All Saints Episcopal Church, Thomasville
Trinity 12, 2006

"Nothing that goes into a man can defile a man, but what comes out.
What comes out of a man will defile the man."
(Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23)

"For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against spiritual wickedness in high places."
(Ephesians 6:10-20)
 

 Most of you know that at Holy Communion the acolyte and the priest perform a little ceremony at the Offertory.  After the bread and wine have been prepared, and the offering received, the priest washes his hands in a little ceremonial cleansing called the "lavabo", which is Latin for "I wash."  It is a time-honored practice in just about every parish of the Church these days and it serves at least a two-fold purpose.

 First, although he has washed his hands before the service back in the sacristy, he has -- since that time -- handled the service book, the hymnal, his sermon text, the bulletin, and the announcement sheet.  Later, he will handle the communion silver and cruets and eventually, the offering plates.  He hasn't made his hands filthy doing these things, but this nevertheless gives him an opportunity to give them a final cleansing.

 But there's a second and really more important reason for the lavabo, and that has to do with remind himself of his need to be cleansed inside.  And as he does this he says a little passage from the psalms:  "I wash my hands in innocency O Lord, and so will I go to thine altar; that I may show the voice of praise and thanksgiving, and tell of all thy wondrous works."  The ritual gives him the opportunity to remind himself of the Collect for Purity with which we began the service:  that we all need to have our hearts cleansed before approaching God, which is really far more important than the little bit of water being poured over already clean fingertips.

 That is, it would be very foolish of me to make a big deal about washing my fingertips, if all the while my heart was set on what club I might use on the third tee this afternoon, or if my mind was preoccupied on how I would take revenge on someone later on in the week.  The devil can easily fool us into thinking we’ve cleansed ourselves on the outside, while our hearts remain unacknowledged cesspools inside.  In today’s gospel Jesus tells us that "There is nothing outside a man -- not even dirty fingernails on the hand of the priest -- which by going into him can defile him.  What comes out of him carries the greater danger.

 Listen to Jesus in another portion of the gospel on this same subject.  [Matthew 23:25-28]  We have this innate sense that if we keep ourselves clean from external things, then we'll be all right.  We fear contamination from other things --or even other people.  And if we manage to wash away the external dirt, we think we’ve done our part.

 But such is not the case, and it is why Paul tells us today something which completely reinforces Jesus' argument:  that "we wrestle not against flesh and blood."  Our battle is not against the external, material world or, or even with other people.  The real dirt in life comes in the form of spiritual wickedness in high places, and by high places Paul means nothing less than the high and lofty place of our hearts.

 That great historian The Venerable Bede, who was to write the first history of the English-speaking people once said, "The principle seat of the soul according to Plato is the brain, but according to Christ it is the heart."  This is where the battle will rage.  Arguably, the most important message in the Sermon on the Mount is that Jesus redefined sin as a canker eating away at ourselves from the inside.  Sin is internal attitude.  "The fault dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves."  What comes out of a man will defile him.  However, what comes out of a man can also cleanse or sanctify him.

 I was in the car recently listening to a set of tapes which were billed as how to deal with other people or things which provoke and upset our world.  And in every situation that the instructor described, his advice on home to deal with these other people or things had to do with changing our own outlook from the inside.

 Even in situations where we are the direct object of assaults from others, the way to deal with them is to change our attitudes and outlook inside ourselves.  For it is the way that our inner selves respond to anger and threats from outside that make us either upset and angry, or help us keep our composure, peace, confidence, and self esteem.  The battle is waged not out there, but right in here -- in our hearts and in our souls.  We may not be able to change that other person, but we can change our outlook from in here, and consequently grow in grace.  Our enemy is never that other person.  Our enemy is the Prince of Darkness, along with his principalities and powers:  big devils and little devils, vying for mastery of our souls.

 This is not a very popular concept these days, but if we do not feel this warfare in our soul from time to time, we need to take a closer look at ourselves.  For the devil will not waste his time with those whom he thinks are in no danger of becoming good Christians.  We don’t want to make the mistake of which Isaiah prophesied:  pretending to be clean on the outside, while our hearts and souls were cesspools on the inside.

 I may not be guilty of murder, but what does my heart tell me about how I’d like to take revenge on someone, if only I had the means.  I may not be guilty of adultery, but what does my id tell me I’d like to do -- if only I had the nerve.  I may not be guilty of stealing, but what do I covet in my heart.  What do I allow to grow and fester there that disrupts my own life as well as my life with others.

 Are the things that come out of my heart prompted by Christ -- or by someone or something else?  For it is from our hearts that we either love our neighbor as ourself, or whether we remain obdurate, stubborn, unhappy, unfulfilled, and unconverted.

 Every single Baptism we witness reminds us that our lives as Christians, if we take the vocation seriously, will be constant struggles against Satan's host -- not against flesh and blood which God pronounced good, but against the devils and demons raging and pulsing in our own hearts.

 This battle is precisely what our Baptisms commissioned us for:  to stand up not just for Jesus, but to stand up for every single thing He represents -- which means nothing less than taking the cross itself and all the means of self-sacrifice it represents.  This is the "whole armor of God", and it is the only agent strong enough to purify our hearts and thereby, prevent the atrophy not just of our bodies, but our souls.