Prayer: Come Holy Spirit, come.  Take my lips and speak with them.  Take our minds and think with them.  Take our hearts and set them on fire with love for you.  In Christ’s name, we ask it.  Amen

I don’t think I have told this story in several years (if so I apologize), but there is a story that I love to tell (and it’s true) about a nurse named Wanda Condon, in Spokane, Washington, who accidentally dropped a human heart that was to be donated for a transplant.  She threw it in the trash because she assumed, perhaps rightly, that it was thus contaminated, damaged, and no longer useful for a transplant.  The nurse was understandably upset and also afraid of the trouble she might get into for ruining a perfectly good human heart that otherwise could save a life.  So she tried to cover the incident up by falsifying hospital records.  Eventually she was found out, reprimanded, and fined in court $250.00 for “doctoring” hospital records.  The formal charge levied against the nurse in court was, “Inappropriate Handling of a Human Heart”—Inappropriate Handling of a Human Heart.  What a perfect and powerful metaphor for how we so often treat each another.  If we are completely honest with ourselves, we should all plead guilty to the charge—Inappropriate Handling of a Human Heart—time and time again. 

At least with Wanda Condon, the butter-fingered nurse, her inappropriate handling of a human heart was accidental.  We may want to insist that our hurtful behavior toward others is accidental and certainly not intentional.  However, the truth is often, sometimes even in the name of God and in courageous defense of our faith, we are purposefully and cruelly hurtful to other people.  And, in particular, we tend to be abusive to those people we deem lesser than ourselves because they are different from us in lifestyle, belief system, or political persuasion.

For many weeks now, we have heard read in church Jesus’ parables in Luke’s gospel.  Although each parable we’ve heard is unique in theme and character, collectively, that is when considered together, they begin to paint a picture—a picture of a human life which is fully devoted to following Jesus Christ—or as I like to say living the life of a Christ follower.  For instance, a Christ follower diligently seeks after the lost like the shepherd and the woman sought the lost sheep and lost coins.  And a Christ follower does not render invisible those on our doorstep who live in desperate need like the rich man did to Lazarus.  And a Christ follower prays persistently expecting God to work justice in this world as the widow persistently pursed the unjust judge—as in last Sunday’s parable.  Luke holds up the life of a Christ follower like a shining jewel that he slowly rotates, as he moves through his parables, so that we can see a disciple’s life from many different angels—each angle reflecting the light of Christ in its own unique way. 

Though each parable is unique, there is, at least, one consistent point that Jesus’ makes over and over again in each.  And it is something I have said over and over again, as well, as we have moved through these parables.  That is it matters how we choose to live our lives.  Or perhaps said another way, it matters how we handle human hearts.  Today’s lesson, the parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector, is the same.  It reinforces Jesus’ point that it matters how we live and, specifically, it matters how we live with each other. 

To begin with, the story of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector is a harsh warning against our arrogance—that is our sense of self-sufficiency and superiority over other people.  An example of our arrogance is that we all have a tendency to identify ourselves with a person or a group of persons that we believe are the “good guys.”  Since the tax collector in this parable is the one who is justified in the end, all of us, including myself, would like to more closely associate our own lives with him.  However, nothing could be further from the truth.  You see tax collectors were far from mainstream in Jesus’ day.  In first century Palestine, tax collectors were perceived as both traitors and cheats.  For one, tax collectors collected taxes for Rome an unwelcome occupier of Israel.  Secondly, tax collectors made their money by collecting above and beyond the required Roman tax.  That is, rather than receiving a wage from Rome to collect taxes, tax collectors took more than what was actually owed by people in order to line their own pockets, in some cases, making the tax collector very, very rich.  For these two reason, being in collusion with an unwelcome occupier and taking more than was owed, tax collectors were marginalized and despised by most Jewish people. 

In contrast, the Pharisees were the respected social and religious elite of their day.  They lived out there devotion to God through the study and observance of Torah and by maintaining purity in all matters.  They were the insiders.  They were confident that they properly understood scripture above and beyond anyone else’s interpretation.  They were self-assured that their religious observances and life of purity were what God desired above all else.  They, like Christians in our nation today, were the mainstream.  Therefore, we should be careful not to be so quick to immediately identify ourselves with the tax collector in the story.  I think it is fair to say that most of us would fit more accurately into the category of religious and social mainstream, rather than, the marginalized and despised

The truth is at our best we ARE repentant sinners like the tax collector, but at our worst, which is more often than we might like to admit, we are indignant, self-righteous people looking down our noses at those with whom we disagree.  Listen again to the Pharisees prayer, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people.”  You would have to be pretty sure of yourself to begin a prayer that way.  “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.  I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.”  The Pharisee’s prayer asks nothing of God.  Instead, the Pharisee parades before God his personal purity and strict religious observance.  What need of God does this Pharisee have?  His righteousness is rooted in what he perceives as his personal perfection.  And, as a perfect person, he arrogantly seems to have no use for anyone who might admit that they are something less than perfect. 

Now, consider the tax collector.  He is all too aware of his imperfection.  He comes before God a broken man.  He is ashamed to show his face to God so he would not look up to heaven.  He is beating his chest a sign of remorse and grief for his behavior.  He prays a simple but complete prayer that recognizes utter dependence on God not self.  He prays, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”  Nothing more is reported of the tax collector’s prayer.  It’s complete as it stands.  Nothing more needs to be said.  And, as we are told, the one who presumed he was righteous, the Pharisee, was not made righteous while the one who was so acutely aware of his unrighteousness, the tax collector, was made righteous.  The proud are brought down, and the lowly are exalted.  Jesus concludes, “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.”  The parable is clear.  Those who desire to be Christ followers must live life humbly, not arrogantly—mishandling human hearts by looking down at others.  At our best, we recognize that we are not really different from anyone else—we are all in need of the love and forgiveness that come from the God of grace.

Now let’s take this parable a step further.  To read this passage only as a warning against arrogance or a relationship with God based on one’s own works is an incomplete interpretation.  There is further meaning in this parable rooted in the Pharisee’s relationship with the tax collector.  You see there is a direct correlation between the way the Pharisee relates to God and the way he relates to the tax collector.  Those who trust in their own righteousness—those who believe they are in no need of God’s grace—will regard others with contempt, and those who regard others with contempt—those who look down at other people—cannot bring themselves to fully rely on God’s grace.  Therefore, persons who inappropriately handle human hearts by exalting themselves above others and boasting of their purity before God discover that they have cut themselves off from both—humanity and God.  That’s a lonely and unfortunate way to live. 

On the other hand, those who recognize their need for God’s grace and forgiveness—those who know they are not better than the next person—can enter into a life-giving relationship of mutuality with God and others.  You see I know that I am nothing more than a redeemed sinner, as we all are.  How can I look down my nose at anyone else when I humbly admit that I am just as in need of God’s grace as the next person?

The Pharisee had enough religion to be virtuous, but not enough faith to be humble.  As a result, his religion drove him away from a fellow human being rather than toward him.  The measure of OUR relationship with others, all others, is also intimately connected to our relationship with God.  Who are the people that we look down at?  What groups do we treat as outsiders because they live differently than us?  Whose hearts are we inappropriately handling?  As a church and as individuals, we need to take a long, hard look at how we handle each other’s hearts.  It should be a fairly accurate indicator of the health of our relationship with God, as well.  Amen. 

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