RVCC Pastor's Sermon

Sermon - October 28, 2007

“Two Men Walked Into The Temple….”

By Rev. Nancy Foran
Luke 18:9-14

Two men walked into the temple….and the folks who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, the ones to whom Jesus was really speaking, probably thought the rabbi was getting ready to tell them a joke. You know, two men walked into a bar and….

Two men walked into the temple, and one was a Pharisee and one was a tax collector….and the folks who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, the ones to whom Jesus was really speaking, thought for sure it was a joke. You know, two men walked into a bar and one was a convict and one was a police officer, one was a priest and one was a mullah, one was a homeless man and one was a regular church goer.

But it was not a joke that Jesus was preparing to tell. It was a parable, a little story designed to teach a big lesson, a little tale that pointed way beyond itself to a deeper, higher, and most profound truth.

Two men walked into the temple, and one was a Pharisee and one was a tax collector. And the Pharisee strode confidently to the front of the sanctuary where the heavy and expensive draperies were and behind which the Holy of Holies was kept hidden and loudly (so that God could hear, no doubt) prayed an articulate and beautifully worded prayer of thanksgiving.

Almighty and Eternal God, I thank you that I am not like other people in this world. I thank you that I am no thief. I am not a cheat. I covet no one else’s wife, much less sleep with her. I am thankful that I do not share the faults and shortcomings of those I need to live with day to day. I thank you that I am not a rogue – and I particularly thank you that I am not like that tax collector over here. And don’t forget, Holy One, I fast twice a week, which as you know is more than the minimum set forth in the sacred books. I also give away a tenth of my income to this temple, which is nothing to sneeze at."

Two men walked into the temple, and one was a Pharisee and one was a tax collector. And the tax collector stood by himself in the corner at the back and behind a large smooth stone pillar, so no one would see him. And even if you can not squeeze blood from a turnip, tears squeezed from his eyes, and his prayer was short, much shorter than the Pharisee’s, and he wondered if such a short prayer was acceptable to God, but a long prayer was out of the question because he really only had one thing to say to the Almighty, and that was “Have mercy on me, O God. I am a sinner”

And they both said Amen, and two men walked out of the temple, and one was a Pharisee and one was a tax collector. And the Pharisee went back to doing everything a Pharisee does, and the tax collector went back to being a tax collector. And the parable was over. And it was not a joke. And no one laughed.

And the folks who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, the ones to whom Jesus was really speaking, tried to figure out exactly why the rabbi told it if it was not a joke. Because, you see, this little story is not an easy and comfortable one, where black is black and white is white, and there is a clear distinction between right and wrong.

As Paul Duke wrote, “To see the tax collector as honorable and the Pharisee as a creep makes the story false, curdles it to a dishonest morality tale and sends us straight into the trap of saying, "God, we thank you that we are not like this Pharisee!" No, this parable has many shades of gray – and numerous levels of discomfort.

I mean, when you think about it, the tax collector was no prize when it came to his professional life. After all, he worked for a foreign government, financially raped his fellow Jews by charging usurious interest rates and turning a blind eye to not a single denarius, and he skimmed his own generous share off the top.

As Ralph Wilson reminds us, “Tax collectors were not just hated because they were considered turncoats and traitors. They were also cheaters and would assess more taxes than was legal. If a farmer or businessman could not or would not pay, they would turn him over to the soldiers. Tax collectors were considered the scum of the earth.” I think it is fair to say that our tax collector was a pretty shady character, not the type you would appoint as treasurer of your own congregation.

But the Pharisee? Now he really was not such a bad guy. He was mentally awake, morally straight, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent. He is not going to bring your property values down. He is quiet and considerate and makes a good neighbor. He is the kind you like to have sitting next to you in church.

At least he’s in church regularly – thanking God for something in his life. He cares enough to fast – and maybe he even teaches Sunday School. He does not sleep though the sermon, and he tithes 10% of his income, so the pastor can preach sermons on the Pharisee and the tax collector (F. Craddock).

Come on, be honest, wouldn’t you really like more of him in our congregation? What church wouldn’t? And yet, Jesus makes it plain that the point of the story is that the tax collector (when it comes to prayer, at least) has it all over the Pharisee.

Certainly a big reason that Jesus tells us to model our prayer lives after the tax collector is because he was the humble one – and humility is surely something we can all use an extra dose of. The tax collector may have been wrong about a lot of things, but his instincts were right when it came to prayer. He was not looking all around the temple, but rather he was looking down at his own heart. He was oblivious to everyone and everything except his own lying, thieving, and conniving condition.

The Pharisee, on the other hand, started out fine – with a prayer of thanksgiving to God. However, all too soon he gave that little sideways glance at the tax collector and opened the Pandora’s Box of comparisons.

He was no longer praying about his own condition but about himself in relation to everyone else that he knows. And surprise of surprises, he always came out on top. Thanks, God, for making me better than everyone else.

The Pharisee fails to pray about himself and his relationship to God and instead prays about himself in relation to those around him. His deeds, his works, all his contributions to his church and to the world take precedence over his connection with God and with God’s world. Call it a lack of humility. Call it an inability to see oneself in a common community with the rest of the human race. Call it whatever you want, but that’s what Jesus faults him for.

Perhaps you have heard the story of the man who came to the pearly gates. St. Peter greeted him and asked for a brief life history to gain entrance into heaven. "You will need 1000 points to be admitted," Peter told him.

"This will be a cinch," the man thought to himself, "I've been involved in church from the days of my youth." Then he began to list his activities. He was an officer in his youth group and had a string of those little bars for perfect attendance hanging off his Sunday School pin. As an adult, he served on the Church Council as well as on practically every committee in the church. His list was extensive.

"Very impressive," Peter commented and smiled. An angel standing with them smiled too and nodded as he tallied the points and then whispered in Peter's ear. Peter told the man, "This is quite striking -- we seldom see people of your very good works. You will be pleased to know that you have 327 points! Is there anything else you can think of?"

The poor soul broke into a cold sweat and reached deep for every single act of kindness he could think of. He listed them as the angel scratched furiously on his angelic clip board and nodded his head in admiration. Peter looked at the clip board and exclaimed, "This is quite exceptional! You now have a total of 402 points. Can you think of anything else?"

The distressed man tried desperately to recall good deeds -- like the time he helped an old lady across the street. When he finally arrived at only a grand total of 431 points, he cried out, "I am sunk! There is no hope for me! What more could I have done? O God, all I can do is beg for your mercy!"

"THAT," exclaimed Peter "is a thousand points!"

All that we have done amounts to little if we have lost that sense of dependence, that knowledge of our grace-filled relationship with God, that humble connection we have with the Almighty.

Oh, God, I am so thankful that I am not needy, confused, empty, uneducated, and morally bankrupt…..like those flaming liberals, those rock-ribbed conservatives, those fundamentalists, those, those people I do not agree with and know are wrong because what else could I be but right.

And yet, Jesus does not call us to be right and to show off a resume of good deeds and good works. Instead, Jesus calls us to be humble. Jesus calls us to listen to the world around us.

Jesus calls us to walk in the shoes of the poor and wonder like they do where their next meal is coming from. Not so we can be thankful that we are blessed to live in the richest country in the world (that is being like the Pharisee), but so we can acknowledge that the world is sometimes a lost and lonely place, and we – you and I - need to change the parts that are rotting away because the Kingdom of God is a place of mercy and justice.

Jesus does not call us to be right and to show off a resume of good deeds and good works. Instead, Jesus calls us to be humble. Jesus calls us to listen to the world around us. Jesus call us to imagine ourselves in uniform in the streets of Baghdad or some other God-forsaken town in Iraq and wonder like the anguished young soldier does how the world could possibly have degenerated to the point where you have to kill to keep yourself alive.

Not so we can be thankful that we live in the land of the free and the home of the brave (that is being like the Pharisee), but so we can acknowledge that a world a war is a sick place, and we – you and I - need to change the parts that are blowing themselves to bits around us because the Kingdom of God is a place of peace.

William Willamon makes a good point when he says, “I think we good people, we church people, we don’t much care for this story. We keep wanting Jesus to say, ‘I have come to gather the good, to reward the righteous. All you high spiritual achievers get in line over there.’

Yet, what Jesus says is, ‘I have come to seek and to save the lost. I have come to call sinners. If you are not sick, you do not need a doctor.’ I have come just for the ones who need to be healed. I have come for a world that is lost and lonely, that is rotting away, a world that is sick.

Perhaps, in the end, the truth of this little parable, the reason that Jesus told it in the first place was to once again lay the ground work for the kind of people God wants us to be – humble, prayerful, unafraid at what others will think if we acknowledge that we, like the world, are lost and lonely, rotting away, in need of profound healing.

Perhaps, in the end, the truth of this little parable is that Jesus wants us to be less concerned about the list of good deeds and works on our religious resume and how it compares to everyone else’s and more mindful of just why we need to do those good deed and works in the first place – as a measure of our gratitude for God’s unending grace.

Come, each one of you, come and seek mercy - not because you are holy - but because you are not.

Come, each one of you, ask to be blessed - not because you deserve it - but because you do not.

Come, each one of you, come and follow - not because you are worthy - but because God seeks to work in you and through you to heal and make things right with the world.

Sermon - October 28, 2007

“Two Men Walked Into The Temple….”

By Rev. Nancy Foran Luke 18:9-14

By Rev. Nancy Foran
Luke 18:9-14