Reading Luke Together #37 – Talking Honestly with God

Luke 18:9-14: one of Jesus’ most vivid and thought-provoking parables. Yes, it’s a made up story – but the characters are recognizable, even if they’re a bit stereotypical. Notice Luke’s entrée: whereas most parables are for any and everybody, this one is directed toward “some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and despised others.” Who, me?

It’s so American to be independent, to trust in yourself – or to take pride in your churchgoing or charitable deeds or goodness. And in our current culture, despising others is simply the norm. We even feel that nosing out and finding fault with those we despise is validation of our own viewpoint. Half the fun of being right, and good, is being able to needle those who are wrong and evil – right?

Read the story – but be careful with the Pharisee. He’s like many of us, enjoying the temple and religious life! He’s also Jewish – and we’d best not read this as anti-Jewish, as if all Jews were smug, pious curmudgeons. Many Jewish theologians back then were chagrined and critical of their fellow Jews who were like this Pharisee – not hard to understand if we look around the Christian fold and notice our own smug Pharisees who embarrass us.

You have to love Luke’s characterization. This Pharisee “prayed with himself.” How much of prayer is simply me muttering to myself religious things I dig hearing – and how much of prayer is entirely self-obsessed? In a mere 2 verses, this dude refers to himself 5 times! He’s sure he needs no forgiveness. In fact, he asks nothing of God at all; he merely struts in front of God, full of himself. He considers himself “master of the law,” when the Jewish ideal would be to be “mastered by the law” (David Lyle Jeffrey’s wise observation). His problem is… himself, his very good, righteous self. He’s sure God’s tickled with him, proud of him. He’s the kind of guy God doesn’t have to attend to very much…

Then the other guy. Tax collectors we’ve seen quite a few times in Luke’s narrative: loathed, feared – “the moral equivalent of lepers” (Tom Wright), and so, avoided, regarded as lower than demons. His humility verges on humiliation. God doesn’t wish for any to be humiliated. But humility? It’s the simple truth about our lives – and he’s at least self-aware, or maybe we should say, he’s God-aware. His bowed posture invites God to embrace and lift him up. He’s no worse, and no better than the Pharisee. “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). The Pharisee might have begrudging agreed: Okay, I’ve fallen maybe 3% short; but that tax collector must be 94% short! All have fallen short. Period.

To see, and to be able to name and not hide our brokenness: this is the way to life, to healing. Vulnerability isn’t something Brene Brown discovered. It’s as old as the Bible, as old as Adam. It’s just plain honest! “The entire point of religion is to make us humble before God and to open us to the path of love” (Bishop Robert Barron).

In her great Ash Wednesday homily, Rev. Nancy Walton reminded us that “talking honestly with God makes us righteous - because it helps put us in ‘right relationship’ with God. That’s all that righteousness is - right relationship. It doesn’t make us perfect. It doesn’t always make us feel clean, especially as we may take on the Lenten work of having right relationships with our family, our neighbors, with those in our lives.” Real relationships, among people or between us and God, don’t happen when one struts his goodness and the other congratulates him. Real relationships are honest, vulnerable, full of truth-telling, understanding, empathy, and embracing.

Nancy’s related point reveals how our honesty with God can then transform the lives of others. She said “When we come out with the truth about our own lives, it helps others come out with the truth about their lives.” Reveal something personal, maybe painful or difficult, some grief, a loss or worry. Some smug Pharisee might judge you, but that Pharisee isn’t your friend, or God’s. Someone will hear, and not just love, but be liberated to say Here’s something I’ve not told anybody, but I sure need to get it off my chest. Then friendship blossoms, and we take courage and hope – together.