Every now and then, I’ll run into a fellow Christian who is (rightly) fed up with the fakery found in the church—the smiles that hide pain or the spirituality that masks sin. They’ll tell me, “I don’t want to be like all the hypocrites out there.”
I say “Amen” to that. But usually not to what comes next. They’ll say something that conveys this attitude: Rather than striving for holiness and stumbling, I’m better off aiming lower and staying consistent. If my heart isn’t in it, better to disengage altogether! At least then, no one can accuse me of not practicing what I preach.
In this case, the Christian takes Jesus’s warnings against hypocrisy and wields them against Jesus’s call to seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness. The avoidance of hypocrisy becomes the acceptance of moral mediocrity.
What Hypocrisy Actually Is
We need to distinguish between the kind of hypocrisy Jesus excoriates and the stumbling attempts of sincere believers to live according to his commands. The world often conflates the two; the church should not.
It’s true the church has its share of hypocrisy and corruption. The stories are innumerable: the family-values warrior exposed for soliciting a prostitute, the financial-stewardship speaker jailed for embezzlement, and the list goes on. Nothing unites Christianity’s opponents more than hatred of hypocrisy.
Hypocrisy among Christians is real, but the outrage it produces is, in a twist of irony, itself Christian. You won’t find a fiercer critic of religious pretense than Jesus himself. Which is why disdain for Christian hypocrisy is, in a very real sense, a hidden compliment. When the world chastises Christians for failing to live up to the teachings of Jesus, what’s being said is this: We expect more from you. It’s an implicit acknowledgment that Jesus’s teachings are beautiful.
Still, we must differentiate between the person who strives for righteousness and stumbles and the hypocrite who stumbles but pretends not to. Hypocrisy isn’t the gap between Christian ideals and the Christian life. Hypocrisy is the refusal to acknowledge the gap.
Jesus reserved his sharpest words not for those who fell short but for those who wouldn’t admit their shortcomings. The Pharisees weren’t condemned for having standards too high. They were condemned for performing righteousness while concealing corruption—for polishing the outside of the cup while the inside was full of greed and self-indulgence.
The solution to hypocrisy, then, isn’t to lower your aim. It’s to be honest when you miss.
Hypocrisy and Aspiration
Theologian Ross McCullough asks a profound question: “Are we to be a Church without hypocrisy . . . or are we to be a Church whose hypocrisy runs in the right direction?” In other words, when we fail, will it be in pursuit of something marvelous? He continues,
I sometimes feel as if the only progress lies in throwing a line too far forward and then dragging ourselves up by it as best we can. For some deep reason, that is more effective than methodically constructing the virtues like a mason or a geometer. . . . Claim the city whole, do not take it house by house; make your vices fight you slowly back for it.
There’s an unfortunate “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” mentality in this description of dragging ourselves toward holiness, when the Spirit is the One who works in us to accomplish his purposes. We don’t drag ourselves; we are lifted.
Still, there’s something right in the aspiration that inspires this analogy. Growing in righteousness is daring and bold. It’s ambitious. You proclaim the victory of the cross of Christ over the outermost reaches of your sinful heart, and you mop up the Enemy as you go. Because Christ has conquered sin and death, you’re on offense, no matter how much the life of sanctification may feel like defense.
“There is a kind of integrity to hypocrisy as well,” McCullough says. “It is the refusal to change one’s beliefs in the face of one’s weaknesses.” I love that. Those who hold high ideals and yet stumble haven’t betrayed their convictions. They’ve refused to let their failures diminish their ideals. We will not change our aim just because we often miss the mark.
Rightly understood, this is a form of faithfulness, not duplicity. The real tragedy isn’t when you stumble but when you stumble and then rewrite what you believe to justify your fall.
Repentance, Not Perfection, Is the Posture
It is not hypocritical to pursue holiness and fail. Hypocrisy shows up when our holy aspirations are no longer marked by humility and dependence. Which is why Jesus doesn’t begin the Sermon on the Mount with a call to strive but with a beatitude for beggars.
Poverty of spirit is the entry point. The knowledge that we’re all spiritually bankrupt is what keeps us from putting on the airs of a hypocrite. We’re at the end of our rope, with nothing to offer and no illusions left. That is where the road to holiness begins. With open, empty hands.
Don’t confuse striving in the Spirit with self-righteousness, when it’s actually the fruit of repentance. And don’t use the hypocrisy of other Christians as an excuse to evade the call to holiness. Shoot high. Repent often.
Repentance has a fragrance; hypocrisy, a stench. And moral mediocrity, dressed up as humility, is just a different kind of rot.
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