9Jesus also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves
that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: 10“Two men went up to
the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11The Pharisee,
standing by himself, was praying thus, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like
other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12I fast twice a week;
I give a tenth of all my income.’ 13But the tax collector, standing far off, would
not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be
merciful to me, a sinner!’ 14I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than
the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble
themselves will be exalted.”
What a jerk! Seriously!
But, I get his point. I don’t do
the stuff he mentioned, and I don’t abuse drugs, cheat on my spouse, abuse my
children, lie on my tax return, and I haven’t robbed or defrauded anybody. Isn’t that the point of the Christian life,
that we sin less and less; that our lives are guided by God’s transformative ethic
of truth and justice?
And a hard, radical love. Indeed, it
is. But the Christian life is more complicated
than we think. Confessing faith in the
God of Jesus of Nazareth and living into our baptismal vows of turning away
from sin are essential. But, the
knottier work that we will be doing until the day we die - after the confession
is made and the water wiped from our head - is attending
to our shadow selves.
Shadow selves? What’s that?
Some in the Church call it our “sin-nature.” Others, “human nature.” Still others, the Devil. Here’s another image to work with. The American author and activist, Robert Bly
describes shadow as those aspects of
ourselves that we find embarrassing, disgraceful, and achingly brittle; things
like our temper, our jealousy, our conceit.
These are traits we like to think that are not part of us, or that we
have overcome them. If this last
description offers more clarity, then you’ve just confirmed scripture when it
says: “the children of the world are
wiser than the children of the light.”
Be that as it may, our shadow informs how we see ourselves and how we present
ourselves to others. They have direct
bearing on our choice of words and action.
And they can contribute to the quality of our
lives and the health and longevity of every community of which we are a part.
Where did our shadow-self come
from? Our families of origin. Our culture.
And institutions like this one. We’ve
all learned and internalized them; how we can be pleasing, how to be
acceptable. Our shadow came into being when as a child someone said we were too
noisy. Or, as an adult when we were told
that we were bossy, touchy, bitter, cruel, an attention whore. So, we spend all our time ignoring, denying, or
covering it up. And, it’s in religious
contexts like ours where we try to pray this shadow stuff out of us, and be
extra, extra nice and mindful to be on our P’s and Q’s. Not a bad idea, but this is also the space
that can feed our shadow self. But it can also help us come to grips with that
side of ourselves we need to work on. Hence, the story of the Pharisee and the
Tax Collector.
The Pharisee: a blue-collar Jew. A rule-follower. Strict prayer life and attendance at the
synagogue. Very clear about wicked
people being
punished,
and righteous people being rewarded in the afterlife. The Tax Collector: could be a Jew or a
Gentile. Middle- to upper-middle
class.
Made his
living collecting taxes and fines for the occupying Roman government. If Jewish, not a synagogue attender because
of his employment. The Pharisee.
Self-righteous? Yes, hands
down. The Tax Collector. Self-righteous? I’m sure at some point in his life he
was. But, here he’s just honest about
who he was. Brittle. Broken.
An opportunist. Sometimes
delusional, if not demented.
Now, this is where biblical
interpretation is not so clear. I refuse
to choose between the two. I will not
name the Tax Collector as the “hero” of this story because I know that just as
there is a Tax Collector in me, there is also a Pharisee in me. And, the two extremes of being a Tax
Collector and a Pharisee are within me, too.
The colluding Tax Collector, and the penitent, humble Tax
Collector. The holier-than-thou
Pharisee, and the desiring-to-follow-after-God, the trying-to-get-it-right
Pharisee. And all four are in you,
too. In this church and in the Church
universal.
The word shadow may not have been in Luke’s mind when he penned his gospel,
but the idea of that human dilemma was definitely there. As Luke gives his accounting of the ministry
of Jesus, he emphasizes
the Kingdom of God; this wide open, alternative, culturally and spiritually
revolutionary real-time community. In
the preceding passages he warns of the threat to the witness and survivability
of this society: threats from outside of it, like the Roman government. But, he also warns of threats from within,
like the Messianic Pharisees who thought life in this new community was all
about dos and don’ts; comparisons and contrasting. So, Luke includes Jesus’ warning about:
*being extra vigilant in caregiving and offering mutual support,
*the need to be prayerful for one another, always,
*keeping the faith during times of disruption and chaos, and,
*the critical importance of being persistent in advocating for
justice and equity
– fairness
“Hold on” is one message I hear him saying in this text. “Don’t fall apart. Don’t let your shadow selves destabilize
everything that the Spirit of God has given birth to through you.” Don’t let jealousy, selfishness,
possessiveness, anger, lack of initiative, timidity, and grand-standing destroy
the community. Even so, God’s intentions
will not be derailed. What’s that verse, “…don’t think more highly of ourselves
than you ought.” Life in Christ is not a
competition; it’s not about any one of us. It’s about all of us.
So, what’s the good news in this
text? What can we do with this constant
struggle between the Pharisee and Tax Collector in each of us? What can we take with us into this new week full
of promise and possibility? First, come
to realize that resolving to rub out forever the vicious, selfish, and
reptilian aspects of ourselves is a futile course to pursue. Why?
Because we are fighting against ourselves, and sometimes we are our
worst enemies. We won’t win. Now don’t get me wrong. I do believe in the transformative power of
the Holy Spirit, but I also believe that our wrestling with the flesh will not
end until we leave this earth. Even so,
God’s work continues now. We are part of
the Church of Jesus Christ – the Church Militant; the community of believers
who have not left this earth yet, but carry on God’s work of reconciliation. We are human beings with every frailty and
limitation you could possibly name. Yet,
God uses us just as we are to do incredible things that bring life and joy and
hope. So, sinner we are, sinners saved
by grace. This ministry belongs to
God. God is in control, yet we are
blessed to be a central part of it. Even
in most problematic moments, God still chooses to use us. So, let’s take the high road and live into
the worst parts ourselves. None of us
are finished products.
The second piece of good news we can
take from this text is sitting next to you.
The person on your left and your right; the ones before you and behind
you. How ironic; the place that can
incite our spiritual bigotry and acting out can also be the place to bring
about our spiritual maturity and awareness.
We all need a small host of friends who will help us own our shadow
self; to help us hear what they can teach us.
Maybe that’s why we don’t become instantly sinless at our confession of
faith and baptism. What better teacher
can we have in brokenness? What a way to
learn how to hold these two parts of ourselves in tension, to take
responsibility for our actions, make peace with them, and allow the Holy Spirit
to unleash in us our untapped talents and gifts; that there is power in gentleness
and meekness!
Many Unitarian Universalist
congregations sing a hymn at the beginning of service inspired by Rumi, the
13the century Persian poet, Islamic scholar, and Sufi mystic. It goes like this:
Come, come, whoever
you are:
Wanderer, worshipper,
lover of leaving!
Ours is no caravan
of despair; come, yet again, come.
Though you’ve broken
your vow a thousand times,
broken your vow a
thousand times.
Come, yet again,
come.
Come to this place because you are welcome. Come to this place because we are all
wrestling with the Pharisee and Tax Collector inside of us. Come because your stories of defeat and
victory, gifts and strengths, as well as your faults and foibles, can inspire
and teach and build up someone else where they are weak. Come to this place because you’ve broken your
baptismal vows one thousand times since last we gathered. Come to this place because our stock in trade
is grace. Come, just as you are, and
expecting more. Just come!
RESPONSE
Sing with me if you know this song:
Spirit of the living
God, fall fresh on me.
Spirit of the living
God, fall fresh on me.
Melt me, mold me,
fill me, use me.
Spirit of the living
God, fall fresh on me.
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