Twentieth Sunday After Pentecost
Year C, RCL
October 27, 2019
North Fork Ministries
Gospel:
The Gospel
Luke 18:9-14
Jesus told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: "Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, `God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.' But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, `God, be merciful to me, a sinner!' I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted."
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So maybe you’ve heard the story of the chief rabbi of the synagogue at Yom Kippur who is beating his breast and crying, “I’m nothing, Lord! I’m nothing! I’m absolutely nothing!” Next to him the chief donor to the synagogue, a wealthy banker, kneels down and hits himself on the chest and yells “I’m nothing! God forgive me for thinking I’m something. I’m not. I’m nothing!” Whereupon Shlomo, a poor man who sweeps the synagogue after services, and halls the trash out, gets down on his knees and yells “I’m nothing! I’m nothing.” The rabbi observes this, elbows the banker and whispers “Look who thinks he’s nothing.”
Having heard this morning’s gospel reading about sin and repentance, have you ever thought about what happens the next day to the tax collector? In his cry for mercy, the tax collector has emptied himself. He is expressing a willingness to lose everything. As things went in Jerusalem, collecting taxes was a pretty good job. Work was as steady as it got. He worked for the largest, most stable employer in the region – Imperial Rome. The downside was that his employer was hated, and as a traitor and a recognized cheat, so was he. The chances of finding gainful employment after leaving tax collecting behind, were nil. The Pharisee gave a portion of his time and his money. The tax collector, in humbling himself and turning away from his past life, was giving up everything.
But, perhaps we shouldn’t be so hard on the Pharisee. His tithe was made so that the work of the synagogue could continue: so widows could be cared for, sacrifices made to God, the poor looked after. The Pharisee really isn’t such a bad guy. He is faithful in his spiritual practice, generous with his money…devoted to God. In fact he is just the kind of parishioner we would be delighted to have show up on Sunday mornings at Holy Trinity or Redeemer. And the Pharisee’s prayer of thanks that he is not like other people, is not so very different from a prayer that most of us have prayed at one time or another: “There, but by the grace of God, go I.”
In the end we are called to recognize that we are all sinners and we are all Pharisees, we are all in need of the presence of God. It’s just that the Pharisee has stopped asking questions, because he thinks he has all the answers.
I know you have heard someone referred to as a “good Christian”. Ole “Joe Bob” he’s a good Christian man”. I always wonder about Joe Bob when I hear that. Not that I doubt the inherent goodness in the man, I just wonder how Joe Bob is doing along the pilgrim’s way. Has he arrived at a place where he thanks God that he is not like others? Does he believe that since he is now a “good Christian”, there is nothing more to do?
Becoming a Christian isn’t like flipping a light switch; it’s a process of becoming - becoming something different, changing, evolving. But being receptive to change requires openness, a willingness to entertain new ideas, seeking new understandings of the nature of God, exploring how God works in the world and in us. All that requires humility.
Part of the problem with arrogance and contempt for others is the accompanying feeling that you have arrived. If we think, “what I am is good, the journey has ceased,” then we are no longer on the path. The psalm we read today spoke of the joy of the journey itself, “Happy are the people whose strength is in you! Whose hearts are set on the pilgrim’s way.” The Pharisee had ceased traveling, content to thank God that he wasn’t like other people.
The essential difference between the Pharisee and the tax collector isn’t that one is humble and one is arrogant. In fact, being proud of one’s humility, wearing humility with false pride can be just as blinding. If we are to grow in our faith we need the humility to keep asking God for mercy, to keep asking God for understanding.
As Sally Kempton, the author of The Heart of Meditation, wrote, "Unless we keep practicing self-inquiry, looking into the truth of who we are, our other practices may become ritualized, external observances that fail to transform us inwardly.”
Transformation requires openness, not complacency or a sense self-satisfaction. If you are happy with who you are, maybe you need to look a little deeper. If you are confident that you know the way, be worried.
The tax collector we learn, was beating his breast, and saying, “God be merciful to me, a sinner.” By striking his breast, he is praying for God’s presence. It was the practice of Jewish women in mourning. It was my mother’s natural response, some 13 years ago, in grieving over her loss of a husband of 70 years. By lowering her head and methodically striking her breast, she was issuing her most urgent cry for God’s presence. We beat our breasts when we call on God to be with us. At times when we most urgently need the presence of God, we are most willing to acknowledge our brokenness.
In the end, it’s really about love. God loves the arrogant, self-righteous person and God loves the humble sinner. God can work with any of us. It just makes God’s task a little easier, it will be a little easier for God to help us realize who we are and what we are meant to be, if we give up on the idea that we are the sole possessors of the truth.
There is something more. A few weeks ago at the beginning of the High Holy Days, during Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, our Jewish brothers and sisters spent much of the day engaged in a collective prayer of repentance - asking God for forgiveness for sins that the community had committed. Their prayer is not “forgive me for mistreatment of other people, or “forgive me for being treasonable, aggressive or slanderous”. It is rather, “forgive us for offensive speech, forgive us for scoffing, slander, and swearing falsely”. There is an acknowledgement of collective responsibility for all sin in the community, not just for those things done individually.
In our tradition we do much the same thing in our prayers and confessions. “We confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed….we have not loved with our whole heart…have mercy on us.”
I point out this “we” language, the plural nature of our faith, because it is easy to forget, in a culture that talks a lot about “a personal relationship with Jesus Christ” that we are not in this alone. Our responsibility to live the Christian life does not end with our personal actions. We are part of a nation that throughout much of its history has behaved with the arrogance of the Pharisee, thanking God that we are not like other peoples and failing to examine our own transgressions. And at this juncture in our nation’s history we seem content with the growing disparity between rich and poor. We ignore the damage our energy policies do to God’s created environment. We forget the imprisoned, the immigrant, the marginalized. Perhaps it is time for us, as a nation that claims to be a people of God, to stand outside the Temple with the sinner, lower our eyes, collectively beat our breasts, and pray, “God, be merciful to us.”