23 Pentecost C/Proper 25/Ordinary Time 30 October 23, 2016
Luther Memorial Church Seattle, WA
The Rev. Julie G. Hutson
Jeremiah 14: 7-10, 19-22 + Psalm 84: 1-7 + 2 Timothy 4: 6-8, 16-18
Luke 18: 9-14
Grace and peace to you from God who creates us, Jesus who saves us and the Holy Spirit, who abides with and accompanies us. Amen.
Thank God I am not like him. With his gun slinging, narrow minded point of view. And thank God I am not like her, with her liberal politics and her increase in our taxes. Oh, and thank God I’m not like him either, with his progressive mumbo jumbo and his willingness to let everyone just live off of my tax money. And thank God, thank God I’m not like her either, with her high mindedness and her intellectualism. Thank God.
Jesus also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.
Dear friends, the words from our Gospel reading today, the story that Jesus told, of the Pharisee and the tax collector, feel very, very familiar. And yet, they are the assigned readings for this day, assigned well over twenty years ago, texts we hear every three years on this liturgical date. Still….doesn’t it feel that Jesus is speaking directly to us at this time and in the place? That Jesus has heard and seen the discourse in our country and stood among us and told us this story? Or told it directly to the so called political leaders and their surrogates who stand before us day after day and belittle and demean the other.
Of course, the problem is, that when I (*beats chest three times in repentance*) stand before you and draw this line in the sand….what I am saying is, in essence, “thank God I am not like those people…those politicians and their ilk.”
Whenever we draw a line in the sand and stand on one side of it and point across it, we can be sure that the first face we will encounter looking back at us from the other side is the face of Jesus.
In this Gospel story, there was literally a physical distance between the Pharisee and the tax collector, there in the Temple. The text says that the Pharisee was standing by himself and the tax collector was standing far off. That distance is not an accident in the story. It is worth mentioning and mentioning twice. That distance defines the relationship or the absence thereof, between the Pharisee and the tax collector.
And there is a distance between us in our country, certainly a greater distance than I can recall in my lifetime.
It’s easy to think that we aren’t like the Pharisee, really. Thank God I’m not like him, we think. All pious and self righteous. Not that the story indicates that he was particularly exemplary either. He just did what was expected of him…paid his taxes, didn’t steal, didn’t stir up trouble, didn’t cheat on his spouse. Why, he even gave a tenth of his income, a tithe, to the Temple! He isn’t the sort of person we might judge if we met him on the street corner.
But let’s face it, we aren’t merely guilty of judging our political opponents in these days.
How many of us, when we see a person standing on the street corner, holding a sign, or living underneath an overpass, or sleeping in a doorway, think this thought: There but for the grace of God….
Friends, the grace of God is standing on that street corner, holding that sign, and living under that overpass and sleeping in that doorway. THAT is where the grace of God is most profoundly dwelling. Saying to the ones we have judged (or perhaps we’ve just called it a comparison)….God’s grace is there with them. It is not an absence of God’s grace that has placed them in these circumstances, it is the brokenness that permeates our world.
I want to share with you a story, of another religious leader. This particular pastor arrived at the Church one day to find five people sleeping in the doorway of the church. The pastor greeted them all, while taking note of their dirty sleeping bags and clothing, the rickety wheelchair holding their possessions, and the lawn chairs they’d set up. The weather was especially rainy on that October morning, so the pastor told them they could stay there as long as they followed some guidelines: no smoking, no drugs, no using the bathroom outside, pick up after themselves. Walking into the building the pastor muttered a bit under her breath, knowing instinctively that this situation could grow into something harder. And when it did, and those campers had to be asked to leave, the pastor was frustrated…frustrated that these folks could not find a way to follow the simplest of rules laid out for them. Thank God I am not like those people…
Then the pastor got into her car and drove 5 miles over the speed limit, headed for home, also not able to follow the simplest of rules.
Oh, you might be tempted to say that the two situations aren’t the same, but they are. The reality is that the privilege that I enjoy as a white person with a job and a car and a home does not excuse my breaking the rules set out for me when I get in my car.
It is very complicated and very hard to navigate our way through the political and cultural climate these days. When someone yells that other human beings are nasty, or threatens to keep us out with a wall or attacks in some other way, the most natural thing in the world is to strike back. But that is not how faith works.
Remember, Jesus tells this story to some people, the text says, who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.
Some people who trusted in themselves, that they were doing it right. That because they were maybe only guilty of driving slightly above the speed limit, or maybe they were not guilty even of that, that they could simply trust that their own right living was enough for the kingdom of God.
But that’s not how the kingdom of God works. The kingdom of God calls us to look across the landscape that divides us. To look at the person we have judged with contempt. To see the person about whom we’ve just made a fleeting comparison before we ignored them altogether. To hear ourselves mutter a “there but for the grace of God” or a “thank God I am not like them.” And the kingdom of God calls for us to look at the other with deep regard. To see in them what God sees in them, their profound belovedness, the very face of God.
What we know, but often lose sight of, is that our justification is not dependent on our ability to drive the speed limit or any other rules or moral guidelines. And the justification of the other person, of our neighbor, does not depend on any measurement we place upon them. It does not depend on what their house looks like or to whom they are married, or if they are married at all. It does not depend on whether they vote like we vote or support the policies and politicians we support. It does not depend on whether they have kept all of the rules of society or whether they have broken them, in small ways or even in the most egregious ways.
Justification is something that God does. We believe, as Paul says in Romans, that we are justified by grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.
Beloved community, the Gospel calls us to look across that divide, and to look with the deepest of regard. It calls us to treat one another with respect and compassion. Standing together, Republican and Democrat, black and white, gay and straight, Muslim and Christian, Jew and Buddhist, progressive and conservative, Pharisee and tax collector….standing together we become community….
….reaching toward one another, rather than away, we become the body of Christ.
Thanks be to God…and let the Church say…Amen.