Luke 18:9-14
There is a scene in the movie Beaches, with Bette Midler. Some old friends have come to see Bette Midler’s character, CC, perform on stage, and they go backstage to see her after the show. CC just can’t stop talking about herself and her performance. But finally she turns to her guests and says, “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you. What do YOU think of me?
So we have another parable from Jesus today, and he tells this one for the benefit of those people who tend to think they are better than everyone else. It’s left to us to figure out who those folks might be. Do you think they are the Pharisees?
Maybe…maybe not.
He tells a story about two characters – one who spends his prayer time thinking about how pleased he is with himself and disparaging the other guy, the one who spends his prayer time confessing his sins. It seems clear who the good guy is, doesn’t it?
But wait a minute – let’s try this again. He tells a story about two characters – one who lives a clean life, is devout in prayer and worship, and is generous with his possessions; the other who is a liar and a thief. It seems clear who the good guy is, doesn’t it?
Well it turns out it’s about as clear as mud.
One thing we know when we read this parable is this: Jesus wants to talk to people who think they are better than others. And that could be anyone. To be fair, this Pharisee may have moments of humility when he is very aware of his shortcomings. Although, maybe not at this moment.
I can sympathize with the Pharisee. It’s a great temptation to see your righteousness as something you earned yourself.
And the tax collector – we can’t ignore the fact that the tax collectors were traitors to their communities. They worked for the Roman government, the oppressor of Israel, and they didn’t mind gouging their own people, taking extra to line their own pockets. Tax collectors were not the good guys. Yet in this snapshot we see him with his head low, beating his breast in penitence, in a, perhaps, rare moment of honest reflection. Real honest reflection. Unlike the Pharisee who is pretending honest reflection. The Pharisee is engaged in a practice that nowadays we might call the “humblebrag.”
The humblebrag is a relatively new term for something that has been around since the stone age (or at least since people have talked); but these days when everyone with an ego has a whole array of social media accounts, we see a lot more of it than we want to.
The humblebrag is that fine art of boasting about yourself but couching it in a bit of self-deprecation in the hope that listeners will be thinking “You’re so modest,” and not “You’re so vain.” But most of the time, the humblebrag just makes you sound like you’re bragging.
Here’s an example of what it might look like: Time to start my Christmas shopping. I’m so blessed to be able to give better gifts than I receive. Then add: #Godisgood.” Because using hashtags is cool and adding God to it makes it sound like it’s not all about you (and you really didn’t just insult your friends and family).
So if the Pharisee had a twitter account he might post something like this: “OMG; So embarrassed – here I am at prayer with absolutely nothing to confess! Oh well, maybe this scuzzy tax collector next to me can do it for the both of us. LOL #Phariseeproblems.”
And if he used Facebook and Instagram, which he surely would, he would also post a selfie of himself at prayer. Because, promotion. That’s what it’s all about.
The humblebrag: everybody does it; nobody likes it. In this parable, we see the first-century version of it. And he does it quite skillfully, because he works it into a prayer! There are so many ways this is wrong. Let me count them.
#1: The Pharisee thinks he has nothing to confess. He apparently has an extraordinarily large blind spot. Yes, he lives a good, clean life, but no one ever walked this earth except Jesus who had nothing to confess. And this spiritual leader of his people ought to know better.
#2: The Pharisee takes one look at the tax collector and thinks he knows who he is. He dismisses him with one offhand comment. He doesn’t regard him as a fully human being, with all the complexity that he knows he himself possesses. He is essentially saying, “I know who you are, Taxman, and I thank God I am not like that too.”
#3: The Pharisee expects to be praised for this. He wants God to give him a pat on the back, for not being like this other guy, this other guy who happens to also be a child of God’s. He wants God to reach down from heaven and give him a high five: You go, Pharisee. You’re awesome.
#4: The Pharisee can’t feel good unless the other guy is bad. This one is pretty interesting; it gets to some of the complexities of human nature. Clearly, it is important for the Pharisee to see himself as an exemplary fellow. But to do that he has to stomp all over this tax collector sharing space with him who is just trying to do the same thing the Pharisee is trying to do: pray.
Now that I’ve torn him down, used him as a punching bag, I want to take a step back and be as realistic as I can here. He is not an evil guy…or a buffoon…he’s not a one-dimensional person. The Pharisee is actually a man who is well on his way to getting everything right – but for one thing: he can’t get past thinking it’s all about him. He is missing humility.
And that is a recipe for toxic faith.
We could have a long conversation about toxic faith, and maybe we should someday. But for today, let it suffice to say that toxic faith is that which is more harmful than helpful. And there are two fundamental characteristics of toxic faith which are evident in this parabolic Pharisee: self-righteousness and judgmentalism.
The man seems to think he got where he is all on his own. And when he looks around him he sees a whole lot of losers.
Today is Reformation Sunday. It’s the day every year that we remember Martin Luther nailing his 95 Theses on the church door, about 500 years ago. Although it wasn’t what he intended to do, it turned out to be the beginning of the Protestant Church. It all came of a moment of personal crisis for Luther.
He was caught between the tax collector and the Pharisee. He was totally focused on trying to do all the right things, just like the Pharisee did. And while another priest might have prayed how thankful he was to be so good, Luther could never shake that nagging feeling that he was really not so good. That feeling of being a sinner in need of God’s mercy, just like the tax collector.
Then, in a moment of divine providence, Luther recognized grace. He knew that there would never be anything he could do to justify himself; but God’s grace was free for the taking.
The realization gave him immeasurable peace. We have been seeking the consolation of that peace ever since.
But while we seek the peace that comes from God’s grace, there is also this: we emphasize the way we are impelled to respond to that grace. In response to God’s mercy and grace, we seek to become more righteous.
Righteous – but not self-righteous. There’s a big difference. The difference between the two is believing our righteousness comes from God and believing we did it all by ourselves.
The attitude of the Pharisee, who thinks he did it all himself, is an attitude that can never be justified. Because in all his self-absorption, self-adoration, he fails to do any self-reflection.
Let me leave you with this: if you think about yourself a lot, if you have moments of thinking it’s all about you, it’s okay, because most of us do. And, in some important ways, it really is all about you. Not the person next to you, but you. Look inside yourself; seek the truth about who you really are, and thereby find the power to become most fully the person God calls you to be. It takes humility. It takes courage. It takes strength. Most importantly, it takes God.
To whom we give all glory, thanks, and praise.
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Photo: When you look up humblebrag in dictionary.com, this is what you see.
