Sermon for the
Twenty-second Sunday After Pentecost
Proper 25 C ~ October 28, 2007
Holy Trinity & St. Anskar
Thank God I am not like other men.
This beloved parable could stand on its own without
commentary. It doesn’t seem to veil any particular mystery. The proud are bad,
the humble are good. The wretched quisling of a tax-collector was more to be
admired than the exemplary Pharisee. Why? Because he recognized his own need.
I might recall
Fr. Konstantin’s explanation of repetitive prayer from last week: it’s not for
God; it’s for us. We need to be reminded constantly of our own need. The
Pharisee sure did. The tax-collector was closer to God because all he could do
was confess his own unworthiness, God, be
merciful to me, a sinner, which also happens to be the form of the Jesus Prayer, just like the plea of the
Ten Lepers. So, we should try to be like the tax-collector, and distance ourselves
from the Pharisee.
But then, we
encounter the real paradox of the parable, I think. After all, the Pharisee was
the one who was at pains to distance himself from other people. He represented
separation, the great chasm between
the just and the unjust, recalling Dives and Lazarus of a few weeks past. But
in this case, he was setting up the unbridgeable distance himself. As soon as
we start to harsh on that exclusivist, self-righteous Pharisee, we become like
him! (Wow! I sure am thankful that I’m not like the Pharisee!) Like Œdipus, by
trying to avoid it we run straight into the arms of what we despise!
All I can make
out of this story, really, is that justification comes through self-abasement: those who humble themselves shall be
exalted. And that means real humility,
in which I don’t think of myself as spiritually superior to anyone else,
including the Pharisee! That is much easier said than done. It is our natural
inclination to distinguish ourselves from other people, as the Pharisee did ~
to congratulate ourselves on not being like them. In the end, however, our only
hope of salvation is in being like them.
The Pharisee, who
was not justified, considered himself fundamentally different from other
people. He concentrated on his own separateness. He rejoiced that he was set
apart from other human beings. He was unaware that his only hope lay not in
separation, but in solidarity with the tax-collector. He needed to be MORE like
the tax-collector, not less. He needed to identify with the sinner. That is
very hard to do. Every instinct and cell of our body rejects the idea. Think
about it. I don’t know about you, but I really AM thankful that I am NOT like
those SUV-driving, torture-supporting, smug, self-satisfied, fundamentalist,
bible-thumping suburbanite Republicans! I am different from them. Separate from
them. And they can go to hell. I DO thank God that I am not like other men!
There probably isn’t any way out of
this. I certainly don’t want to be like the Pharisee, but I can’t help it, as
long as I think that way! It’s kind of a koan,
maybe. A paradox designed to make me give up a futile way of thinking. I need
to FORGET about the Pharisee altogether and concentrate on the tax-collector.
Try to be like him. Concentrate on my own need for mercy and nothing else.
Once more, I arrive at one of the
Gospel’s fundamental themes ~ of all revealed religion, really: judgment is
spiritual death. Judge not that ye be not
judged. Never condemn anyone. Love
your enemies. That includes the Pharisee. I must not scorn them. I must not
imagine myself to be superior to them or separate from them. Remember that Holy
Communion is offered to sinners of whom I
am the chief. Remember the appalling, vivid restatement of this awful
truth, the Divine maxim of St. Silouan of Athos: Keep your mind in hell, and despair not.
This hell where the mind is to be kept may be something like the
exasperating paradox of the Pharisee and the tax collector. My mind can’t resolve
it. The hell of the mind is the utter desolation of the tax-collector. No more
ego, no more self-righteousness, no more sense of being on the right track ~ certainly
no hint of being better than ~ or even as good as ~ anybody else. Just the complete,
empty need for God’s mercy. That’s hell. That’s
where the saint was advised to keep
his mind, I think.
God’s command to Silouan is to keep
consciousness there, and not to despair. Because this feat opens the way to
unimaginable joy. If, like the tax-collector, I can let my ego burn up, and
while not even daring to look up, not give up hope, but dare to pray for mercy,
then I go down to my house justified. The only thing I have to do is to recognize that there is nothing
I can do. Paradox again, the hell of the mind.
Those who humble themselves will be exalted.
Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner.
AMEN
MARANATHA
COME, LORD JESUS!