Joel 2:23-32
Luke 18:9-14
Howard W. Roberts
October 28, 2007
           
 Have you had a day when you woke up to sunshine and blue sky, your favorite outfit was clean, commuter traffic flowed along like a river, the boss loved all your ideas at work, you finished early, you discovered a $20 bill folded up in the corner of your pocket, dinner was a culinary masterpiece, your family seemed especially happy to see you and actually ask for your opinion? You went 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 outfit, and the car refuses even to start. When you finally arrive for work, all your coworkers glare 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."
           
The Scripture reading from Luke today is the story of the Pharisee and the publican, the religious leader and the IRS agent.  A significant characteristic of Luke in his story telling is to contrast the insider with the outsider by placing them side by side in his stories.  This story is a clear example of that writing technique that Luke uses so well.
           
On the surface, from our 21st-century perspective, this Pharisee's behavior appears to be obnoxious and insufferable. The Pharisee's "prayer" is more like a litany of self-praise. He only acknowledges or "thanks" God for the fact that he is "not like other people." He cites a list of obvious sinners "thieves, rogues, adulterers," and even includes his neighbor-in-prayer "this tax collector (v.11). Besides stipulating what he is not, this Pharisee goes on to list what he is - one so observant of the minutiae of the law that he fasts twice a week (once was generally considered all that was strictly required) and pays the required tithe on his income (although "a tenth" simplifies all the various taxes and tithes required of an obedient Jew).
           
But before completely castigating this particular Pharisee or especially the whole Pharisaic movement in first-century Judaism, it is important to realize the tradition lying behind Pharisaic piety. The term "Pharisee" itself means "separated." Through their extreme observance of the religious rules, their strict adherence to all Torah minutiae, their moral rigidity and their establishment of a counter-cultural, resident-alien identity, the Pharisees sought to separate themselves from their increasingly Gentile/pagan surroundings. They combined a vast imagination with a narrow mind.
           
Pharisaic piety, while it may sound like arrogant self-confidence, is actually an attempt to embody the separateness preached in Psalm 1. The attitude presented in Psalm 1 guided the creation of a believing community - especially during the time when so many of the Jews had left their homeland because of war and exile.  Only by carefully separating themselves from those who did not follow or honor the teachings of their Scripture could the covenant community be preserved. A sense of spiritual differentness and distinctness which was morally superior to all its pagan surroundings was applauded and honored.  It took great self-discipline to resist being overcome by the culture.  The way the Pharisees determined to do this was to separate themselves from the culture.  There was a tendency by many of them to be harsh and judgmental of those who did not choose the same life style they chose or adhere to the same separation approach that they took.
           
The Pharisee in Jesus’ parable seemed unwilling to see the publican as a child of God.  The Pharisee was trapped by his self-righteousness and did not see that he had any needs.  The publican was clear about his own need and on whom he depended.    Grace is a difficult gift to receive and even more difficult to give.  We cannot give what we do not or will not receive.  The Pharisee seemed unaware of his need for grace and was unable to extend grace to the publican.  The publican knew his need for grace, acknowledged it, received it.
           
It was grace that enabled the publican to dream dreams and see visions of what he needed and who he could be.  It was grace that enabled him to be teachable and flexible.  It was the rigidity of his own righteousness that blinded the Pharisee to what he needed and to what was available and being offered.
           
One man who lived in a college town told about the time that he and his wife invited a college student and the young woman his was dating to their home for lunch on a Sunday. As they relaxed he asked the young man, "Why don't you take your coat off?" The host had already taken off his tie and coat. The young man hem-hawed around, however, as if he didn't want to take off his coat. Finally, he got the host off in a corner and said "The only parts of my shirt I ironed were the cuffs and the collar." He had pressed just the parts that showed. The rest of the shirt looked as if he had ironed it with a weed eater! That was the way of the Pharisee in the story: the part people could see looked great, but a weed eater appeared to have done the ironing on the inside. (Mike Cope, Righteousness Inside Out Nashville, Tenn.: Christian Communications, 1988, 26)
           
The reason Jesus and the Pharisees seemed to butt heads on so many issues may rest in their different notions about how best to preserve the integrity of their faith. While the Pharisees strictly adhered to the separatism proclaimed in Psalm 1, Jesus was convinced that new, innovative tactics were now called for that led to engagement and interaction with any and all people.  The Pharisees were fearful of contamination.  They were convinced that their inner lives could be soiled just by being engaged with people who did not abide by the same rules as they did. 
          
Jesus’ approach was very different.  It was almost as if the outcasts, marginalized and victimized in the culture were wearing magnets drawing Jesus to them.  Jesus never met an outcast of society he did not like.  As a result he was accused of being a glutton and a wine bibber.  The outcasts flocked to him and the Pharisees were repelled by him.  Some of Jesus’ harshest statements were made to Pharisees.  Some of Jesus’ kindest, most merciful statements and actions were expressed to outcasts
           
The parable makes the point that God’s acceptance of people is based on God not on the efforts of anyone trying to establish his or her own righteousness.  The parable makes its point by means of the reversal of stations in life so familiar in Luke when dealing with the self-righteous and the humble, the strong and the weak, the haves and the have-nots.  The Pharisee trusts in himself; the tax collector trusts in God: that is the difference. 
           
This insight has been the basis of reform in religion and especially in Christianity through the centuries.  Nothing narrows the mind, blurs the vision, dims the possibilities and limits the horizon quite like self-righteousness does.  Nothing broadens the mind, clears the vision, brightens the possibilities and expands the horizon quite like humility does. 
  
When religion becomes preoccupied with the niceties of liturgy, the nuances of language, the novelties of music, art, and architecture, but forgets the neighbor, then religion has been reduced to cultic correctness; and the word from God, “I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice” needs to be heard and heeded.  Or when religion is conceived only in terms of church attendance, general decency, and doing what is expected, then religion may have become reduced to the satisfying of regulations, and that word from Jesus needs to be heard, “Go and learn what this means . . .”

Authentic faith has that rich word hesed (mercy) at its center, recalling God’s steadfast love and mercy and then calling for lives that respond to that love with loyal devotion to God and loving service to one’s neighbor.
I’ve mentioned this story before, but I think it bears repeating. Near the end of his life, Carl Sandberg, a great Illinois citizen and Chicago advocate, was asked by a reporter, “What in your opinion is the ugliest word in the English language?”  Sandberg frowned and repeated, “the ugliest word in the English language?”  The reporter and television audience waited with anticipation.  He looked in the distance as he contemplated the answer.  He continued to mumble, “Ugliest, ugliest word?”  Finally as everyone strained forward to hear his answer, he said, “The ugliest word is –exclusive.”

Humility means to be inclusive.  It means that I know that I can learn something from every person and every relationship.  It means that every person is a potential teacher and when I am teachable the horizon is always expanding.  It means to be open to learning.  It means there is no one outside the realm of relationship.  This is what the tax collector was saying in his prayer.  “If there is room with God for me, there is room for anyone and everyone.  If God accepts and loves me, then, there is no one unacceptable to God.”  To be humble is to be teachable.  It is the opposite of the arrogant attitude that we know it all.  I’m reminded of a conversation a Texan was having with an Okie.  The particular Texan was bragging on the “bigness” of everything in Texas and was surprised when the “Okie” agreed with him, saying, “Yes, that’s right, everything is big in Texas!  Why, I once knew a Texan who was so big they couldn’t find a coffin big enough to bury him when he died.  “And what did they do?” asked the surprised Texan.  “Well,” came the answer, “they just let the air out of him and buried him in a shoebox!” 

Jesus invited people to be his disciples in the sense of asking people to walk with him.  Jesus did not say to potential disciples, “Come believe with me.”  Jesus said, “Come, follow me, walk with me.”  To walk with Jesus will not exempt us from the dark places in life but to walk with Jesus is to walk in humility.  To be humble is to be teachable.  When we are teachable the horizon expands and expands and expands.  No matter how much we learn there is more to learn.  No matter who or how many we include there are always more to be welcomed and included.

The invitation from God to us is, “Expand your horizons.”  And how do we do that?  We expand our horizons by being teachable as the publican in the parable was.  Let’s be teachable and watch our horizons expand and expand and expand!