Readings: Genesis 4:1-15 | Ephesians 2:1-10 | Luke 18:9-14
Text: Luke 18:9-14
In the hearts and minds of the faithful, this parable stands second only to the Parable of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32). It is one of the most important because it contains the core message of our faith: that no man is holy of himself, except, of course, for Christ our Lord. Also (and no less important), no one is justified by works, no matter how good he is. At the same time that no one is beyond redemption, no matter how vile, but that Christ our Lord died for all, and would gladly forgive the sins of everyone, even tax collectors.
This parable is so central, in fact, that we have taken its example into our own life of prayer. For the most part, when you pray, you fold your hands and bow your head and pray as the tax collector rather than as the Pharisee.
No matter how important and necessary for us to hear, we suffer difficulty in carefully hearing it. It is overly familiar, and we think that we already know what it means and what it says. We also, of course, know before Jesus even starts that the Pharisees are always the bad guys and that Jesus likes tax collectors and harlots and the like.
With these simple shortcuts, the shock is utterly missing in the parable, along with some other details. This would have been absolutely shocking, possibly even revolting to the original hearers. Tax collectors were traitors to their people. They were profiting by stealing from the people and giving part of the money to the occupying army. I suppose about the closest we could get to would be if your children’s college fund and tuition money was taken and given to Antifa and groups like that which erode peaceful society. That’s how bad they really were. No one hearing this parable originally would think, ‘Well, of course a tax collector could be a believer.’
At the same time, the Pharisee was in fact a good man. The reason that Jesus is battling with the Pharisees throughout the Gospels is because they are so good. Their theology is the closest to His. They are really the only people at the time of Jesus who are taking the Bible seriously and are trying to follow it. He’s arguing with them, because they’re actually reachable and perhaps teachable, unlike the Sadducees and the others who only want the Scriptures insofar as it confirms what they’re already doing. Nicodemus was a Pharisee. St. Paul was a Pharisee. Pharisees are not far from the Kingdom of God [Mark 12:34].
So, when we hear this, we’re not hearing it with the shock. We are also prone to hearing the prayer of the Pharisee as though he were haughty and self-righteous. And indeed. Jesus tells this parable “to some who are trusting in themselves,” but the words of the prayer itself are not:
“'God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.'”
That’s not very different than a pious thought we might have when we hear about or see someone whose life is absolutely destroyed. We might say, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” We might as well have said thank you, God, that I’m not like that guy. That’s what the Pharisee meant. And it’s a completely valid statement. To rejoice and to thank God that he has spared us for being handed over completely to our baser desires and all of the terrible things that go along with it.
In fact, in Romans chapter 1, Saint Paul tells us that’s the main way that God punishes sinners—by handing them over to what they think they want. So also, what the Pharisee says is not of itself evil or wrong, nor is it wrong for him to tithe and fast and the like. For us to simply assume that he’s doing this only for show would be presumptuous, if it were not for the specific information our Lord gives, because He can see into his heart.
So, if this parable doesn’t shock you or insults you, it’s not really meant for you, and you’re not really hearing it rightly. The truth is, we are all prone to trusting in ourselves and treating others with contempt. Americans, in particular, are trained to dislike haughtiness. After generations of hearing this parable, we’ve gotten the message that the worst thing you can be is self-righteous. The worst thing you can do is be showy in your good works. That’s why we are quite prone to judge the Pharisee in this.
Apart from what we’re told, the problem with the Pharisee is not his prayer, his fasting, or his tithing. The problem is that he does not trust in the Messiah to forgive his sins, likely because he does not think he has sins to be forgiven. It’s the same with Cain and Abel. We would not know there was a problem with Cain’s sacrifice, except that God is displeased by it. We find out, of course, in the Book of Hebrews explicitly, that Abel offered his sacrifice by faith (Hebrews 11:4). The difference between Cain and Abel is not so much in what they did in outward way, but what’s in their hearts. The difference between the Pharisee and the tax collector is radically different in an outward way, but in their hearts that the difference is evident that the Pharisee does not have faith while the tax collector does. His behavior has been atrocious, and he acknowledges how displeasing his life has been both before God and men.
We get a very important glimpse into the tax collectors faith by the word that he uses for “mercy” because he asks, “Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner.” The word that he uses there for mercy is not the word “eleison” that were accustomed to hearing, “Kyrie eleison.” Instead what he does is he uses the word for a particular piece of furniture in the Holy of Holies that’s called the Mercy Seat. He takes a verb form of that word. He says, in effect, “Lord have mercy-seat upon me, a sinner.”
This matters because this is the entire purpose of the Temple. The tax collector actually comes to the right place at the right time for the right thing. Perfectly in accordance with what God established it for, all of the Old Testament ceremonial law congeals and focuses upon the single point: Sinners need a way to access God safely and not be destroyed. God provides the Temple that they might be cleansed and purified so they can bring their petitions and praise to him according to His mercy, and then be answered. In fact, that’s what the point is of being separate from the other people, through the dietary regulations and the other ceremonies, and particularly through the sacrifice.
The Temple segregates in ever narrowing bands. First of all, everybody can go there, even Gentiles. After that, all Jewish people can go. Men, women and children. After that, only Jewish men. After that, only priests. After that only the high priest, and then the only one day of the year (the Day of Atonement {Jewish ~ Yom Kippur}, Leviticus 16).
However, all those gradations are eliminated by a single sacrifice. At the death of Christ, who is the Lord in human flesh, His cross is suddenly the true Mercy Seat. At His death, the temple veil is torn and the temple guards are struck as though they are dead at the resurrection. Jesus is removing the barriers of the Temple and making His Cross the Mercy Seat, allowing access even to women, to gentiles, even ones such as this tax collector.
This is where God promises to be, to stand between us and the law to shield us from the accusations of the law, to provide atonement to cover us and to protect us. This is what all of the blood of the sacrifices were doing—the Passover Lamb, the whole burnt offerings, all the blood sprinkled to make atonement. And that’s what prays for:
“Have this Mercy Seat upon me, a sinner. If you don't, I'm going to hell because of all the terrible things that I have done to my own people and to myself. But you have provided these means precisely that I would not.”
If we don’t hear it in that way in the context of the temple, it could sound as though the tax collector is casually saying, “Well, God, please be nice to me and forget about the bad stuff that I did.” That’s not the point. The point is, a sacrifice has been made, payment has been made, atonement has been won by the death and the resurrection of the Messiah, which he receives by faith. This penitent tax collector is seeking this through the means of grace that have been given to him in the Temple.
Those were the means that God had established for them. And although we can’t go to the cross, the Lord brings the cross to us through the means that He has instituted: Baptism, the Absolution, and the Lord’s Supper. Jesus says,
“19Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.”
We overemphasize that last part of teaching, as if our good was in learning more about God—more study of the Scriptures, more discipline, more “making Jesus the center of your life.” But that tragically overlooks why Jesus instituted Baptism. His Apostle, Paul, teaches,
“3Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? 4We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.” (Romans 6:3-4)
Baptism brings each of us to the Cross, and the Cross to us. The Mercy Seat with all of its atonement washes over us in this divinely-instituted flood of forgiveness.
And because we daily sin much, even after Baptism, we continue to need that Mercy Seat brought near. The Israelites had their daily sacrifices, but we rely on Christ’s alone. For that, our Lord has taught us to pray,
“Our Father...forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” (Matthew 6:9, 12)
He has given to the Church and her ministers this astounding authority:
“18Truly, I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.” (Matthew 18:18)
And in the closest parallel to the Passover and the old sacrifices, our Lord Jesus Christ, on the night in which He was betrayed, now gives His Body and Blood in answer to our sincere prayer, “Have mercy-seat upon me, a sinner.” He invites us, along with the other means of grace, to have a visual and tangible proof that He gladly answers our cry.
14I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other.
So, like the tax collector, every penitent who comes hears and believes Jesus’ words goes home justified. They’ve been declared righteous, holy and innocent, no matter how vile and despicable they were. They go home righteous before God, a changed person.
The tax collector went home justified, and that made a difference for him and for his family and for the world, because he now lives this life as one who has received the benefits of the mercy seat.
In the Name of + Jesus. Amen.
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