Tradition can be a very good thing. It connects us to the past, gives a sense of familiarity and provides helpful routines. Tradition is an indispensable component of identity on each level, from individual through to national or ethnic. Tradition is good as long as it’s meaningful. But traditions can turn into shackles. Deprived of its meaning it has nothing substantial to offer; at best it becomes an empty ritual, at worst it can become superstition and even be fatal. This is true about traditions in every aspect of life, including spirituality or religion. That’s what the dispute in today’s gospel is about.
To understand it better we have to refer to classic philosophical concepts on which Catholic theology is based. In a highly simplified way, reality – or the perception of it – is described by two complementary terms: essence and form. To explain that I’m going to use an example. The car park outside is full of cars. They are essentially identical although they differ in form: shape, colour, size, equipment and so on. Intuitively, we just glance at the thing and we know it’s a car. In other words, regardless of its specific, individual form, the essence of a car is identical for each of them. This philosophical distinction of essence (or substance) and form applies to everything, including religion.
The essence of the Christian faith is effectively described by the two commandments: ‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. You shall love your neighbour as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.’ (Matthew 22:37-40) In fact, those two commandments originated in the Old Covenant. The form of how those commandments have been fulfilled has evolved over the millennia because of changing circumstances.
Initially, the God of Israel was worshipped in a mobile tented temple carried through the desert. When the Israelites settled in the Promised Land, the Ark of the Covenant became less mobile but its placement was relatively impermanent. Having built the Temple in Jerusalem, the cult centralised there so much that when the kingdom split, the rebels built their own shrines, which led to idolatry and eventually to the collapse and dispersal of the Israelites. Shortly afterwards the Temple in Jerusalem was ransacked, and the inhabitants were deported to Babylon. Deprived of Temple rituals, the exiles developed new forms of worshipping the God of Israel. This is a very brief summary of the Old Testament and of how the expression of faith through rituals evolved, taking new forms while sticking to the essential requirements of the faith.
The same rule applies to the Christian faith. The forms through which we express it and experience the faith can vary because of many external and internal factors. The Church was tasked with the job of recognizing the signs of the times and adapting the forms of worship to those changes. Over two thousand years of Christianity many forms of piety and devotion have emerged in response to various challenges faced by the community of the faithful on local or global levels. Thankfully, within the Church, we can express our faith in different ways. Some people like quiet, meditative forms; others express their faith in loud ways, such as singing and dancing. Neither is better than the other; they are just different. Once I attended a Mass celebrated in the Syro-Malabar rite. I didn’t understand the intricacies of the liturgy as I wasn’t familiar with it but it was obvious that for those attending the celebration it was meaningful, uplifting and spiritually enriching. Although the form was different from the Roman rite, essentially it had exactly the same meaning as any Mass celebrated in the form approved by the Church. By the way, I found the Syro-Malabar Mass spiritually beautiful.
The main challenge is to avoid mixing up the essence of the faith and the form it takes. Such a mistake leads to a false perception that a certain form is the only form and any other is less godly or – in extreme cases – sacrilegious. Such a mistake turns religion into ideology and creates completely pointless rifts and divisions. The warning from today’s gospel remains relevant: ‘This people honours me only with lip-service, while their hearts are far from me. The worship they offer me is worthless, the doctrines they teach are only human regulations.’ We should take into our hearts the words of St James from today’s second reading: ‘Pure, unspoilt religion, in the eyes of God our Father is this: coming to the help of orphans and widows when they need it, and keeping oneself uncontaminated by the world.’
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