Over the next few weeks we’ll be looking at some of the parables of our Lord. A parable is a fictional story told to illustrate a spiritual reality. Jesus told many of them. As a preacher, He knew that what people often remember best about a sermon are the illustrations. He understood that connecting truth with real life is the best way to ensure that it will be understood, and retained, and acted upon. For example, I doubt that any of us can recite passages from Aristotle or Plato, but we all know Aesop’s Fables; tales like "The Tortoise and the Hare" or "The Boy Who Cried Wolf". As a master communicator, Christ often presents his teachings in the form of a narrative. "A farmer went out to sow his seed," he begins, and immediately we’re hooked. We want to find out what happened to this farmer and why. And so we listen to what Jesus says, and we learn, and we apply it to our lives.
This morning, we’ll be looking at a parable from the gospel of Luke; one which involves a Pharisee, a tax collector, and an act of worship.
"To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told this parable: ’Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood up and prayed about himself: "God, I thank you that I am not like other men--robbers, evildoers, adulterers--or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get." ’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.’ ’I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.’" – Luke 18:9-14
Let’s begin by examining the main characters in this little drama. First, the Pharisee. The Pharisees were a prominent sect within Judaism whose religious practices were extremely strict. They labored diligently to observe every Old Testament law. And not content with that, they even went beyond the Scriptures, adding onto its requirements and inventing new rules to obey. The Law of Moses said to fast once a year; they fasted twice a week. The Law said to tithe their grain, to give the Lord ten percent of their wheat and barley; the Pharisees tithed their herbs as well. In matters of religious practice, they were highly scrupulous, careful to do all that the law required and more.
Now, those of us who have read the gospels, and who are familiar with Jesus’ harsh condemnation of the Pharisees, are really at a disadvantage. When we read the word "Pharisee," we immediately say to ourselves, "hypocrite". We assume that he is going to be the villain of the piece. But for a first-century audience, the initial reaction would have been precisely the opposite. They would have assumed that the Pharisee would be the hero of the story. Because the Pharisees were highly respected. They weren’t scorned as hypocrites; they weren’t mocked or ridiculed. On the contrary, they were admired as pious and devout men; they were looked up to as examples of godliness. As we read in Matthew, they received,
". . . the place of honor at banquets and the chief seats in the synagogues, and respectful greetings in the market places . . ." – Matthew 23:6-7
Pharisees were men of high status, men who expected, and received, a great deal of deference. On the other hand, when Jesus mentioned a "tax collector" as the second character in the story, the reaction of his hearers would have been anger and disgust. Tax collectors were the most despised of all men. Why? Well, the IRS agent has never been popular in any society. But the Jews’ hatred of tax-collectors was intensified by the fact that Israel was at this time under the control of Rome. Tax-collectors were Jews who had basically been given free reign to extort money from their countrymen, with the backing of the Roman military. As long as the Romans got their cut, they didn’t really care how much extra the tax collector demanded for himself. And so, many tax collectors grew wealthy at the expense of the poor, living in ease and luxury while everyone else suffered in poverty. They were seen as both dishonest and treasonous; corrupt men who had sold out their brothers for the sake of riches; despicable money-grubbers who had enriched themselves by collaborating with the Roman occupation.
You see, Jesus is setting up his listeners. He knows they’re emotionally programmed to root for the Pharisee and hiss at the tax collector. Thus, it’s all the more shocking when he reveals at the end that it’s the tax collector God is pleased with, and not the Pharisee. They would have been astonished. Dumbfounded. Outraged. A tax collector accepted by God, and a Pharisee rejected? How could that be? To answer that question, let’s look at the parable, verse by verse. It begins with these words,
"To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody else, Jesus told this parable:"
Here we are told the intended audience for the parable. It’s those who are (a) confident of their own righteousness, and who (b) look down on everybody else. And it’s been my experience that these two usually go together. Self-righteous people are seldom content merely to reflect on their own goodness. They need to be better than others. It’s not enough just to contemplate their own spiritual and moral achievements. Their happiness isn’t complete unless they can look down on everyone else, comparing their own exemplary righteousness with the inferior attempts of those below. It’s not enough just to admire themselves in the mirror; they also have to say, "mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the most godly one of all," and then imagine that they hear the Holy Spirit saying, "you are!" When you find a proud, self-righteous spirit, you will usually find a critical, judgmental spirit also.
Why? Because self-righteousness is relative. It needs something to compare itself to. None of us is absolutely righteous, none of us measures up to God’s standard. We’ve all sinned, we’ve all fallen short. Deep down, we know that. If the requirement for acceptance by God is perfect holiness, we know we have no chance. So what do we do? We go for the next best thing, which is to convince ourselves that we’re better than those other poor slobs. We may not be perfect, but at least we’re better than they are! And in order to judge ourselves as relatively worthy, we have to judge others as relatively unworthy. That’s why self-righteousness always goes hand-in-hand with a judgmental, critical attitude. Because in order for me to be up, they have to be down. It’s a zero-sum game.
Does it work? No. Never has, never will. Why not? Because God is completely holy, and his standard is perfect righteousness. It doesn’t matter if you’re a little better than someone else, or even a lot better than someone else. You’re still guilty of sin. You’re still condemned. The person who jumps halfway across the Grand Canyon winds up just as dead as the person who only jumps eight feet out from the cliff. They both fall a mile to the bottom. That’s why we have to depend on Christ’s perfect righteousness to make us right with God. Ours will never be enough, on either an absolute scale or a relative scale. And the more you understand that, and accept that, the less critical you will be of other people. You no longer have to push them down to push yourself up. And you realize that even if you could, it wouldn’t matter. Because you can’t be saved by your own works, you can’t gain God’s favor by being better than someone else. You can’t make it to heaven by even the most strenuous attempts at good behavior. All that matters is that Jesus Christ fulfilled all of God’s requirements, and gave his life to pay for our sins. Therefore everyone who is saved is saved on the same basis. Not because of our own worth or merit. But because of the worth and merit of Christ, which God transfers to our account when we place our trust in Him.
Now, I’ve been speaking of self-righteous people as "they," but the truth is that all of us are subject to spiritual pride, aren’t we? All of us, from time to time, fall into the trap of comparing ourselves with others. And so we all need to examine our hearts for evidence of a critical, self-righteous, Pharisaical attitude.
The comedian Jeff Foxworthy became famous with his routine, "You might be a redneck if . . . " Here are some of my favorites:
You might be a redneck if the directions to your house include the phrase "turn off the paved road".
You might be a redneck if your front porch collapses and four dogs get killed.
You might be a redneck if you took a fishing pole to Sea World.
You might be a redneck if you have to go outside to get something out of the ’fridge.
You might be a redneck if your dad walks you to school because you’re both in the same grade.
You might be a redneck if you have flowers planted in a bathroom fixture in your front yard.
You might be a redneck if you think the last words to the Star Spangled Banner are, "Gentlemen, start your engines."
Likewise, you might be a Pharisee if you spend a more time talking about the sins of others than you do in repenting and confessing your own.
Consider the so-called prayer of the Pharisee: "God, I thank you that I am not like other men--robbers, evildoers, adulterers--or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get." This is a perfect example of how it is possible to be completely right, and at the same time, completely wrong. Was it true what he said, that he was not a robber, or evildoer, or adulterer? Yes, it most likely was. And was it true that he fasted, and tithed? Again, probably yes. And were those good things? Yes. The Pharisee even made a show of giving thanks to God for his superior condition. So what was the problem? Why did Jesus say that God didn’t consider him to be "justified," or righteous? Because the Pharisee’s prayer was all about him, it was all about what he had done. "I - I - I - I". He wasn’t really praying. He was boasting. He wasn’t seeking anything from God, and certainly not righteousness. Instead, he was bringing his self-righteousness to God so that God could bless it and admire it. His attitude wasn’t one of overwhelming gratitude that he had such a merciful and gracious God. His attitude was that God should be thankful to have such a faithful and obedient servant as himself. The whole speech is just an orgy of self-congratulation, a blatant display of arrogance and spiritual pride, with God as the supposedly appreciative audience. Is that what God desires, that we appear before him with a list of our achievements, as if those would impress him or purchase his approval? Is that what God accepts, a recitation of all that we have done for him? No. Listen:
"O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise. You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it; you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise." – Psalm 51:15-17
"For this is what the high and lofty One says-- he who lives forever, whose name is holy: "I live in a high and holy place, but also with him who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite." – Isaiah 57:15
"Has not my hand made all these things, and so they came into being?" declares the LORD. "This is the one I esteem: he who is humble and contrite in spirit, and trembles at my word." – Isaiah 66:-2
What pleases God, what honors Him, what gains his approval, is that we bring to him, not our ability and sufficiency, but our emptiness. What God desires is that we acknowledge our sin and guilt and need of forgiveness. God desires that we come before him, not brimming over with foolish self-confidence, but broken in spirit, humbled by an awareness of how far we fall short. That’s the person, Jesus tells us, whom God will lift up and exalt. Not the person who thinks that God needs her, but the one who knows that she needs God.
There’s another reason that the Pharisee’s prayer was unacceptable to God, and that’s his lack of love, revealed in his contempt for the tax collecter, his disdain for the moral shortcomings of his fellow creature. As I noted before, this attitude of scorn and superiority was the corollary to his self-righteousness, but that didn’t make it any the less shameful. It reminds us of Paul’s well-known teaching in First Corinthians, that no amount of service or sacrifice means anything to God unless the motive is one of love.
"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing." – 1 Corinthians 13:1-3
What the Pharisee gained by all of his law-keeping was just this: nothing. In the same way, what we gain by our acts of service, if our purpose is to exalt ourselves above others, or to raise ourselves up so that we can look down on those around us, is nothing. Works done in love receive God’s approval and commendation. Works done in a vain attempt to establish our own righteousness receive God’s rejection and condemnation. In other words, if there’s no love in it, there’s no good in it.
How then, does the tax collector pray? ’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.’
Note first of all that he stands at a distance. He is not self-confident. He is not presumptuous. He does not regard it as his due that God should receive him or listen to his prayers. He is painfully aware of the fact that he is a sinner and that God is holy, and so he is not quick to enter God’s presence. He knows that God could destroy him on the spot on account of his sin – utterly annihilate him – and that his destruction would be entirely justified. And he knows that it is only the grace and mercy of God that restrains his hand from doing so. And so he trembles. And mourns. And beats his breast in an agony of spirit. And cries out, "God, have mercy on me, a sinner."
What a difference! First, notice how few his words were. The Pharisee babbled on for thirty-three words. The tax collector uttered only seven. Yet, they were exactly the right ones. He knew he had nothing to offer God, and he didn’t try. He knew he had nothing to boast of, nothing to claim as a reason that God should accept him. All he had to offer was his guilt, his emptiness, his need, his failure, his sin. But that was enough. Because he confessed his sin and trusted in God to show mercy. The Pharisee asked for nothing, because he didn’t think he had need of anything. But the tax collector saw his need, and he asked for and received forgiveness.
The great danger for us, as followers of Christ, is not so much that we will get our theology of justification wrong. We understand that salvation is by grace, through faith, and not by works. We understand that it’s the death of Christ on the cross which paid the penalty for our sins, and that we can do nothing to add to that. The danger is that we will start thinking of these truths as being in the past, as applying only to our initial entry into the faith, rather than to our whole life as disciples. We forget that our lives are to be characterized by continual repentance and confession. We forget that we will always be as dependent on God’s grace and mercy as we were at the very beginning. We forget that our attitude is always to be one of humility, and contrition, and brokenness, that our prayer every day of our lives must be, "God, have mercy on me, a sinner!"
And when we forget those things, then over time we take on the attitude of the Pharisee. We pray like this: "God, here are all the things I’ve done for you recently. Please bless what I’m doing for you now. Oh, and please help so-and-so with their sin problem. Amen." What’s wrong with that prayer? It’s upbeat, positive. Guaranteed to brighten God’s day, right? Wrong. It’s a stench in God’s nostrils. Why? Because it’s not a prayer; it’s a status report. There’s no weeping over sin, no mourning, no repentance, no confession of how desperately you need God’s mercy; no acknowledgement that without His grace you would be lost forever; no awareness of your need for forgiveness. And that translates into a high degree of self-confidence and self-righteousness. Let me give you a formula: High repentance; high awareness of need for forgiveness; high confession of sin = low self-righteousness. Low repentance; low awareness of need for forgiveness; low confession of sin = high self-righteousness. When you start to think that God doesn’t have much to forgive in your life anymore, that should be a warning to you that you are starting to think like a Pharisee. If that ever happens, go to God immediately and say, "Lord, open my eyes. Show me my sin. Don’t let me become complacent and self-satisfied. Reveal to me my need of forgiveness. Break my pride and give me grace to repent." And God will do that, through his Holy Spirit.
This passage ends with a terrible warning and a glorious promise. If you persist in an attitude of pride and self-righteousness, if you persist in an unloving, critical spirit, then God will humble you. He won’t regard you as justified. You won’t spend eternity in fellowship with Him, but rather in separation from Him. That’s the warning. But the promise is that if you will humble yourself, if you will confess and turn away from your sin, then God will lift you up; he will honor and glorify you together with Christ, for ever and ever. Won’t you do that now? Give up your stubborn, foolish pride. Confess your sin to God. Put your trust in Christ. Receive his grace and mercy.
(For an .rtf file of this and other sermons, see www.journeychurchonline.org/messages.htm)
