. The other person focuses on the wrong thing or fails to understand the real issue at hand.
What we may not be so aware, however, of is when we ourselves have missed the point. How often might we have gone merrily on our way in some situation without realizing that we have focused on the wrong thing or failed to understand the real issue. You don’t know what you don’t know, after all.
This is perhaps especially a risk for us before the Lord. As human beings, after all, we are naturally tuned in to human things; but how often are we obtuse to the divine? As physical creatures, we are naturally in touch with physical concerns; but how often are we insensitive to spiritual things?
Jesus told the Pharisees that they were missing the point. Conscious to the “enth” degree of external righteousness, they were often negligent of matters of internal righteousness. That is both understandable and problematic. It is understandable inasmuch as we human beings are naturally more conscious of what we can see and more comfortable with what we can measure. It is exceedingly problematic, however, inasmuch as we belong to a God who does not look on the outward appearance but rather looks on the heart (1 Samuel 16:7).
But the situation is even more concerning, for the teaching of Jesus in the selected verses from Mark 7 suggests that our righteousness is an inside-out proposition. That is to say, outward righteousness — superficial compliance to the rules and rituals — does not guarantee a heart within that is pleasing to God. That is poignantly clear from the scriptural pattern of people’s physical acts of worship being displeasing to God (e.g., Genesis 4:1-5; Isaiah 1:10-17; Amos 5:21-24; Matthew 5:23-24; 1 Corinthians 11:17). But if our hearts are right, then almost certainly our outward behavior will reflect the truth and goodness that prevail within.
So it was that Jesus redefined what it is that defiles a person. The externally-minded Pharisees were so conscious of the cleanness of what went into their mouths. Jesus, however, redirected attention to the cleanness of what comes out of one’s mouth. For the former goes through the digestive and waste systems. But the latter emanates from the heart, and that is where true cleanness or uncleanness resides.
The Pharisees had missed the point. That is easy for human beings to do in the spiritual arena of life. Fortunately, we have a record of how Jesus corrected and redirected them, and so we are better equipped not to miss the point in our own lives.
Application
Scripture takes seriously words and speech. The power and significance of words is seen from the very beginning when we observe that God creates by speaking. And “the word of the Lord” continues to be arguably the central factor in Israel’s history. It is no wonder, then, that a heavy emphasis is also placed on the power and potential of human speech and the tongue.
When the wise writer of Proverbs lists the things that the Lord hates, three of the seven are tied to the tongue. The equally wise psalmist prayed that his words would be pleasing to the Lord. The Apostle Paul affirms the role of speech in both our salvation and the salvation of others. And Jesus, as noted above, warns that we will have to give account for every idle word we speak and that we will ultimately be judged by our words.
Within that larger scriptural theme, James contributes his own helpful and significant insights. Cognizant of the tongue’s power — including especially its power to harm — James urges his readers to be slow to speak. Indeed, he urges nothing less than that we should bridle our tongues. How many people have we known whose tongues are clearly unbridled, and how much embarrassment and offense have those tongues caused? And, likewise, how often have we ourselves regretted that our tongues have sometimes shaken off proper restraint and direction?
Meanwhile, Jesus’ teachings in the selected episode from Mark increase our appreciation for the importance of our mouths and what comes out of them. The story begins with the Pharisees’ preoccupation with what goes into one’s mouth. That is the level at which they see significant obedience or disobedience to God. Yet it turns out that they are precisely wrong. It is not what goes into our mouths, Jesus declares, that is of ultimate importance, but what comes out of our mouths.
When he refers to the Isaianic condemnation of people’s lip service to God, we are reminded of yet another jarring reality. The fact is that some of what comes out of our mouths may be disingenuous. But the Lord knows our hearts. He knows if our speaking (or, for that matter, our singing and our praying!) are out of harmony with the rest of our life.
And then, ultimately, Jesus turns to the literal heart of the matter. He urges us to consider the source. For what goes into our mouths only passes through the stomach and the digestive track. Ah, but what comes out of our mouths originates in — and therefore reflects and reveals — our hearts. Whether our words are cheerful or grumpy; whether charitable or unkind; whether truthful or deceptive; whether speaking of that which is beautiful, that which is petty, or that which is coarse: whatever it is that comes out of our mouths has served to strip back the facade and disclose what is inside of us. And, consequently, it is not only that words can be judged by the person who speaks them; the person who speaks can be judged by the words that he says.
Alternative Application(s)
Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23 — “Heart Healthy”
Some years ago, I heard a man who was deeply antagonistic to scripture and to Christian faith make a reference to God as “the thought police.” Reacting against the biblical standards like not coveting, not harboring anger against another, or not looking with lust, he lamented that the God of the Bible is undesirably intrusive. His contention is that no one should dictate to us what we may or may not think about, and we should not be condemned for our thoughts.
His error, of course, was in the inclination to think of God as a sort of divine government. And in such a paradigm, the prohibition or monitoring of our thoughts and feelings sounds onerous, indeed. But he had misunderstood the fundamental nature of biblical faith. For it is not a distant and loveless thing, like government. And it is not the mindless ritual or dos-and-don’ts checkboxes of mere religion. Rather, biblical faith is about relationship — and, specifically, a love relationship at that.
While I would be appalled at the prospect of the government inquiring about or regulating my thoughts and feelings, I take for granted that my family members care about these things. How routinely do we ask one another within our home, “What are you thinking about?” or “How are you feeling?” These are not intrusive questions: they are natural byproducts of a love relationship.
Furthermore, we know that within the context of a love relationship, some thoughts and feelings are, indeed, out of bounds. It matters to my wife what I think and feel about other women. Should I condemn her for being like “the thought police”? Not at all. On the contrary, it would be a troubling sign if she were indifferent to such things.
Likewise with my children. The affections and priorities of their hearts are a deep concern for me. Precisely because I love them I care about the things they think and feel. And precisely because I love them I would caution them about dwelling on certain thoughts or nurturing certain feelings.
So it is that Jesus meaningfully quotes the lament that God expressed through the prophet Isaiah: “This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me.” Ours is no superficial god, easily satisfied by empty praise or mindless worship. He is not placated by trinkets of sacrifices and offerings. No, for he looks on the heart. And if our hearts are far from him, then all the lip service is worse than meaningless; it is an insult and an offense.
Time and again in the teachings of Jesus, we see him pressing the heart of the matter. The issue is not just murder (an external act), but anger (an internal feeling). The divine concern is not just adultery, but lust. And so, too, in our selected Gospel lection. While the Pharisees were busy washing their hands before eating, the Lord was seeing — and being troubled by — the uncleanness within.
Preoccupation with the externals comes naturally to us. Box-checking righteousness always has its appeal. But we are invited into a relationship with a God who is love. And as with all of our other love relationships, what goes on in our minds and hearts is profoundly consequential. Let us be deliberate, therefore, about purifying our hearts as carefully as those Pharisees washed their hands.
