WHEN RELIGION BECOMES A GARMENT

 Reflection on the holy Gospel reading for the fifth Sunday after the Feast of Holy Cross

Old Testament reading: Leviticus 2:1-3; Job 6:1-10; Isaiah 40:27-31
Holy Gospel reading: St. Mathew 23:1-12

Religion becomes dangerous when it is worn rather than lived. It can be worn in the form of titles, positions, theological knowledge, pious habits, or carefully cultivated reputations. It can be worn so convincingly that everyone mistakes it for holiness. Christ exposes this danger He says of the scribes and Pharisees- “whatever they tell you to observe, that observe and do, but do not do according to their works” (v.3). They wore religion as a garment, yet it had never become their life.

Yet the Gospel does not permit us to remain safely outside the scene, congratulating ourselves for not being Pharisees. Perhaps the first sign of the Pharisee is the certainty that the passage is speaking about someone else. Christ did not speak these words to satisfy our desire to identify villains. He spoke to expose a temptation that passes through every human heart. Whenever faith becomes a matter of appearance rather than transformation, reputation rather than repentance, or recognition rather than surrender, the Pharisaic mask quietly returns. The Lord's warning is therefore about us not about them.

The Grain That Consents to Be Broken
The first Old Testament reading from Leviticus presents an image strikingly different from the religious self-display condemned in the Gospel- “When anyone presents a grain offering to the Lord, the offering shall be of choice flour; the worshiper shall pour oil on it and put frankincense on it” (Leviticus 2:1)

Fine flour is grain that has surrendered its original form. Pride struggles to remain intact, recognisable, and superior. It measures itself against others and resists whatever threatens its carefully constructed identity. But the grain offering consents to be broken. It relinquishes its separate form so that it may become nourishment.

The grain offering reminds us that what is pleasing to God is not what is displayed, but what is surrendered. Our learning, authority, reputation, ministry, and spiritual gifts are not ornaments given for public admiration. They are flour, oil, and incense entrusted to us so that they may be offered to God and become nourishment for His people. Faith that costs nothing may decorate a life, but it can never become an offering.

The Burden
The reading from the second Old Testament reading introduces us to a man crushed beneath a great burden. Christ condemns those who “tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear and lay them on the shoulders of others, but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them.” (St. Matthew 23:4)

Religious authority becomes dangerous when it speaks confidently about burdens it has never attempted to carry. It is easier to offer answers about parenting than to endure sleepless nights over a struggling child; easier to speak about stewardship than to wrestle with financial uncertainty; easier to comment on grief, illness, family conflict, or failure than to walk through their hidden wounds. There is a profound difference between explaining a cross and helping another carry it. When doctrine is severed from compassion, it becomes another burden tied upon wounded shoulders.

St. Clement of Alexandria preserves a moving tradition concerning St. John the Apostle. After returning from Patmos, the Apostle learned that a young man whom he had previously entrusted to a bishop had abandoned the Christian life and become the leader of a band of robbers. St. John did not dismiss him as a failed disciple or protect his apostolic dignity by maintaining a safe distance. Though elderly, he went in search of the young man and entered dangerous territory to recover him. When the young man saw the Apostle approaching, he turned and fled in shame. St. John ran after him, crying out for him to stop and assuring him that there was still hope in Christ. The young man finally stopped, wept bitterly, and was restored through repentance. (Who is the Rich Man That Shall Be Saved, ANF Volume II).

Here is the opposite of the Pharisaic leader who will not move another’s burden with one finger. St. John does not remain seated in apostolic dignity waiting for the sinner to return and apologise. He leaves the seat, enters the wilderness, and bears the danger of restoration. True spiritual fatherhood does not ask how the fall of the young man will affect the reputation of the Apostle or the Church. It is chiefly concerned with how the fallen person may be brought back to life.

It is precisely in this context that Christ's words, "Do not be called Rabbi... and call no man your father on earth" (v.8,9), must be understood. The very Scriptures contain references to "Father Abraham" (St. Luke 16:24), St. Stephen's address to the "brethren and fathers" (Acts 7:2), St. Paul's description of himself as a spiritual father (1 Thess. 2:11), and even Christ's reference to Nicodemus as "the teacher of Israel" (St. John 3:10).

Having warned His disciples against leaders who sought honour, titles, and recognition, Christ was not abolishing spiritual fatherhood but purifying it. His concern was not what leaders were called, but what they had become. The danger was that teachers, rabbis, and spiritual fathers might cease to be signposts pointing towards God and instead become destinations in themselves. St. Paul confronts this temptation in the Church at Corinth- “Now I say this, that each of you says, “I am of Paul,” or “I am of Apollos,” or “I am of Cephas,” or “I am of Christ.” Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Or were you baptized in the name of Paul?” (1 Corinthians 1:12-13). The apostles were never founders of personal kingdoms. They were witnesses and their greatness lay precisely in their willingness to disappear behind the One whom they proclaimed. The ordained ministry of the Church is called to the same vocation.

The God Who Gives Strength to the Weary
In the third Old Testament reading from the book of Isaiah, Israel laments- My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God”? (v. 27). It is the cry of those who feel unseen, forgotten, and exhausted. It may also be the silent cry of those upon whose shoulders religious communities have placed burdens while refusing to hear their pain.

Isaiah does not deny their weariness. He directs their gaze towards the One who does not grow weary- “The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary…He gives power to the faint and strengthens the powerless.” (v. 28,29). Human power often seeks elevation, recognition, and distance from weakness whereas Divine power stoops towards the faint. This is why Christ declares that the greatest must become the servant. He is not introducing an arbitrary reversal of social conventions but revealing the very character of God. Service is greatness because God Himself ministers life to His creation.

“those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles” (v.31). Those who wait upon the Lord renew their strength because they have ceased treating themselves as the source of that strength. Humility is not self-contempt; it is freedom from the exhausting task of sustaining one’s own greatness. The proud must continually protect their status and defend their image but the humble can wait upon God because they no longer need to manufacture their own glory.

Our Lord condemns the hypocrisy of the Pharisees, yet elsewhere He gives an even more searching command- “Unless your righteousness exceeds the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven.”- St. Matthew 5:20. The Pharisees fasted, tithed, prayed, and maintained ritual discipline. Christ does not call His disciples to less serious faith. He calls them to a righteousness that goes deeper where it is not content with knowing the commandments but seeks to become their living expression.

The Desert Father Abba Pambo expressed this mystery with characteristic simplicity- “If you have a heart, you can be saved.” The spiritual life is ultimately the recovery of the heart. It is the journey from appearances to authenticity and from the mask we present to the world to the person whom God sees in secret. It is the place where faith is no longer displayed as an ornament but received as a transforming fire and where prayer is no longer performance but encounter. The greatest danger is not that we fail to appear holy, but that we become satisfied with appearances while remaining strangers to transformation.

In Christ,
Rincy