Trusting Onesel
Luke 18:9-14

October 24, 2004

My mother always sat in the very back row of Mount Vernon Place Church. Somebody’s got to do it if the congregation is to remain balanced. Everybody knows that if too many people sit up front, the front pews would collapse. Weddings and funerals have special dispensations.

There are advantages and disadvantages sitting in the back row. You are able to see where everyone is in the sanctuary, and no one sneaks into the room without your measured glance. However, you can’t see as well - pillars and tall people and balconies get in the way. The sound has a long way to go through all those balconies and people. It’s tough to be a back bencher.

This famous parable provides the patron saint for the back benchers - the distraught tax-collector. By conventional interpretation, the tax-collector wins, going down to his house justified. The back row can smile and be proud.

For a Jesus parable, this one seems a snap. The Pharisees were never supposed to be amiable characters, always full of themselves and arrogant and self-centred. At least, that is their stereotyped reputation. The tax-collector was always beat upon and so wonderfully humble and repentent. He had the right attitude and Jesus decided adamantly in his favour. “If you walk around with your nose in the air, you’re going to end up flat on your face, but if you’re content to be simply yourself, you will become more than yourself.” [The Message]

As I have continued to read and hear and think about these difficult comparisons, I am suspicious of the parables the church has all figured out. Jesus began this one saying he was targeting it towards “some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.” I know it is common wisdom that one should have faith and trust in oneself when making important decisions. Way too many people doubt themselves so that they cannot accomplish what they are capable of doing. Still, Jesus knows there is only one one should trust.

What’s the problem with the Pharisee in the first place? He’s apparently a family man, not involved in the terrible vices of most society. Committed to religious practices, for instance fasting twice a week - how many times have you fasted this month? - and contributing a tenth, a tithe of his income to the church, we need more of him.

Of course, he is a little pompous, praying that he is glad he is not like all those other reprobates. Aren’t you glad too? Sure, he is self-centred, but then we are all self-centred. Being self-centred, developing our own ideas and our own peculiar perception of the world, is the definition of being human.

The humble tax-collector was not one of the efficient employees of Canada Revenue. He was very close to one of those Mafia hands who go around extorting and brutalizing average people for protection money on the pretense of collecting lawful taxes. Most church people would be outraged to see him even sitting in the sanctuary, profaning the place. “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” That’s a cruel joke, using the sacred prayer to get God to forgive him.

Yet, Jesus decides clearly in his favour. Is that all it takes: a beating of one’s breast and a loud vocal plea? If so, does this become the “work” in place of our faith needed for salvation? Our kind of church will be in trouble.

The tax-collector went out of the church building and down to his house justified. Justified is not an easy word. “Being made right with God” or “this man went home cleaned up rather than that one” are other ways of rendering the idea. God’s grace is amazing and undeserved, even by those of you who by our standards deserve it. Being justified does not mean that the good Pharisee was therefore condemned and punished. It’s something like this.

A member of Knox-Metropolitan - for whom I am grateful beyond words - comes to church this Sunday. He is involved in one of our ministry committees, participates in the service from time to time, contributes a significant portion of her income to the church and to its ministries to the poor, listens patiently and empathetically during the coffee hour to another member’s crisis and dilemma. But this Sunday, she is distracted by any number of things and people. She strains to pay attention, but the prayers are nice but don’t say enough. The music is beautiful, but no strings are plucked inside her heart. And the preacher tries hard, but the spirit does not move him that day. Oh well, maybe next week.

Another guy slips into the back pew during the second hymn, planned that way to avoid contact with good church people. Divorce, alcoholism, trouble on the job are overwhelming him. God knows why he has decided to come. However, the prayers say exactly what he is feeling, the music anoints him with beauty, the preacher says the one sentence he needs to hear. He slips out before the benediction so no one can see the tears welling up. God does love me. He is justified for that one day.

A couple of pastorates ago, I became involved with the track program at Amherst College, and particularly with one athlete. He was a member of Delta Upsilon fraternity and eventually became its last president. This was the real life model of the fraternity in the movie Animal House. I visited there a number of times, and believe me, the movie made the place look good. The inside of the building was not well maintained and upon entering the air of beer and vomit wafted all around you.

To cure cabin fever one early spring, they decided to hold a scavenger hunt. There were debates with the college administration and the police whether some of the scavenged items were borrowed or stolen or vandalized. Soon, there was no debate as the college president declared Delta Upsilon closed. And for good measure about a month later, Amherst College banned all fraternities and sororities from campus life. Fortunately, this happened after the movie, for how else could one have a proper Animal House?

I went in one last time as lots of stuff was being removed. I thought to myself, why am I here? Then I saw a vaguely familiar denizen of DU, a big guy with torn T-shirt and unshaven face. “That was a good sermon last week.” he said right to me. The veil was lifted from my eyes - he was the young man I had seen slipping in and out of the service the last few weeks so that no one could speak to him. He was justified, and believe me, I had nothing to do with it.

Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan