PROPER 25C - Jeremiah 14:7-10, 19-22; Psalm 84:1-6; 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18; Luke 18:9-14 - 28 October 2007 - A sermon preached by The Rev. Peter A. Munson for St. Ambrose Episcopal Church, Boulder, Colorado

 

God-Focused Honesty

 

Jesus tells a parable. Two men went up to the temple to pray.

 

One was a Pharisee. The Pharisees, of course, were the people of faith of Jesus’ day. They were the Jews who studied the Torah and worked hard to follow its teachings. They really did their best to live out their faith. They strived to live a righteous, holy life, and if you wanted to do the same, you’d probably look to the Pharisees as a model for how to do that.

 

One was a tax collector. The tax collectors of Jesus’ day were despised. They collected the taxes for the Roman government, which ruled over Israel. And they were notorious for collecting more than was due, and lining their pockets with the difference.

 

These two - the faithful Pharisee and the sinful tax collector - go up to the temple to pray. But it’s not a parable about prayer. It’s a parable about honesty - and dishonesty.

 

According to Jesus, the Pharisee stands by himself. This is a telling introduction. As he begins to pray, we realize - more and more - how very alone he is. The Pharisee prays, but he prays to himself. He starts right in, but it’s as if he is oblivious to where he is, and that God might be around. He addresses his prayer to God, but what he is really doing is telling God the way things are. “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.” He immediately starts comparing himself to others, and if you’ve ever fallen into this trap - and I have! - you know it’s not at all productive. You end up either artificially inflating or deflating yourself. In this case, you can hear and see and feel the utter contempt the Pharisee has for the tax collector, during his time of prayer. He’s ready to spit on him.

 

The focus of his prayer is himself, and others come up only as he mentions how good he is in comparison to them. There is no focus on God at all. He goes on to tell God that he fasts twice a week, and tithes. “See how righteous I am, God?” Good and important things - fasting and tithing. Jesus commended them as things we should do. We get reminded of that every Ash Wednesday. But the Pharisee has missed the point. Fasting and tithing are supposed to be spiritual practices that bring us closer to God, and draw us into loving service of our neighbor. Neither of those things had happened for this man. The spiritual practices had become for him the spiritual end, not the means. The real spiritual end - deeper relationships - had not emerged, for he was not focused on a desire for God. In fact, the very opposite thing had happened, even though he was tithing and fasting. The Pharisee’s contempt for his fellow man and his lack of honesty before God had distanced him from his fellow human beings, and - without realizing it - he had erected a wall between himself and God.

 

In contrast, the tax collector’s focus is on God from the very beginning. He stands far off from the temple, according to Jesus. He possibly made it to the temple courtyard.

 

Maybe he didn’t even make it that far. He stands far off, because he is very much aware that as he approaches the temple, he is approaching holy ground. He knows that God is there, he knows that God is holy, and he knows the truth about himself. He knows that he is not exactly the holiest man around. In fact, he’s not sure he should be anywhere near God’s holy temple.

 

But his need is so great that he approaches the temple anyway. He has come to pray, and he gets right to the point. And as he gets to the point, his feelings about himself come up, and they are absolutely overwhelming. He can’t even take his eyes off the ground, and his fist comes up to his chest, and starts pounding away. It is a position of submission and humility, yes. I think in this case there is some very real self-hatred going on, too. How do I know? Because I’ve not only been in the place of the self-righteous Pharisee. I’ve also been in the self-loathing place where the tax collector is in this particular moment.

 

But he knows what he wants to say. He is not long-winded. “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” I don’t think Jesus gives us all the details. My sense is that the beating of his chest continued as he said these same words over and over again, all the time with downcast eyes.

 

“God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”

“God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”

“God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”

“God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”

“OH, MY GOD! BE MERCIFUL TO ME, A SINNER!”

 

No other words would come. Just those words, over and over again. He knew the truth - that he was a sinner, and that he needed God’s mercy, God’s forgiveness, God’s grace and love. He needed God to recognize him and give him more than he really deserved.

 

He doesn’t compare himself to anyone else. He just comes before God, recognizing that God is there, recognizing that only God can help him, and he speaks the truth about himself. The focus of his prayer was God, and his need for God.

 

HONESTY

 

Who is the honest one, as these two men pray? It’s the tax collector. That sinful, hated, despised tax collector. Jesus says he is the one who went home justified. Not just forgiven, but justified! A word that means “right with God.” He went home, having been made right with God.

 

And the dishonest one was the Pharisee, who failed to see the truth about himself - how distant he was from God and from his fellow men, and how immature he was in his faith, because he still hadn’t learned very much about how to love, how to demonstrate compassion to another person in need. The Pharisee just left the temple and went home. Period.

 

Do you think of yourself, generally, as an honest person? I do. But lately I have been realizing that I am not always as honest as I think I am. Honesty has to do with telling the truth and being trustworthy. But when you look up the word in the dictionary, you will find another definition that says “being what it seems; genuine.” In other words, we can tell the truth, but not the whole truth. We can withhold some of what is going on for us - our thoughts, our feelings, our opinions.

 

Have you ever been in the company of people saying sexist things or racist things or gay-bashing things, and it made your skin crawl, and you didn’t speak up, because you were simply too timid? I have. That is not being genuine. That is being dishonest.

 

Have you ever offended someone, and realized it, and not gone to that person and apologized? I have. That is not being real, not being honest.

 

Have you just held back from sharing your feelings with someone that you really care about, whether those feelings be sadness or anger of fear or joy, simply because you were overwhelmed by your feelings, and it felt too vulnerable to share what was going on inside for you? I have. That is withholding, which is a form of dishonesty.

 

Have you ever come to God in prayer, and started reporting things from your day, and maybe you even said some genuine intercessory prayers on behalf of others, but didn’t say to God that thing that was most on your heart? Perhaps it had to do with something you were angry with God about. Perhaps it had something to do with feelings of jealousy, or covetous feelings - things that you are not very proud of. And you just left that thing out of your conversation with God? I have.

 

Have you ever failed to stand up for yourself, failed to advocate for yourself, failed to state something about who you are and the gifts you have to offer, when you knew it would not have been bragging, but helpful and appropriate to do so, and still you said nothing? I have.

 

Have you ever had something important to add to a conversation, perhaps a different point of view that hasn’t been offered yet, and you just sat there quietly, paralyzed - for one reason or another - and said nothing? I have.

 

Have you ever gossiped about other people, or put them down, when they are not there to defend themselves, and if they were there, you know you would not be saying those things? I have.

 

Have you ever had some constructive criticism to offer someone, and failed to ask them, “Would you care to hear some feedback?”, or “Could I talk with you for a few minutes?”, and you knew you missed a special opportunity to speak the truth in love? I have.

 

All of these are forms of dishonesty - either before God, or before other people, or both. And there is a huge cost to this dishonesty. When we are not real, when we don’t let what we are thinking and feeling out - I’m assuming we share it in an appropriate way, in as loving a way as possible, by the way - when we don’t speak the truth to the one we need to speak it to, whether that be God or my spouse or my child or my co-worker or to a fellow member of St. Ambrose or to a stranger who has just been rude to me in public, then the result is what we might call “the gap.” Distance is created. Not only that, the potential creative energy that could be there in our relationships goes “poof!”. It goes somewhere else, but it goes. It’s just like the distance that existed between the Pharisee and God, between the Pharisee and his fellow man.

 

I think there is one key thing that bridges that gap, one thing that quickly closes the distance between God and me, or between you and me. When I can be honest, in as loving a way as possible... when I can be appropriately vulnerable and honest, in the same way that the tax collector was vulnerable and honest, then the gap is suddenly gone, and God is right there beside me again, because I have done something to move closer. You and I are suddenly walking side by side again, and feeling how much we have in common as beloved children of God, when one of us - or both of us - make a move to be honest and vulnerable and real.

 

I think this kind of honesty happens much more frequently when we adopt an attitude that says, in effect, “God is here right now. And I can’t pull the wool over God’s eyes. God knows the truth about me already.” When our focus is on God, as it was for the tax collector... when we remember that God is indeed right here with us - even if we feel like we are very far away - if we can remind ourselves that Jesus is indeed with us, as he said he would be, then suddenly it makes it a little easier to be real, to be honest.

 

“Oh, yeah. God’s here, and God wants me to speak the truth in love. Don’t you, Lord? Give me the right words, Lord. Help me to speak in a spirit of love. And help me to be honest - not withholding, not sugar-coating, not hedging and hemming and hawing, not striving to please others. Help me to keep things real, like the tax collector did.”

 

“God, me merciful to me, a sinner!”

 

It doesn’t get much more real than that.