Something We Are All Guilty Of

Something We Are All Guilty Of

Luke 18:9-14

“God, I thank you that I am not like other people.

Really, thank you, God.”

Wow, does this passage ever convict!

And if we are not all found guilty in hearing this parable, we are deluding ourselves.

We all pray this way too often.

It starts out as a brief observation of comparison.

A glance that sizes up the other.

An aspect of an individual singled out as especially distasteful.

But then, something changes.

It is no longer a passing appraisal, but rather something that leads to judgement.

It’s judgement without understanding.

It’s judgement without empathy.

It’s judgement without any attempt to see as Jesus sees.

It’s judgement without any action that tries to come near to the other person…the person whom Jesus loves.

This parable calls out this sin of ours—the sin of dismissal.

The sin of one-upmanship.

The sin of appraisal and assessment before compassion.

It calls attention to that time and space in between an all-too-quick evaluation and the final verdict of whether or not another person meets the expectations we have set out.

This passage calls attention to those moments in our lives when we are ready to judge another.

We size up another person thinking that our faith, our religiosity, our spirituality is somehow better.

Or that we, are simply too good to associate with the other.

As soon as we start to question whether or not someone deserves a place in God’s kingdom, in our church or in our circle of friends, we would do well to remember this passage.

“To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable…”

Ouch!

Haven’t we all done this at times?

I mean, even if we read through this parable and then silently pray, “Lord, I thank you that I am like the repentant tax collector and not the self-righteous Pharisee” we have become like the self-righteous Pharisee.

This is a tough parable.

It calls us to examine ourselves and how we think about and relate to others.

It calls us to be honest about ourselves and our relationship with God.

It calls us to be more like Jesus.

Jesus didn’t put on “airs.”

He just was who he was.

He ate with whomever would have him.

He talked and listened to whoever would talk.

He loved the rich and poor alike.

He loved the Pharisee and the tax collector, robbers and adulterers, Jews and Gentiles and all other sinners the same.

He loved us all.

And he still does.

Jesus was the humblest person who ever walked this earth.

And it was through his humility that Jesus proved his love.

I love how Paul puts it in Philippians Chapter 2: “In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking on the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.

And being found in appearance as a human, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!”

It’s interesting that Jesus talked about the importance of humility just about as much as he spoke about love.

And I think the reason he did this is because it is impossible to love unless we humble ourselves.

If we are caught up in ourselves and trying to prove ourselves to others…

…to get a leg up on others…

…how in the world can we get outside of ourselves in order to love others?

If we aren’t willing to humble ourselves, how can we serve?

If we aren’t willing to humble ourselves how can we see Christ in others and thus learn not to easily assess and dismiss?

Teacher and author Barbara Brown Taylor writes about encountering others as an act of faith, seeing others as strangers in whom Jesus Christ may be present to us.

We don’t have to start with the most difficult people or the most challenging situations.

We can warm up, work our way along, as we simply notice the folk who are in front of us.

She writes:

“The next time you go to the grocery store, try engaging the cashier.

You do not have to invite her home for lunch or anything, but take a look at her face while she is trying to find whatever you have picked up on her laminated list of produce.

Here is someone who exists even when she is not ringing up your groceries, as hard as that may be for you to imagine.

She is someone’s daughter, maybe someone’s mother as well.

She has a home she returns to when she hangs up her apron here, a kitchen that smells of last night’s supper, a bed where she occasionally lies awake at night wrestling with her own demons and angels.”