I’ve been thinking of this week’s Gospel reading in the context of the death and funeral of our Senator Edward Kennedy, and the reordering of priorities that such a profound loss always provokes.  I imagine that each of us has been moved in some way by the events of the last week – in the recounting of Ted Kennedy’s staggering professional and political accomplishments, the images of the huge extended family he cared for, and most moving to me, the endless stories of his kindnesses, his thoughtfulness in visits, and phone calls, and correspondence with condolences and encouragements, his invitations to build community and to serve others.  It’s through that lens that I invite you to reflect on this lesson from Mark.   

So what do we make of this peculiar teaching about washing?  I don’t know about you, but I think it’s a really good idea to wash hands before eating and to wash things from the market before eating them, and I also want cups, pots and kettles to be washed.  I don’t usually think of it as the tradition of my elders – but it is.  I feel empathy for the Pharisees whenever I encounter this Gospel reading.  The Pharisees get a very bad rap in the Gospels – and they are slandered in our church tradition.  It is not at all helpful to imagine that they were “the bad guys.”  It is wrong to proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ and slander Jews.  I’m sure that some religious leaders weren’t sensitive enough to people who were disenfranchised and underclassed (because that’s the case with us too, isn’t it?)  And one intent of the Pharisaic movement was to promote access to faithful living that didn’t rely on priests and the temple in Jerusalem.  The Pharisees were teaching that holiness didn’t reside exclusively with priests and those who had access to priests.  They were attempting to extend spiritual disciplines that had been the exclusive practices of priests, to the wider community.  In fact, many scholars believe what the writer of Mark might not have known -- that Jesus was a Pharisee himself. 

So the Hebrew Bible’s story of God’s promise to Noah after the Great Flood is before us this morning.  You probably know that nearly every culture, society or tribe has an ancient legend of a great flood.  Archaeologists speculate that in the Middle East 7,000 years ago, seawater from the Mediterranean flooded the area which is now the Black Sea, destroying the surrounding population, and that the various flood legends stem from that cataclysmic event.  Anthropologists know that the Babylonian epic of Gilgamesh predates the Genesis flood story by at least six centuries and that the flood story in the Hebrew Bible is a kind of response to that story, which the Israelites learned during their captivity in Babylon.  They learned it and adapted it.  Actually, there isn’t a Genesis flood story – there are two Genesis flood stories intertwined, each of which can stand alone as a complete story and each of which contradicts the other at points.  All of this is to say that if the last time you studied the story of Noah and the Flood was in Sunday School, you have some catching up to do!     

The problem here, according to this passage in Mark (and ironically perpetuated by this passage in Mark), was that some religious leaders were excessively worried about who was “in” and who was “out” and insufficiently worried about what was on peoples’ hearts (especially their own) – they were insufficiently attending to loving others and loving God.  Jesus’ critique was that they were using “technicalities of religious law to avoid fulfilling deeper obligations.”(1 )  Jesus was arguing that they were getting out of doing the right thing by taking advantage loopholes in the rules.  That argument is clearer when you read the passage from Mark without the omitted verses.  (Some of you will have noticed that the Mark reading is from chapter 7, verses 1-8, 14-15, and 21-23.)

When this patchworked lesson from Mark is read through an interpretive lens of Hebrew scripture as “Old Testament” vs. “New Testament” or a Jewish vs. Christian argument, we get into all kinds of interpretive trouble.  Better to understand this as an inside argument like the one that goes on in our families and goes on (and on) within the Episcopal Church about how to live faithfully – trying to discern what behavior is out of bounds and what behavior is acceptable.  That is a legitimate question.  We might all agree that the most important thing is loving God and loving neighbor.  I want us to agree that that is our deepest obligation. And of course the Pharisees would have agreed with that too.  But then what?  What is the right way to show God and neighbor that you love them?  Or, what are the right ways, if you will? 

We probably can also all agree that there are surely some behaviors that are wrong, and some that are worse than others, but then our agreement starts to unravel.  We cannot agree on the rankings of sins or on the right responses to people who sin.  And while we certainly should avoid arguing about things that don’t matter, we have difficulty agreeing on what doesn’t matter.  And we cannot responsibly avoid questions that affect the well-being of the community.  For example, what is the best way to love someone who is behaving badly?  What are the limits of our obligation to love? 

What scripture gives reliable guidelines to those of us who consider ourselves to be progressive Christians?  What truths should we use for our discernment?  What I see when I step back and look at our scripture – both of our “Testaments” – is that God’s desire for inclusion and participation in God’s plan is very high.  And God’s standards for inclusion and participation in God’s plan are extremely low.  What I see is that God desires mercy not judgment, that God desires compassion not cautiousness.  God desires justice not justification.  God desires giving and forgiving without measure.  God desires second and third – actually endless chances to love well.

There’s one more quality that I find in this covenant story, made all the more remarkable by the timing of its telling in development of Hebrew Scripture.  There’s wide agreement among Biblical scholars that the beginning parts of the book of Genesis were among the last parts to be developed and written down.  In other words, the Flood stories are actually newer than the material that comes after it.  It’s like when a book gets written, and before publishing, the writer or editor determines that it needs a prologue.  The creation stories and the flood stories in the beginning of Genesis are all prologue, developed and written down after the stories of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and as many as 500 years after the stories Moses and the Exodus.

What particular commandments draw our attention to how to fulfill our deepest obligation – that of loving our neighbor and loving God?  In Deuteronomy, for example, one commandment that Moses communicates to the people is the commandment that every seventh year, you shall grant a remission of all debts.  Further, when you have plenty, you will lend but you will not borrow.  If there is among you anyone in need, a member of your community in any of your towns within the land, do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted toward your needy neighbor.  You should rather open your hand, willingly lending enough to meet the need, whatever it may be.  Be careful, the commandment continues, that you do not entertain a mean thought, thinking, “the seventh year…is near” and therefore view your needy neighbor with hostility and give nothing.” 

In the Gospels of Matthew and Luke is the similar commandment, “give to everyone who begs from you” and in Luke is the commandment, “lend, expecting nothing in return.” And the commandment in Mark that “Whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone.”  And the commandment to forgive more times than you can keep track of in Matthew and Luke. Those are commandments that challenge whatever tendencies we might have of self-satisfaction that we are not like the hard-hearted religious authorities.  Those are commandments that challenge us whenever we have justified our own standards or our own judgments or our own prudence in relationship with our neighbors. 

If evil intentions from the human heart defile, it is not good intentions that purify (because we all know about the road to hell being paved by good intentions).  Rather, if evil intentions from the human heart defile, it is good deeds that purify.  Good deeds wash the community clean.  Scripture commands us to do good deeds not so that God will love us but because God loves us.  The thing is, there’s no in or out with God as far as I can tell – we’re all in.  And we all have the capacity to defile and we all have the capacity to purify.  The old bit of AA wisdom comes to mind – you’ve heard me say it before -- that “God loves us just the way we are – and God loves us too much to let us stay this way.”  None of us – not a single one of us -- can fulfill our deepest obligation – of acting on our love for our neighbor and for God, without a lot of help. 

The good news is that we’re not expected to fulfill our deepest obligation without help.  That’s one thing that life in a community of faith is about.  Help is all around.  It’s not magical help – it’s what we mean when we say God’s help.  Perhaps a sign of the need for more help – for receiving it and giving it – is getting tangled up in the very argument of who’s in and who’s out.  It’s good to ask for more help when you need it, and to accept more help when it’s offered.  It’s good to offer more help, however limited or imperfect you imagine it might be.    As I said, that’s not magical help – that’s God’s help.