Holy Tuesday

Though you can refer to Matthew’s, Mark’s or Luke’s accounts of the day’s events, I’m going to focus on Matthew’s telling. 

As you read the account of Holy Tuesday, it’s hard to ignore the palpable tension. Jesus spends the day—essentially—being challenged and questioned. The entire day. How much patience and decorum can you muster in the face of a day’s worth of contention? Probably not much. Luckily, Jesus is the Man. Not only does he take every sword thrown at him and wield it gracefully, but he takes these swords and pierces his listeners, followers and adversaries to the heart.

One such instance is seen at the beginning of Matthew 23, in which he specifically engages the scribes and pharisees.

Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples, “The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat, so practice and observe whatever they tell you—but not what they do. For they preach, but do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger. They do all their deeds to be seen by others. For they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long, and they love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues and greetings in the marketplaces and being called rabbi by others. But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all brothers. And call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven. Neither be called instructors, for you have one instructor, the Christ. The greatest among you shall be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.

—Matthew 23:1-12

As I read this, I can barely stumble past the first few verses unscathed. “They preach, but do not practice…” If someone were to have watched your actions today, would they have said this about you? Would they have said this about me?

The next verses heap on the conviction—pun intended. How often to we place unrealistic expectations on others—create laws for them to agonize, enforce rules they’ve already broken, impose roles they can’t begin to fulfill—and we ourselves are unwilling to withstand similar scrutiny? This is an ugly expression of pride. We’re called to bear one another’s burdens, not add to them for own selfish gain or sense of righteousness.

“They do all their deeds to be seen by others…” Check.

“Make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long… Love places of honor… demand to be called ‘rabbi…’” The right clothes (not just fashionable, but holy – pridefully modest and immaculate – concerned with utmost perfection of image), the right places at the right times (and with the right people), the right reputation. The pharisees sought these things with all their energy and ended up empty. Dead. White-washed tombs. Beautiful on the outside, full of decay on the inside.

Are you guilty? Me, too. And Jesus makes it clear that these offenses won’t go unpunished.

Yet, what grace! Listen to your savior’s heart:

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you would not! See, your house is left to you desolate. For I tell you, you will not see me again, until you say, ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.’”

—Matthew 23:37-39

Don’t use Jesus’ judgment of pride as an excuse to shy away from him. Use it as an occasion to repent. Jesus longed to gather his people to himself—but they would not accept his grace. Don’t let that be your story. This Holy Tuesday, behold your savior who longs to have you. All of you. And who longs to forgive you, clothe you with his righteousness and bring about your beauty through humility. Behold your savior, who aches to have you beneath his wing, under the safety of his lordship. 

No matter what your sin was this Holy Tuesday, run to Jesus.