This sermon was preached at St Peter’s Evangelical-Lutheran Church, Public Schools Club, Adelaide, 9am
Grace, mercy and peace be to you from God our Father, and from our Lord Jesus Christ.
I tell you, this man went down to his house to his house justified, rather than the other.
Prayer: Let the words of my mouth, and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.
Today, in our Gospel reading, we have a very well-known parable of Jesus, where he speaks about a Pharisee and a tax-collector. And the Evangelist who wrote this Gospel, St Luke, introduces this parable by giving a little explanation about its meaning. He says: He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and treated others with contempt.
Let’s keep this little sentence in the back of our mind. In the meantime, let’s read the parable.
Jesus says: Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. Today, the contrast that Jesus makes between these two men is very significant. When we hear the word “Pharisee”, we often think in our heads about some religious hypocrite, who thinks he’s better than anyone else. But in those days, in those ancient times, when Jesus was telling this parable, the Pharisees were considered the true, religious holy men. They were the people who people considered to have really dedicated their lives to God, and who were real examples of spirituality and religious life and faith.
On the other hand, we have a tax collector. Now, even in Australia today, no-one really like things to do with tax. At tax time each year, there’s always a question in many people’s minds: have I paid too much tax, or have I paid enough tax?... and all that kind of thing. However, in those days, these tax collectors were collecting tax for the Romans. And so, because they were Jewish, and they were collecting tax for the Romans—who were the invaders, if you like—the tax collectors were seen as not just collecting tax, but collecting tax for the enemies of the Jewish people. Also, they probably had a certain reputation that they would also collect a little “tax” if you like for their own pockets at the same time. So, when we in Australia here the word “tax collector”, we might think of someone who has an office job at the Australian Tax Office. In those times, when people heard this word, they not only think of someone who collects tax, but someone who is working for the enemy, who is a traitor, and maybe even a kind of opportunistic thief.
And so, when Jesus tells this little story about a Pharisee and a tax collector, he puts alongside of each other two men: one who is a person who has the highest respect of people in terms of faith, religion and their life; the other who is a person who is one of the most despised, treacherous, “low-lifes” in the eyes of people.
And this is what is so important about this parable. This is who these men are “in the eyes of people”. And yet, at the end of the parable Jesus says: I tell you, this man [the tax collector] went down to his house justified, rather than the other [the Pharisee]. From the point of view of human appearances, what Jesus says about these two men is completely the opposite of what we might expect.
Now, in the Old Testament, there is a wonderful verse, which comes from the event where Samuel went to anoint the young boy David as the king. It says: For man looks at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart. Now, this is so important for us as Christians, and often if people leave the church in anger, it is often because they feel as though they have been misjudged. We should never assume that this person is such-and-such because they look a certain way, or that this person is such-and-such because they look a certain way. But in many situations of life, there are often two types of people: there are those who care about how things really are, and then there are those who care only about how things look. Make sure you are a person who cares about how things really are, not just about how things appear to your eyes.
This kind of difference in attitude can be applied to all kinds of realms of life. For example, a great politician is often a person who cares about how things really are, and a useless politician is often a person who only cares about how things look. They think, “As long as things look right, everything is right”. But it’s not necessarily true.
But let’s come back to spiritual matters, though. The whole question about the difference about how things look, how they appear, and how things really are is a deeply profound question. For example, to everyone, the death of Jesus looks like the greatest failure of any person in history ever. And yet, we know full well, that the death of Jesus is actually the greatest victory, the greatest success, the greatest triumph of any person in history ever. There is such a profound difference between how the cross looks and what the cross really is.
When we are dealing with appearances, we’re only dealing with the shell of something, the husk. But when we’re dealing with realities, with facts, with real tangible things that are true, we’re dealing with the heart of something, with the core of it, with the reality of it. Even in preaching, a pastor can make a good speech and stir people up and enthuse them and set them almost on fire, with powerful words, and eloquent and lofty speech, and yet, even a couple of weeks later, everything can be completely forgotten, because there was no substance in it.
This distinction between appearances and realities comes right back to the heart of our spiritual life as Christians. When St Paul writes about the spiritual battle, in Ephesians 6, or “spiritual warfare”, as we sometimes say, he tells people to put on the whole armour of God. And what is the first piece of armour he tells us to put on? He says: Fasten on the belt of truth. The belt of truth is the first thing. When we are dealing with God, we are not dressing up and playing pretend. Rather, we are dealing with real things, with the truth, with facts, with realities.
And so, in our reading today, where Jesus speaks about this Pharisee and this tax-collector, he completely blows up in our faces all pretentiousness and all trust in appearances.
So, let’s come back and have a look at our reading. Jesus says: The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner.’
One of the greatest obstacles to people believing in the Christian faith, and trusting in Jesus, is the idea in their head that they think that they are a good person. Now, from the point of view of human appearances, there are many people who are good and honest citizens, who are friendly and helpful and kind, and all that kind of thing. There are many people like this who are Christian, and there are many people like this who are not Christian. And this kind of human goodness, human kindness, is a kind of righteousness that helps to build a society, and all that kind of thing. The Pharisee in our reading may very have been this kind of person—the kind of person who is a good and honest citizen, and who makes a positive contribution to society.
But Jesus gives us a little window into this man’s prayers. And the man’s prayers demonstrate the incredible spiritual darkness that is found in this man’s heart. Because the darkness of self-righteousness is really the darkest darkness.
Now, the man says that he is not an extortioner. You know, it’s a good thing not to be an extortioner. And as Christians, we would also say that we shouldn’t extort money, and blackmail people to get something from them.
He says that he is not unjust. It’s also a good thing to be just and fair in our dealings with people. If we some injustice, where people are treated unfairly, we should try to fix it.
He also says that is not an adulterer. You know, it’s also a good thing not to be an adulterer. We live in a society full of adultery, where there are marriages breaking up, people abandon their spouses for someone else they think is better looking, or they “try before they buy”, so to speak, and sleep around before they are married. All of this contributes to a terrible breakdown in society, and it’s good thing to live a sexually pure and decent life, and to get married, or remain single with honesty and integrity.
He says: I fast twice a week. You know, there’s nothing wrong with doing this. Fasting is a good thing, and it keeps our bodies in check, and is a good discipline.
He says: I give tithes of all that I get. There’s also nothing wrong with giving tithes, and making financial contributions to the house of God and the work of God’s kingdom.
But remember that Jesus says that this man who has done all these good things and lived this kind of life is not the man who went down to his house justified. Take notice of this word: justified. This word justified has to do with righteousness, being right before God, being saved.
When he stands before God, what is his righteousness? What does he think makes him right before God? He says: God, I thank you that I am not like other men. Wrong, Mr Pharisee! Wrong! You are exactly like other men. You are sinner, just like everyone else, but the worst thing about it is that you can’t see it. You see the speck in other people’s eye, and you don’t notice the log in your own eye.
And what kind of other men is he not like? He says: extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. His righteousness consists in being better than other people. Actually, this is the problem: he actually really ignores the law of God, and the 10 Commandments. He sets up for himself a different God, even sets himself up as a different God, where he makes his own law – some of which is also God’s law – but he simply rattles of the commandments and sins which he personally just finds quite easy to avoid.
But they are only easy to avoid in a superficial way. He doesn’t realise that there is a real God in heaven. And this real God has a real law. And this real law was given to a real Moses on a real Mt Sinai on real stone tablets. And it is the real standard of our holiness and righteousness and purity, and even our morality.
The Pharisee just treats God’s Word and God’s law like a kind of souvenir samurai sword. He looks at it, and he admires it, and as long as it just sits there, nice and shiny and polished on his mantlepiece, it’s no danger to him. What he forgets is that this samurai sword is a real weapon, that a warrior uses against his enemies, and plunges it right through their guts. That’s what the Law of God is like – it is the Sword of the Spirit. It is a double-edged sword, piecing the division of soul and spirit, or bone and marrow. Remember when Peter was preaching on the day of Pentecost, the people were cut to the heart.
This Pharisee is not cut to the heart. He has not been born from above, born anew, born again, in such a way that his old life has been killed off by the uncompromising, and unrelenting sword of the Spirit, the word of God, and more specifically, the law of God.
So, he thinks: well, if I want to go to heaven, all I have to do is avoid certain big sins in a superficial way. As long as I don’t do X, Y or Z, I should be right. There are many people in the world like this, and many people in Australia. They think: I’m a good person. I haven’t stolen anything, I like to do to others as I would have them do to them, I haven’t killed anyone. But look at Adam and Eve. They were told simply: Don’t eat from this tree. But they did. Could you imagine if they had said to God, “But at least we only had bite. At least we didn’t eat two apples.” God said, “no”, and that was all they had to do.
The Pharisee is like this. At least I’m not like him. At least I’m not like others who are much worse than me. So God should at least be merciful to me on that account, and let me into heaven when I die. After all, if he doesn’t let me in, who can go to heaven?
And it’s not that the Pharisee necessarily thinks he’s sinless, either. It’s just that he thinks it’s not very serious or important. After all, in his mind, whatever he has done wrong, needs to have a sacrifice offered for it, and a payment made for it. So he offers to God his sacrifice of his own fasting, twice a week, and his own payment, in giving a tenth of all that he has. I’ve done my bit, he thinks, I’ve ticked my boxes, and I’m right with God.
Remember St Paul in Ephesians. Fasten on the belt of truth, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. What the Pharisee says is not truth, it’s just appearances. And what he is describes is not righteousness, either. What he wears before God is a flimsy moth-eaten belt, if is even a belt at all, and a weak breastplate, that doesn’t protect him at all. In actual fact, as Jesus says: For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled. What a shock he will receive when he realises that the righteousness he brags in is not God’s righteousness, and his sacrifice and his payment are not even close to being remotely sufficient in making any sort of atonement whatsoever.
Let’s look at the tax collector. We read: But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’
This is a man who has the real God, and who looks straight into God’s real law. He has not fashioned any golden calf for himself, or any neat little system so that he can appease the so-called “god” that he has made in his own image. No, he knows that God is holy. And when we say, “holy”, not just in the sense of being special, but also dangerous, like a lion.
Look at this man’s gestures. He stands far off. He recognises that his holiness is so far from God’s standard, that he doesn’t dare come too close. He would not even lift his eyes to heaven. He comes to God in his shame, and recognises in himself such a profound unworthiness. And it says: He beat his breast. He recognises that in this heart of his, somewhere in this chest of his, is a deep corruption, a stain, a blot, which he can’t rid himself of. It’s like he wants to rip his eye out or cut off his right hand. It’s as if he says: “Here is my sinful heart, God. And I don’t know what to do with it.” He feels his sin so profoundly. He despairs of himself and his own flesh.
And he says: God, be merciful to me, a sinner. Actually, the word “be merciful” is not the normal word that we might expect. In the liturgy, when we say, “Lord have mercy”, the word in Greek was “eleison”, “have mercy”. But in this prayer, the tax collector says “hilastheti”, which is more like saying, “atone for me”, or something like that.
So, this man recognises that he is a sinner. He doesn’t really give any great details. He probably thinks that he could sit there and enumerate specifics all day. But he’s a sinner, and that’s what he knows.
And instead of making his own sacrifice and making his own payment like the Pharisee, he leaves the whole matter to God. Be merciful to me, atone for me.
Actually, with Jesus, he does not thank God that he is not like this tax collector, or that he is not like other men. With Jesus, he actually enters into this world, takes on human flesh in his incarnation, and he makes himself exactly like other people, and even like this tax collector, in such a way, that he stands with the tax collector, and bears the burden of his sin, and clothes him with his own righteousness, forgiving him his sin, wiping away every tear from his eyes.
That’s what’s so dangerous about the man saying, “I thank you that I am not like other men.” For the sake of sanctimonious appearances, he wants even to be better than Jesus. And because people like the Pharisee have no recognition of their own sin, and of the holiness of God’s law, they simply have no need for Jesus. After all, they think: I’m a good person, and that’s all matters to them. And so they have no repentance, and therefore no need of a Saviour.
But for the tax collector, he places himself in God’s hands, in such a way that he sees that there is no hope in himself, and places all of his hope in God. God in his only hope. If I am to be saved, it must be you who rescues me, it must be you who has mercy me, you who forgives me, you who atones for me, and you alone. And Jesus does not in any way despise a broken and contrite heart, but says at the end of the parable: He who humbles himself will be exalted.
And so the people of appearances looks to fasting and tithes, or whatever else they want to offer, as their completely sufficient sacrifice and payment before God. The real sacrifice is the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, his suffering, his death, and the offering of his blood and his life. The real payment is this same ransom, the restitution, the atonement which made by Jesus. And Jesus really, truly, in all reality, and in actual fact, is our only hope. He death and his resurrection are the guarantee that all sin has been sacrificed for and atoned for and paid for, and it applied to us in the Word of God—in the preaching and absolution—and in the Sacraments—in the Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. God actually puts these things into our ears and into our own hands. So, let’s put away from ourselves all trust in our own works and in appearances, and trust in the real, true sacrifice and atonement of Jesus Christ. Whoever trust in him will never put to shame. God, be merciful to me, a sinner. Let Jesus and everything that he is be God’s mercy for you, and God’s atonement for you. Amen.
The peace of God which surpasses all understanding guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.
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