Woe unto Us…?: Duane W.H. Arnold, PhD

Woe unto Us…?

 Christ and the New Pharisees

When Jesus directed His strongest words of rebuke, He did not aim them at Rome, nor at those outside the people of  the covenant. His harshest words were not even for the secularist Sadducees, who were on the opposite end of the theological spectrum from Jesus.

No, his fiercest criticisms were reserved for the Pharisees—leaders who were respected, learned, and pious. They were not villains in their own day; they were, in many ways, the guardians of Israel’s religious life. Yet, Jesus declared: “Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness. These you ought to have done, without neglecting the others” (Matthew 23:23).

It is important to begin with fairness. The Pharisees were not mere caricatures of hypocrisy. Most were earnest men who sought to live holy lives under Roman occupation, intent on keeping the Law in the midst of a fractured society. They believed in the resurrection of the dead, in angels, and in God’s sovereignty—all convictions closer to Jesus than the priestly Sadducees, who did not believe in such things, and who often out of self-interest, compromised with Rome and Herod. In fact, in many respects, the Pharisees were admirable. Yet Christ condemned their distortion of religious devotion as an oppressive system of outward markers and empty performances.

The temptation of the Pharisees is not locked in the past. Every generation of the church has faced the same danger. It seems that we all find it easier to measure holiness by external conformity than by inner transformation. It is simpler to police boundaries than to practice mercy. It is easier to retreat to slogans than it is to cultivate humility.

In our own day, it seems that much of American evangelicalism has fallen prey to a similar pattern. Now, I do not speak as an evangelical myself; I am Anglican, shaped by the liturgy, by history, by the patristic inheritance. Yet I have observed evangelicalism at close quarters, and once lived near its heart. From that vantage point, I cannot help but see striking resemblances between the Pharisees of Jesus’ time and the evangelical movement of our own.

For the Pharisees, fidelity was measured by visible markers: Sabbath observance, purity laws, tithing—the list was long. In 21st century America, many evangelicals substitute political or cultural markers: voting Republican, rejecting climate science, denouncing immigrants, opposing every form of social reform that threatens their sense of cultural control—again, the list is long. To question these positions is to risk being branded, at the least, unfaithful… or heretical… or even a Marxist. It is not too much to say, however, that this is not the proclamation of the Gospel—it is the policing of a tribe.

Jesus accused the Pharisees of binding heavy burdens on others while refusing to lift them themselves (Matthew 23:4). Evangelicals too often demand conformity from the faithful—mandatory allegiance to certain politicians, uncritical loyalty to the nation, an unquestioning adherence to “biblical” family or gender roles—while excusing corruption, cruelty, and sexual scandal in their own ranks. This is precisely the sort of hypocrisy Christ condemned.

Perhaps most damning is the willingness of evangelicals to exchange the Gospel for cultural and political influence. The Pharisees sought to preserve purity by controlling interpretation; evangelicals seek to preserve cultural dominance by aligning with the state. They invoke Christ’s name at rallies, baptize nationalist symbols, and confuse political victories with kingdom triumphs. Rowan Williams once observed that the church’s greatest temptation is “to forget that its Lord reigns from the cross, not from the throne of worldly power.” That temptation is nowhere more evident than in the contemporary evangelical embrace of authoritarian personalities, rhetoric and nationalist ideology.

Consider how the “woes” of Matthew 23 fall with fresh weight today:

• “You tithe mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness.” Evangelicals are quick to denounce others’ sins, yet are often strangely silent about systemic injustice, racism, and the cries of the poor.
•  “You clean the outside of the cup and the plate, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence.” Outward religiosity masks inward corruption: prosperity preachers enrich themselves while claiming to defend biblical truth.
•  “You build the tombs of the prophets… saying, ‘If we had lived in the days of our fathers, we would not have taken part with them.’” Evangelicals are quick to honor past heroes of faith, but reject those prophets of our own day who call for justice, repentance, and humility.

Christ’s critique was not abstract. He accused the Pharisees of weaponizing religion to protect privilege. Evangelicals, in their embrace of Christian nationalism, do much the same. They bind the conscience of believers to the ballot box, confuse the Kingdom of God with the fortunes of a party, and sacrifice truth for access to power.

This is not merely a matter of moral critique; it is a theological warning. Paul himself, once a Pharisee, testified to the futility of defining righteousness by zeal and boundary markers. “As to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless. But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ” (Philippians 3:5–7). Paul recognized that the zeal which once gave him identity had become idolatry. I would suggest the same lesson must be heard today.

The early church fathers saw in the Pharisees a mirror of the Church’s own temptations. Augustine, preaching on the Psalms, warned that Christians may recite creeds and attend services, yet if they fail to live in love, they are “Pharisees within the church.” Chrysostom thundered against bishops who sought imperial favor rather than pastoral faithfulness. Jaroslav Pelikan, in his sweeping study of tradition, remarked that the perennial temptation of the church is “to adjust the Gospel to the culture rather than allow the Gospel to judge the culture.” The evangelical embrace of nationalism is precisely such a maladjustment.

At the heart of the matter is a fundamental question: what kind of Messiah do we want? The Pharisees, in their time, hoped for a triumphant deliverer who would vindicate their purity. Evangelicals, in embracing political strongmen, reveal a similar longing for a Messiah of power. Yet the Christ of the Gospels reigns not from a gilded throne but from a wooden cross. From that cross, he calls us not to dominate, but to serve; not to condemn, but to forgive; not to lord it over others, but to wash their feet.

The tragedy of evangelical Pharisaism is not simply that it is misguided. It is that it is a betrayal of the crucified Lord. To replace the scandal of the cross with the spectacle of a patriotic rally is to proclaim another gospel entirely.

The words of Jesus in Matthew 23 are a summons to all of us—not only to evangelicals. Every Christian tradition, including my own, is tempted to hide behind outward forms while neglecting the call of conscience. However, in this moment, it is evangelicalism that bears the heaviest responsibility, for it has chosen to trade the prophetic voice of the church for the fleeting favor of politicians.

The way forward is not withdrawal from public life, but repentance. The Church must recover the weightier matters: justice, mercy, and faithfulness. It must recover humility, learning again that Christ is present not in the centers of power but among the poor, the refugee, and the marginalized. It must remember that its witness is not authenticated by partisan election victories but by cruciform love.

The Pharisees were not monsters. They were men of faith who tragically mistook public performance for holiness and identity markers for covenant fidelity. Moreover, Jesus’ words of judgment upon them are not confined to ancient history; for they echo across the centuries as a warning to the Church in every age.

In our own day, evangelicals have too often stepped into the role of Pharisee, binding consciences, worshiping power, and neglecting mercy. Yet the call of Christ remains: “First clean the inside of the cup and the plate, that the outside also may be clean” (Matthew 23:26).

The question now is not how the Pharisees conducted themselves in the past. The question is whether we have become like them now.  Well we might ponder,  “Woe unto us…?

Duane W.H. Arnold, PhD