This is the second of two parables that Luke tells about prayer. The first parable told in the first 8 verses of chapter 18 is about a judge and a widow. The judge is described as a man who neither feared God nor respected people. The women is a widow who seems to be the victim of a grave injustice and is continually pleading her cause before the judge. These two people are almost as far a part as two people can be in this society - the judge, a man whose position and gender make him respected and powerful; the widow - a woman would have been among the most vulnerable and least powerful in society. It is hard to imagine how this woman had the courage to approach the judge in the beginning and harder still to understand why she persisted in pleading her cause before this judge who was known for disrespecting humanity. As I hear this story, I cringe for this woman making a fool of herself. Does she not know who the judge is by reputation - he will make a mockery of her. Does she not see how awkward this is? Does she not hear the jokes people are telling about her? And yet the judge does a surprising thing, he relents saying: "though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually complaining."
And Jesus urges his disciples, he urges us, to be like this widow - persistent and courageous. After all if the judge, as awful as he is, will grant her justice, how much more will God who is just and good and who loves us come to our rescue. It is the faith of this woman that enabled her to persist and it is faith like this that Jesus is looking for on earth. By praying continually and not giving up hope we are living out the belief that God has surely not abandoned this world, he has not abandoned us. In this story the courage and perseverance of this woman are not abstract qualities - they are connected to her prayerful posture, her petitioning of the judge. And this not only has a value for here and now but in the story it is an eschatalogical necessity. As we pray about the deep injustice and suffering in this world, in our lives, we are bearing witness to the world yet to come, this is part of praying 'thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.' Luke's Jesus shows concern for the disciples who must endure, who must pray always and not lose heart. I wonder how often these stories Jesus told came to mind for the disciples when he was no longer with them. May the Holy Spirit also grant us courage and persistence in prayer in the midst of our own brokenness and in the face of the grave injustice we see and experience in our world.
The second story, the story which Sunday School centres around today also features two Jewish men: a pharisee and a tax collector. The pharisee is the good man, the respected man, the religious man, the teacher. The tax collector is the wealthy man, the crooked man, the dishonest man, the swindler. And on this day both of them find themselves at the temple; the pharisee prays: 'thank you that I am not like the others: liars, thieves and adulterers and tax collectors. And by the way, God, I gave a tenth of my income and I fasted twice this week.' The pride, self-satisfaction and smugness are suffocating. The tragedy is that somewhere along the way the pharisee has begun to trust in himself, in his own goodness, in his right-ness instead of trusting in the mercy and love of God.
I would hazard a guess that most of us have prayed a prayer something like this in our Christian life. Maybe our language was a little more nuanced. Maybe we didn't intend to put down addicts and dead-beat dads and when we prayed it, maybe we felt like we really had dodged a bullet in avoiding those sins and calamities and were very grateful. Grateful that we had never fallen off the rails like those unfortunate 'other' people. Grateful that we had followed all the rules because, look at us, we are pretty good people. We can hold our heads up before God and say thank you.
The pharisee by contrast stood at a distance, he could not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, 'God be merciful to me a sinner!' The tax collector caught a glimpse of who he is and who God is and all he could do was beat his chest, praying through tears of contrition. He sees the truth: he is a sinful man but he is loved by God and he bends toward God in humility, in worship. In that moment the pharisee understands his salvation as a gift, something he did nothing to deserve. In this moment he understands that he can trust the mercy and love of God regardless of what he has done. Can you hear also the contrition of David or Paul crying out: wretched man that I am? Can you remember a time when you have also been overcome with contrition and received the love of God as nothing other than an undeserved gift. Something you did nothing to earn and nothing you could ever repay. Something that laid you low before God and at the same time raised your soul to great heights with such freedom.
And then comes the great reversal - remember Lazarus and the Rich Man of a few weeks back, or the one (former) leper who came back to say thank you and was a Samaritan, this book is full of reversals. And no matter how much we begin to anticipate it - it always leaves us without words: 'The tax collector goes away justified rather than the other.'
At First Baptist Church in Edmonton you can sit in the naeve on a Sunday morning and often you will hear the choir above you singing Kyrie Eleison. Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy... In the movement of this song, in the plea of the contrite heart for mercy we join our voices with people throughout history, beginning with the tax collector in Jesus' story who beat his hands to his chest and cried out: God be merciful to me a sinner. It is an ancient prayer. It is a prayer of few words that express so much: our utter dependancy on God, our thanksgiving for his mercy, our confessed need for Him. It is a prayer that helps us to understand that it is not by our own goodness that we can come before God but through the mercy and grace of God through the cross of Christ that we are saved.
Our pride is ever before us - slippery and masquerading in all sorts of attitudes where condescension is barely perceptible but present in thanksgiving for what we are not, in thanksgiving for the right ideas that we have about God and the ways and means of being his people. It is present in the subtle judgements we pass on our brothers and sisters - at least I am not a fundamentalist like her, at least I am not a wishy washy liberal like him, if I had money like them I would live differently, if only they worked a little more they wouldn't always be so hard up and needing so much help from everyone.... The truth is we cannot get too far out the door without getting tripped up by pride. How quickly feelings of self-aggrandisement wash over us until we are nearly drowning in them.
And we come to church and we hear: Lord, have mercy on me a sinner. It is in our worship that we are reminded who we are and who God is. It is here that we renounce our sin, claim the righteousness of Christ and place our trust in Him, not in ourselves.
It is important that children understand that how we live before God matters deeply but that isn't what saves us. In the words of Paul: "For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing it is the gift of God!" (Eph. 2:8) Let us throw ourselves upon God and trust in his unfailing love and unending mercy. Let us trust in his salvation and continue to pray with all humility and with perseverance and courage.
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