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Just Another Essay



The Order of Gamaliel the Pharisee

Essay Posted December 17, 2007 by James E. Nelson

‘Tis the season for Christians everywhere to complain about the commercialization of the season. I myself am not too worried about it. Greed and avarice are basic to sinful human nature, after all. Coupled with that, we live in a consumer based economy that is only healthy if we are buying lots of things we don’t need. Given those two realities, it is quite impossible for the season to be anything but commercialized.

Every cloud has a silver lining though, and this seasonal reminder that we don’t live in a Christian culture provides a marvelous opportunity for Christians. During the Nativity Fast (in the Eastern churches) or Advent (in the Western churches), the Christian disciplines which lead to taming the passions are placed in stark contrast to the lust and greed of shopping season and the gluttony of the endless parties all around us. The contrast between the two, and our desire to participate in the greed and gluttony makes it clear where we Christians fail to live up to the call of Christ.

No place in our lives (as Americans, that is) is the contrast of kingdom life and life in the fallen world more stark. Nowhere do we have a clearer opportunity to remind ourselves of both the temptations and pitfalls of life apart from Christ. But rather than ranting about how terrible it is that fallen humans apart from Christ don’t do things in a Christian manner, we ought to focus our attention on what it means to live a Christian life of hope and inner quietness. The fact that we are shocked and dismayed that non-Christians act like non-Christians tells us volumes about what we truly believe (or don’t believe, as the case may be) concerning the claim that Christianity is radically different than the ways of the world. Similarly, the fact that we spend more time complaining about consumerism and less time focusing on our own transformation is just as telling—we too often aren’t very serious about the difficult task of allowing God to transform our lives. It gets the focus off of our own failure to move toward holiness when we complain about the badness of the enemy.

But there’s another (and possibly far greater) danger other than consumerism facing Christians in this season. I suspect it’s a far greater danger because it is a more subtle danger. It is more subtle because while the churches generally rage against consumerism, they gladly and wholeheartedly participate in promoting pride and self-satisfaction.

For lack of a better term, I call the phenomenon “the Order of Gamaliel the Pharisee.” Gamaliel is one of only three Pharisees named in the New Testament. The others are Nicodemus and Saul (before he became Paul the Apostle) and since Nicodemus was a secret believer in Jesus as Messiah, and Saul was a convert, they’re not good candidates as the Patron Saint of my imaginary order.

I chose the Pharisees because Jesus railed against the Pharisees for giving alms in a manner that got them noticed. “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven” (Mt. 6:1). The Pharisees were a handy poster boy for such piety and the Gospels frequently excoriate their attitudes and activities, because those activities were done in order to demonstrate their piety rather than confirm their faith in God.

Giving is hard while selfishness comes naturally to us sinners. As a result, few Christians truly practice the virtue of generous giving. But when the potential benefactor can get praise and recognition because of his gift, the pride of recognition offsets the pain of giving, and it makes it much easier to get the desired funds.

Several years ago a Christian radio ministry based in Cleveland began to post the radio sermons on the internet. Since I was an early adopter of mp3 player technology (this is before the i-pod came on the market), I downloaded these sermons to play on my regular trips to Storm Lake and elsewhere around the presbytery doing Committee on Ministry business. This radio ministry also sold the sermons on CD for an exorbitant fee, so in fairness I sent them a small donation since I was getting benefit from the sermons that I downloaded for no charge. As a result, every few months I get mailings from this organization pleading for money because they are perennially short of funds.

I also sent a Christmas donation to a magazine that I like. It is a “meeting place” of sorts for Evangelical, Catholic, and Orthodox thought. Back when I was a Presbyterian, its no-nonsense approach to the ecumenical dilemma was a wonderful tonic to all the blather coming out of the Presbyterian Church. The magazine was always in need of funds, so I sent them a few bucks on occasion

These two gifts marked me as a sucker willing and faithful Christian giver, and now I get regular appeals from all sorts of Christian organizations in need of funds. The one thing that is particularly striking about so many of these fund-raising machines Christian organizations was that they promised me some sort of celebrity in turn for the gift. I could become a member in the Order of Saint [fill in the name of some Christian saint]; I could be a Lieutenant in the Lord’s Army, and if I increased my gift by a mere thousand dollars, I could be a Commander; I could get my name engraved on a plaque or a brick and displayed prominently on some headquarters wall; I could get a medal or patch that I could proudly wear to demonstrate what a generous person I am. (After all, I’m far too humble to talk about it, but I’m told it’s important to encourage other people to give by demonstrating that I’m such a fine Christian giver.) In short, nearly all of these groups appealed to my vanity rather than my love. Why? Because on a practical level, vanity is a far better motivator than Christian love. (And when we’re short of funds, it’s probably better to be practical rather than biblical. “Biblical” may get us to heaven, but we may go broke in the process, and that simply will not do.)

Jesus said that when we give, our left hand ought not know what our right hand is doing. In contrast, the Pharisees liked to parade in front of the temple and let their coins jangle loudly and conspicuously into the offering box. That’s why I’ve come to call all these different money raising schemes rooted in flattery rather than charity, “The Order of Gamaliel the Pharisee” schemes (because he’s one of the few named Pharisees in the Bible).

But, as with consumerism in the larger society, we ought not be surprised that (1) such tactics are so common in churches that claim Christ’s name and (2) people are such willing participants in the schemes. Why not? Because Christianity is hard. The narrow gate is not only impossible to pass through with mere human effort, it is not particularly profitable. Furthermore, very few of us are consistently good and faithful Christians across the breadth of our Christian life. As a result, every church is characterized far more by “sinner” than “saint.” In turn, un-Christian schemes are used in a variety of ways by Christian churches (to attract new members, to raise money, to do business, etc.) simply because we’re still sinners. Of course, those responsible for the schemes are sometimes vaguely aware that there might be a problem, so they often attach the name of some God-bearing saint to the scheme in order to make it appear more Christian.

So, no, the growth of the “Holy and Faithful Order of Gamaliel the Pharisee” fund-raising industry is not surprising at all.

But it is subtle. (And herein lies the challenge.)

In Sunday’s homily, Fr. Paul said something that gets to the heart of the matter. He was talking about the baby Jesus, born as a peasant, persecuted in ministry, and eventually suffering an ignominious death. But he said it was all necessary—a part of our salvation: “Before Christ could inherit glory on our behalf, Christ had to inherit humility on our behalf.” I Pascha is the season of victory and glory, Nativity is the season of humility and self-emptying.

So just as this is a season of “comfort and joy” (as those silly fruits—way off the loom, from what I can tell—remind us during their television advertisement), it is also the season of humility. And it does no good to rail against an imperfect church anyway Remember? Jesus came to be amongst the sick and not the healthy—if you find a perfect church, Jesus probably won’t be present anyway; he’ll be working among the hypocrites and sinners. So, rather than complain, it is far better to use the excesses of the season as a looking-glass by which we can examine ourselves and then begin to move toward the sort of humility to which Christ calls us.

But how do we do that? Here’s an illustration: If other people can see we have the resources to help, and then we help in secret, so nobody knows we helped, we might be unfairly accused of being selfish and ignoring the needs of others.

Accepting such criticism without defending our secret actions . . . without wearing our ribbons and patches and medals . . . without accepting the title of lieutenant nor commander, requires a great deal of humility. If the left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing, there is a good chance the left hand will criticize, after all, and there’s an equally good chance the right hand will, in turn, justify itself. But Christ, the perfectly humble one, never justified himself. In the face of false accusations, he stood silent like a lamb before the slaughter.

As Fr. Paul said, “Before Christ could inherit glory on our behalf, Christ had to inherit humility on our behalf.” And this season of public giving (when religious groups promote giving with a promise that they’ll fuss over you and make you a member of their version of the Order of Gamaliel the Pharisee) is a wonderful season to practice humility in the face of the constant pressure put on us to take pride in our charity and accept recognition for our deeds.