Luke 18:9-14 · The Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector
The Problem With Keeping All The Rules
Luke 18:9-14
Sermon
by King Duncan
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Photographer Wendy Ewald travels around the world teaching children to use photography to express their thoughts and feelings. Take a child who is relatively powerless and give him a camera, and suddenly that child is empowered by the chance to express himself. Ewald recalls a little Indian boy named Pratap. When Ewald handed him a camera, Pratap began to shake all over. He explained that he was a Harijan, a member of the lowest, untouchable caste in India. Harijans aren't allowed to hold cameras. Pratap was afraid of even touching one. But Wendy Ewald insisted that he take the camera and use it to share his ideas. A few days later, Ewald passed Pratap's house. He was posing his family for a picture. The scared, self-conscious little boy was bursting with self-confidence. A simple camera had changed his self-perception. (1)

Jesus was the kind of person who would have given untouchable people cameras to build their self-concept. We need to remember that. Jesus was continually taking those who were on the bottom and putting them on top. Whether they were despised Samaritans, or deeply feared lepers, or powerless women and children, or hated tax-collectors, or whoever they might be. If Jesus were here in the flesh today, he would be the champion of the underdog.

Consider our lesson from the Gospel. Two men are in the Temple. One of the men is a righteous man. And he is proud of his righteousness--as well he might be. After all, as he reminds God, he doesn't cheat, he doesn't commit adultery, he fasts twice a week, and he gives to God a tenth of everything he earned. Wow! We would like to have him as a member of our church. How many of us can say we never cheat? How many of us can say we tithe? The average person gives about 2% of his income to God, so maybe this man had a right to brag. He was a righteous man. Surely Jesus loves people who are righteous. And yet . . . None of us like being around someone who is self-righteous--someone who is proud of their moral superiority.

There is a story about a cantor in a Jewish synagogue who was uncommonly proud of his voice. He was heard bragging that Lloyd's of London has insured his voice for $500,000. An older lady in the synagogue brought him to earth by asking, “So, cantor, what did you do with the money?"

There is something about people who are pompous and self-righteous that turns us off. Such pomposity has been known even to infect men and women of the cloth.

A well-known pastor filled with his own self-importance decided to visit a local nursing home. He strolled into the nursing home and announced himself, but nobody seemed to recognize him. He went to one elderly woman in a wheelchair and asked, “Sister, do you know who I am?"

“No, sonny," she replied, “But you check with the lady at the front desk. She can tell you who you are!"

The righteous man in Jesus' parable was not only reminding God of his virtue, he was also trumpeting his goodness to the other worshipers in the Temple. He was a blowhard, a braggart, in short, a jerk. Still, he had kept the Law, as he understood it. He was a moral, upright citizen. He may have even been known in his local synagogue as a man of God. Surely Jesus was appreciative of that. Isn't this what we learn from religion above all else? Be a good boy. Be a good girl. Then you will be acceptable to God.

But there was another man there in the Temple that day. A tax collector. A man who was a traitor to his own people. A man who was corrupt and made his livelihood cheating others. A man we wouldn't even want sitting next to us in church. There he is. Look at him. He can't even lift his eyes to heaven. He's beating his chest in sorrow. And he is mumbling. What's that he's saying? Get a little closer. Oh, yes. We can hear him now. He's mumbling, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner." What's to be done with such a man? Is he sincere? Sure, he regrets his lifestyle, but is he going to change?

It's like a story Max Lucado once told. It takes place in a Brazilian jail. As far as jails went, it wasn't too bad. There was a fan on the table. The twin beds each had a thin mattress and a pillow. There was a toilet and a sink. No, it wasn't too bad, unless, of course, you had to stay there! Anibal (pronounced “uh-nee-ball") did. He was a striking sort of man. The tattooed anchor on his forearm symbolized the character of the man. He was cast iron. His broad chest stretched his shirt. The slightest movement of his arm bulged his biceps. His face was as leathery in texture as it was in color. His glare could blister a foe. And, yet he had a smile that was an explosion of white teeth. There was no smile on this day, however. Today the glare was apparent. Anibal wasn't on the street where he was the boss; he was in jail where he was the prisoner.

He'd killed a man, a drug dealer. One night the man had used his mouth one time too many to suit Anibal, and he'd decided to silence him once and for all. He'd left the crowded bar where they had been arguing, gone home, taken a pistol out of the drawer, and walked back to the bar. Anibal entered the bar and called the drug dealer's name. When he turned, Anibal fired and killed him with one shot through the heart.

Anibal was guilty. His only hope was that the judge would think that he'd done society a favor by getting rid of the drug dealer. And that was little hope, indeed. Through a friend, Max Lucado met Anibal. He went to visit him in the prison in the hopes that he would see his need of God. They spent some time talking about the cross. They talked about guilt and forgiveness. The eyes of the murderer seemed to soften a bit. Certainly there was a hint of hope when they talked about heaven, something not even the executioner could take away from him. But as they began to talk about conversion, Anibal's face began to harden. He was uneasy with words like, “I've been wrong," or “forgive me." Saying “I'm sorry" was out of character for him.

In a final effort to pierce his pride, Max Lucado asked him, “Don't you want to go to heaven?" “Sure," he grunted. “Are you ready?" Lucado asked. Earlier this hardened man might have boasted yes, but now he'd heard too many verses from the Bible. He knew better. He was not ready. Anibal stared at the concrete floor for a long time. For a moment it appeared his stony heart was cracking. For a second, it appeared that he would admit his failures. But then, as his eyes were lifted, they were not tear-filled, but angry. “All right," he shrugged. “I'll become one of your Christians." And then he added, “But don't expect me to change the way I've been living." (2)

Was this the attitude of the tax collector in the Temple? Was he seeking forgiveness without having first repented? Some people are like that. Every night they pray, asking God for forgiveness. But it is an empty prayer, for they have no plan to change.

We honestly don't know the tax collector's heart. All we know is the shocking end to the story. Jesus said to his listeners, “I tell you, this sinner, not the Pharisee, returned home forgiven! For the proud shall be humbled, but the humble shall be honored." (LB)

This is a shocking ending for it goes against everything most of us believe about Christian faith. We believe it is about righteousness, morality and keeping all the rules. It is about not playing hooky, staying away from drugs, and abiding by the speed limit. All of these are important, of course. Without these virtues we cannot have a functioning society. Without these virtues our families would be endangered and our physical, mental and spiritual wellness would be threatened. But you can be righteous, moral and law abiding and still miss the Gospel. You can be the most virtuous person in your community and still not know the good news that Jesus came to bring. And the good news is this: Regardless of who you are and what you have done, God loves you. God gave God's Son to die for you. And, even if your life is full of sin, the slate can be wiped clean. “If you confess your sins, God is faithful and just and will forgive you your sins and cleanse you of all unrighteousness."

This is a message that someone in this room needs to hear today. Someone in this room carries around a terrible secret. Sometime in your life you did something you deeply regret. And it gnaws at your heart and soul. It is destroying your quality of life.

Guilt is a terrible thing. In a survey on alternative methods of dealing with crime, a group of prisoners was asked what they would choose if given a choice between jail time or meeting the victim of the crime. Overwhelmingly, the criminals chose jail time. They would rather not confront the pain they caused. (3)

We can relate to that. Guilt is a terrible thing.

A few years ago, a young man driving under the influence of alcohol caused a wreck that killed an eighteen-year-old woman. The judge presiding over the young man's case came up with a unique punishment. He figured that in eighteen years, this young woman had lived 216 months. He sentenced the young man to write a check for one dollar to the family of the young woman. Here's the catch: every single week for 216 weeks, this young man had to write out this check and mail it to the family. That adds up to a little more than four years of writing out checks in the dead girl's name.

For the first two years, the young man complied with the court's sentence. But eventually he asked the judge to change his punishment. He couldn't stand the constant reminder of what he had done. He was miserable. He tried arranging some different punishment with the girl's family, but they insisted that the young man continue to write the checks. They wanted him to remember the pain he had caused. And yet, every time they received a check, they were also reminded of their own grief. Neither side seemed to find healing in the punishment. (4)

Guilt is a terrible thing to carry around in your heart. And someone in this room may be carrying a great burden of guilt. Who can deliver you? Only Jesus. You look around at the well-scrubbed people in this sanctuary, some of the best people in this community, and you think to yourself that these are the people God prefers. But that is not what the Gospel tells us. It tells us that Jesus is constantly searching for that one lost sheep, that one troubled teen who always seems to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, that one businessman who cannot seem to get it all together, that one elderly woman whose heart is filled with so much hurt and regret. And Jesus says to you, “I hear your prayer: "˜God be merciful to me, a sinner.' I hear your prayer and I want you to know it was for you that I gave my life." Someone here today needs to know that Christ hears your prayer. You are forgiven. You see, Jesus favors the underdog. He really does. Because he knows that those who are weak can be made strong by the power of his love, his forgiveness, his grace.

Many years ago, there was a book about a special character named Bunker Bean. Bunker Bean was orphaned at a young age, and he grew up in different foster homes. Consequently, Bunker had no self-esteem. One day, a spiritual medium moved into Bunker's boarding house. The medium claimed that Bunker had been Napoleon Bonaparte in another life. Wow! Napoleon Bonaparte was powerful, intelligent, self-confident--the absolute opposite of Bunker Bean. So Bunker began studying everything he could about Napoleon. As he studied, he began to take on some of his hero's positive characteristics. He became more self-confident, powerful, decisive, intelligent. One day, the medium was revealed to be a fraud. But that didn't matter to Bunker Bean. By then, he had become the kind of person the medium had told him he could become. (5) Jesus looks at us not on the basis of what we have done in the past, but on the basis of what we can do in the future. His purpose is not to punish us, but to empower us to become what he has fashioned us to become.

Two men in the Temple. The tragedy of the righteous man was that he thought he had arrived. There was nothing more God could do with him. But the man who prayed, “God have mercy on me, a sinner" was ready to be molded into something beautiful for God.


1. “Shooting Dreams" by Francine Prose, The Oprah Magazine, April 2001, pp. 168-171.

2. Don Emmitte

3. “Restorative Responses: From Vision to Action" by Jean E. Greenwood, The Clergy Journal, April 2001, p. 7.

4. Ray S. Anderson. Don't Give Up on Me I'm Not Finished Yet (New York: McCracken Press, 1994), pp. 75-76.

5. Dr. William Mitchell & Michael A. Mitchell. Building Strong Families (Nashville: Broadman and Holman), pp. 154-155.

Dynamic Preaching, Collected Sermons, by King Duncan