Running On Empty

Show me the alley, show me the train,

Show me the homeless man who sleeps out in the rain...

And I’ll show you a young man with so many reasons why,

There but for fortune go you or I, you or I.

Show me the whiskey stains on the floor,

Show me the drunkard as he stumbles out the door...

And I’ll show you a young man with so many reasons why,

There but for fortune go you or I, you or I.

Show me the bruises hidden from sight,

Show me the children who cry out in the night.

And I’ll show you a young one with so many reasons why,

There but for fortune go you or I, you or I.

The only problem with this beautiful, poignant little song is of course that it says “there but for fortune” rather than “there but for the grace of God,” but you get the idea. Do you ever think that to yourself - when you pass someone carrying a sign, “will work for food” - do you ever think, I could be that man? When single moms came in to our food shelf, I sometimes saw myself in them. If my life had taken a different turn, what would I have done in their shoes? How close have you ever come to being one of those people most of us want to pass by with averted eyes?

The Pharisee in Jesus’ parable starts out by thanking God that he is "not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector." [v. 11] This is good. He should thank God for his success in life, his good status, his clear conscience. And we also do well to thank God that we are sitting here in our pews, clothed and warm and reasonably well fed. There’s nothing wrong with that at all.

And before we get too critical of him, we should remember that the Pharisees did have a lot to be proud of. They were the Reformers, the Luther and Calvin and Zwingli of the first century. They were the people who had taken religious power away from the hereditary priestly class, the “entrenched power” of the day, and had given it to the people by insisting that everyone should learn the law, the Torah, not just the upper classes. They taught that God’s favor was accessible to those who sought it, not just those who were born to it. They cared about learning, they cared about obedience, they cared about honoring God. At least most of them did. And that was good.

The problem with this particular Pharisee was, that although he started praising God, the prayer wound up being a psalm to his own righteousness instead. God, I thank you that I am not like other people. [Lk 18:11b] He uses the first person “I” four times in the course of this brief prayer. And note, too, that he wasn’t thanking God for anything God had done; he was inviting God to notice what he had done. There he was, standing in front of God with another human being, and he was inviting God to join him in condemning the other man. “See, God, aren’t you lucky that you have me? Aren’t you offended that the sinner over there dares to presume?”

There’s not even anything wrong with this Pharisee thanking God that he had developed some good spiritual practices. Consider: Does coming to church regularly help you cope with life? Does reading your Bible help you steer a straight course in life? Does prayer help you keep your balance and your perspective? It would be terrific if what the Pharisee had meant by his prayer was “Thank you, God, that you have called me to yourself and showed me how to live in a right relationship with you.”

Unfortunately, the Pharisees’ reforms hadn’t gone far enough. Although they taught that anyone - rich or poor, of priestly descent or common - could come closer to God by reading Scripture and obeying the law, they created a barrier between the haves and the have-nots just as wide as the old wall had been. That’s one of the reasons why the Pharisees were sure Jesus couldn’t possibly be the Messiah; they were so sure they would be seated at the head of God’s banquet table that when Jesus didn’t notice how righteous they were, they just knew he couldn’t be the real thing. How could he miss it? They’d been trumpeting it loudly enough. If he didn’t admire their righteousness, he had to be an imposter, because God owed them.

The Pharisees had it backwards. God didn’t owe them anything, because he had already given them everything. Their mistake was in thinking that they deserved what God had given them: their standing in the community, the seat in the synagogue, their own sense of self-righteousness. It was only right that God should recognize their outstanding qualities and reward them appropriately. It never occurred to them that the gifts they had received weren’t supposed to stop there.