Luke 18:9-14 · The Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector
Life's Two Pockets
Luke 18:9-14
Sermon
by Leonard Sweet
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Every one of us needs to be reminded constantly of our smallness and our greatness.

Some days everything goes right. Some days everything goes wrong.

Some days it's "Good morning, God." Other days it's "Good God, it's morning."

Every now and again, you wake up to sunshine and blue sky, your favorite shirt is clean, commuter traffic flows along like a river, the boss loves all your ideas at work, you finish early, you discover a $20 bill folded up in the corner of your pocket, dinner is a culinary masterpiece, your spouse is feeling cuddly and your kids actually ask for your opinion. You go to bed after such a day convinced that you are a truly blessed, fine, upstanding human being, worthy of praise.

On the other hand ... on the other hand, there are other days, days that dawn in gloom and end in disaster. You spill coffee on your favorite shirt, and the car refuses even to start. When you finally arrive for work, all your coworkers glower at you and reject everything you do and say all day. The bank calls complaining that you are overdrawn again. You're so late getting home that dinner comes out of a pizza box - and it's cold. At home, everyone is fighting with everyone else, and the cat is missing. You go to bed after these days convinced that you are a truly cursed, wretched, worthless human being - fit only for the dung heap.

Of course, nearly all the days of our lives fall somewhere in between these two extremes - thankfully. A steady diet of either one or the other would succeed in making us either insufferably arrogant or incapacitatingly depressed.

There is a dual quality to human existence that is reflected in our experiences of "good" days and "bad" days. The remarkable Jewish theologian/mystic Martin Buber observed that our spiritual natures have two "pockets." When we reach into one pocket, we pull out smallness - "We are nothing but dust and ashes." If we reach into our other spiritual "pocket," however, we extract greatness - "For our sake the universe was created."

The complex, twofold nature of humanity fills one pocket with a humbling stance before God that asks "Who are humans that you, God, are mindful of us," while our other pocket strains to contain the equal truth that "God created human beings little lower than the angels."

If it is true that we are all saints, it is also true that we are all sinners who have fallen far short of the goals of God. Human sinfulness has been so persistent, so pervasive, that God has had to send two testaments full of prophets to reprimand us and show us the way to righteousness - and even they are not enough. The human capacity for sin, our continual wafting toward wickedness, ultimately resulted in God's most radical act of grace: "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life" (John 3:16).

The truth is, we are both Pharisee and tax collector, or as Martin Luther put it, both saint and sinner together. We owe God our best efforts and our undivided loyalty, as well as our dependence upon him for grace and forgiveness all those times we fall short. Each of us is called to embody the definition that claims "a saint is a gargoyle to the grace of God."

The environmentalist movement has come up with a saying that works as well to define our spiritual nature as it does our responsibility to the health of this planet. Surely you've all read the slogan "Think globally, act locally."

- As sinners we may not be able to change the world, but as saints we may be able to change our communities.

- As sinners we may not be able to change our communities, but as saints we may be able to change our neighborhoods.

- As sinners we may not be able to change our neighborhoods; but as saints we may be able to change our homes.

- As sinners we may not be able to change our homes, but as saints we may be able to change ourselves.

- As sinners we may not be able to change ourselves, but as saints we may offer ourselves up to the grace of God and experience nothing less than a changed world.

Our spiritual longings for a better world should never be sidelined simply because we know we may always fall short of our goals. We must continue to "think globally and act locally."

There is a beautiful yet disturbing true story about one such saint/sinner. His name was Elzeard Bouffier, and he lived during this 20th century. His home was in the countryside near the French Alps, where mountains and meadows come together. He had lost his wife and son and farm during the terrors of World War I and sought solace in the silence of his aloneness.

The country Bouffier settled in had once been beautiful - but no more. War machines had crushed it, armies had deforested and devastated it. There was barely enough grass to nourish his small flocks - and even then he had to keep moving them on to new pastures. Gradually, Elzeard Bouffier became convinced that it was the terrible lack of trees that was keeping this land so blighted and all who lived within it struggling to maintain a mere subsistence level of existence.

Bouffier began to plant trees. Every day, as he wandered the empty, pitted land, he carried with him the seeds of a new forest. He used his shepherd's crook to poke a planting hole for each seed, and thus dropped in the potential for a new tree with every step he took. On a good day, Elzeard could plant nearly a thousand seeds. Elzeard Bouffier continued to plant trees from seed for the next 50 years. He planted different types of forests - beech, oak, birch, maple. Slowly the seeds took root and matured. Gradually, a miracle was born over the face of that devastated land. Where there had once been barren wastes, there stood forests. Streams that had clogged with eroded earth began to flow again and feed the meadows. Farms and whole communities were once again able to claim this region as a fruitful, joyous home.

Elzeard Bouffier was neither saint nor sinner - he was both. Though he intended to cut himself off from his fellow human beings, he succeeded in shepherding a reborn creation into existence and brought a new possibility for life to his neighbors. (To read a complete version of this remarkable story, see Jean Giono, The Man Who Planted Trees [Toronto, Ont.: CBC Enterprises, 1989].)

What would you discover if you were to dig into your own pockets this morning? Lint and gum wrappers or life and glory? (To conclude this morning's message, why not have the congregation fill their pockets with emblems of our dual spiritual potential? In front of the church have two baskets. Fill one with reminders of our capacity for sinfulness - say stones. Fill the other with reminders of our capacity for saintliness - perhaps cut-out stars, or, tying into the story above, acorns or other tree-seeds. Let everyone move forward and take one of each, placing one emblem in each pocket and taking both into the world.)

Alternative Sermon #1

Inappropriate Handling of a Human Heart

A nurse out in Spokane, according to the AP wire, accidentally dropped a human heart donated for a transplant. She threw it in the trash because she assumed, I would think rightly, that it was thus contaminated. To cover herself, she falsified records, and when found out, she was reprimanded and fined $250. The formal charge was, "inappropriate handling of a human heart." What a metaphor for our checkered careers in the invasive people business: ministers, politicians, therapists of all sorts, adversarial authorities of one another. Who is without sin?

But at least with Wanda Condon, the butter-fingered nurse, it was accidental. I suppose we should plead mea culpa about our own "inappropriate handling of a human heart," often in the name of righteousness and courageous defense of the faith. We can insist that such hurts are accidental, certainly not intentional.
Norman R. dePuy, Cabbages and Kings ..., April 1995, 1.

Alternative Sermon #2

Why not turn this into a karaoke sermon where you interact with the congregation around questions such as "Who is the most godly person you've ever met?" and "What made that person a saint for you?" and "What was in his or her two pockets?"

Or you may even want to consider a David Letterman format up front with three or four "guests" (family members of someone who died this past year?) with whom you could discuss these questions.

ChristianGlobe Networks, Inc., Collected Works, by Leonard Sweet