Twenty Second Sunday after Pentecost
October 28, 2007
Joel 2:23-32
Psalm 65
2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18
Luke 18:9-14
Dear God, I am glad I am not like other people who go to church. I pray my prayers and I study my bible regularly; I sing heartily and make all the right responses during worship; I give a good bit more of my time and talent and money to the church than other people do; most of all, I work hard to keep from sinning. And I wouldn’t think of having a sinner for a friend. My righteousness is clearly obvious, and I am sure the people who go to this church envy me for that. I am so glad I am not like them.
Now, how did that make you feel? I don’t know about you, but saying those words made me feel just awful. However, I hope it made a point. I hope it made the point Jesus is trying to make in today’s Gospel, the point he makes by comparing two people who come to the temple to pray. One is a Pharisee and one is a tax collector. The Pharisee’s prayer is a prayer of thanksgiving to God that he is not like the tax collector; the tax collector’s prayer is a gut-wrenching plea of a sinner. The Pharisee remains standing, and looks to heaven as he prays; the tax collector falls to the ground and beats his breast in anguish as he cries out to God for mercy. Jesus tells us that in the end, the tax collector is justified by his prayer; the Pharisee is not. In other words, the tax collector’s prayer is acceptable to God; the Pharisee’s prayer is not. God answers the prayer of the tax collector; he receives God’s mercy. But God can’t possibly answer the prayer of this Pharisee. There is nothing God can give to him, because there is nothing he needs. Not even God.
This Pharisee already has it all. In his mind his piety and obedience to the Law assures him of his righteousness; he believes God already favors him over anyone else who is not like him—especially this tax collector. By his own admission this Pharisee does not need God. In fact, if anything, this Pharisee undoubtedly believes that God needs him. God needs him to be the example for others who are not like him on this earth. God needs him to be the righteousness of God to others. And before he knows it this Pharisee has slipped off this slippery slope into one of the most contemptuous of all human sins. It is the sin of pride. It is pride which makes this Pharisee haughty and arrogant. Pride which makes him feel superior. Pride which sets him apart, and over and above others. And it is pride which makes him worthy to be the judge of people who are not like him. Moreover, it is pride which makes the Pharisee believe that God finds his attitude acceptable, and even rewards it as righteous.
WRONG. How wrong this Pharisee is. How wrong it is for any faithful believer that our faith and religious piety make us superior to others. How wrong it is to think that we can earn our own righteousness by regular attendance at church, by our piety in worship, by our reading and study of scripture, or by our service to the world—none of these can win God’s favor. By the very fact that he created us, God already favors us. We are already acceptable to him. It is our sin which is not acceptable. Especially the sin of pride, which indicates to God and to others, “I have no need of you.” And despite what the Pharisee believes about himself, there are two sinners who come to the temple to pray that day, but only one of them knows he is a sinner, only one of them will acknowledge his sin, and only one of them will beg for mercy. As a result, only one of them will be justified in his prayer. Only one will receive the gift of God’s righteousness. And it is not the Pharisee. That one is the tax collector. Because it is the tax collector who really needs God. Righteousness only comes to people who need God. People who are willing to acknowledge our need of him. Both wretched sinners like the tax collector and righteous sinners like the Pharisee. Righteous sinners like each of us, people of faith who encounter God regularly in worship and study and prayer and service to the world. People who remember how much we are in need of God. People who need to be reminded regularly of our need of God, because if we don’t remember, we will find ourselves becoming like the Pharisee in our gospel lesson.
At every Eucharist in the Episcopal Church our Collect for Purity at the beginning of worship reminds us of our need of God. We acknowledge that God already knows our need of him because there is nothing we hide from him. We pray that our worship will be worthy of our God who accepts us as we are, and who loves us for all that we might become as we journey with him in our hour of worship and in the days of our life.
Our Collect for Purity breaks down the kinds of barriers which keep God at a safe distance from us in our worship. Paying attention to the collect keeps us from simply going through the motions of worship. Our Collect for Purity breaks open our hearts and minds so that we really hear what scripture is saying, so that we listen intently to the sermon, so that we pray our prayers deeply, and, most important, our Collect for Purity prepares us for confessing our sin. Our Collect for Purity causes us to acknowledge our need of God even when we come to church without any apparent need of him.
The tax collector came to the temple in great need of God in our gospel account today, and he acknowledged his need of him. The Pharisee, however, came to the temple to go through the ritual motions of worship. The tax collector desired God’s mercy. The Pharisee desired God’s praise. The tax collector was willing to bare his soul to judgment. The Pharisee is only able to bring his judgment to bear on one he believes does not measure up to his own righteousness. The question for us is: who are we in this story? Which person do we bring to church each Sunday? The one who is in need of God? Or the one who comes to church only to satisfy the requirements of worship.
Jesus leaves no doubt about who this story is intended for. It is intended to be a warning to people like us. Believers who attend church regularly; faithful followers of Christ who are pious in worship, diligent in prayer and in the study of scripture, and dedicated to serving our church and our world. Jesus is speaking to people like us because it is so easy to find ourselves on the slippery slope of the Pharisee; it is too easy for us to begin believing in our own righteousness. When that happens, when we come to the place that we think God needs us more than we need God, our relationship with God is damaged and our relationship with God’s people can be damaging. We become the judge of anyone who is not like us and anything which does not serve our idea of God. We know who is in and who is out of God’s favor. And we are always in. We know what is best for us and best for others, because we are sure we know what God thinks is best. Our righteousness and our sense of superiority cancels any compassion we might have for persons who are not like us. Even as we worship and serve others in our world, we stand apart from them, over and above them, and no matter how much they reach out to us, we are incapable of reaching back to them, except by our own prideful will or righteous desire.
Instead of serving God’s will, we serve our own. Instead of recognizing our need of God we play God to people who need us. We become the god of anyone who is beneath us and anyone who will worship us. We become the god of our business, the god of our organizations, the god of our home, the god of our nation or the god of our political and social constituencies. We become the god of human and natural resources, the god of our schools and our communities. We become the god of anyone or anything that depends on us. And like the Pharisee, we become the gods of our religious institutions. What does that look like? William Willimon, a bishop of the Methodist Church, tells us what that looks like. He writes a paraphrase of today’s gospel which all too familiar in the church. It goes like this:
A lifetime member of the church, teacher of the Bible, vestry member and a volunteer for social outreach in his community came into the church one day and prayed this prayer to God: “God, I thank you that my parents brought me to church, taught me the Bible as a youth and planted the seeds of giving in my heart such that I give a tithe to the church. I thank you that I have a model wife and family; I have never lost a job and I have never had more to drink than I could handle.” At the same time another man sitting in the rear of the church muttered this prayer to God. “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” This is all he could say after he lost his job and his wife left him for his addiction to alcohol. Just before he was arrested for his DUI he started coming to church, but he had not joined that church yet. No one had invited him; people barely greeted him at the door. He knew he was lousy at prayer, and all he could think to say to God was, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”
After church the two men went home. The lifelong Christian complained about the service. He didn’t get much out of it. The scripture and hymns were too familiar to him; the sermon was boring; he prayed the prayers and sang the hymns, but nothing touched his heart. He dutifully checked the thermostat and turned out the lights before he left. The other man, however, stayed in his pew a long time after the benediction. He seemed to be crying which made the first man feel somewhat embarrassed. He kept mumbling the words he heard in the sermon, “God loves me. He loves me…”
When I was a child, I heard a sermon which changed the course of my life. At the tender age of 12 or 13 I was already headed down a dangerous path of piety in my own religious practices, until I heard the preacher speak these words in a sermon. “The church,” he said, is not a playground for saints; “it is a hospital for sinners.” Five decades later, it is still important for me to remember that as much as I enjoy the company of saints in the church, the church is also a hospital for sinners. Sinners like the tax collector and the self-righteous Pharisee in today’s scriptures. Sinners like us. Today’s gospel helps me remember that my religious practices must demonstrate how much more I need God than God needs me. At every Eucharist the Collect for Purity challenges me to be humble and transparent before God in my religious practices so that, unlike the Pharisee, worship leads me to an authentic relationship with God and into compassionate relationship with others. The tax collector helps me remember that there will continue to be times in my life when I really, Really, REALLY need God. I hope when that happens, the church will accept my being there. I hope that her people will not judge me for not being as righteous as they are. I hope that they will not ignore me, or turn me away. I hope that when people see me fall to my knees someone will come and lift me up. I hope someone will take the hands I have used to beat myself up and hold them in their hands until my wounds begin to heal. And as I begin to trust the love and compassion and mercy I experience by the truly righteous people of that church, I pray that they will nurture me in the same faith which shows itself in such righteousness.