Sermon: When you're the one who is wrong (Oct. 23, 2016)

Pentecost 23C

October 23, 2016

Luke 18:9-14

            I know that many of us have been very discouraged by this election cycle, perhaps the nastiest in recent history, and it only gets worse with each passing day. The accusations, the criticisms, the threats, the name-calling, the picking on every mistake anyone has ever made and blowing it out of proportion… it is all sickening. Most of us just want to hear about the issues that matter to us, so we know who to vote for, and who will better lead this country.

            All of these things have been discouraging or even infuriating to me at some point along the way, but one thing that is consistently discouraging for me is everyone’s resistance to admitting wrong. “Mistakes were made,” we hear. Or, “That may be true, BUT…” There is always a level of removal from any wrong-doing, or a shift of the blame. I know, no one wants to admit they are wrong, especially someone who is running for president who wants to at least appear like they are powerful and in control and always make good choices. But how refreshing it would be to hear someone say, “I was wrong. I take responsibility for that. I made a bad choice. And I’m taking active steps to improve and make better choices in the future.” No excuses, no blame shifting, just good old fashioned taking responsibility.

            Of course it is easy for us to say this about two people who are so far removed from our personal lives. But for me, at least, I think what makes this so frustrating on this world stage, is that it is also a frustration on the smaller stages of day-to-day life. We all know people who refuse to admit when they are wrong. Maybe you are married to such a person, or maybe you work with or for one. Maybe… you are one! Ok, let’s all just admit for a moment: we are all people like that! Anyone notice what happened there? As I started to explain, I first pointed toward all the other people in life who possess this undesirable trait of blaming others before calling themselves out? Because it is always the other, isn’t it? No one, no one likes to admit when they are the one who is wrong!

            In reality, a lot of us can probably identify more closely than we’d like to admit with the Pharisee in Jesus’ parable today. The one who stands alone and thanks God that he is not as bad as everyone else. How blessed he is, how righteous, how lucky to be such a good person – not like all

Pharisee and the publican

those other schmucks out there! A couple weeks ago, I invited you to try to be thankful for even the situations and people in your life by or from whom you feel divided, in an effort to heal that divide. When I tried to do that myself, I found it difficult not to slip into the ways of the Pharisee – being grateful that I am not like that person or situation I dislike!

            Of course a prayer like that, like the Pharisee’s, as the parable shows us, only makes our divisions worse. That is what the Pharisee is doing, after all – he puts distance between himself and all those thieves, rogues, adulterers, and that icky tax collector over there in the corner. He stands apart, and boasts about his own righteousness, as compared to anyone else, but this boasting he dresses up as a pious prayer. Well, he may have intended piety, but what he actually does is damage any possibility of being in meaningful relationship with these other children of God.

            Now, I stand by what I said a couple weeks ago, that practicing humble gratitude is important in healing divides. But today’s parable suggests another route toward healing, and that is the route we see not from the Pharisee, but from the tax collector: the route of confession.

            Confession is a strong antidote for self-righteousness. Luke lays it out for us in the introduction to this parable, in which he says, “[Jesus] told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.” That’s an accurate description of self-righteousness, isn’t it? When we are self-righteous, we can’t help but do as the Pharisee: look at all of our attributes, and all the things we do right, and all the ways we are right, and compare them to all the people who are not right, who are, in fact, wrong. And when someone else is wrong, well, then it is not a far leap to do as Luke says, “regard them with contempt.” Soon enough, we are not only judging others’ actions or their behavior, but judging them, their very character and person.

            So, enter here the practice of confession, which we see in the tax collector. He has no sense of self-righteousness. No, he sees himself as scum. “God, have mercy on me, a sinner,” he prays. His is one of the oldest Christian prayers, known as “The Jesus Prayer”: it is a simple acknowledgement that we are sinners in need in Christ. Or as Martin Luther put it in his last written words, scrawled out on a scrap of paper, “We are beggars. This is true.” Our human reality is just that: that we are sinners, beggars, unable to do anything to get ourselves out of the muck except to pray to God and depend upon God’s gracious response. Practicing confession is a powerful way for us to recognize what the Pharisee doesn’t seem to: that as self-righteous as we may be, as quick to judge others, as resistant to admitting we are wrong, at the end of the day, “We are beggars. This is true.”

Now, the tax collector doesn’t name his sins specifically in this parable – for the sake of the message of the parable, it is enough that he simply acknowledges his standing: not as someone who follows all the laws and so should be lifted up and admired by those around him, but rather, as someone who could never hope to earn God’s love and forgiveness, and depends entirely upon God’s fatherly and divine mercy. For us, however, I think naming our sins is even more powerful. Alcoholics Anonymous is really onto something by making the first step of the program to admit that

you have a problem. To confess a sin is to admit that you have a problem, that you have done something that was not what God would have had you do. In naming that, we make it more real, and we have a better shot both at addressing this instance, and also not repeating the behavior in the future.

Has anyone here ever participated in an individual confession, in which you actually tell another person how you have sinned, and received words of forgiveness in return? This is common in the Catholic Church, of course, and Lutherans do actually have a rite for it as well. I have done it once – it’s really hard! To admit to yourself and aloud to another person that you were wrong, that you messed up – youch! But then to hear those words of absolution, the words that say, “God forgives you!” is all the more powerful.

Those words are the beginning of healing in our own hearts. But they also move us toward healing in our relationships. Having admitted before God that we were wrong in some way takes away a layer of self-righteousness. Suddenly it allows us to see others not as less than, not with the contempt with which the Pharisee views the tax collector, but as a fellow beggar-in-Christ, a fellow human being who is just trying to make some sense of this world and its problems, a fellow child of God.

Indeed, those divine words, “I forgive you,” those words we long to hear – are they not the entire reason we cling to Christ and practice this faith? We cannot spend our whole lives in the corner with the tax collector, beating our breast and praying to God, “Have mercy on me, a sinner,” any more than we can spend our lives standing tall and looking down on everyone around us like the Pharisee. As Jesus says at the end of the parable, the one who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted. The one who genuinely looks at her life and says, “God, I have fallen short here, please help me,” will indeed be helped. The one who says, “Have mercy on me, a sinner,” will indeed be justified and forgiven. The one who is willing to admit, “We are beggars, this is true,” will be offered the relentless grace of God, will be exalted, will be brought into a whole and healthy relationship – with Christ, and finally, with those with whom we are in relationship here on earth.

Will we see this in our presidential candidates? Unfortunately, not likely. But we can, and do, see it in our personal relationships. Because, from our confession and God’s forgiveness, we then have a shot at reconciling with each other, at coming to an understanding of one another. And it is this practice of regular confession – whether that is sharing with a friend, family member, or even a professional, or writing it down in a prayer journal for only your eyes and God’s – this regular practice of confession will bring healing, will restore relationship, and will help us to see, not only in the moments that bring us joy, but also the ones that bring division, that the hand of God is very active in all of our lives and our relationships. Thanks be to God.

Let us pray… Forgiving God, we are sometimes prone to self-righteousness, refusing to admit we are wrong. Grant us humble hearts, and a willingness and ability to view those around us not with contempt, but with mercy and compassion, as fellow sinners, and fellow children of God. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen