Two prayers, one honest

Jesus told this story, Luke notes, to people who trusted in their own righteousness and regarded others with contempt. It is short enough to sting.

Two men go up to the temple to pray. The first, a Pharisee, a respected religious man, stands by himself and prays: 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.

Every word of it is true. He really does fast. He really does tithe. He really is not a thief. And the prayer is worthless, because it is not actually addressed to God. It is a performance review he is reading to himself, with God as the audience and the tax collector as the measuring stick. Comparison has snuck in and curdled his goodness into contempt.

The second man, a tax collector, one of the collaborators everyone despised, stands far off. He will not even lift his eyes. He beats his breast and prays seven words: God, be merciful to me, a sinner.

I 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.

Luke 18:14

That verdict shocked everyone listening. The scorekeeper lost. The empty-handed man went home right with God.

This is not a license to stop pursuing goodness; the whole sermon on the mount says otherwise. It is a warning about what happens when your goodness becomes your resume, and other people become your yardstick. The door to God, it turns out, is exactly your height when you are on your knees.

Tomorrow: a father, two sons, and the difference between saying yes and going.