TRINITY XI

August 15, 2010

St. Augustine Anglican Church

“He that humbleth himself shall be exalted.”

The Rev. Gerald Parks +

          The Parable of the Pharisee and the Publican, heard as today’s Gospel (Luke 18; 9-14), is actually two lessons on the same theme: first, we cannot ever know the content of another person’s heart; and, second, being right does not always by itself make us righteous before God.  The contrast between the Pharisee and the publican in their prayers to God is not between the hypocrisy of the one and the humility of the other: the Pharisee was not hypocritical in his prayer - everything he said was true.  His condemnation came from presuming that his good works made him righteous in God’s sight.  The publican, on the other hand, recognized the huge gulf between God’s holiness and his own human baseness.  He didn’t pray for justice, but only begged for God’s divine mercy, and it was his plea, not the Pharisee’s, that was heard and justified.

          I think we all know people like the Pharisee and like the publican.  Often, the only thing we have to go by is their appearance, and what they communicate by their actions and by their words.  The inner workings of the soul, though, the secret thoughts and desires of the heart, are areas where we cannot go, and may not presume to try; because they are known only to God, whose judgments are based not on appearances, but upon the condition of souls.

          So here we have the Pharisee who thought he was righteous, and said so, and the publican who knew that he wasn’t, and begged for mercy.  The Pharisee did all the right things according to the Law of Moses; plus he said, “I fast twice in the week, [and] I give tithes of all that I possess.” (Luke 18: 12)  He was even correct about what he said about the publican: as a group the publicans were an unsavory lot.  Yet, Jesus said of this publican, “I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other.” (Luke 18: 14)  Our Lord saw through the phoniness of the Pharisee’s righteousness, right down to his proud and willful heart; and He heard the sincere prayer of the publican, “God be merciful to me a sinner,” (Luke 18: 13), and forgave him.

          It is difficult not to criticize or even condemn the Pharisees of our Lord’s time: their rigid interpretation of the Law made them unwilling and unable to recognize either our Lord’s message or His Person.  They weren’t bad people; rather, they were leaders of their society, and admired for their good works and generosity.  But like many people today, they had a serious flaw: they thought themselves justified before God by their works, and righteous because of their position in society.  The concept of repentance and forgiveness was foreign to them, because, in their own eyes, they just didn’t need it.

          The publican, on the other hand, wasn’t like that: he was humble before God, because he knew he needed to be.  He was not what one would describe as a good person, though he wasn’t a criminal exactly; but he could be accused (correctly) of doing what he had to do to get along.  Furthermore, his activities were repulsive to his neighbors, who thought him a sinner; and it was a description he himself shared.  It was this humble acceptance of what he was that marked the difference between the two: the one begged God; the other told God.

          In our world, there are any number of politicians and others in public life (and quite a few bishops, too) that would like to be thought of as “humble.”  And they would be too, except for one little detail: they aren’t, and it shows – their self-righteousness keeps getting in the way.  The fact is it is quite easy to tell if a person isn’t humble, even when they try to convince you that they are.  But it is almost impossible to detect true humility in anyone; it is a very elusive quality.  Chances are, the person who is truly humble will not even recognize it in himself – he just is, and to the truly observant, that too shows.

          Writing sermons can be a humbling experience; all those things we think we know have a way of “strangling” our ability to proclaim God’s word in any but a very slanted way.  By that I mean our receptiveness to the promptings of the Holy Spirit is often prevented or delayed by our own ego, if we allow it.  The sermon is waiting to be written, and it will be, but not until we allow (or force) our self-centered intellect to step aside and let God enter in.  It is at that point, when humility overcomes arrogance – only then – that something meaningful happens.  And so it is with life.

          It would be just too precious and “corny” to proclaim to you that “life is like a sermon,” but in many ways, it is.  Each day we write a few more lines in our life’s experience, lines that contain decisions made, relationships formed and opportunities taken, or missed.  We may not notice or much care about each paragraph we write, but as we reach the end, and get close to our “deadline,” we may look back at what we have written and wonder, “What in the world was that all about?”  To have meaning, a life, like a sermon, must have focus and purpose – so easy to say but so hard to do, without the personal humility to allow God to enter into it, shape it and govern it.  And like a sermon, life may be turned around at any point and redirected, toward a more purposed and meaningful conclusion.

          Are you like the Pharisee, all virtuous and self-righteous on the outside, but hollow and phony inside?  Or, are you like the publican, unable to get anything right in life, so much so that “he smote his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner? “(Luke 18: 13)  If God’s will is to be accomplished in us; if we are to be justified in the sight of God, we must first be willing to hear His word and humbly acknowledge that He is God, and we are not.  For as our Lord tells us, “Everyone that exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.” (Luke 18: 14)