While Jesus was speaking, a Pharisee asked him to dine with him, so he went in and reclined at table. The Pharisee was astonished to see that he did not first wash before dinner . . . Luke 11:37-38
When invited into the house of Simon the Pharisee a few chapters ago, Jesus was challenging but not confrontational. Now he accepts the invitation of another Pharisee, who obviously doesn’t know what he’s let himself in for.
Why the invitation? The Pharisee (we should call him something—let’s say Matthias) may be one of those muttering types, always in the background talking to his comrades behind his hand, disputing Jesus’s words or actions. We can imagine some of those conversation: Did he really say he can forgive sins? Certainly appeals to the great unwashed, doesn’t he? Can you believe the ignorance of his followers? A motley crew, that. And just between us, I wouldn’t entirely rule out the Beelzebub connection . . .
Not to impugn the poor man’s motive, but—we can fairly assume he is not eager to hear and apply what Jesus said. Perhaps the invitation is extended to get the man away from his adoring fans and settle once and for all some of the doctrinal questions his ministry raises. Surround him with pundits and experts who won’t be impressed with his clever, crowd-pleasing answers.
If that was the intention, Jesus gets the jump on them. Perhaps Matthias might have received a clue when his guest made an entrance, striding in with the ever-present twelve, bypassing the basin held by the towel-draped servant at the foot-washing stool, glancing about the banquet hall, choosing a place for himself, and settling in.
The muttering begins: Did you see that? He doesn’t just come off the street—he brings it in with him! Thinks he’s too good to wash? Or is he showing off his common touch?
Jesus’ voice snaps like a whip. “You want to talk about washing?” He reaches across the table to pick up an empty enameled cup (does Matthias wince at the dirt under his guest’s fingernails?) “Look how meticulously you’ve cleaned the outside of the cup. But inside–” He runs a finger around the rim and inspects it critically—“full of greed and evil. The widow you took this cup from in payment of a debt—why did you not consider canceling the debt instead? You pinch out your tithe of mint and dill but strangle justice and love. I ask you, what is the tithing for?”
An angry buzz begins, spreading throughout the room. If nothing else, Jesus is displaying a severe breach of decorum, as he sits up and waves a hand at the head of the table, which the self-important guests have claimed. “Woe to you, Pharisees! You love those places of honor and salutations in the marketplace. Little do the common people know you are walking over dead men’s bones!”
Now, really: this has gone far enough. One of the scribes stands up and points a finger at him. “Teacher. When you say these things you insult us, too.”
Is there a glint in his eye? “Do I? Then let us remove all doubt: Woe to you scribes! You know enough law to make it a burden—you load the people down with rules that you yourselves wouldn’t accept. You sit in your synagogues and figure out ways to look pious. You have buried the heart and purpose of the law, so it’s no benefit to you or anyone else.”
They are all on their feet by now, shouting, waiving arms, shaking fists. The twelve are giving it right back when Jesus rises, shakes his head at them, smiles at a serving girl while lifting a fig off her tray, and leads the way out. He’s left his host and the others tied in knots, and from now on there will be no pretense at reaching a compromise.
For the original post in this series, go here.
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