File photo of the Memorial Church by Jefffrey Blackwell/Memorial Church Communications
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By The Rev. Martin B. Copenhaver,
Retired president of Andover Newton Theological School
(The following is a transcript of the service audio, June 25, 2023)
Let me ask you, do you ever feel like a hypocrite? To be more specific, do you feel anything like a hypocrite at this moment? After all, already this morning, we have sung hymns of praise to a God whom we may doubt even exists. Throughout our worship, we attest to the scale and scope of what is expected of those who call themselves Christian, and yet at the same time, we may be aware that our faith would scarcely fill a cup compared to our oceans of doubt, and aware too, that our lives reflect all that the Christian faith demands perhaps no more than a new moon reflects the sun.
So are we here under false pretenses? Is our very presence here a misleading statement about the strength and character of our faith? If we act as if we believe before we believe, are we not guilty of masquerading as something we are not? And is that not the same thing as hypocrisy? If we are to answer these questions, we must consider our motives. A hypocrite is motivated by the praise of others. Jesus commented on those who make a show of alms giving and prayer by saying, "Truly, I say to you, they have received their reward. It is a reward that is paid out in the admiration of other people. The hypocrite seeks personal gain by presenting a praiseworthy face toward the world. It is a willful deception."
And let us admit that we know something about this. We know at the very least that we do much for appearances in other aspects of our lives. Indeed, our age, as philosopher Søren Kierkegaard said of his, is so concerned with appearances that we will sell our trousers to buy a wig. We will sometimes pay inordinate attention to the side of our lives that is visible to others. We present a praiseworthy face to the world because it's easy, because it can work, because often, we can fool one another.
Nevertheless, another motivation entirely can be at work in those who act out faith while still holding doubts. That motivation can be a yearning for faith and a desire for faithfulness. John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, put it this way, "Live by faith until you have faith." That statement reverses our expectations. We assume that we must have faith before we can express it. We assume that we must first feel prayerful and that if we succeed, prayer will follow. We assume that we must have a passion for justice, and then we can move on to translating our passion into action.
Experience, however, often reverses the order. It is by entrusting ourselves to God that we can come to see that there is a God, and that God is worthy of our trust. It is through the practice of prayer that we can come to feel prayerful. It is by working for justice that we can come to have a passion for justice. The late Millard Fuller, the founder of Habitat for Humanity, was fond of saying, "More people act their way into a new way of thinking than think their way into a new way of acting."
Let me illustrate this. By considering expressions of charity, it is possible that if you're struck on the right cheek, you'll turn the other cheek in the sole hope that you'll be praised for your restraint and moral superiority. If one is motivated by the promise of praise from others, even in acts of charity, then one properly can be called a hypocrite. And yet, another motivation may be at work that has nothing to do with the praise of others. You might turn the other cheek in order to express charity. Carefully note that this does not necessarily mean that you feel charitable. Jesus did not say that when someone hits you on the cheek, you should feel charitable toward that person. Feelings, unlike actions, cannot be governed by simple will.
If Jesus were asking us to feel charitable, he would be asking something that is not within our control. We simply cannot feel on command. Jesus was wise enough not to ask that of us. Rather, Jesus said, in essence, that when a person hits you on the cheek, you should forget about your feelings for a moment and act charitably by turning to that person your other cheek. You may not feel like doing it, you may not have all of the charitable feelings that are normally associated with an act like that, but do it anyway. At the very least, it is by expressing charity that we give charitable feelings a chance to grow.
But further, and this is the important point, it is by expressing charity that feelings of charity are best nurtured. Here again is the irony, the reversal of expectations, the mystery. It can be by expressing charity that we can come to feel charitable. In a similar way, it is through worship that we can come to know the experience of worshipfulness. It's through the practice of prayer that we can come to know the efficacy of prayer. It is in working for justice that we can develop a thirst and hunger for justice. In these and other ways, we can act as if we believe in order to believe, or to believe more fully.
It is this understanding that is behind author Frederick Buechner's unlikely advice to those who would approach the Lord's supper. Listen to what he says. "It is make believe. You make believe that the one who breaks the bread and blesses the wine is not the plump parson who smells of cheap aftershave, but Jesus of Nazareth. You make believe that the tasteless wafer and the cheap port are his flesh and blood. You make believe that by swallowing them, you are swallowing his life into your life, and that there is nothing in earth or heaven more important for you to do than this. It is a game you play because he said to play it. Do this in remembrance of me. Do this. Play that it makes a difference. Play that it makes sense. If it seems a childish thing to do, do it in remembrance that you are a child."
Now, is Buechner here advising us to make believe that the Lord's supper makes a difference as part of some empty charade? Is he inviting us to be hypocrites? Not at all. On May 1st, approach a Christian practice like the Lord's supper because we're told to do so, or because we're willing in his terms to give this game a try? But we may eventually find something else bringing us to the table. The outer expressions allow for a transformation of our inner experience. In this, as in so much in the life of faith, we may start with a game of make believe only so that in time we might discover that we do indeed believe.
That this was Buechner's intent is made clear when he follows his advice by recounting Max Beerbohm's tale of "The Happy Hypocrite." In this tale, there is a wicked man who falls in love with a virtuous woman. He knows that he cannot hope to woo her if he approaches her undisguised, so he dons the mask of a saint. Sure enough, the woman falls in love with a man, or perhaps we should say she falls in love with a saintly mask. Years later, when a spurned lover of the man discovers the deception, she challenges the hypocrite to shed his mask in front of his beloved, and thus, to show his face for the ugly thing it is. When after considerable protest, he drops the mask, he discovers what he could not have anticipated. Under the mask of a saint, his face had become transformed. It was the face of a saint.
Now Beerbohm's story is just a fairytale. Nevertheless, something similar can take place within those who assume the costume of faithfulness, not as a deceitful disguise, but in order to be inwardly transformed to its likeness. Beerbohm correctly labeled the character in his story a hypocrite, for clearly, it was that man's intention to deceive. Yet, even when such a man acts the part of a saint, a transformation took place. As a boy, when I went shopping for clothes with my mother, she would always ask me to try on items that were about a size too large to fit me perfectly. If the shoe sizing contraption indicated that I was a size four, she'd ask the store clerk to bring a size seven, or five rather, to try on.
If the jeans I tried on were a bit long, she considered them just right because they left me room to grow. Until I grew into them, I could fold the pant legs at the bottom, creating a makeshift cuff. Not much of a fashion statement to be sure, but at least that way, I wouldn't need another pair of jeans quite so soon. Wearing clothes that don't fit perfectly can make you look and feel foolish at times, but it's also a statement to the world that you intend and expect to continue growing. It is not a fashion statement. It is an aspirational statement.
That is how I understand the Apostle Paul's admonition to the Romans, "Put on the Lord Jesus Christ." Which is also translated, "Dress yourself with the Lord Jesus Christ." Put on Jesus. We've come to associate the expression put on with a willful deception, such as what we might say of some ruse, oh, it was all just a put on. But of course, that is not what Paul had in mind. Instead, he's asking the Romans to assume some of the qualities of Jesus, to wear them as they would a new set of clothes. That's quite a charge. I don't know if the Romans felt up to it.
What I do know is that when I tried Jesus on for size and look in the mirror, sometimes I can get quite discouraged. When I dress myself with Jesus, I can feel like that boy who's trying to wear an outfit that is at least a size too large. Not only do I feel awkward, I can even look a bit silly. Then I remember my mother insisting that when you try on a new outfit, it's important to leave room to grow. What seems to cause me to trip all over myself today allows for the possibility of growth. And when I clothe myself with Jesus, he leaves me room to grow, which is a good thing because God knows I am still growing.
I put on Jesus as I would a new and ill-fitting outfit, in order that someday it might fit and be a fitting expression of who I have become. A hypocrite who dawns the wardrobe of faith in the hope of personal gain will be fearful of discovery. By contrast, a person who prays, serves, worships while still holding doubts about those very activities, and yet is motivated by desire to grow in faith will have no such fears, because it's not the approval of others that is sought and there is no attempt to deceive.
I recognize that some people will be uncomfortable with a suggestion that we act as if we believe before we fully believe. They want something closer to certainty before entrusting themselves to God. Further, perhaps they have heard about those who have come to believe the most twisted and silly things because they have dropped their skepticism, yet this is very different from what I am suggesting. For those who seek to believe or believe more fully, doubt is not forbidden expression, the critical faculties are not abandoned. There is no coercion, not even coercion from the self because you cannot make, one cannot make one self-belief.
Under such circumstances, we cannot be led to believe just anything. What we can do is to take on the Christian faith as a kind of working hypothesis, something that is assumed for a time to allow further exploration. Such an approach can allow us, in the words of 2 Timothy, "To stir up the gift of God that is within us." To stir up the gift of God that lies somewhere within us. This is achieved through something like practice.
The practice of Christian faith includes praying with an open and receptive heart. It includes giving resounding voice to the praise of God that may only whisper within us. It is acting as if the people around us are God's children, even though we're used to viewing them only as the people around us. It is responding to the whole hurting world by granting that a person in need anywhere has a claim on Christians everywhere.
In these, in similar ways, we will indeed become practicing Christians. Practicing the Christian faith is like other forms of practice in that there's a need for repetition and much patience. Often, our attempts will be faltering, we'll make mistakes. A sense of humor about our own efforts is almost essential. When we put on Jesus, it may feel like a comically ill-fitting outfit, but we're invited to clothe ourselves with Jesus so that someday that outfit might fit, and be a fitting expression of who we had become.