Luke 18:9-14

The Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost | 23 October, 2022 | Luke 18:9-14 | Paul Bieber |

Luke 18:9-14 Revised Standard Version

⁹ Jesus told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and despised others: ¹⁰ “Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. ¹¹ The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, ‘God, I thank thee that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. ¹² I fast twice a week, I give tithes of all that I get.’ ¹³ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me a sinner!’ ¹⁴ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted.”

also Jeremiah 14:7-10, 19-22 / Psalm 84:1-6 / II Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18

He Went Home Justified

Grace, peace, and much joy to you, people of God.

Two men went up into the temple to pray, but only one went down to his house justified. What a privilege to be able to go up to the temple to pray. Several of the Psalms are songs of pilgrims going up to Jerusalem, to the temple, but Psalm 84 is one of the most beloved: “They will climb from height to height, and the God of gods will reveal himself in Zion.”

The hill on which All Saints Church is built is not exactly the Temple Mount, but we do come up to this place. We know the privilege of having a place to worship, a place where God will reveal himself to us. The way he reveals himself is surprising, if Jesus’ parable of the two men who went up to pray is anything to go by.

We’ve heard the story so many times that we don’t let ourselves be surprised; we know that the hero is the tax collector and so we want to identify with him—at least while we’re listening to the story—even though, if we’re honest with ourselves, each of us has in us a bit of both of these men who went up to pray. It’s like hearing the parable of the prodigal son: we know that we are supposed to identify with the ne’er-do-well yet forgiven younger son. But good religious people have a lot of the elder son in us. Just so, we know that tax collectors and sinners are among those who draw near to Jesus. So, even though first century tax collectors were collaborators who got paid by collecting more tax than the Romans demanded and pocketing the difference, we know that we’re supposed to identify with this tax collector who went up to the temple to pray.

But don’t we have a lot of the Pharisee who went up to pray in us? Note that this is not one of the places where Jesus calls Pharisees hypocrites or lovers of money. The parable gives us no reason to doubt the Pharisee as he reviews “with himself” the list of his virtues. The Pharasaic project was the sanctification of all of life by keeping God’s law, and this Pharisee has lived by God’s commandments as he has understood them. He thanks God that he has steered clear of coercion, injustice, and womanizing. He fasts. He tithes—many pastors would be happy to receive his pledge card.

The problem, of course, is that his good moral and religious life cannot justify him. He cannot secure his life by what he does—not now, and certainly not after death. But he shares this problem with every good religious person. Every one of us has a bit of the Pharisee in him: I would rather trust myself that I am righteous than trust the Lord who makes me righteous. I would rather be in control.

But that control is an illusion—a rather common illusion among good religious people. The Pharisee walks into the temple like he owns the place, goes right up front and begins to pray. In his prayer of thanksgiving, he reminds God of his righteousness and his religiosity. And he reminds God of the deficiencies of the tax collector in the last pew, in case God hadn’t noticed.

That tax collector labors under no such illusion. He keeps his distance as if he’s crossed the threshold of a house in which he does not really belong. He is keenly aware of his unworthiness in the presence of the Holy God. He stands at a distance because he is aware of the spiritual distance between himself and God. Eyes downcast, beating his breast, he acknowledges that he is a sinner and prays for mercy.

In contrast with the list of virtues by which the Pharisee sets himself off from others, the tax collector can find only sin in himself. While the Pharisee thanks God for his good life, he sees in himself no need of God’s grace, mercy, and forgiveness. The tax collector is not a good man, but he asks for mercy he knows he doesn’t deserve. Even though he has gone up to the temple to pray, his cry to God comes from the depths. But not the depths of despair.

His cry for mercy is like Jeremiah’s in our First Reading. Yes, our iniquities testify against us; yes, our apostasies are many. “Yet you, O Lord, are in the midst of us, and we are called by your name; do not forsake us!” Even though we have dragged our apostasies and sins up the hill and into this place this morning, we still set our hope on the God who reveals himself, surprisingly, in the crucified Christ. It is the cross that breaks our illusion of control. We cannot be free of it until we die to the whole business of justifying ourselves.

Each of us has in us a bit of both of those who went up to pray. We do belong here, but not because we own the place; rather, because this is where Jesus reveals himself to us in word and sacrament. We are aware of the distance between his holiness and our wickedness, but we set our hope upon him and his promise of mercy. We pray that when we come up to this place we will not be so full of ourselves that we will be unable to receive his gift. We pray that we will not treat his gift as our possession, but as a gift we do not deserve, a free gift that cost Jesus his life on the cross.

Then we can give thanks not like the Pharisee but like St. Paul in our Second Reading. He is coming to the end of a life that has been like a sacrifice, a libation offered to God. As the sacrifice is about to be completed, he likens it to fighting the good fight, to finishing a race. These are images of struggle, not complacency. Paul gives thanks to God for his presence in the struggle and his promise of rescue, as from a lion’s mouth. The focus is on God who strengthened Paul for his task, not on what Paul accomplished. God’s power is made perfect in his servants’ weakness. A paradox.

Jesus ends today’s parable with the same paradox he spoke when commenting in Chapter 14 on the way people scramble over each other for the best seats at a banquet: “every one who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted.” I know I have the Pharisee in me, but I pray for the honesty to recognize that anything good in me is the gift of God in Jesus Christ, not my doing. There are no healthy ones who need no physician, no sinless ones who need no repentance, no ninety-nine unlost sheep, and no one who has no need to be raised from the dead.

We came up here today to pray. Prayer is faith in action. It is not an exercise to demonstrate our relationship with God. It is that relationship with God. I have to die to my inner Pharisee’s agenda to enjoy that relationship. The Lord will rescue me from my inner Pharisee and save me for his heavenly kingdom. Even now he stands by me and strengthens me as I go up to pray. “Happy are the people whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on the pilgrims’ way.” I can go home trusting not myself but God who raises the dead.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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The Rev. Dr. Paul Bieber

San Diego, California, USA

E-Mail: paul.bieber@sbcglobal.net