St. Luke 18: 10-14
When we hear the
gospel passage about the Pharisee and the Publican, we know that Great Lent is
not far away. We are now in the first
Sunday of the Lenten Triodion, the pre-Lent period when we begin to prepare for
the spiritual journey of repentance and renewal that will soon begin. This year Lent begins on March 18; so it’s
time to get ready.
The first thing that the Church
reminds us of in the pre-Lent period is the danger of pride, of raising
ourselves up too high. That’s what the
Pharisee did. He followed all the laws
of his religion. He prayed, fasted, and
gave alms. But he fell into the
self-righteous judgment of others. Standing
prominently in the Temple, he actually thanked God that he was better than
other people: extortioners, the unjust,
adulterers, and even the tax-collector who happened to be in the Temple that
day also. He exalted himself, but God humbled him, for the Lord did not accept
his prayer and he went home unjustified.
But the complete opposite was true
of the tax-collector also known as the publican. Like Zacchaeus, this man was a traitor to his
own people and a thief who made his living by charging more than was required
in taxes and keeping the difference for himself. Unlike the Pharisee, he was not proud of
himself; instead, he was ashamed. So
much so that he would not even raise his eyes up to heaven, but beat his breast
in mourning for his sins, saying only “God, be merciful to me a sinner.” He humbled himself, but God exalted him, for
the Lord accepted his prayer and he went home justified.
As we begin to prepare for the
year’s most intense time of spiritual discipline, we must keep this gospel text
squarely in mind. For it is possible to
pray, fast, and give alms in ways that do us more harm than good. It is possible to view these and other good
deeds as our own accomplishments that somehow raise us high in our own eyes and
become a justification for looking down on others. It is possible to think that God is some kind
of score keeper who gives us points for good behavior such that we save
ourselves by obeying the rules.
Well, the Pharisee followed all the
rules, but completely missed the point.
The publican broke all the rules, but still opened his heart and soul to
the mercy of God. That’s because he got
the key point: namely, that God’s mercy
is never earned or deserved; that we never impress God or earn His blessings by
anything that we do; that we share in the life of our Lord by His mercy, which
we receive through the true humility of repentance.
For that is the one saving virtue of
this tax-collector: he humbly confessed
the truth about where he stood before God.
“Be merciful to me a sinner,” the man said with a bowed head and beating
his breast in sorrow for the mess that he had made of his life. He humbled himself; he made no defense or
excuse for anything; he hid nothing and threw Himself completely upon the mercy
of the Lord.
Our spiritual journey in Lent should
be focused on becoming like this humble, repentant publican. But in order to do that, we have to have to
stop being Pharisees, which is hard for many of us. After all, we are respectable people who go
to church and lead what appear to be upright lives. We also pray, fast, give alms, and do other
good deeds. And we have to admit that,
at least from time to time, we look down upon others. We criticize and judge them, magnifying their
weaknesses and ignoring our own. Though
we may not pray with the self-righteous boldness of the Pharisee, we sometimes come
close in our thoughts, words, and deeds concerning other people.
If we allow that spirit of pride
into our Lenten observances, we will do more harm than good to ourselves. It would be better not to fast, pray, and
give alms than to do so in ways that lead us to worship ourselves and condemn
other people. The worst criminals have
more hope for receiving God’s mercy than those who convince themselves that
they are perfect, that they are so exalted that they are justified in
pronouncing judgment on others. That’s
why the publican went home justified, but the Pharisee did not.
As we begin to discern how we will
pray, fast, give alms, and undertake other spiritual disciplines this Lent, I
hope that we will all remember that these blessed practices are wonderful
teachers of humility. It’s all too
familiar for most of us. We set out to
pray and our mind wanders. We try to
fast and we immediately want to stuff ourselves with rich and delicious
food. We set out to give even a small
amount to the needy or the church and are overwhelmed with our financial
worries or desire to buy things we don’t really need. We do our best to forgive, but some painful
memories still come on strong. We intend
to read the Bible or help a neighbor, but end up falling prey to our old habits.
When we struggle in these ways this
Lent, we should take heart, for we are in the perfect place to open ourselves
to the mercy of Jesus Christ. When we
acknowledge that we are weak and self-centered, we gain at least some of the spiritual
clarity of the publican who knew that he had nothing to brag about, who knew
that he had failed spiritually and morally in life, who knew that his only hope
was in the mercy of God who stopped at nothing to bring healing and forgiveness
to sinners. He said, “God, be merciful
to me a sinner.” This must be our
constant prayer when the disciplines of Lent reveal truths about us that we
don’t like, that are uncomfortable and depressing, and we are tempted simply to
give up.
Even worse, we may be tempted to the
fantasy world of the Pharisee, who was blind to his own weakness, his
imperfection, his sinfulness. The sad reality
is that it’s really not very hard to lie to ourselves and even to God. It may seem easier and less painful than
admitting the truth. But the more
self-righteous dishonesty we allow into our souls, the weaker and more confused
we become; and the harder it is for us ever to escape from self-imposed slavery
to our own lies and delusions.
The fourth-century saint Macarius
was a monk in the Egyptian desert. Satan
once complained to him, “Macarius, I suffer a lot of violence from you, for I
cannot overcome you. Whatever you do, I
do also. If you fast, I eat nothing; if
you keep watch, I never sleep. There is
only one way in which you surpass me:
your humility. That is why I
cannot prevail against you.”
Let us all use this Lent to grow in
the one characteristic that will enable us to overcome all the temptations of
evil: humility. Fasting, almsgiving, prayer, forgiveness, and
all the other spiritual disciplines are of no use at all without it. But with true humility, they shine brightly
with the light and holiness of the Kingdom of Heaven. Even if we are lousy at fasting, inattentive
in prayer, and inept at forgiving others, there will still be hope for us in
the Lord who justified a rotten, crooked tax-collector, a man who acknowledged the sad truth about
himself and called from the depths of his being for mercy. Like him, we must humble ourselves. Like him, we must make no excuses. Like him, we must judge no one but
ourselves. If we do so, we—also like
him—will return to our own homes justified, not by our good deeds, but by the
unfathomable mercy of our Lord, God, and Savior Jesus. May this be the outcome of our Lenten journey
this year.
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