Some of the things that I do “because I just do them” may well be valid. Some of the paths my thinking runs in, some of the patterns of how I do life, regardless how I have come upon them may have value. But not necessarily.

The problem is that it is easy to think that the way I have “always done things” is the way things should be done. That may sound almost trite, a bit too over-worked; but I am afraid that without some honest soul searching I all too readily slip right back into the easy grove of living–and thinking about living–the way I always have “just because.”

Although the Scriptures don’t command it, I bow my head and close my eyes when I pray. (As do most of those I know.) But Jesus often prayed with eyes open and looking up to the heavens. Why do I do what I do? I simply slip into doing what I always have done  ”just because.” I am sure, if I paused for a few brief moments of self-examination, I could easily come across many such examples. And, so could you. No necessarily “bad” things, just “the way I have always done it” things.

Being aware of that helps me understand some of the tension that arose between Jesus and the religious people in his day. The Pharisees–one particular category of religious people–were not “wicked;” they, like so many of us, had a particular way that they thought things should go. They really did want to live holy, but they had come to privilege their traditions on how that was to be lived out. They had a perspective, rooted in “the way we have always done it.” And, when Jesus showed up on the scene, tension was inevitable.

In Mark 7, we run up against one of these run-ins between Jesus and the Pharisees. Jesus and his followers were eating bread “with impure hands.” Mark explains that the religious Jews had a ritual for ceremonial cleaning their hands before eating; this wasn’t about hygiene, it was about religious observance. Although there was precedent in the Old Testament for those performing sacrifices to ritually wash their hands before participating, the kind of washing that was enjoined by the Pharisees was not specifically proscribed in the Scriptures. (It appears that their thinking was that if it was good for priests and “holy people” to ritually wash, it would be good for all to do so.) And, seeing as this had been going on for a long time, seeing that it was believed to be a “good” thing, and seeing as all the really “spiritual” people the Pharisees knew were doing it, when it was discovered that Jesus and his followers weren’t ceremonially washing their hands, tension rose. A confrontation was in the works.

Jesus’ lengthy reply is fascinating; he explores all kinds of dimensions of ceremonially cleanliness and holy living; all prompted by the Pharisees’ question about washings. (You might take some time to read what Jesus said.) But what stirs in my thinking is the point of tension. What is at the core?

Simple. My tradition or his truth? That is, am I most concerned about “how I have always done things” or am I most captured by what Jesus really says. I have to remember: Traditions in and of themselves might not be bad. But when push comes to shove, all my traditions will have to give way to all of his truth.

But I’m not stuck on ritual washings; I guess I’m off the hook! Maybe.

I think about my approach to prayer. And that guy over there in the worship service who didn’t bow when we prayed and that girl a few rows back who was looking up and around as she was praying. What’s with that?! They’re not very spiritual–or at least that is the thought that attempts to intrude itself into my thinking. And where does that conclusion come from? Not from what Jesus has said, but from how I have always done things.

Looking up when praying. It’s a simple example, not very profound. But for me it captures what may be at the heart of the tension I see in Mark 7.

If that person doesn’t pray just the way I would . . .

If she experiences the Spirit’s presence differently than I have . . .

If they are approaching ministering to those in need in ways my church never did . . .

If he explains a point of Scripture in a way I have not heard before . . .

In such moments, I think Jesus wants me to ask: My tradition or Jesus’ truth? Am I willing to at least entertain the possibility that the tension that rises in my heart and mind might not be because that other person or those other Christ-followers are out of step with Jesus, but only because they are out of step with how I have always done things?