Luke 18:9-14
“I am the most giving person I know.” Now those aren’t my words, but someone I knew years ago. Let’s call her Susan. And when she said this about herself, “I am the most giving person I know,” I was shocked because you don’t usually hear someone trumpeting about themselves so openly. Susan said this in front of a small group at her retirement party. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a well-attended party - probably because Susan was hard to be around. True, she did give a lot of herself. She was always organizing, always serving, always doing things for others, however, in the midst of all her good works she was also always letting people know about it. It was rather sad because, my guess is, that her need to serve others and be recognized for it came from a deep place of pain and insecurity. She seemed desperate to justify herself.
Like the Pharisee in the story that Jesus tells in the gospel of Luke where two men go to the temple to pray. The first is a Pharisee, a truly religious person who does so many things right. but in the guise of a heartfelt thank you to God, he offers a personal progress report of his own awesomeness. “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers.” Then he continues to humble brag about his pious lifestyle, how he regularly fast and generously gives. I think it’s safe to say that he ends up leaving the temple feeling exactly the same way he felt when he walked in, just fine. No growth, no healing, no change.
The second man who goes to the temple to pray is a tax collector, a Jew who works with the occupying Roman Empire. He is a traitor to his own people. And upon arriving at the temple we are told that he stands far off, keeps his head down, beats his chest, and prays just one line, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” Darn right he's a sinner! No truer words have been spoken. But it turns out that those true words reveal the tax collector’s willingness to lay aside any attempt of self justification, of explaining why he does what he does, of propping up his own ego - he let’s go of all of that which opens up his heart to receive mercy and justification from God.
It’s not lost on me the irony that in response to the story of these two men I am tempted to pray something along the lines of, “God, I thank you that I am nothing like the obnoxious Pharisee. I thank you that I'm at a point in my faith journey where I much more like the tax collector in the sense of being self-aware, and teachable, and, of course, oh so humble...." Ah, how easy it is to slide down the slippery slope of self justification.
Because, you know, we do it all the time. Sometimes it’s obvious, like in Susan’s case, other times we can be a bit more subtle. Nonetheless, we'll invoke almost anything - whether it’s out loud to others or silently in our heads - in order to justify ourselves. Where we went to school or our secure financial status or the success of our kids or our wonderful job are just a few of a host of ways we seek to prove that we are ok. And, if we let it, it can be never ending because the world is relentless in demanding proofs and justifications of our worthiness. But it doesn't work. And, thank God, it isn't even necessary. For in the words of the famous hymn, God accepts me "just as I am." God accepts you, just as you are.
Now to live without self-justifications can make me feel vulnerable and exposed. What are people going to think of us if we don’t put it out there that we are worthy? But when you think about it, living without self-justifications is absolutely liberating. As we really get the message - not just in our heads, but in our hearts and souls - that we are truly accepted and loved by God, then we never, for any reason, need to prove ourselves again.
To get to that place, Jesus says that we need only seven words — those mumbled by the tax collector as he stood at a distance and stared at the ground: "God, have mercy on me, a sinner." Honestly, though, I don’t know many people who like the word, “sinner.” It’s so wrapped up in shame, self-punishment, and creepy sermons that involve hellfire and brimstone. Too often, “sinner” is a word that frightens us away from God rather than drawing us closer. Yet Jesus doesn’t shy away from using that word. On the contrary, he insists on it. He insists that we continually acknowledge and name our core sinfulness because, as the tax collector demonstrates, there is healing power in such a confession. It is healing because it tells the truth - the truth that as sinners each one of us is a beautiful mess. Each one of us is made in God’s divine image AND, at the same time, riddled with human brokenness. When we are willing to use the word “sinner” in our prayer life leads us to something more profound and more clarifying than, “I’ve made mistakes,” or “I’ve got issues.” To use the word sinner is to reject the self justifying posture of drawing lines between us and them, like the Pharisee, and instead embrace the fact that all of us are utterly lost but for the amazing grace of God.
It’s worth noting that Jesus doesn’t end his story with something like, “And the tax collector went forth and sinned no more.” Instead, we have no idea what the tax collector does once he leaves the temple justified. Does he give up his dishonest profession? Does he give back the money he has unfairly taken from his neighbors? Does he continue with business as usual while coming back over and over again to the temple praying the same prayer? In other words, we can’t say if he does anything to deserve God’s generous mercy towards him. But that’s the point. The point of all this is that lavish and relentless mercy of God is always flowing in our direction. It cannot be earned with haughty justifications because, in fact, those justifications actually get in the way and block God’s mercy from reaching us. That only way that we can receive the gift of grace is with the humble recognition that we are always in need of God. A God who can be depended upon to welcome sinners - and even some self-righteous saints. For as we open up our hearts, our minds, our souls to God’s mercy and justification we will be changed. We will be healed. We will grow and thrive.
God, be merciful to me, a sinner!
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