Implorables

Psalm 84: 1-7; Luke 18: 9-14
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
October 27, 2019

In Jesus’ parables about prayer, who are the heroes? Last week we had a cranky, threatening widow and a craven, irascible judge. This week we have a pious, righteous Pharisee and a sincerely repentant tax collector. Despite what Christian commentators have done to defame Jewish Pharisees (read anti-Semitism)—synonyms for Pharisee include backslider, bigot, charlatan, maybe even deplorable—Luke’s original audience would’ve been pleased to hear exactly what he wrote. Pharisees were the moral and religious example of their communities. Not only that but they lived out their faithfulness under the domination of the Roman Empire. They embodied for God’s people that it was possible to remain faithful even under the worst of circumstances.

The Pharisee and the Publican, Jesus Mafa, 1973

Of course no Pharisee was perfect. Jesus didn’t deal in stereotypes but with human individuals. And yet Jesus is remembered more for criticizing Pharisees rather than praising them. The Pharisee in this story is an exemplar of his profession when he says he fasts twice a week and gives a tenth of his income. He’s like your friend who goes to the gym every day, eats a vegan diet, drives an electric car, has a vegetable garden and solar panels on the roof, gives generously to several nonprofits, meditates every morning and flosses every night! The tax collector is the one Luke’s listeners would’ve booed and hissed at. He was one of their own but a sellout, a pariah, a grifter. Tax collectors or publicans assessed what was owed to the Roman government but they also charged a percentage more for their own income, thus gouging their friends and neighbors for their own gain. No wonder the Pharisee gives thanks that he is not like the tax collector, who for his time was what some might call one of the deplorables.

But Jesus ate and drank with tax collectors and sex workers and drunks and reprobates of all sorts, so what are we to think? The story could easily go this way:



“He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were on the right side of history and wouldn’t give the time of day to anyone who supported President Trump: ‘Two people went up to the National Cathedral to pray, one a Democrat and the other a Republican. The Democrat, standing by off by themselves, was praying thus, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people: racist, gun-toting transphobes or even like this Republican. I ride my bike to work, I vote in every election; I pledge every year to NPR and the ACLU.’ But the Republican, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating their chest and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this one 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.”



The story could also go just as easily the other way.



The Republican, standing off by themselves, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: godless, un-American socialists or even like this Democrat. I volunteer every week with a scout troop and lead a Bible study; I vote in every election; I pledge every year to my church and support the Christian school in my neighborhood.’ But the Democrat, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating their chest and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this one 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.”



Both stories are caricatures. None of us like to have assumptions made about us. Just recently 526 registered voters flew to Dallas, TX from all over the United States to participate in an experiment entitled “America in One Room”. Political scientists James Fishkin and Larry Diamond wanted to see how diverse people would react to one another without knowledge of party affiliation and partisan language eliminated from the text of policy proposals they would be discussing. They debated health care, immigration, climate change, the economy, foreign policy—the big stuff that we’re all concerned about—but through the stories of their lives. Most folks didn’t change their minds but they did change their understanding and left with more empathy and common ground than when they first met.



Poet Reginald Dwayne Betts, author of a new book of powerful poems entitled Felon, wrote these truthful words: “We all standing on the wrong side of choices.” Which is another way of saying that we’re all sinners: we’re all on the wrong side of choices. What if our common ground began there? We’re all standing in the need of mercy. We are all ‘implorables’. New Testament professor Charles Cousar writes, “Prayer is the occasion for honesty about oneself and generosity about others.” Especially those we don’t feel so generous about.

Last night pastor and author Carlos Rodriguez tweeted: “There are no conditions on ‘Love Thy Neighbor’. No addendum to ‘Welcome the Stranger’. Zero amendments to the Golden Rule. And if I’m wrong, watch me err on the side of inclusion and love. Always, love.” To which I responded, “No nuance to ‘Love your enemy and pray for them’.”

The unclear Greek in that last verse of the gospel reading could also be tweaked to read, “I tell you, this one went down to his home justified, righteous alongside, or even because of the other”, as though our righteousness and our complicity are intertwined in the lives and prayers and actions of others as much as our own. Given that this is a story, it could just as easily be a story of what it is to be human: our sincere desire to be the best we can be and our sincere desire to repent for being on the wrong side of some choices we’ve made.



Poet Andrea Gibson reminds us:

“Gandhi was a nonviolent peace activist who treated his family terribly.
He could have collected as much salt from their tears as he did from the sea.
While the most gentle person I know is touting an M-16 in Bagdad right now.
How does heaven decide who its angels will be?
How do we?
When hearts take the shape of fists beating and smoke stacks form clouds the shape of lungs breathing
and a handful of bad seeds will form a string of prayer beads under the right conditions.
Nothing is ever as clear as it seems.”



Admitting this—that nothing, no one is as clear as it seems—is how we sincerely, honestly show up to the work, to community, to love.



When white people are able to admit our part in racism and white supremacy,

When able-bodied people can admit to the ways we still deny disabled people access and fullness of life,

When cisgender people can admit to our part in marginalizing transgender folx,

When straight people, even we who call ourselves progressive, can admit to the hurt we’ve caused our LGBTQ friends and neighbors,

When men can admit to how they’ve benefited from patriarchy,

When we can admit our need for mercy, no matter who we are, even we who have been hurt by the system rigged against us, we deepen our capacity for compassion, empathy, courage, and change.

We can hold others accountable without destroying them.

We can demand justice without dehumanizing.

We can remember that everyone is just as complicated and unique and flawed and as capable of compassion and change as we are.

We can embody that it is possible to be faithful, kind, just, compassionate, responsible, even in the worst of times so that the times might change.



That’s why Jesus taught us to pray, to implore these words: “And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.”



Amen.