Sermon preached by the Reverend Nicholas Lang

St. Paul’s on the Green, Norwalk, Connecticut

October 28, 2007

Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable to You, O Lord, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.

Once upon a time in a land far away, a beautiful, independent, self-assured princess happened upon a frog as she sat contemplating ecological issues on the shores of an unpolluted pond in a verdant meadow near her castle. The frog hopped into the princess' lap and said: “Elegant Lady, I was once a handsome prince, until an evil witch cast a spell upon me. One kiss from you, however, and I will turn back into the dapper, young prince that I am and then, my sweet, we can marry and set up housekeeping in your castle -- with my mother -- where you can prepare my meals, clean my clothes, bear my children, and forever feel grateful and happy doing so. "

That night, as the princess dined sumptuously on lightly sautéed frog legs seasoned in a white wine and onion cream sauce, she chuckled and thought to herself: I so don't think so.

Appearances can be deceiving. Just like a box of chocolates, you just never know what’s really on the inside. It might look like a frog, but really be a prince. And, then again, it might just be a frog. Things are not always as they appear...nor are people. Take, for example, the characters in the parable that Jesus gives us today. First, let me say that nobody asked Jesus for this story. Often as you know, Jesus told parables in response to questions or situations posed to him by members of his audience—often in an effort to set a trap for him. But here no question, no dilemma is presented. Jesus just breaks into the story: Two men went into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.

We know about these Pharisees. Or do we? They are often painted as hypocrites who were out to prove that Jesus was a representative of the devil. But that’s not a real accurate portrayal of all Pharisees. They were one of many Jewish reform movements in the first century and sought to find God’s presence in all the daily routines of life. They were, however, consumed with the keeping of the religious laws and were obsessed with being sure everyone else noticed that.

What is surprising is the appearance of the tax collector. He would have been a petty bureaucrat who collected taxes for the ruling Roman king. They engaged in shady transactions and thought to be unclean because they had frequent contact with gentiles. Tax collectors were banned from the synagogue so it was laughable for those hearing this parable for the first time that a tax collector would come to the temple to pray and ask for God’s mercy.

Let’s reframe the story for this audience. Two men, who looked very different in their appearance and demeanor, showed up at church one Sunday morning. One was a devout, morally upstanding and religious person. He carried his well-worn Bible and it was generally known how proud he was about how much he contributed to the coffers of the church. A family man, he was appalled by the presence of the character sitting next to him in the pew that day—and he whispers a thank you that he is so unlike this reprobate.

That other man could have played a part in a Marlon Brando movie. He had just stepped out of a stretch limo, flanked by two working women and smelled like the perfume section at Target. He stubbed out his Cuban cigar in the narthex and slid in the last pew, starred down at the floor and pleaded with God to go easy on him. In a whisper he prays, “I know down deep, God, that I’m really just a bum.”

Jesus asks us to make a judgment call here. Which of the two would go home justified? With this more contemporary scenario, perhaps we can get a sense of what his first century audience was thinking when they heard this parable…and the attendant question from Jesus.

Now, if you have taken the bait, you may have done a quick mental assessment of the two characters’ respective worth. You may even have asked yourself with which of the two you want to identify. Are you the Pharisee? Or the tax collector?

This story has most often been preached as a lesson about prayer and, yes, there is learning to be found therein about how one might honestly and vulnerably approach God. But beyond that, and embedded deeply into the parable, I think is the real teaching Jesus had in mind when he surveyed his audience that day and burst into this narrative.

“Because I’m bigger than you!” Can you here that playground declaration when the school bully stakes his claim of superiority over the poor kid who is being forced to surrender his lunch money? Never mind that this more diminutive seventh grade victim is smarter, more talented, more likeable. The ultimate standard has been applied. “I’m bigger than you! I’m better than you! You lose!”

Fast forward to adulthood and, while the text of the chant will change, the inherent message remains the same: I make more money than you. My house cost more than yours. I drive a better car. I do more volunteer work. I am more open-minded. There is no question about it. I am the better person and I have the goods to prove it.

For me, the primary reality that emerges from the parable of the Pharisee and tax collector is our human propensity for comparison and judgment. Society and many of its institutions encourage it. How many people who are assured of their own uprightness and moral integrity, and take great pride in that, find it so easy to pass judgment on others.

I can still see it as if it were yesterday. Picture it: Bloomfield, New Jersey, 1962, my eight grade class, St. Thomas the Apostle School. Joseph McGary went to Mass and Communion every morning. So, in deference to his personal devotion, the good nuns allowed him to eat his breakfast at his desk before our lessons for the day began (in those days, Catholics had to fast at least one hour before Communion). I will never forget the smell of that blasted hard-boiled egg he sat munching—every single day—nor that pietistic plastic smirk on his face that said “I’m better than all of you”—nor how we would mock other kids on the playground with nice names like “Faggot,” “Sissy” “Fatso” So much for daily Mass and Communion.

Recently, the acerbic, verbally abusive columnist Ann Coulter—who considers herself a religious woman, and who I would say is a good match for the Pharisee in today’s parable—told a Jewish talk show host that in her dreams heaven, and for that matter America, is a place where everyone is Christian.

Where would the Jews have gone? She went on to explain that that Jews needed to convert to Christians in order to be "perfected," noting that Christians have a "fast track" to God. Hmm. I wonder how Jewish Jesus, his Hebrew mother, and his mashugana disciples would respond to that one. Yes, the human race has a wonderful propensity for comparison and judgment and, more and more, Christians seem to have the corner on the market.

In contrast, there are these words from recently deceased author Madeleine L’Engle: "We do not draw people to Christ by loudly discrediting what they believe, by telling them how wrong they are and how right we are, but by showing them a light that is so lovely that they want with all their hearts to know the source of it."

We are that kind of church, that expression and experience of religion that wants to show the light and to welcome all—with no requirement that you become “perfected” in any way, shape or form. Nevertheless, we need to be on our guard not to be excessive in our self adulation over our success in creating the kind of sanctuary where both the Pharisee and the tax collector can sit beside one another in peace.

Pride can sneak in when we least expect it. It is far too easy to become like two old men sitting in their synagogue during the Sabbath service who overheard the loud lament of another worshipper near them, “God, be merciful to me, a nobody! God, forgive me a nobody! God, help me, though I’m a nobody.” One of the men looked at the other and asked, “Who’s this who thinks he’s such a nobody?”

I suspect that none of us is pure bred Pharisee or tax collector. There is a little Pharisee and a little tax collector in all of us. We strive to be upright, to do our part for God and for the church, but, truth be told, are grateful that we have the education, degrees, titles, and income that we have and that sets us apart from those who do not.

Some of us may hone our efforts at piety out of love of God and some of us may do it because we want to look our best in the midst of our peers. And, if we do live up to a very high standard, we may fight to suppress feelings of contempt for those who do not. On our best days we are acutely aware of our shortcomings and inadequacies, yet still humbly recognize the amazing person that God has created in us. In those times we ask God’s beloved mercy for hurting ourselves or one another, ever hopeful of the redemptive thing we know as the free gift of God’s grace.

You see, I think we are all like that little frog—warts and all—and that deep down inside we are extremely vulnerable, long for affirmation, and desperately want others to at least like us and maybe, just maybe to love us if even half as much as God does.

The parable Jesus offers us today brings us the good news that God has a totally different way of assessing value, an undoing of the claims of superiority we find in the world. Nothing we do, nothing we achieve, no amount of cash, no amount of education, no great ability to pray with eloquence, is the yardstick against which God appraises our worth.

The one guarantee on which we can count is that no matter with whom we identify on any given day—the exalted Pharisee or the humbled Tax Collector—God gives us the grace to discern the truth about who we are and who Christ calls us to be. There is one catch. We need to reach out and take it.