The Jesus Prayerable & God's Favorite ~ Luke 18:9-14 (Short Stories Jesus Told)

⁹ To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: ¹⁰ “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. ¹¹ The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. ¹² I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’¹³ “But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’¹⁴ “I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” ~ Luke 18:9-14
Misunderstandings. They can be ridiculous. A misheard word, a funny autocorrect, and a once boring conversation becomes quite spicy. A couple of days ago a friend texted me that she was making “ham sanitizer.” But sometimes misunderstandings can be painful, even potentially deadly. Like when the climber Craig DiMartino misunderstood what his belayer wanted him to do and fell 100 feet – losing his leg and almost dying. Misunderstandings can have dire consequences. That’s true of our parable today – not that it aims to create misunderstanding but that its topic is one of much misunderstanding and pain – pride. What is pride? Why is it dangerous to prayer and our relationship with God?
So I would like to start with what I believe is a misunderstanding with respect to pride and humility and show how our parable seeks to define and promote a humble, prayerful life.
Misunderstanding: The problem of pride is loving oneself and the cure is humility, which is self-loathing.

We need to acknowledge that the sin of pride has an uneasy legacy among Christians. It has been used to rob others of feeling good about themselves or their accomplishments. I often find its wreckage among a younger generation that has so internalized this idea that they feel like they must hate themselves to be truly worthy of God’s love or, at least, believe that God hates them.

This misunderstanding of pride was exemplified by Augustine who defined it as “the love of one's own excellence.” It looks like this funny cartoon:


But I think pride and the problem of our Pharisee is something else. Self-love is not inherently wrong nor sinful. In the Greatest Commandment and the Golden Rule, Jesus taught us that we are to love our neighbor as ourselves and to treat others as we would wish to be treated (Matt. 22:39 & Matt. 7:12). So we have not told the story of the Gospel rightly nor understood our parable correctly if we tell others or ourselves: “I’m dirty, awful, wicked, terrible, nasty, abhorrent, trashy, a loser – BUT God still loves me.” Being loved and forgiven by God does not demand poor self-esteem. Being loved by God doesn’t require anything. So you are not prideful if you like yourself.


And humility is not captured by thinking poorly of yourself. Stating the reality that, “I am a sinner” is not a declaration of worthlessness, as if sin has more power to determine to define you than God’s own love and grace. To the Pharisees among us who delight in fasting and giving – Great! There’s nothing wrong with that and these are good things. God loves obedient givers! To the tax collectors among us who inwardly or outwardly beat their breasts or hang their heads in shame, God says, before you do or say anything, “You are loved. Now lift up your head.” Hear me – I’m not saying that there isn’t a deep brokenness in us – a sin that so easily entangles us, harms us, wounds us, hurts others, or undoes us. I’m saying that you were made in love, you are saved in love, you are even judged in love. We have made sin wrongly synonymous with being unlovable when we should come to think of it as being incapable.
Better Understanding: Pride is the failure to recognize that love is not a contest in which I compete with others for God’s real affections.

So if pride isn’t so much the thought that “I’m awesome,” what is it? Another ancient Christian thinker from the Italian Renaissance, Dante Alighieri, defined pride as “love of self, perverted to hatred and contempt for one's neighbor”. Here the word “haughty” best captures the meaning. In vss. 9 and 11 we discover that pride glories in competitive spirituality. It’s the belief that love is a limited resource, gives only select prizes, is manifested by comparison and competition. My son when he was very young would openly rank his friends and would introduce them by saying, “Dad, this is Carter. He’s my fourth best friend.” The idea was like, “We’re friends but if you want to move up you gotta put in the work. Spots are limited.” The danger of pride, Jesus teaches us, is that the prideful person imagines the love of God to be a few lifejackets on a sinking Titanic that we must fight others for to truly stay alive. It’s the idea that to be worthy of God’s love is determined by some metric of comparison in which someone has to lose. To deal with pride is not to imagine that you are terrible but simply to realize that you are loved like everyone else – your boss who cheated on his wife, your cousin who can’t seem to shake that drug addiction, etc.

 

The Pharisee can’t see that he is both loved and broken like everyone else, which is why his prayer asks nothing of God. Notice that the text emphasizes that he “stood by himself.” He imagines he has everything he needs because he is better than other people, whom he characterizes as thieves, rogues, adulterers and tax collectors (He kind of stacks the deck, doesn’t he? He doesn’t mention Mother Theresa, for example). What more could he ask of God than the high standing that he already enjoys? This prideful attitude, of course, is the problem. The Pharisee imagines that he has no wounds. The desert fathers of the early church often spoke of being visited by the devil who would seek to coax them into all kinds of sin by appearing as Jesus. But they said that one should never worry too much about this but because one could always tell it was the devil in disguise. You could tell, they said, because the devil appearing as Christ would never have wounds; he was too prideful to bear them. The danger of pride is it encourages us to ask God for nothing, to believe that we have no need whatsoever – to find ourselves in the car of our spiritual lives utterly lost and yet refusing to ask for directions.

The Pharisees overblown sense of self seeks to build a wall between himself and sinners. But because God is always found with the humble his wall is what keeps him out. And if you cannot acknowledge your need, you leave yourself unwilling to receive.
 
Better Understanding: Humility is not self-loathing but the recognition of need.
In the Catholic Mass each week, Catholics all around the world join in a Latin prayer that anchors deep within the Gospels and the earliest church’s worship. They pray or sing: Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison (Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy). This, of course, comes from our Gospel text today. But what do we mean when we pray, “Lord have mercy”? Some may say we’re asking God to not punish us for our sin, to not rain down fury and violent retribution on our lives. And there’s a place for that. Sin is destructive toward others, harms our world, must not go unchecked. But perhaps it’s more correct to think that asking for God’s mercy is like saying: “We beg you for your mercy to be with us, because ours is not enough. We ask for your wisdom to be with us, your loving-kindness to be with us, because we just don’t have enough of our own. And we keep messing everything up.” (Accidental Saints, Nadia Bolz-Weber) We beg because we need help, because we’re broken much more so than we’re bad. And we beg for others because we remember how much it hurts to hurt.
In vs. 14 Jesus says, “I tell you, this man [the humble one] went down to his house justified rather than the other”.  Jesus does not tell us that the tax collector offers to refund ill-gotten money, as Zacchaeus will do (19:8). He does not say that the tax collector will change his ways and become respectable. The tax collector makes no offer to play the personal-achievement game. But what about the Pharisee? Who is this parable for? What is this parable about? Both the prideful and the humble are disciples. How do we know this? Well, first this parable is not for Jesus’ detractors but believers. The audience is told to us back in vs. 17:22, “the disciples.” Second, this is not a parable about salvation but about the danger of pride for kingdom people. Look at how the parable ends in vs. 14. God doesn’t abandon one for the other but works with both to bring them to God’s intended end. God will raise up the humble and lower the proud so that they can be in right relationship with others, themselves and God. So that they can stand in the same place.
We have four children and like all children they wanted to know where they stood. Was there a hierarchy of love? How did they measure up? And my wife, Marianne, approached this issue with wisdom and grace. I like to think that she answered the children with the mind of God. She would always end each conversation with one of our children, each moment on the phone, each snuggle on the couch or time of discipline, with the child by saying, “Always remember. You’re my favorite.” And sure enough the others would hear this declaration of love and know that it was true. It was true when they worked hard and made great accomplishments. It was true when they utterly failed, acted pridefully, felt ashamed or lost or afraid. It was also true for their brothers and sisters. And friends, whether you stand here today a Pharisee or Tax Collector – this one thing is true. You are his favorite as is everyone else and he will either raise you up or bring you down because he loves you. Let that truth lead you into prayer.

This sentiment is best captured by Mary Oliver’s poem,

Praying
It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch
a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway
into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.”

Do what?: Surpising Notes on a Predictable Parable ~ Luke 10:25-37 (Short Stories Jesus Told series)

“Do what?” is what my father would say when he couldn’t something. Not “What did you say?” or “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.” Or even, “Huh?” But as I was preparing this sermon I realized that my Dad’s funny question is the perfect one for Jesus’ parables reminding us to listen well because they always call us to “do” something. And that “do” was often shocking to Jesus’ audience in ways that’s sometimes are hard to duplicate. So today I want to use my Father’s question to help us hear this parable anew. Our first surprising note has to do with why the priest and Levite don’t stop.

          1.    Go to Jericho with Martin Luther King, Jr. – Why do the two men fail to stop?

One of the most common interpretations for understanding this parable is that the priest and the Levite fail to help because they are worried about encountering a potentially dead body thereby violating purity laws (e.g. Numbers 5:2; 19:11-13, says that those who touch a dead human being shall be unclean seven days). Now, this is certainly possible though admittedly an interpretation. We are never told why having seen the “half dead” man they both “passed by on the other side.” However, a seemingly incidental remark makes that interpretation suspect. We are told that the priest, along with the the robbed man, were not going up but  “going down" from Jerusalem to Jericho (vss. 30-31). That is, they are not going up to the Temple to perform priestly duties when such uncleanliness would have been, admittedly, a problem but away from the Temple and down to Jericho. Furthermore, the Babylonian Talmud, the interpretation of the laws found in the Pentateuch called for Jews to become unclean in order to care for a corpse that they encountered. It stated: “As long as there are no other people to look after the burial of a corpse, the duty is incumbent on the first Jew that passes by, without exception, to perform the burial.” Moreover, any self-respecting Jew would tell you that saving a life is so important that it overrides every other concern, including the Sabbath (1 Macc. 2:31-41). So it probably wasn’t legalism that kept them from helping the man. In fact, it was probably something far easier and more relatable then laws from Numbers that have little sway over our lives as Christians. But what is it? Well, I found my answer by locating a good guide – Martin Luther King, Jr. In the last sermon he ever gave, which was on this parable, in support of Memphis Sanitation workers who were serving in wretched conditions with unlivable pay. He preached: 

 

“I’m going to tell you what my imagination tells me. It’s possible that those men were afraid. You see, the Jericho Road is a dangerous road. I remember when Mrs. King and I were first in Jerusalem. We rented a car and drove from Jerusalem down to Jericho. And as soon as we got on that road I said to my wife, ‘I can see why Jesus used this as the setting for his parable.’ It’s a winding, meandering road. . . really conducive for ambushing. You start out in Jerusalem, which is about . . . twelve hundred feet above sea level. And by the time you get down to Jericho . . . you’re about twenty-two feet below sea level. That’s a dangerous road. In the days of Jesus it came to be known as the ‘Bloody Pass.’ And you know, it’s possible that the priest and the Levite looked over at that man on the ground and wondered if the robbers were still around. Or it’s possible that they felt that the man on the ground was merely faking , and he was acting like he had been robbed and hurt in order to lure them over. And so the first question that the priest asked, the first question that the Levite asked was, ‘If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?’ But then the Good Samaritan came by, and he reversed the question: ‘If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?'”

Then King mindful that the parable was also challenging him said, “If I do not stop to help the sanitation workers, what will happen to them?” 

After the sermon, King traveled to Memphis where in a few short days he was assassinated. There are bandits on the road. Whatever the motives of the priest and the Levite, King is correct. They thought only about themselves, not about the man in the ditch. Who will you think about?

That question has plagued me this week, plagued this sermon. I want to take this story seriously but I keep coming up against the thing that every preacher fears – the political moment – because I keep hearing Jesus say to me, to us, here and now, “Go and do likewise.” And I hear my Father’s question, “Do what?”

          2.     Do what?

One of our ECC leaders posted this picture on his Facebook this week. How does this story address that? Stay with me.

First, we must refuse to “test” one another and “justify” ourselves. Surprisingly, the lawyer knows the answers to his own questions, and in both cases Jesus expresses full agreement. Then what is wrong with this conversation? Despite the fact that we have two good questions, two good answers, and two men who seem to agree on almost every point, why is this conversation so troubling?

We are told by Luke in vs. 25 that the lawyer asks his question not with the intent to gain knowledge but “test” Jesus. The conversation is troubling because the lawyer seeks to win rather than know and live out the truth. Now it’s time for the Greek of the Week! To “test” ἐκπειράζων [ekpeirazō] is precisely what kingdom people should not do. It’s now how kingdom people should have a theological conversation. It’s what we are to pray to avoid Jesus tells us in Luke 11:4, just a few verses after the story of the Good Samaritan, “Do not bring us to the test.” Furthermore, it’s the activity of Satan himself who “tested” Jesus in the wilderness with Jesus shutting him up by quoting from Deuteronomy 6:16. Friends, the goal of theological conversation is not to outwit another nor is it simply to have the right answer. The lawyer was saying the right things. But Jesus seems to understand that you can be right and still miss God. You can be correct and still miss the point, still talk and think in an un-kingdom-like way. This parable should teach us in part how to love others and listen in a conversation. “Testing” others and “justifying” ourselves are not ways Jesus followers should talk. It feels like our current political moment wants us to “test” others and “justify” ourselves with questions that aim to challenge others rather than change ourselves.

2. We must say “no” to a message that would say people are expendable. The lawyer wants to know “Who is my neighbor?” He wants to suggest that there is a clear boundary between people that might limit our compassion, that would make us not responsible for their care. But this argument works both ways. While we cannot excuse neighborliness toward the weak and frail by being cavalier about their health, on the one hand, it’s also a form of “walking by them” to suggest that we don’t worry about the economy, the loss of jobs, the people out work, who are now struggling to feed themselves, to pay their bills, particularly when many of us have donkeys to spare, oil and wine to share, and denarii to give. We must “see” those in need and refuse to pass by. If you read the parable carefully, maybe the most unnerving thing about it is that “care” and “compassion” are not warm feelings of sentiment but inextricably linked to money. Not only does the Samaritan offer two denarii for the innkeeper to look after the man (A denarius was the usual daily wage of a day laborer). He goes on to offer a reimbursement for further expenses without even knowing what those would be.

Third, we must refuse to hate. The challenge of Jesus is not a “love” problem. Love in our current context is so milky soft and smooth, so sweet – no one would have a problem with it. No one. The “love” of Jesus, expressed in the parable, is that the neighborliness of the “kingdom of God” exists primarily as “love of enemy.” The neighbor of Jesus’ story is a hated enemy of Jews and not unnecessarily so – that is Samaritans could also, and did, do terrible, violent things to Jews. The lawyer is so horrified by the story that he can’t even say, “Samaritan” in answer to Jesus’ question. He can only say, “The one who had mercy on him.” Jesus isn’t just saying that we should “love” those who are ethnically or religiously different from us. He’s saying imagine an enemy and love him. But even further Jesus acknowledged that our enemies, even one’s whose theology is mistaken, can act in God honoring ways and love us in return. Who is the enemy that you refuse to name?

Fourth, we must practice compassion. When Jesus says “go and do likewise” he is inviting us to let God’s heart of compassion take root and grow in us. The literal meaning of “compassion” is to suffer with – to entwine one’s life with others such that there hurts are our hurts. In fact, the word in Greek is splagchnizomai and refers to the guts and this word is primarily used for Jesus in the Gospels.

Which person in the story are you?