On Not Being Able to Say You’re Sorry
Luke 18: 10-14
February 24, 1985
In a recent biography of Lyndon B. Johnson, there was a particularly insightful section on the Vietnam War. As LBJ began to reminisce on that disastrous period in our national history, the question was asked: Why did he keep committing more and more resources to that conflagration when he knew we couldn’t win?
With a burst of candor, Mr. Johnson replied:. “We were unable to admit that we were wrong. ” What a devastating commentary on history! “We were unable to admit that we were wrong. ” That was the Pharisee’s problem in our Gospel lesson this morning. Let’s look closely at this parable as we enter into Lent,
Two men went up to the Temple to pray -one a Pharisee, which these days can be translated as a churchgoer, or, if you prefer, the rector of a large metropolitan church, the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself: “God, I thank thee that I am not like other people, ”
The Pharisee further typifies us by listing the vices from which he abstains, “I am not like other people– extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like that tax collector”
Without a doubt the easiest way to feel virtuous is to concentrate on the wrongs you don’t commit, and avoid at all costs examining your motives for abstention. Contrary to popular belief, most good behavior is due to the weakness of our passions rather than the strength of our character. The older you get, the less beguiling are the temptations.
But wait, you say; the Pharisee went further. He began to list what he does do, proving that he is a candidate, if not for canonization, at least for Man of the Year. He fasts not once a year but twice a week. And he tithes — dare I say it? -far more than most of us . He does a lot of religious things , which only goes to prove what Luther said: “Good works don’t make a person good. ”
The Pharisee had one tragic flaw; there was something askew in his makeup. When you are so caught up with being right that you can it admit to being wrong, when you have to blind yourself to your own sins , you are in trouble. The evil that you so vigorously reject has a way of infiltrating your security system.
Reinhold Niebuhr was on target when he wrote: “Ultimately considered, evil is done not so much by evil men but by good men– men who do not know themselves and are concentrating on the evil outside of themselves ” God, I thank thee that I am not like other people.
The point of the parable is that our secure presumption of righteousness is in itself our greatest sin. This is one of those paradoxes in life: The more we pursue good behavior, the less likely we are to be aware of our own failings.
If you stop to think about this, it is not as crazy as it sounds. Anyone seeking to be virtuous is probably no longer seeking God or his neighbor. The enterprise is too self-absorbing, too engrossing -it will not allow time for much else.
True, the Pharisee goes into the Temple, but only as so many Christians do — to make their last stand against God. True, the Pharisee does good works, but only to gain points toward some goal of a heavenly kingdom.
As someone once said: To pharisaical Christians, the Kingdom appears as a corporation in which they have acquired sufficient stock to warrant the expectation that someday soon they will be asked to join the board of directors,
But what about yourselves? Can you see the Pharisee within you? Can you identify with that need to be virtuous? Can you dimly discern that part of you that wants to say, “God, I have been good. I have done my very best to keep the law, at least I have done a better job than some I could mention.” ?
Can you see yourself starting on that road to sainthood? if so, you had better watch out, for this can so easily turn into the road to self-destruction. Pascal was right: “The world divides itself between sinners who imagine themselves to be saints, and saints who know themselves to be sinners. ”
The tax collector was on the road to sainthood, not because of what he did but because of what he sought. He was seeking God’s mercy, and this he could do because first he acknowledged his sense of sin,
There is a wonderful expression in the confession of the old Prayer Book that reads: “There is no health in us “It may have been somewhat in the extreme, but it certainly didn’t leave any doubt as to why we were seeking God’s mercy. The tax collector basically was saying these words: “Lord, there is no health in me, ”
Friday night we were with some friends talking about old movies. Someone brought up that best seller and popular picture “Love Story” Do you remember that oft-quoted line, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry” ? Nonsense! Love means the acknowledgment of your need for forgiveness,
The only way we can love is by first acknowledging that there is no health in us , no rightness,, that we need the other person, This is why there is such difficulty in so many marriages; everybody sees himself as right, This is why the counseling of people with marriage predicaments is so hard; both people are ready to forgive That that is easy – but neither party is ready to be forgiven that is hard.
We don’t know why the tax collector came into the Temple. It is difficult to know people’s motivations. He might not have been able to see any light at the end of the tunnel. We have all been there – some of us too many times-when you feel completely helpless and are caught in that victim posture. And all you can do is cry out in despair,
We don’t really know whether the tax collector found himself there, particularly since there is no sequel to the parable But if we simply take the tax collector at face value, and if we can assume that he had heard the Good News — the Good News that declares there is more mercy in God than sin in us — if we can assume that, then we can also assume that the tax collector became as zealous as the Pharisee,
Only it was a different kind of zealousness. The tax collector’s zeal lay in expressing his gratitude for the love of God, which came to him when he was still a sinner. The zeal of the Pharisee was based on his effort to prove himself. In any event, the point is crystal clear: Mercy and forgiveness can come only to those who seek them.
The Pharisee and the tax collector is a story as old as the Bible and as fresh as your next look in the mirror. Can you see the relevance of the descriptions? More than that, can you feel the two pulls in your own life?
The Pharisee and the tax collector story is our own story. I doubt that Jesus told the story simply to point out two kinds of people. Instead, I believe it is a parable about each one of us.
Each of us contains within himself or herself both parts: We are quick to cover over our mistakes, and we often find ourselves on our knees, in each of us dwells a bit of the Pharisee and a bit of the tax collector, just as in each us there dwells a little of the saint and a lot of the sinner.
Good people, in this time of Lent, when we seek to look into our hearts, in this time of rugged honesty, when the Church asks us to take a journey of self–examination, and as we take the first step along the way, hand in hand with the Pharisee and the tax collector — we might think together of St, Augustine’s words recalling the two thieves who hung on either side of Christ. He wrote:
“One was saved, do not despair. One was not; do not presume,”
Amen