Homily for
The 23rd Sunday after Pentecost
Proper 25 - Time of the Church
Proper 25 - Time of the Church
Sunday 23 October 2016
The Episcopal Church of the Holy Cross
Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania
A Parish of the Diocese of Bethlehem and The Episcopal Church
Readings:
This Sunday's gospel is one that we know very well. We are
presented with two characters who are radically different from one another; a
Pharisee and a Tax Collector.
There are aspects of this story that we know well. We know the
Pharisee was a religious leader of high rank, as were all the Pharisees. This was an
expert in the Law and the faith of the people of God. He had been
a student of the Law since his childhood, and now as an adult he was a teacher
of other teachers who opened the Scriptures Sabbath after Sabbath and preached
to the people the ways of God.
And then there is that tax collector. Jesus has
far more to say in the Gospel about Pharisees than tax collectors. And when we
find Jesus speaking of tax collectors, it is almost always in conversation with
the Pharisees when he is scolding them for not practicing what they preach. So let’s
take a closer look at these tax collectors. The best and most well known of them for us to consider is
Matthew, also called Levi, the tax collector turned apostle and evangelist, one
of the original bishops from the Day of Pentecost when through the outpouring
of the Holy Spirits the 11 faithful disciples, along with Matthias, chosen
successor to Judas, became the overseers of the proclamation of the Gospel.
In weeks past you have heard me speak of the Samaritans. You may
recall that I reminded you of the fact that these folks were seen by the Jews
as classless trash who were good for nothing and didn’t know any better. By their
birth and from their youth nothing good could be expected of them not because
they had chosen the way of ignorance but simply because they knew nothing else. They were a
lost cause from the very start.
So why is it then that I remind you of this now in this
moment where there is no mention of the Samaritans, not even the most
insignificant reference imaginable? The portion of the Gospel that is before us on this Sunday
does nothing to answer that question. There are other portions of the Gospel, however, that
clearly answer the question. If we take a serious look at the Gospel and take in what
is said of the likes of Matthew, we find that these tax collectors were neither
Samaritans nor Gentiles. They were agents of the occupying Roman government in
Palestine who built up the coffers of Caesar, Emperor of Rome, but they were
not Romans. Matthew and his tax collector colleagues in Palestine were in fact Jews.
And what did Jews of their day think of other Jews who like
Matthew had enlisted with the Romans and taken on the role of tax collectors? These ones
were viewed as traitors. They were viewed as ones who should know better, as
persons who having been raised in the knowledge of truth, had turned their back
on truth and opted for ignorance. The only conclusion that can be observed then is that
Matthew and his colleagues were in the Jewish mind of the day and generation
"of lesser value than a Samaritan."
When we remember this, it is rather shocking that we find
in this Gospel a Pharisee and a tax collector standing side by side anywhere. The fact
that this encounter occurs within the Temple, the very representation of heaven
on earth, only enhances that shock.
I find all of this exciting to observe, largely to the fact
that in addition to being a student of religion, I have also studied sociology
and psychology, the behaviors of groups and individuals. I actually
minored in Sociology in college. I even flirted with the thoughts of doing a double major
in Religion and Sociology until I saw that if I did that I would have to take
Statistics. And here's my confession for the week: math tends to scare me, and tends
to be something I avoid if possible. I'd rather just stick to observing behavior than crunch
numbers.
But this Gospel is not placed before us in order that we
might observe social behaviors. We are not called to hear this and judge the Pharisee and
his exultation of himself. Neither are we called to praise the tax collector for his
humility. But if we are not called to do either, then what is it that we are called
to do? For what purpose do we receive this teaching of Jesus?
This, my friends, is a calling to self-examination. Observing
the persons of a generation long removed from us will only distract us from
that task of examining ourselves. And our distraction will only grow larger if in the light
of this Gospel we observe those in our own generation whom we brand as
"Pharisees in our midst" who boast in themselves as well as those who
model true humility, even praiseworthy humility, in the world today. I say that
because if we are honest we believe we cannot relate to either of these
categories. We take pride in not being like the proud and haughty ones in our own
generation, and we cringe at the thought of being associated with the humble. We believe
ourselves to be somewhere in the middle.
But are we truly in the middle? This
question demands that we honestly examine ourselves, our words and our conduct. This is not
an easy task, especially for us who are inside the Church. If we are
honest with ourselves, most of us who are Christians can relate far more to the
Pharisee than the Tax Collector. Many of us loose sight of this because we get so caught up
in our denominational identity and forget the wider experience of Christian
religion that goes beyond denominational identity. This is
evident in how we respond to the question of "what is our religion?" I must admit
that I who have beat this dead horse many times have responded just as many
times by saying "I am Episcopalian" when asked about my religion. And I'll
even admit to being a Lutheran before that, especially when it centers around
priestly ordination, as it was by the Lutherans that I was ordained a priest.
But here is what I don’t focus on like I should. I was born
into the Christian faith. I was born on a Sunday evening and the following Sunday, I
was in Church. In the first year of my life I was baptized a child of
God, clothed in Christ and marked with the cross. From my infancy my
identity has been that of a Christian! The fact that I became a Lutheran as a teenager and an
Episcopalian as an adult and a priest of the Church Catholic did not undo this
identity, nor did it create this Christian identity. I have known
nothing else than to be a Christian. So who can I relate with more; the Pharisee who knew
nothing else or the tax collector who "sold out," who should have
known better?
I am by no means unique in this. Yes we have
a number of "cradle Episcopalians" in our parish family. We also have
some who have been some other type of Christian in past chapters of life. But I am
hard pressed to think of someone in our midst who is not a "cradle
Christian." This identity is deeply entrenched in us, both as
individuals and as a parish. So who can we all relate with more; the Pharisee or the
tax collector?
We might not like the answer, but we know what it is! We are more
like the Pharisee. How many times have we sat back and thought either silently
or out loud, "Thank God I am not like that one" as we observe someone
doing or being something we find unacceptable. And if we believe
that this one ought to know better, how much greater is our judgment.
I am by the way just as guilty as this. I know
persons who have walked away from their Christian identity, some opting for no
faith, and some choosing to embrace a new faith and a new identity apart from
Christ and the Gospel. At my best I don’t understand. At my worst
I think in judgment that they ought to know better. And on this
also I don’t believe that I am alone.
But there is something else that we with our tendencies to
be more like the Pharisee need to watch. Even more subtly, how many times do we list those things
that are the sources of our pride? Sometimes we do so for the sake of boasting in the face of
others. We want people to know how caring we are, how faithful we are, how good
we are. And sometimes we are even so bold (think NEPA meaning of this word by the
way and not the Standard English dictionary definition) as to try to provide
this insight to God as if God doesn’t know anything we have to share about
ourselves.
There is a great danger in all of this. Years ago I
remember a colleague sharing her experience of two different seminary
communities. One talked at great length about the intent and desire to be community. One said
nothing whatsoever about community. One actually lived out this desire and intent. One failed
miserably. Can you guess which one succeeded and which one failed? The one who
pulled it off was the one who not once talked about it. They didn’t
need to talk the talk. They simply walked the walk. But the one who talked about it all the time
could never quite figure out how to actually do what they said they wished to
do.
The self-examination that we are called to engage thus asks
us “are we walking the walk?” The things
we say about ourselves; is this our reality, or are we trying to convince
others around us, including God, that we are something we know we should be,
but have never quite figured out how to put into practice that thing we say we
are. We can fool others, but always
remember we will never fool God.
But the amazing thing is we don’t need to even try to fool
God. Our God loves the Pharisee and the
Tax Collector. God longs for us to
examine our hearts and to see those places where we have the pride of a
Pharisee and seek for a healing and transformation that can only be
accomplished by God. If we try to fix
ourselves we will fail every time, and every time we fail we will fall into the
temptation to think that it isn’t us but everyone else who is wrong. But if we trust our God to heal us and
transform us, no matter how hard or even humiliating this might be, God will
accomplish a miraculous work in us that makes us stronger and more alive. Today, therefore, my friends, let us with all
our hearts, minds, and strengths, examine ourselves and humble ourselves,
trusting in God’s transformative mercy.
Father
Timothy
Alleman
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