Wash your face:
How Jesus' Critique of public piety challenges moral masochism and performative virtue in the helping professions.
Jesus had a lot to say about religious professionals who turned piety into performance. In the Sermon on the Mount he said: “When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that it will not be obvious to others that you are fasting, but only to your Father, who is unseen; and your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” (Matthew 6:16-18)
The problem wasn’t the fasting. It was the public performance of suffering. The disfigured face serves as the visible self denial for the purpose of admiration and status.
A similar criticism appears in Matthew 23, where Jesus accuses the scribes and Pharisees of straining out gnats(loads of effort for pushing out a tiny bit of poop) while swallowing camels. They obsessed over small displays of ritual purity and tithing while neglecting the more important matters of faithfulness, justice, and mercy.
Much of today’s therapy has fallen into a similar pattern. There is growing pressure to indicate constant availability, limitless empathy, and visible, ongoing deconstruction of one’s own biases, internalized racism, misogyny, privilege, and other forms of complicity.
Professional discourse, continuing education, and supervision often reward visible moral exhaustion as proof of ethical gravity. The more a therapist appears to sacrifice personal boundaries, rest, and private life, the more committed and trustworthy they are presumed to be. And where therapists should absolutely look at themselves regularly and deeply, this particular form of peacocking is, at best, ego stroking.
This is moral masochism at its finest. It confuses personal depletion with moral depth, endurance with ethics, and public performance with genuine care. Therapists strain at gnats, high visibility statements of allyship, dramatic disclaimers of availability, and performative self interrogation. All this while swallowing the camel of widespread burnout, quiet resentment, and diminished capacity to actually help patients.
But at what cost? When therapists operate from this place, patients encounter a subtle grandiosity, underlying fatigue, or pressure to perform gratitude for the therapist’s sacrifice. Helping someone with trauma, for example, is already demanding. It does not require therapists to become martyrs or to broadcast their inner work for professional applause.
Honest self examination remains essential, including care and attention to biases and blind spots. This work is most ethical when it stays largely private, conducted in personal therapy, consultation, or quiet reflection, rather than turned into public theater.
The quiet integrity Jesus described (the reward from the “Father who sees in secret”) sustains long-term practice far better than visible self flagellation.
A healthier ethic for therapists would include:
•Giving skilled, compassionate care within clear, sustainable boundaries
•Treating rest and personal life as ethical necessities, not selfish luxuries
•Pursuing genuine internal work without the need for public validation
•Focusing on what actually serves the patient rather than what signals virtue to colleagues
Patients do not need exhausted heroes who wear their depletion as a badge of honor. They need grounded, present, well resourced clinicians who can bear witness without being consumed by their own performance of goodness.
In a profession increasingly drawn toward displays of moral superiority, the ancient call to wash your facemay be one of the most radical and necessary practices available.