Tradition vs. Traditionalism

Mark 7: 1 – 23

Last week’s Bible story was a real thriller—high drama, high stakes, life-and-death tension, and insights that sneaked up on you. Today’s story is lower-key and features a debate, but as we will see for the Presidential Debate on Tuesday, lots of people will tune in. Although this week’s lesson isn’t as dramatic, we will see that it still packs a punch.

The Got ’cha Moment

Imagine yourself as one of Jesus’ disciples. You’ve been on a whirlwind tour of teaching and healing. Finally, Jesus says it’s time to rest. You find a fig tree, sit down, and munch some figs. Then, you see them in the distance—an entourage of men in flowing robes, their air of authority unmistakable. It’s the scribes and Pharisees, and their smug expressions tell you they think they’ve got Jesus this time. Cue the Wicked Witch of the West theme music.

They swarm around Jesus, and their leader steps forward, savoring the moment. “Jesus,” he says, “we’ve noticed that some of your disciples (he looks right at you) don’t follow the traditions of the elders and don’t ritually wash their hands before eating.”

You smirk. Really? Handwashing? You’re talking about handwashing? Jesus is trying to save the world, and that’s the best you’ve got? Handwashing? It’s like talking to Allen Iverson about practice.

You feel the stares and judgment of your hand-washed friends. You want to say, “Hey, mind your beeswax! Snitch.” I know because my little brother used to rat me out, “David said he washed but feel his hands. They’re not even damp.”

The Purity Police

Nobody likes a tattletale—but the “Purity Police” are worse. Have you ever been assailed by them? In the name of religion, they pin on their badges and sneer at you. “You’re divorced—tsk tsk. You say naughty words—tsk tsk. Are you gay? Don’t be gay. You don’t read your Bible every day? For shame!” Is it any wonder people are turning away from Christianity? Jesus told us to love, not pin on badges, and to ensure everyone’s walking the line. When people play Purity Police, they don’t come across as righteous but as unctuous weasels.

It’s Not Just the Religious Right

But it’s not just folks on the religious right who act like the Purity Police. I remember getting scolded for letting VBS kids glue macaroni onto paper. The mother said, “With so much food insecurity, you shouldn’t teach children that food is a plaything.” Really? Over an eighty-nine-cent bag of pasta? It wasn’t just the message; it was the haughtiness.

During a board meeting in one church, some poor guy made the mistake of saying, “We need to have someone man the welcome table.” Immediately, two people pounced: “We don’t say ‘man.’ We say ‘humankind.’” He never came back to another meeting or the church.

I get why people react so strongly against “political correctness.” It’s not inclusiveness people resist—it’s the sting of shame. It’s the holier-than-thou attitude. No matter what you do, it’s never enough. You’re always one word away from triggering someone. It’s not that people don’t want to be kind—they just don’t want to be belittled.

But again, Jesus offers us a better way—liberating us from shame, not binding us to it.

Look to Transform Your Heart

The truth is, we can never be pure enough. Perfection is a myth, but love is a reality we can live into. Even the Apostle Paul talked about falling short of his standards: “The evil I don’t want to do is often the very thing I end up doing.” Jesus disarmed the Pharisees by pointing out that they weren’t pure. Rather than keeping score of others’ faults, Jesus challenges us to transform our hearts from hardness to openness, from judgment to grace.

It’s not about how clean your hands are but how open your heart is.

This Passage and Judaism

This passage has skewed perceptions of Judaism. Amy-Jill Levine, a Jewish professor of the New Testament, reminds us not to reduce Pharisees to legalistic caricatures. A few weeks ago, I met a man studying to be an Orthodox rabbi. He explained that these rituals, like handwashing, aren’t arbitrary but about staying connected to God. From the moment he wakes up to the food he eats and the prayers he says, everything connects him to God.

He said, “These traditions are the glue that holds our people together. When someone ignores them, it’s not just one person’s loss—it’s a loss for future generations.” But then he added, “We’re glad Jesus did what he did. It opened a way for Gentiles to connect with God. You don’t have to follow these rules, but we do, to remind us that we’re called to be a distinct people, meant to bless all humanity.” I think he will be a fine rabbi.

Tradition: Anchor or Chain?

Traditions can be powerful, grounding us in faith and reminding us who we are. But we must ask ourselves: Do they ground us or keep us stuck? As Diana Butler Bass reminds us, “Faith is not static; it evolves, it grows, and it deepens in response to our changing world.” Traditions can be anchors that hold us in place or chains that bind us.

Jaroslav Pelikan said it best: “Tradition is the living faith of the dead; traditionalism is the dead faith of the living.” So, what are we clinging to? A living faith or a dead tradition?

Fred Craddock warned that we can get an A in Bible knowledge but still flunk Christianity. That happens when we focus more on rules than on living open-hearted lives.

Reevaluating Tradition

There comes a time when tradition needs a heart check—a moment to ask if it still gives life. For individuals and churches, it’s easy for practices to get set in stone without realizing it. I didn’t want to make many changes when I started at a new church. I kept things familiar, including singing “God Be With You Till We Meet Again” as a benediction response. A few years later, I asked if we could change it up. “You’re the one who started that,” they said. “We never did it before you got here.” They sang it as a special goodbye to the previous pastor. Traditions get invented and don’t always make sense in the future.

A lot of things we were taught don’t hold up. We were told tobacco was glamorous, to load up on sugar for energy, and that left-handedness needed correction. But times change. Sometimes, there are things we need to let go.

For instance, dismissing conversations about the trans community with “It’s not how I was raised” ignores a deeper truth. Jesus taught us the Golden Rule—to treat others as we’d want to be treated. Don’t you want to feel safe, like people aren’t judging you? Don’t you want to be accepted at church? Don’t you want to be called what you ask to be called?

We’re smart enough to adapt. We figured out cell phones and survived the most rapid changes in history. Surely, we can handle a pronoun change with a bit of practice. As Yeve Dysart said in our ONA panel: “You don’t have to get it perfect. We just like to see that you’re trying.”

It’s not about getting every rule right—it’s about getting love right.

Conclusion: The Heart of It

So, imagine again that you’re one of the disciples who didn’t wash their hands. You feel the judgment, the sideways glances, the sense of shame creeping in. Now imagine Jesus looking at you—not with judgment, but with love. He doesn’t care about the dirt on your hands; he’s focused on the heart beating inside your chest.

This is where tradition meets transformation. Jesus didn’t reject traditions—he redeemed them. He called out how they were used to exclude, shame, and divide. And he opened the door for a faith that is not about being perfect or pure but about being open to love.

So, what will we choose? Will we cling to the dead weight of traditions that no longer give life? Or will we hold onto a living faith that moves, breathes, and grows? A faith that challenges us to love more, to judge less, and to open our hearts wider.

Beloved, let’s be people who walk by grace. Let’s be a community where traditions live because they give life, not because they hold us back. Let’s be the kind of people who open our hearts—open to love, open to transformation, open to one another.

Amen.