XXX Ordinary Time
Luke 18: 9=14
Oh God, I thank you
that I am not like the Pharisee in the Gospel today. I never boast about how
good I am, and I never ever would compare myself to others thinking that I am
better, or more deserving then they are.
I get the lesson in today’s gospel. How are we supposed to pray? We are
supposed to pray with humility not with pride. It something that all of us
know. None of us would go into Church in front of everyone else and say, “'O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of
humanity --greedy, dishonest, adulterous -- or even like this tax
collector. I fast twice a week, and I pay tithes on my whole income.' I
for one know that I would never say a prayer like that. I would never go before
God boasting of how wonderful I am… except when I do.
I do pray like the
Pharisee, as much as I hate to admit it. When do I pray like the Pharisee? As I
was reflecting on the gospel this week I had to admit that I pray like the
Pharisee. It isn’t usually a pray of thanksgiving like the Pharisee though, it
is a prayer of anger. Whenever I don’t
get what I want. The Packers lose an important game. I get stuck in traffic, I
am late to a meeting, I get into a fight with someone and our relationship is
damaged. Someone I love gets sick I get sick. Someone close to me dies, and I
pray like the Pharisee.
“Lord, how could you do
this to me. I am a good person. I don’t lie or cheat or steal. I go to Church
on Sunday and holy days of obligation; I am generous with my church and other
charities. I am a Catechist, a Eucharistic Minister, Lector, I am a priest! How
could you do this to me? I deserve more. I deserve, the good job, the good
friends, good health, a good parking place and no traffic on my way to work. I
am not like those people, how could you treat me like this?”
Yes, unfortunately I
find myself praying like that a lot. I’ve made it. I have it made. I’ve earned it. I
deserve it. The pharisee spoke the truth. Those of us here in Church on this
Sunday are good people. We are better than many others. The words may feel very
good to say, but they slam tight the doors of reception and gift. When we pray
like that, we are saying that we don’t need God’s mercy, We earned it. We don’t
need God’s love, we deserve it. To pray like the pharisee we are saying “God I
don’t need anything from you. I got it. I am doing a pretty good on my own.”
It gets even worse when we begin to make comparisons. Who is better, who
is worse, who is first? And those who do not measure up to my idea of goodness are
deemed unworthy. It was to such people, “who believed in their own
self-righteousness, while holding everyone else in contempt,” that Jesus spoke
his parable.
Far behind the high and mighty man in front singing his own praises was
a poor soul in the rear of the temple. He seemed to consider himself unworthy,
keeping his distance. Was he a crook? An adulterer? Perhaps sad at his own
failure, his eyes are lowered. The words are simple. “O God, be merciful to me,
a sinner.” He is heard and he can hear. There are no comparisons in his prayer,
just the simple truth. It is he who goes home, not lost in his ego, but one
with God.
The problem with the
Pharisee was his approach to God: he prayed with himself; he set before God all
his merits, compared himself with the publican, and said with “I am pretty
wonderful.” He undid all of his good deeds with one blow. He came before God
trusting in his own, really genuine righteousness.
The
tax collector, on the other hand, knew that he was a bad lot. He was the one
who taught us how to pray. He knew what humility was, he was able to
acknowledge his need for forgiveness and mercy from God. We don’t gain heaven,
we don’t earn health or wealth or even a 605 without traffic, all is gift from
God. The only thing God wants from us is to admit that we stand before God in
need. The tax collector would not raise up his eyes to heaven but beat his
breast and cried, “Kyrie, eleison!” He was accepted by God because he
threw himself on God’s mercy.
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