FAITH: The trouble with piety

Piety is one of those “religious” words that has the ability to either warm a room or chill it. In its best form, piety means devotion. It is the quiet discipline of prayer, gratitude, humility, reverence, and service. At its worst, piety becomes theatrical. It becomes less about God and more about the optical appearance as “godly.” 

Jesus seemed far more concerned with the second kind. 

“Take heed that ye do not your alms before men, to be seen of them,” Jesus says in Matthew 6:1. That is not a warning against a strive toward holiness. It is, however, a warning against turning sacred things into stage props. The problem is not Christlike-ness; the problem is it with a mirror in one’s hand. 

Historically, piety has not always meant religious superiority. The Latin word pietas carried the idea of duty, loyalty, reverence, and responsibility — not just toward God, but toward family, community, and neighbor. In other words, piety was never meant to be a private badge of spiritual achievement; piety was meant to shape how we live in relationship with others. 

That is a truth the church has had to relearn again and again. (and again) 

In the 1600s, a movement called Pietism rose within German Lutheranism. Its leaders were concerned that Christianity had become too institutional, too argumentative, too cold-hearted and mechanical. This group wanted faith of the heart, not merely faith of the mouth. That instinct was good. But like all religious movements, even Pietism could drift from center. What begins as renewal can become rigidity. What begins as sincere devotion can become a checklist. 

That is why Jesus’ parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector still speaks so clearly. The Pharisee stands proudly and thanks God he is not like other people. The tax collector stands at a distance and simply says, “God be merciful to me a sinner.” Jesus says it is the second man, not the religious performer, who goes home justified. 

That should truly humble all of us. 

We are living in a moment when many Americans are not rejecting Jesus so much as they are rejecting the version of Christianity they have seen performed in public. Pew Research Center reports that 62% of American adults identify as Christian, while 29% are religiously unaffiliated. Pew also recently found that 61% of Americans believe

religion is losing influence in American life. Those numbers should not make Christians defensive. They should make Christians reflective. 

Maybe the issue is not that the world has become too secular. Maybe part of the issue is that some of our piety has become too shallow. And maybe, just maybe, part of the issue is history repeating itself with leaders in the world practicing that outward “postured” pietism. 

The prophet Micah gives us a better measuring stick: “What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” Not to grandstand loudly. Not to win every argument. Not to make faith a weapon. Do justice. Love mercy. Walk humbly. 

James says pure religion is caring for the vulnerable and keeping oneself unstained by the world. Even Jesus chose to wash feet. 

Augustine once wrote, “Love, and do what you will.” Howard Thurman wrote that “the religion of Jesus” makes “the love-ethic central.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “The church is the church only when it exists for others.” That is true piety, with its sleeves rolled up. 

The world does not need less sincere devotion. Instead, it needs fewer performances of devotion. It needs fewer prayers used as press releases and more prayers that make us kinder. It needs fewer people announcing holiness and more people practicing mercy. 

Real piety does not have to tell you it is holy. You can see it in the way it treats the waitress, someone who looks different than you, the single mother, the prisoner, the addict, the political opponent, the poor, the lonely, the person who cannot offer anything in return. 

The question is not whether we look similar, act the same, recite the exact prayers. 

The better question is whether our devotion is making us more loving, more honest, more merciful, and more human. 

Because if piety does not lead us toward love, it may not be piety at all.

Adam Johnson is a strategy consultant and ordained minister with two decades of experience in nonprofit leadership nationwide, currently the CEO of Habitat for Humanity of Jackson TN. He holds advanced degrees in nonprofit organization from the University of Memphis. Adam lives in Jackson with his wife, Kayla, and their daughter Josephine.