Sermon

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Publican and Pharisee

Today the Orthodox Church begins the liturgical period called the Triodion—it is a period of 11 weeks that precede Pascha, or Easter. There are four Sundays of Preparation, six weeks of Great Lent and Holy Week, which will culminate on Pascha, which is April 27. This might seem like a long time to prepare for one feast-day of the year. After all, more than 20% of the year in the Orthodox Church is geared toward preparing us for it. But then you look at the magnitude of what is the Resurrection, and what is it’s significance in the life of the Orthodox Christian and wonder, can we have enough preparation, can we have enough education, to comprehend, let alone celebrate such a feast? There is a correlation with the human lifespan—how much of it is spent, how much of it should be spent, in active preparation to enter the Kingdom of Heaven? Can we have enough preparation, can we have enough education, to prepare ourselves for that moment when we come face to face with God? And so the Church, in her wisdom, sets aside 20% of the year as a time for us to focus not just on the joy of God, but on His magnitude, for us to focus not only on our joy as people, but on our unworthiness as Christians.

We often use words to paint pictures. Some churches focus on hell-fire and brimstone and paint a picture of a vengeful God whom we should fear. Some churches focus on inclusiveness and paint a picture of a God who accepts anyone matter what they’ve done, no matter what they believe. I believe that our church presents God indeed how He is—a God that cannot fully be comprehended but who can be experienced; God who desires to save all people but calls all people to repent—that is to have an active role in their own salvation; God who is not so concerned with the state of our resume, as He is with the state of our heart. And this is where the Triodion begins.

I call your attention to three hymns that have been printed in the bulletin—“The doors of repentance, open unto me, O Giver of Life. For my spirit goes to Your holy temple early, bearing a wholly defiled temple of the body. But, as compassionate, cleanse it by the loving-kindness of Your mercy.” “O Theotokos, guide me in the paths of salvation, for I defiled my soul with shameful sins. I have wasted my life in indolence. By your intercessions deliver me from every uncleanness.” “Have mercy on me O God, according to Your great mercy and according to the multitude of Your compassion, wipe out my offenses. As I realize the multitude of the dreadful things that I have done, wretch that I am, I tremble for the fearful Day of Judgment. But trusting in the mercy of Your compassion, I cry out to You as did David, ‘Have mercy on me o God, according to Your great mercy.’”

These three hymns appear mid-way through the Orthros service which precedes Liturgy. They are sung slowly and somberly. They replace three hymns that throughout the rest of the year are sung more joyfully. As someone who attends Orthros obviously each Sunday, when I hear these hymns, there is not just a tinge of sadness as I hear the somber tones, but a real sense of getting my attention. I try to hear these hymns not as a statement on our society, but in a very personal way. After all, these hymns are written in the first person. They don’t refer to the terrible things we have done. We sometimes excuse ourselves from the “we”, with “well we all do so and so thing, but not me.” These hymns address us in a personal way—It’s not “we” who need God’s mercies, but “I” who need them. We can’t be worried about the sins of others, I have to realize the depth of my own sins.

The lesson of the Gospel reading this morning is about humility. It examines two men who went to the temple to pray—one went with self-congratulations, the other went with humility. One extols his virtues, the other begged God for mercy on his sins. One addressed God with pride, the other with a profound sense of unworthiness. And God heard the prayer of one, but did not hear the prayer of the other. One man truly prayed—His prayer was not long in words but deep in feeling. When the Pharisee made his offering of self-congratulations—God I thank you that I am not like other people, extortioners, murderers, adulterers, or even like this low-life tax collector. I pray, I fast, I give tithes—He was in essence saying three things. He was putting forth some virtues that all people should have—Obedience to God’s commandments and kindness towards others. And at the same time he was lying—I thank God that I’m not like other people—murderers, adulterers, etc. When we critically study God’s law and God’s expectations of us, we realize that we are all murderers, we are all adulterers—after all gossip is murder and we all do it, lust for the flesh or for money or for something else is adultery, and we all do it. And third, his prayer of self-congratulations left no room for God to do anything in his life. Indeed it wasn’t a prayer at all.

The Publican, on the other hand, offered a simple prayer—God have mercy on me a sinner. This prayer also said three things—First, the tax collector realized that he was a sinner and did not possess the virtues that God calls his people to have, at least he wasn’t using them all the time. He was realizing that he needed mercy in order to obtain salvation, that no amount of good deeds could make up for his sinfulness, but that his salvation would be an act of mercy. And third, that this mercy would come from God—it’s not something he could achieve on his own. This is what humility is.

It’s not that the morality of the Pharisee was a bad thing—It’s a good thing to try to follow God’s commandment, to fast, to worship, to tithe, to offer to God’s church generously of your time, talent and treasure. It’s the fact this the Pharisee left no room for God to work in His life. Yesterday I attended a seminar for priests and Parish Council members in Clearwater. One of the presenters was a priest from the Miami area who told a story of a woman who stood at the Pangari, at the candle-stand greeting people for over 30 years and yet in his almost 20 years in that parish, she had never approached for Holy Communion, or confession. I don’t know this person, and I certainly don’t want to judge her, but as Orthodox Christians, communing with God and confessing our sins are ways we both express love for God and at the same time ask for His mercies. In fact the message of that presentation was that in the church, we need leaders who are faith-based, not just leaders who wish to help. We don’t need people who are just hard workers, but people who have faith as the basis of who they are and how they live. And another statement made in this presentation was when we come to the chalice, we are not distinguished by our credits or our resumes, but as faithful servants of God. Hence, only your name is said when you partake of Communion, there isn’t the servant of God George the lawyer, or the servant of God Suzie the college grad. We don’t present ourselves to God as Pharisees but as Publicans, not as people of accomplishment but as servants needing mercy.

So, here are some things to remember about humility this week. Humus, the root word for humility, means earth. We are dust, we are created by God, yet we are created to be co-creators with God. We are not robots, but use our talents to become creators—of relationships, of children, of gifts shared with others. Humus (earth) is filled with the power to bring forth life. The parable of the sower in Luke 8 reminds us that the soil of the heart must be continuous cultivated and that is done with humility. It is done when we empty ourselves of our pride and allow the seed of God to grow in us.

Humility is spiritual honesty, and yields the truth about ourselves. St. John Chrysostom writes that humility is regarding nothing as our own but everything as a temporary loan. The humble person realizes that he cannot get to heaven of his own will or his own work, without the assistance of God, without dependence on God. Humility means that when we pray “I believe and confess Lord that you are truly the Christ, the Son of the Living God, who came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the first,” we see the gravity of our sins before God in a personal way—we don’t put our sins against the sins of others and say, well, I’m not so bad.

Yet at the same time, humility does not make us into doormats, nor does it mean that we should continuously cringe before God. Instead we are supposed to see other people as being valuable in God’s eyes as we are, and developing a kind of empathy with the weaknesses of others that makes it impossible to judge others out of self-righteousness. Humility is when we labor for the glory of God, not glorify ourselves in our goodness—After all, when the righteous people were told they were going to enter God’s kingdom in Matthew 25:31-46, they asked “When Lord did we see you hungry or thirsty?” They weren’t saying, “yeah, we saw You and did so and so thing.

Let me quickly examine some common phrases we hear and that we use: “I’ll be honest” usually means lies have been told in the past or are about to be told in the future. When we are honest all the time, we don’t have to tell people we are honest. “I’m sorry” is often replaced with “I had a reason.” And “I’m sorry I did something” often means “I’m sorry I got caught.” We all do things wrong, intentionally or unintentionally, so we need to own up to our own short comings and change them—this is what repentance is all about. And we can’t repent unless we have the humility to admit that we do wrong.

Tonight and next week, I’ll be talking to our GOYAns about dating and other teenage behaviors. And I’ll tell them that the phrase “I won’t make you do anything you don’t feel comfortable with” really means “I’ll do whatever you let me get away with.” And this applies not only to dating but also to business and many other things. It seems that we are always trying to get one over on someone, people aren’t as good as their word, there is an exception to every rule. Trust eludes many of life’s situations, it’s as if we can trust no one. Making others comfortable and being honest are also essential elements to humility.

“I’ve done wrong, but I’m not as bad as the next guy.” This is a way that we mitigate many of the things we do—don’t look at me, look at what the other guy is doing. And that captures the whole spirit of humility—humility looks at our relationship with God in a personal way—it excludes the sins of others and focuses solely on our own shortcomings. Again, pointing to the hymns I referenced earlier, the hymn doesn’t talk about the shameful things others have done, or even the shameful things that a collective “we” do. It talks about the sinful things that I personally have done, the things that personally darken my personal relationship with God. Finally, humility focuses not on how far we’ve come, but on how far we have to go. How wide is the gap between me and God? Obviously, the gap is wide—Because God is almighty, and I am sinful. How is that gap closed over the course of life—first humility-recognition that there is a gap between each of us and God. Through repentance, which is not just desire but work to close it. And through the mercies of God who alone has the power to bring us to His heavenly kingdom.

So as we prepare for Lent in three weeks from now, I encourage you to pray these three hymns in the bulletin and to think about their meaning for your personal lives, not for our lives as Christians, but your own personal life. This week, I can recall several specific conversations with people lives aren’t going particularly well at this present moment, and when my life isn’t going particularly well, these hymns actually bring me comfort. Because they talk about “trusting in the mercy of God’s loving-kindness.” So, that if you don’t have the ideal job, or the ideal family situation, or if you think the world has passed you by, these things are hard, but they are temporary. God’s mercies and loving-kindness are really the most important things you need in life. And you don’t need a great job, an impressive resume, or to live the big city life to have them—all you need is humility. Because at the Holy Chalice, we don’t present ourselves nor are we distinguished by our credits, but we present ourselves as faithful servants. Amen.