The Eleventh Sunday after Trinity, 2002
Luke 18:9-14

The contrast between Don Quixote and Sancho Panza has long captivated readers. Don Quixote is the hopeless romantic and idealist. He is able to see a broken-down nag as a chivalrous steed he calls Rocinante. A homely inn becomes a castle; a windmill seems to him an evil giant to be conquered. Quixote's is the life of heroic existence, to the point of absurdity. From this character we get the word quixotic , which means a person marked by rash lofty romantic ideas. Don Quixote's companion and squire, Sancho Panza is precisely the opposite. Don Quixote is tall and thin; Sancho Panza short and pudgy. Where Quixote is an idealist, Sancho is the realist. While Quixote sets out to fight in heroic battles, Sancho is intent on filling his stomach. When the two view an approaching rider, Quixote sees a brave knight on a steed wearing a war helmet; Sancho sees a barber on an ass carrying his basin on his head. The two represent the extremes of human experience: the high and the low, the great and the ordinary.

The parable in our Gospel passage also depicts opposites. However, the extremes portrayed are spiritual.

A tax collector and a Pharisee set foot in the Temple. These are the players in Christ's parable. The arrival of the two men could have occurred at one of the fixed hours of prayer or at another time when the doors of the Temple were left open. The two constituted the extremes in Judaism. The one stood at the pinnacle of honor, the other at the bottom. In first-century Judea the people esteemed the Pharisees most highly. In contrast, the common people considered tax collectors as traitors. The tax collector, or publican, took money to give to the hated Roman authorities. They were walking symbols of oppression. When devout Jews saw a Publican coming down the road they would shun him by crossing the street.

What takes place in the Temple? Jesus draws attention to their devotional posture. The Pharisee stands to pray. When it says the Pharisee "stood," the Greek original signifies much more than the vertical posture of his body. The verb used and its context implies that the Pharisee goes to a conspicuous place. He marches up to the front of the Temple, next to the stone rail that divided the priests' court from that of the laity. He gets as close to the Holy of Holies as possible.

"God, I thank You that I am not like other men" He says in effect, "God, you are fortunate to have me, I am not like other men ­ extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this tax collector. What would you do without me?"

In verse 12 he reminds God of his other virtues. "I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I possess." He is a first-rate tither and faster. God's Law prescribed only one day of fasting in the year, the Day of Atonement (Lev. 16:29). In the centuries between the Old and New Testaments, certain groups instituted fasting on Mondays and Thursdays. This custom was based on the supposition that Moses had ascended Mount Sinai to receive the Ten Commandments from the Lord on the fifth day of the week, which would be Thursday. And they believed Moses had come down from the mountain on the second day, or Monday. Our Pharisee followed this tradition meticulously.

The typical Pharisee also went beyond the Law's requirements in his tithing. The Law prescribed that only certain crops such as wheat and other grains be tithed (Deut. 14:22). Again, it was a later rule to tithe garden herbs like mint and rue, parsley and sage.

How do we size up the Pharisee? Was he praying falsehoods to the Lord? Were his claims fictional? Did he really practice all these things? Probably he did. More than likely, everything he said in his prayer was generally true. He did, in fact, fast and tithe what he said he did. So what is the Pharisee's problem? Pride is the most obvious flaw. His boasting is insufferable. Jesus spoke the "parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others" (v. 9).

Spiritual pride often has this aspect of over-confidence and presumption. Spiritual pride congratulates itself about all its goodness. Spiritual pride sets itself up as better than the other guy. The problem is with us today. It is true that a percentage of believers lack self-esteem and security. They tend to be fearful and timid among others. The fear of failure and an acute sense of inferiority haunt them. These need to be encouraged and their self-confidence nurtured. Pastoral counseling has long known that the afflicted need to be comforted; and the comfortable need to be afflicted. It is a tricky balance. What about people like the Pharisee? They are presumptuous, overly confident. Because they regard themselves as better than others, they tend to be pushy. Taken to extremes these types don't respect the boundaries of others and often attempt to control and manipulate. For the arrogant, a proper reverence in God's presence seems silly. The might and majesty of the Holy Creator rarely impresses them, they have such bloated self-esteem and self-righteousness. This ilk fills prisons and destroys relationships.

I happen to know a man who boasts of never driving faster than the speed limit. Never. There may be fifteen cars lined up behind him waiting to pass, but in his mind this is his chance to make a statement about his law-abiding goodness. How about his personal life? It is not good. Too often, he's lazy, self-centered and spoiled. The world revolves around him and his whims and if he has to be verbally abusive, and run down others in order to get his way, so be it. Yet, while driving he always obeys the law. He is very pleased with his righteousness.

Reading between the lines, it seems that we have a similar problem with the Pharisee. In terms of the minutia of God's law he is exemplary. But how about conduct in the essentials? Does he strive to love God with all his heart, mind, soul, and strength, and love his neighbor as himself? Probably not.

Parents who coddle their children can produce this kind of character. They think they are doing the right thing by pampering their kids, and then they receive an unpleasant surprise when their babies grow up and become monsters.

Moreover, the Pharisee in our text belies an ignorance of the Gospel of grace. "God, I thank you that I am not like other menI do so many good works." The meaning of the Pharisee's prayer is not that God's grace has made him different, but that he has made himself righteous; much better than others. There is little sense of sin and need of forgiveness, nor humble dependence upon God and His grace.

This is not the deportment of a child of God. True Christians do not brag before the holy, sovereign King and Judge of all mankind. They approach the Lord in love, fear, and humility.

The Publican shows us the proper stance in verses 13 and 14. [Read them.]

In contrast to the Pharisee, the Publican is so heavily burdened under the weight of his utter unworthiness before God that he remains standing far from the holier parts of the Temple and does not even venture to raise his eyes. The breast-beating, his striking of his chest brings out his contrition. Notice that the tax collector says, "God, be merciful to me, the sinner." Not " a sinner," like you see it in most Bibles. He placed himself in the "worst-sinner" category, affirming that he alone was the greatest of all sinners and not anybody else.

Is his contrition exaggerated? No! These are the expressions of a saint. Call good men and women godly to their face, and they are likely to smile, shake their heads, and say how they wish it were true. They are very cognizant of their sin. They regard their spiritual attainments as little more than filthy rags (Isaiah 64:6), and they are reluctant to talk about themselves, except as tools in God's hands.

What all God-fearing people experience is the reality that the closer they grow to God, the more they realize their own sinfulness. Sensitivity to sin is a good sign. Not all sensitivity is healthy, but sensitivity to sin is. Mature Christians become ever more penitent and sorry for how they fail to meet God's perfect standard of righteousness. They are willing to confess their sins to one another (James 5:14-16), or even to their pastor. They love the confession of sin in the liturgy, followed by the declaration of absolution. They are overwhelmed by the mercies of Christ, His saving grace, and the wonders of His completed work on the Cross.

The example of the Publican highlights our struggle with sin. We are in a fight! Those who do not struggle with sin get themselves into trouble. Yet on a typical Sunday you wouldn't know that. It is hard to tell that the brethren are wrestling against indwelling sin, straining against lying tongues, lust, anger, sloth and all sorts of bad habits and temptations. We come to church, we pray and sing corporately, participating in the Word and Sacrament. Naturally, we put a happy face on. The joy of salvation makes us cheerful. But let's not sweep sin under the rug. There are times when it would be better to honestly confess our sins.

A few years ago a man fell in love with a woman who was not his wife. Both were members of the same parish. His attraction to her continued to grow. Instead of his wife, he was thinking about her all the time. What did he do? He confessed his romantic pull. He told it to his wife. At first, his wife became angry and upset, but at least he enjoyed the relief of taking a load off his mind. The real benefit came in later weeks. The erotic feelings for the other woman ended and those feelings returned for his wife. The strategy was a success that helped him avoid adultery.

St. James tells us, "Confess your trespasses to one another." With such a clear command, you ought not underestimate the value of confession. This does not mean you enunciate every sordid detail, or that your dialogue be an unending airing of dirty laundry. Nevertheless, confession should be a normal part of your relationship at home and in the Church. What are the consequences when you conceal your sins from other believers? You remain lonely. Lonely because you get the impression, "I must be the only sinner here in this fellowship of super-spiritual people." And so you cut yourself off from the rest. Furthermore, when you hide your sins, you lose the prayer and encouragement others could be giving you. The Pharisee had everything backwards. He bragged about his righteousness. Jesus desires that you admit your unrighteousness.

Now let us turn our attention to the prayer of the Publican. In a dejected state of mind, he begs, "God, be merciful to me the sinner!" The tax collector was not only aware of his sin; He was also aware of what God had done to deal with his sin problem. How do we know that? A word study reveals it. The word translated, "be merciful" ( hilastheti ), is the verb form of the noun for "mercy seat," ( hilasterion ). Hilastheti and hilasterion issue from the same root. Of the several Greek verbs for mercy, the one identified with the Day of Atonement was chosen. The mercy seat was the lid or cover found on the Ark of the Covenant in the Temple. What is the meaning of the Publican's plea? "Lord, Mercy-Seat me." "God, be mercy-seated toward me." It sounds funny, but that is the literal translation.

What does the mercy seat have to do with sin and mercy? Some of you know that the ark of the covenant was an ornate wooden box about a yard long, covered with gold, and containing the stone tables of the Law. The lid of that box was the mercy seat. On each end stood angels whose outstretched wings joined over the center of the mercy seat. Between those outstretched wings and over the mercy seat hovered the glory cloud presence of God. The ark is a picture of sin and judgment. It contained the law of God. The purpose was to produce dread in the worshiper. What does God see as He looks down from between the wings of the angels? He sees the Law of Moses that we have broken. He sees that He must act toward us as Judge.

Yet here is where the mercy seat comes in, and why it is merciful. What did the High Priest sprinkle on the mercy seat once a year on the Day of Atonement? He sprinkled blood from an animal that had been killed moments before in the courtyard of the Temple. That sheep was a substitute. It was an innocent victim slain in the place of the sinful people who deserved death. Now, when God looks down from between the outstretched wings of the angels, what does he see? He sees, not the Law that has been broken, but the blood of the innocent victim. He notes that the blood covers the law and thus satisfies the penalty for sin. His wrath against sin is propitiated. The guilt and evildoing have been atoned. Now the love of the Lord goes out in mercy to save those who come to Him through faith in that sacrifice. The Publican prayed a simple prayer: "Lord, mercy-seat me," a prayer of profound theological import. It embodied his faith in the way of salvation by substitutionary atonement. "God, be mercy-seated towards me." What a wonderful statement about God's grace!

Of the two men, which one went home justified? Not the Pharisee. Rather, the Publican (v. 14). God had to puncture the arrogance of the Pharisee. He is a man condemned. Proud men, who exalt themselves and their own righteousness are rivals with God. They follow the example of Satan. They will be cast into Hell. He who exalts himself in self-conceit will be abased by God, but he who really humbles himself with sincere confession of guilt will be exalted.

In the liturgy, we rehearse the Ten Commandments every Lord's Day. The Law reminds you of your sin and condemns you. You fight this sin. It is your hardest struggle every day of your life. Do not despair. God has provided a full and perfect salvation through His Son. Do you trust in the atoning blood of Christ? If so, Christ's blood covers the mercy seat over the Law. The penalty has been paid, satisfaction made. Your Holy Father looks upon you and sees you robed in Christ's perfect righteousness, and not in your own filthy rags. What a joy it is to know that your sins are pardoned! Come now to the Eucharist and thank God for His mercy.

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