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October 28, 2007
In the Company of God's People
Luke 18:9-14
Astronaut Russell Schweikert, having returned from one of the Apollo missions; reflected on the attitude of the world as he viewed it from several miles above: “You go around it in an hour and a half. You begin to recognize that your identity is with that whole thing. And that makes a change. You look down there and you can't imagine how many borders and boundaries you cross again and again and again, and you don't even see them...Hundreds of people, killing each other over some imaginary line that you're not even aware of, that you can't see. And from where you see it the things is a whole and is so beautiful; and you wish you could take one in each hand and say, ‘Look! Look at it from this perspective. Look at that!'”
Wouldn't it be nice if there were some big soap-box we could get up onto – someplace where everyone could hear so that we could holler the astronaut's passionate injunction? Look at the world! Look at the gifts of creation that we have! Get a hold of yourselves and put the terror and the hatred behind you!
It's going to take more than that isn't it. “The attitude of the world…” It's a habit of the mind which causes even good folk to begin to think of themselves as somehow unique, or innately better than others. In spite of the splendor of the gleaming blue-green ball that space traveler's marvel at from miles out in space, the world is divided and subdivided, isn't it? by all sorts of lines of division. Not just national boundaries form the compartments that house the many parts, but issues of race and class and gender keep confounding the human community and erupting in various ways as groups and sub-groups seek to establish their own turf or claim their place at the center.
In the company of God's people, religious folks, unfortunately, often fall prey to the same habit. A New Yorker cartoon I recall has the traditional sign board out in front of a sanctuary door – you can see a stained glass window in the background – and on the board are the words: “The Church of the We're Absolutely Right and Everyone Else is Wrong!” One fellow standing on the street looking at the sign says to another, “And the interesting thing is, it's non-denominational.”
This Sunday is traditionally celebrated as Reformation Sunday in Protestant churches – or another ways of putting it, the day when Denominations came into being – for good or ill.
On October 31, 1517, Martin Luther wrote down 95 theses, 95 things over which he believed the church needed to repent in its practice and teachings. In Luther's time, the church was particularly interested in raising capital in order to construct a new basilica at the Vatican - the current St. Peter's. In order to raise funds, the church would sell indulgences which could be purchased to cancel out sins. Luther thought that forgiveness came through repentance, not purchases, he thought, furthermore, that it was God who forgave sins and not any priestly agency on earth, and that the church had become corrupted by its absolutism. Luther had no intention of creating a new denomination when he posted his notes on Wittenberg's Cathedral doors...but the natural consequence of reforming the church, was the division of the church, not once but many times. Each of these groups, including our own, at one point or another would have told you that theirs is the right way of doing, believing, responding to the word of God – and everyone else has it wrong.
In the company of God's people, one would expect that such separation and dissention and outright antagonism would be way out of line. But Jesus, of course, shines some light on that assumption. What makes this little parable of Jesus so accessible to us and one that seems to bristle with actual human energy and tension is the fact that Jesus has let us into the private prayers of two men. We overhear the secret assumptions of two people about themselves. Neither one is particularly healthy.
Neither of the two lies about himself. The Pharisee is correct in the assumption that he follows the laws of tithing...he gives charity to the poor, is regular at worship and is respectable and worthy to bear the name of Presbyterian or whatever. The other one was honest too. He had been engaged in some misappropriation of funds, a bit of skimming, and admits it. He is pleading with God to cleanse his soul. And each of these characters, in his own way, expresses what he thinks about the other. The Pharisee despises the other...and is thankful in his prayer that God spared him the indignation of being one of the great unwashed. The tax collector is smitten with a sense of unworthiness which keeps him afar off from the preening Pharisee. Yet, it is the sinner, not the righteous one who experiences the grace of God.
As is often the case, if you hear a story with a surprise ending enough times, it is not uncommon to miss the bite that's in it. The Pharisee is pretty taken with himself and since none of us likes a braggart, we are not too disturbed with Jesus' seeming critique of the Pharisee in spite of his seeming pietistic practice and discipline.
Let's think a minute, though. Suppose it is a sweet little old grandmother praying over the turkey dinner on Thanksgiving. “Dear God, we are grateful that we are not like other families we know: people who don't know you enough to offer thanks to you, families that have fallen apart and so they never gather around the table anymore. We rejoice that we went to church this morning to do what all people should do: render thanks to you as the Giver of all good gifts.” 1
And another example: my guess is that there is not one of you who hasn't heard yourself, perhaps with some frequency, saying, “There but for the grace of God go I…” Essentially, saying thank you God that I am not like my neighbor who got laid-off or mine is not like the family down the street whose kid got over their head into drugs, or the couple you've known since high school who just got divorced. It's the same thing isn't it? “Thank you God, that my life is more blessed than theirs is.”
In Tennessee Williams's play, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Big Daddy and his son, Brick, are at odds. The former feels that the latter has not used the gifts he's been given – squandering his talents and never measuring up to expectation. Brick and Big Daddy are in the basement in one scene – a room filled with stuff. “Big Daddy, why'd you buy all this junk?” “Because I wanted to live,” he answers. “Because I wanted my life to amount to something!” 2 Like the Pharisee who measured his goodness by the quantity of his good deeds, Big Daddy needed the weight of his stuff to feel like he had worth – that his life had meaning.
When we compare ourselves to others, whether it be in prayer as the Pharisee does himself to the Tax Collector, or if it becomes the motivation for the kinds of priorities we set for ourselves in life – keeping up with the Joneses, having bigger and better stuff than the next guy – then we are losing sight of the nature of God's grace. The Tax Collector's situation forced humility on him, but it turns out to be a good thing. It helped him ask God for the right thing in the right way even as it helped him be properly grateful for any forgiveness he did receive. He understood the role that the choices he had made in life had played in setting the stage for his current state of affairs. It wasn't the luck of the draw – and it wasn't a score-keeping God who pins a medal on the one who does the most good deeds.
Catholic or Protestant - Presbyterian or Baptist – orthodox or free-thinker, we are all in the company of God's people. We are prone from time to time to self-righteousness wanting our group to be recognized for our faithfulness and sometimes claiming to have the inside track on what God wants and who God loves the most. Jesus, in this parable says, stop looking at the other guy to justify yourself.
The story is told about Gregory Peck, the actor, who with some friends was waiting for a table at an exclusive restaurant in New York. The line was long and the wait extensive so that one of his companions said to the actor, “Why don't you tell the maitre d' who you are?” Gregory Peck responded with great wisdom. “No,” he said, “if you have to tell them who you are, then you aren't.”
Our Pharisee was just not sure God would recognize him, unless he pointed out just how much more pious he was than the little guy. The Tax Collector is not a bum but he is no angel either. However, there is something in the way the little guy approaches God that lets us know that he knows in his heart that in spite of his possible misdeeds, he can address God without fear and make a claim to God's grace: “Meanwhile the tax man, slumped in the shadows, his face in his hands, not daring to look up, said, ‘God, give mercy. Forgive me, a sinner.'”.
We are all in the company of God's people – each blessed in our own way, not by what we have or don't have – or what we have done or failed to do. A child asks his dad for $15.00 so they can buy dad a birthday present. Dad knows who bought the tie, it doesn't matter that he also paid for it. Everything we do for God or for each other in God's name we do, as someone has said, “because God slipped us the money in advance….”
Everything we do as God's people, we do because God, in Christ has made a way for us. We are all in the company of God's People – tax collectors, Pharisees, who knows what– what that means is that God has done the same for us…equipped us for something better. What shall we do with what we have been given? God has opened the way, now what shall we do? Amen.
1 Example used in a discussion of Luke 18 on the Website, “The Center for Excellence in Preaching” sponsored by Calvin Theological Seminary, Grand Rapids, Michigan. Go Back
2 Quoted by Michael L. Lindvall, The Christian Life: A Geography of God, Westminster John Knox Press, 2001, p. 116. Go Back
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Phone: 319-364-6148
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