Proper 25

One afternoon a carpet layer had just finished installing carpet for a lady. He stepped out for a smoke, only to realize that he had lost his cigarettes. After a quick but fruitless search, he noticed that in the middle of the room, under the carpet that he had just installed, was a bump. Uh oh.

 “Well, no sense pulling up the entire floor for one pack of smokes,” the carpet layer said to himself. So, he got out his mallet and flattened out the bump.

Not long after, as he was cleaning up, the lady came in. “Here,” she said, handing him his pack of cigarettes. “I found these in the hallway. Now if only I could find my parakeet.” Oops.

Sometimes we know when we’ve made a mistake. Sometimes we don’t.

It’s the ones we don’t see that can really bite us.

The magazine mental_floss (March-April 2007) has a list of the 20 greatest mistakes in history. They include:

The mistake that sobered up America. Prohibition in the United States lasted from 1920 to 1933, and during this period it was illegal to manufacture, transport or sell alcoholic beverages. It seemed like a great idea at the time — outlaw liquor, and you eliminate a whole range of alcohol-related social ills.

But Americans like to have a drink or two, and Prohibition opened our eyes to the ways in which organized crime will meet this demand in profitable, violent, and destructive ways.

Then there’s the mistake that killed John Wayne. Much of the filming for the 1956 movie The Conqueror was done in Utah’s Snow Canyon, which is located about 150 miles downwind from a nuclear testing facility. At least 91 of the 220 people who worked on the movie eventually contracted cancer, and more then half of them died — including John Wayne. Plus, The Conqueror was a flop for the Duke!  In fact, it has been voted one of the worst moves ever made.  Hard to envision John Wayne as Genghis Khan.

A well-intentioned ban is placed on alcohol. A movie is filmed downwind from a nuke facility. These are small oversights, errors, and miscalculations that we do not tend to see as major mistakes.

But secret problems can hurt us. They can quickly get out of control and kill us.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, addressing it to people who feel self-righteous and regard others with contempt (Luke 18:9).

In other words, he’s speaking to us — average people who tend to see ourselves as, well, better than average. We like to think that we live in Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegone, where  “All the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.”

Actual studies show that nine in 10 managers rate themselves as superior to their colleagues, as do nine in 10 college professors. According to psychology professor David Myers, most drivers — even those who have been hospitalized after car wrecks — believe themselves to be safer and more skilled than the average driver.

Jesus says that two men go up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and one a tax collector (v. 10). The natural assumption made by anyone hearing this story is that the Pharisee is the devout person — the good driver! The tax collector, on the other hand, is the sinner, the bad driver.

Sure enough, the Pharisee steps away from the crowd in order to maintain his purity before God and launches into a list of his accomplishments: “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” (vv. 11-12). He does everything right, according to the standards of the day, obeying all the religious rules of the road. In terms of keeping God’s commandments, he is way above average.

Then the tax collector bows his head, beats his breast, and says, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” (v. 13). He’s feeling so ashamed that he cannot even raise his hands and look up to heaven, which is the standard position for first-century prayer. The tax collector doesn’t make any boasts or excuses — he simply asks for God’s mercy.

There’s no reason to assume that this tax collector is a particularly spectacular sinner. If he were a thief, a rogue or an adulterer, Jesus would say so. It’s much more likely that he is confessing a set of secret, hidden faults — a collection of oversights, errors, and miscalculations that only he would know.

So, the above-average Pharisee offers thanks while the below-average tax collector offers confession.

They both make a connection with God, right? Wrong!

In a surprising twist, Jesus concludes the parable by saying, “I tell you, this [tax collector] went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted” (v. 14). Ouch.

The tax collector restores his relationship with God by asking for forgiveness, while the Pharisee moves farther away from God by boasting of his righteousness.

Now this isn’t what the hearers of the parable expect. They’ve been taught that good behavior draws you closer to God, while bad behavior drives you away. But Jesus is insisting that unless we are aware of our faults, and humble enough to know that we need forgiveness, we’re going to discover that our minor mistakes can get out of control and destroy us.

It’s always better to admit where we fall short rather than list our accomplishments.

Think again of the historical mistakes that seemed so small at first, but then caused enormous problems. Prohibition may have been a noble idea, but it turned out to be huge problem. In the same way, the Pharisee’s fasting and tithing seemed noble at first, and his pride in his good behavior seemed to be a minor mistake, but together these factors created a disaster. Without humility, there was no way for him to be right with God.

When you trust God, you get God. But when you trust only yourself, you get, well, only yourself.

            A fifth grader came home from school very excited one day. She had been voted “prettiest girl in the class.” The next day she was even more excited when she came home, for the class had voted her “the most likely to succeed.” The next day she came home and told her mother she had won a third contest, being voted “the most popular.”

            But the next day she came home extremely upset. The mother said, “What happened, did you lose this time?” She said, “Oh no, I won the vote again.” The mother said, “Well, what were you voted this time?” She answered, “Most stuck-up.”

So, what are the mistakes we make, sometimes without knowing it? Perhaps it’s time for us to do some searching self-examination.

One mistake is when we’re quick to judge others, but slow to judge ourselves. In our own daily work, we go easy on ourselves because we know how hard it is to focus when we’re ill or tired or distracted by a personal problem. Like the Pharisee in the parable, we see sin in thieves, rogues, and adulterers, but not in ourselves. And this leads others to see us as judgmental and hypocritical — which is not always far from the truth.

We also err when we’re not honest with God — or honest with ourselves — about our need for forgiveness. The tax collector saw himself clearly, and he confessed his sinfulness, saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” (v. 13).

All of this begs the question: How do I get to a place where I see the image of God in others, show mercy instead of judgment, and recognize my own need for forgiveness?

Perhaps the answer lies in prayer. Try this one:

Dear Lord, so far today, I’ve done all right. I haven’t gossiped, haven’t lost my temper, haven’t been greedy, grumpy, nasty, selfish or over-indulgent. And I’m really glad about that.

But in a few minutes, Lord, I’m going to get out of bed and from then on I’m going to need a lot more help.

Thank you. In Jesus’ name.

Pray that prayer every morning and you just might be less critical of others, more honest with yourself, and more compassionate toward everyone.