A
Reflection and Poem for XXIII Pentecost (Proper 25) All Saints’, Southern Shores, NC
October 23, 2016 Thomas
E. Wilson, Rector
The
Pharisee’s Prayer
In today’s lesson from Luke, Jesus tells a parable
about two men going to pray. Remember, a parable is different than a fable. A
fable tells a fairly straightforward story leading to a moral, a one-sentence
evident axiom or bromide reflecting the wisdom of the culture in which it is
told. A parable on the other hand is a story which has a twist at the end which
challenges the wisdom of the culture in which it is told. If this story were a
fable, then we would congratulate the Pharisee who follows all the rules of the
society and is a credit to his upbringing.
While we might feel good that the tax collector is suffering remorse for
the kind of life he is leading and for what he is doing, we would condemn the
tax collector for being a traitor to the country and expect God to join in our
condemnation and hope for a suitable punishment for this evildoer.
When I was growing up, I was raised on movies as
fables which had to follow a strict moral code in order to be released and in
which bad people may, for the purposes of plot, seem to have had the upper hand
in the early development of the story but were ultimately punished gleefully
for the audience’s enjoyment and moral uplift.
The good people in the movie, while maybe suffering for the purposes of
plot, came out well at the end. It was possible that the bad person could
repent, suffer the consequences of his/her actions by being reduced socially
and economically, and having a change of heart before dying, but it was morally
unsatisfying. This was part of the Hollywood interpretation of the
Judeo-Christian understanding of how God works - morality triumphs - which was
part of the Motion Picture Production Code instituted by Will H. Hays of the
Motion Picture Association of American and used for censoring movies from
1930-1968.
It does seem unfair that, in this story where the
Pharisee brags about how he tithes a tenth of his wealth, he is not
congratulated by Jesus - especially during this time when we are in a
stewardship drive. I remember when I was early out of seminary I was so worried
about meeting a budget that I pushed tithing to the top of my virtue list. When
I was passing judgment on my fellow church members when it was obvious by the
total figures that tithers were few and far between, my wise Priest in the
church that I attended said to me that I sounded like I was on the road to
becoming a good Pharisee. I, not understanding the context at the time, said I
wished I had more Pharisees than we seemed to have in our church when I was
Senior Warden. It was only later when I developed some humility, after I had
failed in so many ways and could see clearly my own sins, chiefly my sin of
pride, that I realized that his observation of my becoming a Pharisee was not a
compliment. My pride kept me from loving
and from seeing my obvious brokenness. Jesus
thought tithing was important, but it had to be placed in the larger context of
a loving relationship with God and neighbor. Love was the supreme aspect of
life with God, not the various forms of religion.
The prophet Joel in the Hebrew Testament lesson for
today speaks of the time after the locust plague had devoured all the crops,
devastating the land. The land is full
of failure, yet he finds strength and hope in trusting that God would redeem
all things, as he had seen in his vision from God. When he could trust that all
could be redeemed, then he didn’t have to be the center of his own
universe. The problem with being the
center of the universe is that one’s arms get sore trying to elbow out God.
The Psalmist sings, echoing Joel, that as we bring our
failures to God, the Divine can redeem all things and, bringing joy out of our
brokenness, “To you that hear prayer shall all flesh come, * because of their
transgressions. Our sins are stronger
than we are, * but you will blot them out. . . . Those who dwell at the ends of
the earth will tremble at your marvelous signs; * you make the dawn and the
dusk to sing for joy.”
Failure is one of the best things to happen to us.
The Book of Common Prayer has the Prayer for Young Persons (BCP p. 828) that
asks “Help them to see failure, not as a measure of their worth, but as a
chance for a new start.” Narcissists blame other people for failures and project
their fear of failure on to other people calling them “losers”, just like the
Pharisee in today’s Gospel lesson does out of
his own fear. Braggarts brag and blamers blame because of their own
fears. I say these words not because I am immune from being a fear-filled
braggart and blamer, but because I know my shadow only too well.
Richard
Rohr in one of this week’s meditations reflected:
Unless the male
is led into journeys of powerlessness, he will invariably misuse power. He
becomes a loose cannon in the social fabric, even dangerous to the family,
always seeking his own dominative power and advancement to the neglect of
others. The human inclination to narcissism has to be exposed, humbled, and
used for good purposes. Jesus clearly taught the twelve disciples about
surrender, the necessity of suffering, humility, servant leadership, and
nonviolence. They resisted him every time, and so he finally had to make the
journey himself and tell them, “Follow me!” But Christians have preferred to
hear something Jesus never said: “Worship me.” Worship of Jesus is rather
harmless and risk-free; following Jesus changes everything.
The
Apostle Paul, of whom the Epistle lesson for today speaks, was one of those men
misusing his power in persecuting the Christians out of the “human inclination
to narcissism”, spending all of his energy putting other people down in order
to improve his own fragile self-image. He had been, by his own admission, the
best of the Pharisees, but without love he was, as he wrote to the Corinthians,
“only a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal”, who even if he had given away all he
had so that he could boast but had not love, he gained nothing. He found out
what it was like to be knocked off his high horse on the road to Damascus and
become broken; only then, being broken, could he begin to really follow Jesus
as he found that the Lord had given him strength to change, and as today’s letter
states, “to have fought the good fight, finished the race, kept the faith.”
Paul is at the end of his life having these thoughts,
finding that his greatest strength had come from outside his own self, and for
that he gave thanks. My hope is that at the end of my days, and at the end of
each day, I will have the grace to give thanks for fighting the good fight,
finishing the race, and keeping the faith.
The
Pharisee’s Prayer
“Dang and doggies, I am
really good
That God must thank his
lucky stars
For having me around
raising bars,
Showing others do what
they should.
I am so glad I am not
that there clown
Who seems sniveling
with the shame
Of being one who gets
to take blame
For all of bad things
going on in town.”
“Well, that one just
echoed off the wall
Bouncing back and forth
as way to hide
That fear darkly coming
on by my side
So that I might seem to
tower over all.
Coming, residing with
me as guest
Trembling that I’ll
n’er be blessed.”
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