Luke 18:9-14 · The Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector
Oh, Lord, It's Hard To Be Humble
Luke 18:9-14
Sermon
by Johnny Dean
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If you were to casually stroll to your mailbox tomorrow and find the following items there, which would you open first: a bill from J. C. Penney’s; an advertisement for life insurance; a catalog from Victoria’s Secret; or a brown envelope from the Internal Revenue Service? I’m going to take a wild guess here and say that you would probably open the brown envelope from the IRS first. And I imagine that your hands might be a little shaky, your mind would be going ninety-to-nothing, and you would practically destroy that envelope to get to the contents. Your tension and anxiety would most likely increase if the word "audit" appeared anywhere in that letter, wouldn’t it?

Very few of us greet and IRS audit with enthusiasm. We wonder if we did anything wrong. We wonder if our records will adequately support our audited tax return. We wonder how much more money we will have to pay to Uncle Sam as a result of the audit. Let’s just say that a tax audit is not exactly one of the blessings of living in the USA for which we will be offering thanks come the twenty-sixth of November.

Now I want you to imagine the person behind the desk at the IRS, the one who will be conducting your audit. Imagine that they are not only intimidating and distrustful, but also dishonest (I know it’s stretch, but try to imagine that). Imagine that they will receive a percentage of the corrected amount resulting from the audit, and that they will do or say almost anything to prove that what you paid was not enough.

Now I certainly don’t want to imply that this is the way the IRS works in America, although they have come under a great deal of scrutiny for some of their practices lately. But that IS the way tax collectors operated in the time of Jesus. Tax collectors were among the most corrupt and despised and feared people in society in those days. They were out to get not just a few, selected people here and there, but EVERYBODY! They frequently operated beyond the law with no fear of punishment, changed the rules wherever they wanted to, collecting taxes from people in heartless and dishonest ways.

"Two men went up to the temple to pray," said Jesus. "One was a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed in a voice just barely loud enough to be heard across the street, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like all other men – robbers, evil-doers, adulterers – or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give back to you a tenth of all I receive.’

"But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and whispered, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

"You might not believe this," said Jesus, "but this man, rather than the other, went away justified before God."

What did he say?? What in the world is going on here? I suppose this is a question we could ask about a lot of Luke’s stories about the words and actions of Jesus. What’s going on when God sends His only Son to be born of a peasant girl in a stable in Bethlehem? What’s going on when Jesus talks to the Samaritan woman at the well? What’s going on when Jesus allows a woman of the streets to wash his feet with her tears and dry them with her hair? What’s going on when Jesus invites Zaccheus (another tax collector) down out of the sycamore tree and goes to his house for dinner? What’s going on when God allows His Son to be nailed to a cross to die a criminal’s death at Calvary?

And we continue to ask that question in many circumstances today. If you were to visit St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital in my hometown of Memphis, you would see a lot of really good work going on. But you would also see child after child being escorted down the hallway for tests to determine the severity of their illness, the stage of their recovery, the likelihood of relapse, the course of treatment necessary for each child. Most of the children you would see would be very sick. Many of them will die. Many of them would be either crying or bravely holding back their tears. Very few of them would be laughing and playing and running as healthy children do. What’s going on here?

Way out on the outskirts of the city, in an out-of-the-way place, is another facility, Shelby County Hospital. If you visited there, you would see elderly people, dying inch by inch, placed there because their families could not afford to put them anywhere else when they could no longer care for themselves at home. Many of the residents of Shelby County Hospital pray every day that death will come for them to relieve their misery. On the other side of town, those children at St. Jude’s and their loved ones also pray. They pray that they might be healed, that they might live, and play with dolls and Tonka trucks and go out on dates and graduate from high school and know the joy of first love and the challenges of adulthood. What in the world is going on here?

What’s going on is life. What’s going on is humanity, mortality, the limits and frailties and brokenness of human existence. It’s the reality that every one of us falls short of living a loving, faithful life. It’s the reality that every one of us struggles with the hollowness and emptiness that creeps in as we try to cope with the secret sorrows of our lives.

What’s going on? As we hear the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, we hear the gospel theme of reversal. The first shall be last and the last shall be first. The unexpected is what we ought to expect from Jesus. The one we expect to be judged faithful is not. The one we expect – or maybe even secretly WISH – to be condemned is redeemed. Jesus once again cracks open the rational systems of our humanity and shows us that God’s way is far beyond human understanding and prediction.

Two men went to the same temple for the same reason: to pray. And yet they experienced such different results, because their approach to prayer was so different.

The Pharisee used prayer as a means of getting public recognition, not to seek fellowship with God. In fact, the Pharisee stops just short of congratulating God on what a great job God did in creating him! He sets himself apart, not just from the tax collector, but from all other men! Every time I read this parable, that old song comes to mind, "Oh, Lord, it’s hard to be humble, when you’re perfect in every way." But have you ever TRIED to be humble? You can’t be humble on purpose. I mean, you either are or you aren’t!

Two men went to worship before the altar. One was a good, Bible-believing, faith practicing, tithing Pharisee. The other was a money-grabbing, immoral, corrupt tax collector. The two men went back home after worship. One, the tax collector, went home forgiven, justified, blessed. The Pharisee was not. Now what’s the point here?

It can’t be, "OK, folks, let’s get out there and be humble." That kind of self-conscious, self-righteous humility infects too many worship services in too many churches already.

Pride takes a lot of different forms, doesn’t it? "God, I thank you that I don’t make a big deal out of my religion and pray long, rambling prayers like those religious fanatics on television." "God, I thank you that I know my weaknesses and I admit them, not like that Pharisee." "God, I thank you that I have a better understanding of you than those people who held up those hateful signs at the funeral of that young man in Wyoming."

It’s so easy for our best-intentioned prayers of thanksgiving to slip into self-congratulation, even as our best acts of charity can become subtle ways of making ourselves look good. "God, on behalf of the rest of the world, I thank you for putting me here."

Like the Pharisee, we don’t seek God’s mercy in that kind of prayer. We come with our hands clenched and full, so it’s understandable that we go back home empty. The hard truth of prayer is that you quite often get exactly what you ask for. Like the Pharisee, we don’t always ask for God’s mercy, so we don’t get it.

Now understand that the tax collector is NOT a good person. Jesus doesn’t say that. The tax collector is a sinner, a man who has been dishonest and sometimes cruel. His breast-beating humility is not a virtue we ought to copy. But his realistic assessment of his own wretchedness, his acknowledgment of his shortcomings and his need for forgiveness is.

Neither the Pharisee nor the tax collector is the hero of this parable. There is no hero here. Jesus does not end this parable with "Go and do likewise." Both of the characters in the story are sinners. One sins knowingly and the other unknowingly, but both come to the altar of prayer as sinners, just like us.

What’s going on in this parable is that God is transforming reality, changing our expectations. God is being God, loving and embracing everyone who falls short, everyone who stumbles, everyone who knows the frustrations of life.

This is a parable about prayer and worship, about a typical Sunday morning worship service in every church every where. Jesus says that before any altar of God, in any service of worship, you mainly find two sorts of folks: Pharisees and tax collectors. Very few of us are one or the other ALL the time, but most of us are sort of like one or the other some of the time. There are times when we come to worship as good, Bible-believing, righteous Pharisees who ask for nothing and get exactly that. We are so pleased with ourselves, so competent, so well-liked in the community. And we go home to Sunday dinner with a gnawing emptiness which we sometimes blame on the preacher, sometimes rightfully so, but most often because we were so full when we got to church that nothing else would fit.

But there are other times, hopefully more often than not, when we enter this house of worship as tax collectors, needing everything, empty, lost, painfully aware of our sinfulness and our need of God’s mercy. And we go home with even more than we dared to ask for.

In other words, sometimes we fail at prayer and sometimes we succeed. Sometimes what happens here on Sunday mornings works for us and sometimes it just doesn’t. (Sermons are that way – some of them work and some of them don’t, and I never know which way it’s going to turn out, and quite frankly, I’m surprised any of them do!) It’s not for us to know when we will go home "made righteous." All we know is we’re supposed to keep at it. The gift of righteousness, atonement, justification, whatever you choose to call it, is only God’s to give. Grace is a gift. Grace is not grace if it’s expected. Sometimes it’s there, and sometimes it’s just not.

The gift is God’s to give out of his incomprehensible mercy. We don’t go back home made righteous and justified because we prayed correctly, or followed the proper order of worship, or sang the right songs, or were sufficiently humble. If we are justified, if we are blessed in our worship and prayer, it’s only as a gift of God’s love, which knows no boundaries, but is incapable of hate. God’s love extends to sinners of all shapes, sizes, and colors, whether we agree with the choices they have made or not, whether they have memorized the great prayers of the saints of the church and can quote them on demand or whether the best they can muster is "God, have mercy on me, a sinner." It’s only through God’s mercy that we ever return home from church any different than when we came.

Thanks be to God, for ALL of us Pharisees and tax collectors – sinners, every one – the good news is that God is gracious, slow to anger, quick to forgive, and abounding in steadfast love. AMEN

Staff, by Johnny Dean