Every culture and subculture has its own taboos. Not all of them are the same, however. Given that we are all human, how can we explain the divergence of cultural standards? Why does one culture find adultery to be a mere peccadillo, while another considers it the unforgivable sin? Why, in polite society in Victorian England didn’t they call a table leg a table leg? For fear of offending delicate sensibilities. On the other hand, there were more brothels in London than there were churches. The answer may get at the grave sins of our own broader culture.
Certainly a culture committed to ethical relativism, the notion that there is no objective right and wrong, will hang its moral hat on its stunted view of the command of Jesus that we judge not, lest we be judged. (Cheerily skipping over the too embarrassing reality that they are judging the judgers, and thus judging themselves.) Accusing someone of wrongdoing is just about as bad as it can get in the world — not to mention the evangelical world. Not far behind that grand taboo, however, stands this one. We can commit this sin or that. We can manifest this grave character flaw or that. But to really earn your way into the rogue’s gallery, you must commit this heinous sin — hypocrisy.
Jesus, of course, had some harsh words for hypocrites, “Woe to you scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you clean the outside of the cup and the plate but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence” (Matt. 23:25). Hypocrisy is a real sin, something to be ashamed of, something to repent for. It’s shameful to its core. But there is something to be said for it. In fact, Francois de La Rouchefoucauld said this about it, “Hypocrisy is the homage that vice pays to virtue.”
The hypocrite is caught up in whatever sin he is caught up in, plus hypocrisy. But he has this going for him: he recognizes virtue, desires to be perceived as virtuous, despite his lack. We hypocrites cover our sins because, while we certainly commit them, we recognize them as sins. While it is far better to be good than to look good, in either case we confess, however feebly, the reality of the good.
This, I believe, is the driving force behind this cultural taboo. We post-moderns hate hypocrisy not because we have such an abiding commitment to honesty, but for the same reason we judge so harshly those who judge, because we are dishonest enough to pretend there is no such thing as virtue. Those who hide their vice by masquerading it as virtue commit the one cardinal sin — affirming the reality of sin. They break the social contract by confessing a higher standard.
Hypocrisy to the broader culture isn’t just the one deadly sin, but avoiding hypocrisy is the means of atonement for sin. People argue, “I may be selfish and egotistical, but at least I’m honest about it.” Or, stranger still, philanderers suggest, “I may have broken my marriage vows, but at least I’m honest about it.” This proud confession of sin is a diabolical perversion of true repentance. We “acknowledge” our sin in that we admit to committing them. But we dismiss the sin because in admitting it we make it no longer a sin. Imagine if the serpent were to confess, “I rebelled against the Maker of heaven and earth, and sought to topple Him from His throne. But at least I’m honest about it.”
If we were honest about our sins, we’d not only admit to committing them, but recognize them for what they are. Each and every one of them is rebellion against the Maker of heaven and earth, an attempt to topple Him from His throne. Were we honest about our sins, we’d not cover them up. We’d cover our eyes, because to look at them is simply too painful. If we were honest, we’d admit that what we are usually doing when “admitting” our sins is copping a plea. Maybe, we rationalize in the quiet of our hearts, if I admit to this, they won’t see these other sins. If we were honest about our sins, we would admit that all our games fail us, that all our sins follow us.
The world is not happily pursuing their vices without a care in the world. They are instead pursuing their vices under the cloud of an ever-present knowledge of who they are. The defining quality of every culture not built around the Gospel is the haunting of sin. Which is why the solution for every culture, just as it is for every member of that culture, is the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
He did not “honest” away our sins. He did not relativize our sins. Instead, He paid for them. He bore the wrath and fury of His Father that was due for our sins. He knows them more intimately than we ever will. And yet, glory be to the Father, they have been washed away in His blood.