Jeremiah 14:7-10, 19 – 22; Psalm 84:1-7; 2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18; Luke 18:9-14
Two women came to my door this week, wanting to talk about God and the Bible. I told them I probably wouldn’t read their literature, but they left it anyway. As I was about to throw it away, I noticed that one of the ladies had included a hand-written letter with the literature. This I read, admiring the deep-seated beliefs that prompted them to approach strangers and put up with so much rejection in the hope that someday someone would listen to their interpretation of the Scriptures and be saved.
The letter directed me to Matthew 6:9-13, which is the Our Father, and then went on-in the spirit of the Book of Revelation—to describe what a paradise there will be on earth for those who, I assume, are among the chosen saved ones.
Our reading from the gospel for today is not in Matthew, but in Luke. There are two people in the story, both men, both at the Temple to pray. They are not praying the Our Father. Jesus says the one is a Pharisee and he is grateful for his rigorous observance of the Law. He is thankful he is not like the rest of men. Then there’s a tax collector. He knows where he stands in terms of Temple worship and observance of the law. He doesn’t have the “points,” the good works, the evidence of largess, that could possibly gain God’s or his religion's favor. And so he beats his chest and asks for mercy. And something happens to him. He goes home “exalted.” Wouldn’t a synonym for that be “exhilarated,” “touched by God?”
As David Lose from Luther Seminary in Minnesota writes, this parable is ultimately not about a Pharisee and a Tax Collector, or about self-righteousness and humility—it’s about God and how He breaks down class distinctions and religious distinctions and how he usually comes down on the side of those who ARE down. The very next passage in Luke is about children—to such, Jesus says, the kingdom of God belongs.
There has been a lot written about the Kingdom of God, this place where God dwells and to which our earthly journey leads. Where is it? When Jesus tells us it is “not of this world,” and lets us conclude that neither the Pharisee nor the tax collector needed to go to the Temple to find God, we can now understand today’s Psalm in non-localized terms: “How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord of hosts?” We can sing it using Braham’s haunting melody in his Requiem, and feel a full measure of His Peace. Truly “a day in your courts is better than a thousand elsewhere.” It keeps us going back to try prayer again and again, even during the desert times of our lives.
I can’t thank God for not attracting me or causing me to be born into a religion that goes door to door. But I can know that He loves those who are on BOTH sides of those doors. The way I read this parable, the point is NOT that the Pharisee is going to hell. The point is that the way to pray, to get in touch with God, is simply to throw out all you think you’ve done to deserve His Presence, and to just make room for Him. And if you want to use words, those of both the Our Father or the prayer of the tax collector will suffice. You can even complain loudly as the widow did before the unjust judge, or the people in Jeremiah’s time who did not at all like how God was dealing with them, but concluded by admitting, much like the tax collector’s prayer implied: “We set our hope on you.”
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