I was talking with someone who holds to “last generation theology” when a question stayed with me: what does it mean to speak of spiritual perfection if we can still be cruel to the people beside us? What does holiness look like lived across a whole life, especially in the moments that never become part of anyone’s testimony.
In the parable of the good Samaritan, a man lies beaten beside the road. A priest sees him and passes by. A Levite does the same. Then a Samaritan stops, treats the man’s wounds, takes him to an inn, and pays for his care (Luke 10:25-37). Jesus gives no reason for the first two men’s departure. The injured man saw them look at him and keep walking.
The Samaritan had a religious tradition of his own. Jesus was asking who acted as a neighbor, and the answer was the man who showed mercy. The priest’s position offered the injured man nothing. The Samaritan’s help cost him time, money, and trouble. He stopped anyway.
Jesus had harsh words for religious appearances that covered an ugly reality. He compared some scribes and Pharisees to whitewashed tombs, clean on the outside and full of decay within (Matthew 23:27-28). A fresh coat of whitewash might impress people passing by. It does nothing about what is inside.
Sometimes the people who speak most often about spiritual “perfection” can be remarkably cruel. They make a narcissistic cottage industry of it. They watch everyone else’s conduct closely and excuse their own major missteps. A harsh remark becomes “correction.” Refusing to apologize becomes “standing for truth.” They move forward in faith while focused on the rear view mirror, their critical social media and videos replacing their personal devotion as if judgmentally pointing out the problems others face will advance them in their own spiritual journey. Sure it’s important to know the pitfalls, but if you’re spending more than 10% of your time busy watching how well others are living their lives, you’re liable to run off into the ditch yourself.
The person who was hurt gets a lecture on forgiveness. Soon the injured person is expected to repent, and the person who deepened the harm feels pleased with his faithfulness.
That is a thin account of holiness. Jesus summarized the law in love for God and love for one’s neighbor (Matthew 22:37-40). Even his command to “be perfect” follows an instruction to love one’s enemies (Matthew 5:43-48). Holiness reaches our prayers and our private thoughts, our money and our grudges, our treatment of family, strangers, and people who disagree with us. It reaches the moment someone tells us we caused harm. A willingness to listen and make amends belongs there too.
