Pentecost 20, 2025
Jeremiah 14:7-10,19-22
Psalm 84:1-6
2 Timothy 4:6-8,16-18
Luke 18:9-14
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
At last, we have a parable that makes sense! The ironic twist at the end, that “this man went down to his home justified” is exactly how we want this story to end. The proud man is humbled, and the humble man is lifted up. The Pharisee thanks God that he is not like “this sinner,” and you and I can walk right into the trap of thanking God that we are not like that Pharisee. It’s only natural, right? The Pharisee thanks God he’s not like the Tax Collector, and we thank God we’re not like the Pharisee, which makes us like the Pharisee. Ugh!
But my aim this morning will be to help us step out of that trap, and see how this parable from Jesus might actually be helpful to us, rather than a stumbling block. So first, let’s look at these men’s professions—if we can call them that.
Pharisees, in Jesus’ day, were the good guys. You’ve heard me say that before, and you will hear me say that again. The Pharisees were the good guys. They spent their days trying to obey the Law of Moses so that they might protect the Law of Moses. It was important to them to be as upstanding as possible, and a good Pharisee was therefore a model citizen of the community.
On the seriously other hand, tax collectors were worse than you think. They were more like tax farmers; they paid taxes to the Romans, and then collected it from their neighbors. So, imagine someone pays your state tax bill of $1,000, and then comes to you and says, “Your state taxes are $2,000; pay up.” By definition, the only way a tax collector could make money was by overcharging his neighbors. In case it isn’t obvious, people hated tax collectors.
Jesus starts the parable by saying, “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.” Anyone listening would jump to the short hand of, a Good Guy and a Bad Guy are going up to pray, got it. So then what happens? And then the Pharisee begins to pray . . . “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” Now, we have to drill down a bit here, as they say. Jews were required to fast once a year, on Yom Kippur. This Pharisee fasts twice a week! A hundred times the required amount. And, tithing for faithful Jews consisted of tithing only on agricultural produce and reared livestock. This Pharisee gives a tenth of ALL his income. The Pharisee is a model of faith—not just a good guy, but a very good guy. The best guy!
And the Tax Collector? We don’t need to know what the Tax Collector did each week, because tax collectors were by definition bad people. There is no such thing as a good tax collector. This is not like “You’ve got to pick a pocket or two.” Tax collectors cheated their own neighbors . . . for a living! So, yeah, no need to explain how the Tax Collector is bad, because they all were. Both these men are exactly as the listeners would expect. A good guy and a bad guy are going up to pray.
And, of course, the key is how they pray, right? You’ll notice that the Pharisee is announcing at God (and anyone who can hear) what a good guy he is. He is letting God know that he deserves not only to be justified, but also to be patted on the back. And, just to be sure it sounds exactly right, the whole prayer is framed as a thank you to God. “Dear God, I am grateful that you made me so super awesome! Especially compared to the people who are not so awesome, like this tax collector right here.” The Pharisee is telling God all about himself, while throwing his neighbor under the bus.
Now, the Tax Collector tells God about himself as well. He pleads, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” The end. No details, no comparison to anyone else, no justification or explanations. Just, “be merciful to me, a sinner.” And anyone listening to this story would’ve said, “Duh. We already knew that!” So there’s nothing surprising to those listening to Jesus tell this story. Except that maybe the good guy is even better than a regular good guy would be, and he’s even thanking God for making him such a good guy. All sounds just like we’d want it to be.
And sitting here, 2,000 years later, even we can tell who is the better man, right? If I asked, “Which man would you rather have as your neighbor?” The answer is the Pharisee. (Which is not the same as, which one would you rather have a beer with, probably.) When it comes to morality, the Pharisee wins this one hands down. His actions are spot on. And if good behavior is what justifies us, then move that man to the front of the line! The obvious conclusion is that this man, this Pharisee will go down to his home justified.
But nope. Wrong answer. Salvation does not come from good behavior, sorry. Being good does not make you justified. It is not what we do that saves us; it is what God does that saves. Your good behavior is just your good behavior. Now you’re thinking, “Is he telling us, ‘don’t behave’?” No, I’m not. I think behaving is good. (I even wish that I could.) I’m just saying that your morality (even a super-charged Pharisee morality) will not bring you to the point of going down to your home justified.
Following the law makes society better for everyone; but it is not what saves. Living a moral life makes things better for both you and your neighbor; but it is not what justifies. There are plenty of reasons to do the right thing; but thinking it brings salvation is not one of them. You cannot save yourself, no matter how good you are.
So then what? And what about prayer? Is there no point in talking to God? Good question. Let’s look at the purpose of prayer.
In a sentence, we could say that the purpose of prayer is to put us in right relation with God and our neighbor. That is, praying to God reminds us that we are not God. Prayer makes us mindful that we are reliant on the One in whose hands all creation is held. Prayer humbles us before God.
And, as far as our neighbor . . . well, remember that Jesus says to pray for our enemies? To pray for those we don’t like? We don’t pray for them so that God will come around to loving them. We pray for our enemies so that we will come around to loving them. When we pray for our neighbor, we are acting in love toward them, even if we don’t like them. We do not pray for our enemies by asking God to smite them; we instead pray for their needs, we pray for their well being, and that makes us start to want what is best for them. So, yes, in a sentence, we could say that the purpose of prayer is to put us in right relation with God and our neighbor.
Now, with that in mind, let’s look at how these two prayed in the Temple. The Good Guy “standing by himself,” thanks God for how awesome he himself is, and uses his neighbor as a foil to magnify just how awesome he himself is. He lets God know how grateful he is that he is “not like other people.” He reminds God how he goes over and above what is required, that he is above reproach, and that he lacks nothing when it comes to righteousness. It’s like an annual job performance review.
The Bad Guy, meanwhile, is “standing far off,” and “ would not even look up to heaven.” His prayer? Simply this: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” That’s it. And Jesus then tells us, “This man went down to his home justified rather than the other.” This sinner, who cries out for mercy, is the one who goes home justified. Dare I say, we should be like the sinner? Yes. I do so dare.
The morality of the Pharisee is good for society, to be sure. Just as the immorality of the Tax Collector is bad for society. Obviously, life would be better for everyone if we had more people tithing, and fewer people ripping people off. So again, I’m not saying, “Don’t behave.”
But when it comes to prayer, we would be better off having more of us praying like the Tax Collector (“God, be merciful to me, a sinner”) and fewer of us praying like the Pharisee (“Oh, Lord, it’s hard to be humble, when you’re perfect in every way.”). And all the while, we must resist the temptation to say, “God, I thank you that I am not like that Pharisee,” since that makes us exactly like that Pharisee.
The bottom line is this: Stick to what you know and what we confess every week: I am a sinner in need of God’s forgiveness—just like my neighbor—and trust that we are all redeemed by what God has done, in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. And whether or not we succeed at living upstanding moral lives, we are all welcome at this altar. Because we worship a God of second chances. We worship a God who justifies tax collectors. We worship a God of redemption. And we all go down to our homes justified, because of Jesus.
Amen
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