Hands of Repentance (Tax Collector)

An Accurate & Beautiful Picture

Have you ever taken a bad picture? Not because you’ve got red eyes or closed ones. Not because you’re looking the wrong way or have a mouthful of food. I’m talking about the ones where your eyes are open, your smile is flashing, but the rest of it is all wrong. A picture so bad you ask yourself: Is that really what I look like?

We all have a picture like that. Depending on your age that picture might be buried in a physical photo album or somewhere on the internet. Thankfully, in this day and age of digital photography, we get to see those bad picture before they’re developed. Nowadays, bad pictures are easily remedied. Some people know how to photoshop it down, but most of us just hit the delete button. Then it’s gone. Never to be seen by our eyes—or anyone else’s—ever again.

Of course the digital age hasn’t been all roses for portraits. Pictures aren’t just easily deleted. They’re easily snapped and shared. Our society has this expectation that your photos should be somewhat recent. So even if you had a great picture taken, you’ll probably have to get your picture taken again and you might not look as good.

Today, pictures are also easily shared. That creates an atmosphere of competition. It’s natural for us to mentally set our images side by side with old ones, with people we know, & complete strangers. Sometimes that comparison game is flattering. We come out looking good. Sometimes, it’s humbling. We come to realization that some people just seem to be better-looking than we are.

In our Gospel text for this evening, we find two men taking spiritual selfies in the Temple. Through this parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector Jesus exposes the ugliness of self-righteousness and develops a beautiful picture of repentance.

Jesus begins with the man who knows how to hit all his angles and leverage flattering lighting—the Pharisee. He is the spiritual supermodel and not ashamed to flaunt it. (Lk. 18:11) God I thank you that I’m built different. I’m not like the unwashed masses. You won’t see me looking like the ugly faces around me—the robbers, evildoers, or adulterers. I’m nothing like that tax collector I just saw in the back. God, thank you that I’m so beautiful. I live in a way that sparkles. (Lk. 18:12) I fast twice a week. I give a tenth of all I get.

For a number of reasons, we see where this parable is headed. For one, it seems like Jesus is often capturing the ugly pride of the Pharisees with his parables and rebukes. Secondly, Luke tells us the purpose of this parable as he’s setting the scene. (Lk. 18:9) Jesus told this parable to some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else. And finally Jesus ties a nice ribbon around this simple story with a deeper truth when he says: (Lk. 18:14) All those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.

This parable is such a clear picture of the ugliness of pride and self-righteousness that it’s easy for us to cheat. To say—at least inwardly—God, I thank you that I am not like the conceited spiritual snobs, the selfish and arrogant, the prideful and spiteful, or even this self-righteous Pharisee. I go to church and I confess my sins regularly. I pray for other people and I support my church financially.

But all we’ve done is played a game of spiritual mad-libs. We’ve substituted new people and different tasks into the same flawed formula. We’ve become experts at a kind of psychological Photoshop. We know what a good picture is supposed to look like and so we edit our image until it looks righteous. God warns us what happens when we exalt ourselves. (Pr. 21:4) Haughty eyes and a proud heart— the unplowed field of the wicked—produce sin.

Much like the Pharisee in this parable, we know how to present ourselves in a flattering light and at a favorable angle. We know how to conceal the flaws of our faithlessness and disguise the double chins of our selfishness and arrogance. Much like when we get our picture taken, we have a personalized approach. We’ve learned how to highlight our best features. Perhaps you know you look good in an intellectual light. You know the historical and theological answers. You’ve memorized chapters and verses. You know the chief parts of the Catechism. Maybe you really excel when it comes to compassion and burden-bearing, joyfulness in worship, or cheerfulness in giving.

None of these things are sinful—in and of themselves. But neither were the things the Pharisee rattled off. But look at how his sinful nature manipulated these ‘good’ things. These good deeds became proof that he was better. And you know what? He was better. He was a better guy than the robber or the evildoer. Which would you pick to be your friend—the guy who’s going to try to sleep with your wife, or the goody-two-shoe Pharisee?

While the Pharisee might have been a better guy than other people, he didn’t understand what it meant to be righteous. The Pharisee was looking for horizontal proof that he was righteous and he found plenty in the people around him. The problem was that that isn’t God’s standard for righteousness. At all. When that is where we look for proof that we’re righteous we are swindling ourselves. We can always find someone who knows less about the Bible that we do. We can always find someone who isn’t a nice or kind as we are. We can always find someone who goes to church less or gives less generously than we do. God warns us: (Gal. 6:7) Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man with a proud heart will be humbled on Judgment Day, no matter how good he looks right here and now.

We can try to conceal the bags of shame under our eyes, but God sees us clearly. We can try to airbrush out the wrinkles of our wickedness, the crows’ feet of our covetousness, and the pimples of our pride, but God will not be fooled. What we are so desperately trying to hide about ourselves is who we really are.

And that is the point of this parable. Jesus dismantles all our attempts at self-righteousness, because he knows how that will leave us. Standing by ourselves under God’s righteous judgment. Self-righteousness is slow self-destruction. Because the self-righteous have no real fear of God and no appreciation for God’s mercy. The self-righteous have no real love for their neighbor as God demands. Because there is no fear of God or love of neighbor, anyone who is confident in their own righteousness is selling themselves a bill of goods that will do them no good on the Last Day. That is why, alongside this Pharisee, Jesus develops a beautiful picture of repentance in this tax collector.

What Jesus is giving us here is not a formula for how to approach God, but a glimpse of what a broken and contrite heart looks like. This tax collector put on no airs. He stood at a distance. He knew a sinner had no right to approach a holy God. He did not look around to find the one lost soul who was worse off than he was, but he searched his heart and life and saw a deep need for mercy. In his confession we hear a beautiful summary of the words of King David in Psalm 51, words which we will sing in just a moment. In this Psalm David pulls back the curtain on his sinful heart. I know my transgressions and my sin is always before me. I have sinned against you, God, and done what is evil in your sight. You are right in your verdict. You are justified when you judge.

Cleanse me. Wash me. Blot out my iniquity. Create in me a pure heart, O God. Deliver me from my guilt. I have nothing to bring you but my broken and contrite heart. But God, I know you will not despise that sacrifice. Only because you are merciful. Only because you are the Lord of unfailing love. Only you, the God of great compassion could blot out my transgressions.

God has had mercy on sinners like this man and you and me. This is why he sent his Son. Jesus, the author of this parable is also the author and perfecter of righteousness. He lived a life unlike any other. It wasn’t just that he didn’t do wicked things. He was zealous for righteousness. He never sought his own glory, but gave all glory to his Father in heaven. In the matter of holy and righteous living, Jesus stood alone. But that would have been no help to sinners like us. Rather, in order to (Rom. 3:25) demonstrate his righteousness, Jesus died the death our wickedness had earned. Rome made him pay a debt he had not accrued when they crucified him. He was robbed of what little possessions he had, as the Roman soldiers stripped him of his clothes—the best of his earthly goods. Jerusalem, his beloved, turned her back on him and treated him like he had been an unfaithful spouse. Crucify him! they cried. And then he was lifted up alongside evil men—robbers, rebels—two seditious sinners. On the cross he gave everything he had, his blood and his breath, his strength and his spirit. He was treated like a self-righteous and conceited sinner. God, his heavenly Father, hid his face from Jesus. God had no mercy on his Son. Jesus was humbled, so that we might be exalted.

Because of his life, death, and resurrection, we have been cleansed. By the Holy Spirit’s powerful work through Word and Sacrament, God has created a pure heart within us, a Spirit-sustained willing spirit that delights to sing of God’s righteousness. Because of this man, rather than ourselves, we are delivered from our guilt, we can go home justified before God.

That’s the full picture God wants us to see. He sees each of us as we really are. He sees the crows’ feet of our covetousness, the bags of shame under our eyes, the wrinkles of our wickedness, and the pimples of our pride. But he is rich in mercy. He loves us. That is why he implores us to repent and live. That is why he sent us Son to live and die for us. That we who have been humbled by our sins, might be exalted by his grace, through faith, in Christ’s righteousness. Amen.