Justification


Sunday, October 24th, 2004
21st after Pentecost
Jerusalem Baptist Church, Emmerton
Luke 18:9-14

9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: 10‘two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” 13But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” 14I tell you, this man 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.’

There’s a real drawback to growing up hearing the Bible read on a regular basis. I wouldn’t say I’ve been immersed in the Bible, though in comparison, I well might have been. There are still sections – largish ones – that are unfamiliar to me. But for the most part, those sections we most often hear preached on, or read from, are ones that I’ve become accustomed to hearing about.

The drawback is this: familiarity breeds contempt.

I don’t mean I’m contemptuous of the Bible in ANY sense of the word, but it’s the same idea that applies after you’ve written something. You get someone ELSE to proofread it. Because if you try to do it yourself, you’ll miss the obvious mistake because your mind doesn’t catch it as it goes by. You read what you intended to write, and not what you actually wrote.

So this text has been on my screen on the computer for the last week, and I finally sat down to concentrate on the finalization process of the message last night, and read the first part of the introductory sentence, and there it is, plain as day: a disclaimer.

He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt

The disclaimer has a purpose. It clues us in to whether we need to be listening or not. If you know you’re NOT righteous, then there’s no need to listen to the parable about to be told. Since we readily admit our own unworthiness, there’s no point in taking up room where someone else could benefit from hearing what is about to be told. So, just excuse me a moment while I mentally check out of hearing range and you just carry right on, Jesus. Tell them what you were getting ready to tell, and I’ll wait over here, where those of us who don’t need to hear this particular parable will be waiting for you.

Hmmm… then in spite of yourself, you start to tune into the rest of the parable, the Pharisee and the Tax Collector … let’s put it in a modern-day context, the Preacher and the Casino Owner … they both walk into the church to pray.

The preacher, in all sincerity, begins his prayer with thanksgiving – thanking God for making him … Holy. For making him a better person than the folks he’s been hearing about in the news recently; thieves, terrorists, pop stars that flaunt their less-than-exemplary lifestyles and laugh at those who try to point out that what they are doing is slowly eroding the fabric of the society in which we live.

He notices out of the corner of his eye the casino owner sitting quietly in the back corner, head bowed. He plows ahead with his prayer of thanksgiving to God for making him better than the Casino Owner there, in the back, everyone KNOWS there’s NO way HE’S going to turn over a new leaf … some people are just beyond reach.

“But I’m different, God, I fast twice a week, I tithe, I go to all the meetings I’m supposed to, say the things I’m supposed to, DO the things I’m supposed to, sing all the right ‘amens’… you can count on me, God, to do my part, and yours as well, for that matter …

Then we have the introduction of the second character. The Casino Owner.

Early in 1981, I was watching an episode of Hill Street Blues. The show broke a lot of new ground in its day. It was one of the first police shows that tried to be true to life insofar as it made the characters – ALL the characters – multidimensional. You got to know that both the policemen and women as well as the crooks and bad guys had both good and bad qualities, warts and halos, as it were. Looking back on some of the episodes today they seem a little more melodramatic than they felt at the time, but in some ways the producers were still working their way out of the old framework.

In the episode, the head sergeant, Esterhaus, is told that an old nemesis of his was caught walking into the precinct, and is down in the holding cell. Apparently the man had been imprisoned for several years, and there was a bitter history between the two. I don’t remember the ex-con’s name, but I remember the scene: Sergeant Esterhaus hesitates and seems to agonize over how to even approach the man – you get the impression that whatever the man was like, he was NOT someone you’d want to get on the wrong side of – and Esterhaus was DEFINITELY on his bad side. Towards the end of the hour, Esterhaus finally makes his way down to the holding area, and the man at first is in the shadows at the back of the cell.

Sgt. Esterhaus steps up to the bars and visibly steeles himself for an explosion of some sort – a ranting, raving, yelling, spitting, and cussing out from his longtime enemy.

It doesn’t happen.

The man steps out of the shadows and he’s decently dressed. His face is clear – clear in the sense that he’s not scowling or frowning, or spitting, for that matter.

I don’t remember his exact words, but the gist of what he says to Esterhaus is this:

“I just wanted to come by and tell you that I’m a changed man. I’m not the same man you put behind bars. I’ve been saved, and Jesus has changed me. I love you and Jesus loves you too.”

Though I’d only been back in the States for a little over 3 months, I’d already gotten used to born again Christians being … maybe not ridiculed, but more often than not being made into caricatures, either portrayed as hypocrites or simple-minded followers of some egomaniacal televangelist.

What was so stunning to me about this portrayal was that it did none of that. Esterhaus’ reaction to him was tentative, but willing to guardedly accept his assertion at face value. We never saw the character again. There’s no subsequent dialogue that throws any doubt on the man’s change. It was left at that. In short, it treated the character as genuine, as honest.

That is what happens in the parable. The Tax collector, an almost-universally reviled person in first-century Palestine, and probably most anywhere else they were found, is presented … unvarnished. There is no spin to be found on him. We find him in the midst of confession, and supplication.

“God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”

And it’s his only line!

He doesn’t go through a radical transformation, at least not in so many words. There’s no resolution to his tax-collector status – not in the same way that Zaccheus is reconciled with those from whom he extorted money. We don’t find this man returning four times what he stole to the people he robbed.

All he does is cry out to God, and admit he is a sinner.

And here’s the capper. Jesus concludes the parable in the very next sentence by telling the people who are listening (remember, they are the ones who ‘trusted in themselves to be righteous and regarded others with contempt’), that the tax collector, not the Pharisee, went home justified. That is, the Casino Owner went home with God’s blessing rather than the Preacher. And in case they didn’t get it, he spells it out for them: ‘for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted’

The two men in the parable were seeking justification before God. That is, they were seeking acceptance from God, seeking, as it were, salvation.

One, the seemingly more righteous of the two – the one who was doing all the “right” things – walks away unjustified. The other, the one whom proper society had turned away from, walks away justified. What’s the difference? As near as I can tell, the difference is in the heart, in the attitude of the heart. The Preacher believes himself capable of bringing something to God in exchange for justification. The Casino Owner recognizes that there is nothing he can bring to God to change HIS condition – nothing, that is, but a contrite heart, a broken spirit, a realization that it is only through the Mercy of God that we can approach the throne of Grace.

What does that mean for Jerusalem Baptist Church at Emmerton?

For one thing, it means that yes, we’re nearing the end of the sermon, but please don’t start shifting into ‘leave’ gear just yet.

What this means for Jerusalem Baptist Church is this: if we are to become a portrait of the kingdom of heaven, we need to be prepared to join in fellowship with people who know themselves to be totally reliant on God’s grace for salvation. We need to remind ourselves that, when all is said and done, on that crucial point there is no distinction between us. There is none more righteous than another. There are only receivers of the free gift of God through faith – as Paul says, lest anyone should boast. We boast in the grace of the one who calls us to himself.

Let’s pray.