You are not to be called Rabbi

“But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all students. And call no one father on earth, for you have one father – the one in heaven. Nor are you to be called instructors, for you have one instructor, the Messiah.” These words from today’s Gospel are hard words! Do you hear the rebuke in them? As someone who has been called “doctor,” “professor,” and “dean,” I hear the rebuke, and it stings me! And now here I am a priest – with another set of titles: “reverend,” “pastor,” “chaplain,” and, God help me, “Mother” – me, who, as a feminist refused for years to call priests “father.”

But what is Jesus really telling me here? Is Jesus really that exercised about titles? Would he frown on those who are called “Herr Doktor” and smile on us informal Americans who call everyone by their first name? Or is there a more important message here?

As you know, Matthew’s Gospel was written about 85 AD for a Jewish Christian community. This community was in conflict with the pharisaic Jewish communities that had survived the destruction of the temple in 70. You remember that the puritanical Pharisees sought particularly to guard their own personal purity by keeping apart from Gentiles. They also wanted to ensure the survival of the Jewish community by conscientiously adhering to every iota of the Law of Moses. At the same time, the audience of Matthew’s gospel was struggling themselves to follow Jesus’ more inclusive model and to welcome Gentiles into the new Christian communities. In all our Gospel passages for the last several weeks, we have been hearing Jesus’ disputes with the religious leaders following his triumphant entrance into Jerusalem. In parable after searing parable, he has compared them to sons who refuse to obey their fathers, wicked tenants of a vineyard who kill the rightful heir, and ungrateful wedding guests. They in turn have tried to trick him with questions about paying taxes and keeping commandments.

Now Jesus has added fuel to the fire that will eventually bring about his death by once again criticizing the Pharisees. Now, let’s remember that criticism of the religious leadership has a long tradition in the Hebrew Bible. In our first lesson, we heard Micah castigate the prophets of his day. Did you hear him rebuking them for prophesying for gain and distinguishing among their hearers, for encouraging those who could pay and discouraging those who could not? Standing squarely in that same tradition, Jesus echoes Micah in castigating the Pharisees for excessive concerns about purity, for laying burdens on the backs of others, for making a great show in their personal devotion, and for expecting respect and honor from others. “They do all their deeds to be seen by others, for they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long. They love to have the place of honor at banquets, and the best seats in the synagogues, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have people call them rabbi.”

In case you’re wondering, phylacteries, called “tefillin” in Hebrew, consist of two small leather cases with leather straps attached, containing verses from the Torah on small bits of parchment. Then and now, orthodox Jewish males wear them during prayer time. One box is bound around the forehead and the other around the upper left arm. Jewish males also wore – and continue to wear – a long prayer shawl with long fringes, called a “tallis.” Both the tefillin and the tallis help to remind the man of God’s constant presence. So in wearing large, visible tefillin and tallises with long fringes, the Pharisees make a big public show of their piety. And Jesus rightly rebukes them. He then turns to the crowd and his disciples, and he warns them against proclaiming their religious superiority: don’t let yourselves be called rabbi, father, or teacher.

OK, Lord, I get it! No one calls me “Dr. Flemming” anymore. No “Mother Leslie” either. Is that what Jesus asks of me? Or of you? Perhaps, but I think there is something more important here than just titles. Our reading from Paul’s letter to the Thessalonian Christians gives us clues as to what Jesus really expects of his followers, of you and me. Two clues, actually. First clue: unlike the Pharisees, Paul took care not to lay burdens on the Thessalonians. “You remember our labor and toil, brothers and sisters, we worked night and day, so that we might not burden any of you while we proclaimed the gospel of God.” In other words, not only did Paul not make excessive spiritual demands on the Thessalonians, he also supported himself through his secular trade of tent making, so that he would not burden them financially. And here’s the second clue to what Jesus expects of us: Paul did not proclaim the good news to the Thessalonians to make a public show or to win praise. He taught them, because he deeply loved them. “As you know,” he wrote them, “we dealt with each one of you like a father with his children, urging and encouraging you and pleading that you lead a life worthy of God, who calls you into his own kingdom and glory.” In contrast to the false prophets of Micah’s time, or the Pharisees of Matthew’s Gospel, Paul speaks God’s word not in self-interest, not because there is any reward or gain for himself in doing so, but out of deep love for those who hear the word and turn to God.

Now, I really get it! Jesus calls us to be servant ministers, people who minister to others like Paul, like Jesus himself, out of a deep love for others. Not arrogantly, not expecting honors. Not by tailoring our service to the social or economic status of those who depend on us. But with love and with sensitivity to the true needs of those around us, always trying to create with those in need true relationship and loving community.

Does the call to be servant ministers mean that we’re all alike, or that we’re all called to the same kinds of service? Does it mean that we should deny our education, experience, or unique gifts? Should we deny the titles that go along with our respective roles? I don’t think so. In fact, I think it’s just the reverse: the gifts of all of us – and we all have gifts, janitors, secretaries, homemakers, retirees, neurosurgeons, bus drivers, teachers, nurses – all have unique gifts, and all are needed to build up the Body of Christ. The late Dutch theologian Henri Nouwen reminds us that, “We all should have the mind of Jesus Christ, but we do not all have to have the mind of a school teacher, a carpenter, a bank director, a member of congress, or whatever socioeconomic or political group. There is a great wisdom hidden in the old bell tower calling people with very different backgrounds from their homes to form one body in Jesus Christ.” With our varied experiences we are all needed in the Body of Christ. But – and there’s always a but – Jesus also reminds us that whatever our contributions, whatever our accomplishments, no matter who we are, none of us is more important than another, none of us has intrinsic status, none of us can rightfully lord it over others. Rather, “the greatest among you will be your servant.”

“The greatest among you will be your servant.” When Oscar Romero was appointed the archbishop of San Salvador in February 1977, the prominent, wealthy families who controlled most of the land and money in El Salvador, offered to build him a palace where he could live in the splendor and security befitting an archbishop. But Romero would have none of it. Until the day he was murdered in March 1980, he chose to live simply, in the sacristy adjoining the hospital chapel in which he served.

Can we live up to Oscar Romero’s model? Can we live up to Paul’s model? Can we live up to the model of servant minister that Jesus offered us? Can we love our neighbors as ourselves, as Jesus commanded us in last week’s Gospel? Can we fulfill the promises that we made at our Baptisms, to seek and serve Christ in all persons and to respect the dignity of all people? Can we too be servant ministers? Can we make our lives and gifts available to all, regardless of who they are? Can we be faithful disciples of Jesus without expecting special recognition or honors in return? We can, with God’s grace, if we believe, as surely as Paul believed of the Thessalonian Christians, that God’s Word is also and always at work in us. Thanks be to God!