About 10 years ago, Cary and I happened to find a really good deal on an extremely beautiful dining room table.
Oh… it is gorgeous…
As I recall…
The table is made of cherry wood, carefully and elegantly finished. It is quite a lovely thing to behold.
I think…
Actually, the only time we see the table’s extraordinary beauty is for the minute or two, every couple weeks, when we change the table cloth.
We are so concerned about maintaining the beauty of our beautiful table, that we almost never lay eyes on it’s beauty.
**
When I was in high school, in the 1980’s, I used to sneak into a bar called “The West End”
This bar was famous for being a place where the writers of the Beat Generation would go to hang out and listen to Jazz.
An aspiring writer, this literary mythology impressed me a great deal.
I bought a t-shirt – a West End T-shirt.
And, dear friends, I will tell you that after some 40 years, I still have that t-shirt!
It is paper thin, with age.
It is worn out.
It has holes.
It is so threadbare.
So honest.
and so, so, so comfortable.
**
Pride and Humility
In the Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector, that Owen just read for us, pride and humility are opposing themes that basically climb out of the story and punch the reader in the face.
With Jesus’ help, we are given an intimate glimpse at the inner spiritual lives of two men.
When we descend upon them, both men are in the act of praying in the Temple.
I shall introduce you, first, to our friend the Pharisee.
In the time of Jesus, the title “Pharisee” was shorthand that stood for an individual of high standing, respected by everyone as one who has achieved success in all the proper ways.
One thing is for sure… employing the title “Pharisee,” in this parable, Jesus makes deliberate use of a distinct social stereotype of his day.
If Jesus composed this parable in 2025 America, he might honor our prevailing culture by making the Pharisee a “CEO” say, or maybe the President of a university.
This august personage offers a short prayer of thanks that goes like this:
‘God, he prays, 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.’
Pride.
Even though the Pharisee begins his prayer by addressing God, the prayer itself sounds more like he is talking to himself than to God.
It sounds like he is congratulating himself.
“Thank God I’m not like them. I know what to do and I’ve done it. They are screwed, but I’m all set.”
What certainty! This Gentleman is accustomed to being right about things. He sees no problem with applying this same certainty to his understanding of God. God wants him to fast twice a week and give away a tenth of his income. He is certain about that. So all he has to do is fast twice a week and give away a tenth of his income and God’s blessing is certain to be bestowed upon him. He has the system down. What else could possibly happen?
He’s so certain about being blessed, that he is practically blessing himself!
Lucky guy.
At the same time that the Pharisee is praying thus, another person – another cultural stereotype, in fact – is praying nearby.
Allow me to introduce you to the Tax Collector.
In Christ’s time, the title “tax collector” was shorthand for someone of dubious moral character. More than that. In first century Israel, tax collectors were bottom feeders – social pariahs. Since it was their business to collect money from the poor to fill the coffers of the Roman Empire they were seen as traitorous collaborators… opportunistic parasites.
If this parable was composed in America in the year 2025, Jesus might have replaced “tax collector” with the stereotypes that make us go YUCK! He might have used titles like “Scam artist” or “ICE agent.”
Unsurprisingly, our particular tax collector is not as well spoken as the Pharisee was. His prayer doesn’t say much at all – at least not in words. He seems to pray more with his body:
the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven but was beating his breast
When he finally manages to choke out a few words, the tax collector’s prayer is a wail of distress:
‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’
Humility.
Look – this man is not a good man. He is torn and frayed. He is not “right with God” and he knows it!
He is desperate.
If the Pharisee seemed to be talking to himself, the tax collector is undeniably communicating with God. If the Pharisee was certain, the tax collector is terribly… desperately uncertain. Do you think the tax collector knew about the fasting and the giving of one tenth of his income? Even if he did fast, and did give one tenth of his income, the tax collector wouldn’t feel an iota of relief.
The tax collector leads a life that is difficult to reconcile with God.
So when he prays, he addresses God with a naked and honest soul. pure, raw emotion.
He surrenders completely.
The Pharisee was a precise example of the sin of pride. Even when he prays, he is talking to himself. In contrast, this tortured tax collector, in his abject humility, places his whole trust in God.
Sometimes Jesus’ teaching method leaves no room for debate. In case we still don’t get it, Christ spoon feeds us the parable’s concluding moral:
all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”
Something happens when we translate the actors of this parable into caricatures of our time: the CEO and the ICE agent… or the University president and the scam artist…
When bestow upon these characters stereotypes that we react to, we begin to experience the reflexes that Jesus is making use of.
This parable is actually encouraging us to give way to the predictable assumptions that we have about the people around us, and who we think they are.
At least at first.
But as is often the case with Jesus… there is more to his purpose than initially meets the eye. By the end of the parable, Christ makes use of these caricatures, not to further embed our prejudices about them, but rather to upset the applecart of our assumptions, and, in the process, reveal the fragile hypocrisy of what we unthinkingly value.
In the United States today, a religious leader like a Pharisee, would be given some respect, but the most respected people in our culture are people whose bank balances let them enjoy private jets, Mediterranean villas and other such luxuries. We describe CEO’s as “well off.” They have played the system effectively and are reaping the benefits accordingly.
What benefits?
We know them well – they are part of the myth of wealth:
The latest, most fashionable clothes
The Luxury automobile
The Mansion in a gated estate.
The in-ground swimming pool.
The yacht, of course.
The private jet…
The trophy wife…
or… if you are that trophy wife – the inevitable facelift.
The ballroom…
The ballroom…
You barely have to look at these benefits of extreme wealth to recognize that they are symptoms of the sin of pride.
Why?
Because in addition to being needlessly extravagant, reckless and wasteful, the very purpose of such luxury is to create a world of self-indulgence.
A world that is habitually self-referential.
In such a world there is no question what the most important priority is.
The most important priority is me.
Content me. Beautiful me. No-wrinkles-on-my-face me. Spiritually complete me.
When the most important priority is me, it is but a tiny step before I begin “praying to the self.”
Like our Pharisee…
Even when he said “Dear God” he sounded like he was talking to himself.
“Dear me…”
Measured against this parable, the so-called benefits of wealth reveal themselves as spiritual booby traps, waiting to take us down.
It’s very challenging to replace the tax collector with an ICE agent or scam artist. The bile rises at the mere mention of these vile ruffians, these predatory vipers. We must remind ourselves that, in the context of this parable, we have to give these caricatures the benefit that is bestowed upon them by a healthy dose of humility.
Remember that our scam artist is on his knees.
Our ICE agent is having a come-to-Jesus moment.
If there is anything that can redeem this nasty, nasty creature, it is only this – his awareness of his own brokenness.
The friction of human life has worn him down.
His soul is threadbare – torn and frayed like an old pair of jeans…
And when, in his desperation, he acknowledges this brokenness… this
this is the holy moment
the moment when he can be honest
with himself
and with God.
**
I have heard about a rich man in Japan who collects vintage guitars.
I understand he has the most extensive collection of beautiful vintage Martin and Gibson acoustic guitars in the world.
This impresses me.
I too love vintage acoustic guitars.
They are beautiful, gracefully constructed works of art that also happen to sound incredible.
So this collection impresses me a great deal.
But guess what?
The person who told me about this, also told me that the rich Japanese collector does not play the guitar.
He just collects them.
So all these amazing vintage acoustic guitars sit around…
unplayed.
It feels wrong to me.
Guitars are made to be played.
And us
You and me…
Are we not meant to live?!
And when we live, are we not bound to make mistakes.
Honestly.
Are we not threadbare with the friction of our lives?
Do we not gather, in our faces, the wrinkles of untold million smiles, frowns and tears?
And is this not evidence of the great beauty that is our miraculous life?
God, gave us this life.
We are meant to played – to make music.
God, I think, loves our songs.
Loves our wrinkles.
Our frayed ends.
Our desperate honesty.
Amen.