28 August 2022 - Trinity 11 - Luke 18:9-14

The parable that Jesus tells in today’s text from St. Luke is about two noticeably religious men. They are both practicing their religious faith within the context of ancient Judaism. But at a level deeper than external form and ritual, did these two men actually adhere to the same religion?

Jesus told this parable to those who trusted in themselves, that they were righteous, and despised others. He said:

“Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, ‘God, I thank You that I am not like other men - extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I possess.’”

“And the tax collector, standing afar off, would not so much as raise his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”

The Pharisee and the tax collector do, I suppose, have this in common - as far as their outward religious practice is concerned: They are both praying in the temple in Jerusalem.

There are no overt atheists in this story. But the religion of the Pharisee and the religion of the tax collector are quite different from each other.

In his prayer, the Pharisee begins by saying, “God, I thank you that...” So far, so good. We might expect him then to begin listing some of the virtues and blessings of God, for which all people should rightfully be thankful.

“God, I thank you that you are good, gracious, and forgiving.” “God, I thank you that you have given me all that I need for this body and life.”

But no, we hear no such prayer from the Pharisee’s lips. Instead of saying, “God, I thank you that you...,” he says, “God, I thank you that I...” The Pharisee hijacked a prayer that was supposed to be to and about God, and twisted it into a list of boasts about himself.

Those who believe in God, and trust in his mercy, will bear the fruits of faith in their lives. According to their new nature, as God gives them the strength, they will be honest, and respectful of the property of others.

With God’s help they will be fair and just in their dealings. With God’s help they will be chaste and sexually pure, and faithful to their marriage vows.

In their devotional life as God’s children they might adopt certain outward disciplines, like refraining from certain kinds of food for certain periods of time. Our Small Catechism describes such fasting as “a fine outward training.”

As good stewards of the resources that God has entrusted to them, they may choose to imitate the example of the Old Testament patriarchs, and commit themselves to donating ten percent of their income to the Lord’s work.

All of these things can be, and in the life of a believer often are, the fruits of a true and living faith that clings to God’s gracious promises. All of these things can be, and often are, the joyful sacrifices of praise and thanksgiving that God’s people offer to him as free responses to his saving goodness toward them.

But the Pharisee had hijacked all of that, too. In the darkness and self-deception of his spiritually dead heart, he had turned those things in his life that were meant to be the fruits of a true faith, into the objects of a false and idolatrous faith.

In his case, they were cheap and superficial imitations of the fruits of faith. They were, in reality, the damnable fruits of his own damnable moral and religious pride. And he trusted in his outward morality, and in his external religious activities, because - ultimately - he trusted in himself.

If this parable were to be set in another time and place, the Pharisee might have been portrayed as boasting of other things. “God, I thank you that I am not like other men: drug dealers, serial murderers, corrupt politicians. I go to church every Sunday. I always say Grace before I eat.”

The Pharisees of the first century are not the only ones who are capable of turning what should be the fruits of a true faith into the objects of a false faith - that is, into things that are trusted in for salvation, and boasted of before God.

The real, fundamental issue for the Pharisee - and the real, fundamental issue for us, too - is not what is done or not done, or what kind of external disciplines someone holds himself to. Instead, the most important question – truly the only question – is, “In whom did the Pharisee trust?”

In whom do we trust? In whom do you trust?

The tax collector, in his prayer, says something quite different from what the Pharisee had said. Our translation renders his words in this way: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” But the original Greek actually speaks more precisely than this, on two points.

Where he is quoted as saying “a sinner,” a more literal translation would be “the sinner.” Was the tax collector the only sinful person on the face of the earth? Of course not.

But, in the context of his repentance, and in his unpretentious honesty before the all-knowing God, he thought of himself as the only sinner. And he might as well have been.

The Pharisee, during his prayer, was looking around at others, noticing people like the tax collector, and congratulating himself that he was not like them. But the tax collector was comparing himself only to God’s law, and not to the actions of other people.

Through his divine law, God’s Spirit was addressing the tax collector’s conscience in regard to the tax collector’s sins, and not in regard to the sins of others. It didn’t matter, in that moment, that there were other people and other sinners in the temple, and in the city.

Also, where the tax collector is quoted as saying “be merciful to me,” a fuller translation might be, “be propitious toward me,” “make an atonement or expiation for me,” or “may your wrath be turned away from me.”

The tax collector was liturgically aware of what was going on around him, and what it meant. It was with purpose that our Lord set this parable in the temple, in Jerusalem.

Here the sacrifices for sin that God mandated for the nation of Israel were regularly performed. Here the animals who were without sin were offered on God’s fiery altar in the stead of the people, whose sins had earned God’s wrath.

And so, when the tax collector pleaded for the Lord’s mercy on this day and in this place, he was not asking God just to ignore his sin or to pretend that it wasn’t really there. He was not asking God to be indulgent or indifferent concerning his sin.

That would be asking a holy God not to be holy. And this is impossible.

But, in heartfelt repentance, and in hopeful expectation, the tax collector was asking that the God who forgives, would forgive him: for the sake of the temple sacrifices, and ultimately for the sake of the true and eternally-sufficient sacrifice of his own Son, toward which the temple sacrifices pointed as types and foreshadowings.

Our gracious and loving God is always thoroughly delighted with a prayer like this, which asks him simply to be who he is, and to give what he is ever eager to give.

The tax collector could speak this prayer with confidence. Through the prophet Jeremiah, the Lord had promised, “I will forgive their iniquity, and their sin I will remember no more.”

Because God never lies, the tax collector knew that God would keep this promise, and would remember his sin no more. He trusted in this promise from God. He trusted in God’s ability to forgive, and in God’s willingness to forgive him.

And the tax collector then “went down to his house justified.” The word “justified” is a forensic or judicial term. It is an authoritative declaration, like the pronouncement of “not guilty” to a defendant in a court room.

The tax collector was “justified” in this way by God. For the sake of Christ’s atoning sacrifice for sin, God pronounced him to be pure in the purity of Christ; holy in the holiness of Christ; and righteous in the righteousness of Christ. God forgave him fully, and accepted him fully.

The relationship between God and man that had been severed by sin was fully restored for this man in his justification - that is, in God’s pronouncement of “not guilty” upon him. And what God declares to be so, is undeniably so, and true.

When he declares the tax collector to be righteous in Christ, this means that in God’s sight, he is righteous in Christ.

And the tax collector “went down to his house.” He would now live as a justified person in his earthly vocations. His right standing with God would have an impact on how he would now see all of his human relationships and duties.

Nothing that he did, or refrained from doing, would now be imagined as earning for himself a place in heaven, or anything else, from God; because God, in giving him Christ, had already given him everything.

His justification in Christ had freed him from the desperate compulsion to see every relationship and domestic duty as an opportunity for self-serving works, which might be used to turn away God’s displeasure.

Instead, as a fully justified saint, he would now be able to see every relationship and domestic duty as an opportunity for genuinely good works - for acts of selfless service to his neighbor, prompted by no motive other than Christ-like and Christ-given love.

The events of this parable took place in the Old Testament temple, located in the city of Jerusalem. But as Luther would remind us:

“The temple is now as wide as the world. For the Word is preached and the sacraments are administered everywhere; and wherever these are properly observed, whether it be in a ship on the sea, or in a house on land, there is God’s house, or the Church, and there God should be sought and found.”

Like the tax collector, we, too - who have turned away from our sins, and who have believed what God tells us - go down from the temple of the church to our houses, justified.

In the house of the Lord - that is, wherever the marks of his church are evident - God’s forgiveness is still and always available. And God’s forgiveness is still bestowed freely and fully on every single “tax collector” who enters and prays, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner”; “God, may your wrath be turned away from me, the sinner.”

In Holy Absolution, Christ speaks this pardon through the lips of his called servant. The body and blood of the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world, are likewise present in God’s temple for God’s people, to give us divine and heavenly peace.

The Pharisee and the tax collector were both religious, as far as their external practice was concerned. But they represented two very different kinds of religious belief: one centered on the self, and on human works; the other centered on God, his forgiving grace, and the justification that he pronounces for the sake of Christ.

One of them represents each of you. The fact that you are here in this house of worship indicates that you, too, are religious. You are not an atheist. But to what kind of religion do you adhere? Are you right with God?

Are you the proud Pharisee: trusting in your own outward morality and religious activities to make you righteous before God?

Or are you the humble tax collector: honestly acknowledging your sin, calling upon the Lord for mercy, clinging with a God-given confidence to the gospel of Jesus Christ, covered with the perfect righteousness of Jesus Christ, trusting in Jesus Christ?

On this day, through the truth of his Word and the gift of his Spirit, may God graciously grant you a faith that believes the pronouncement of “not guilty” that God speaks to you in Christ. As the supreme divine sacrifice, Jesus carried all of your sins to the altar of his cross, and offered himself there to atone for those sins.

You are therefore pronounced as righteous, and without sin, for his sake. And you are at peace with God. When you leave this place of worship, therefore, you, too, can and will go down to your house justified. Amen.