The Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector

Luke 18.9-14

I want to begin with a simple question:

How do you pray?

When you come to God, what do you say?

Do you lay out a list of your needs, your desires, or your struggles?

Or do you find yourself, perhaps without even realising it, listing your accomplishments, your spiritual milestones, or the ways you are "better" than others?

In this morning's gospel reading, Jesus offers a powerful, perhaps uncomfortable lesson on this very topic. In a short, striking story, he pulls back the curtain on two very different hearts approaching the same God.

The parable in Luke 18:9-14 is not just a story about two people praying; it's a story about two very different approaches to life and faith. It's about self-righteousness versus genuine humility.

Jesus told this parable to some who were confident in their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else.

The first man is a Pharisee. As we know, in Jesus' day, Pharisees were the absolute pinnacle of spiritual commitment. They were the religious elite, dedicated to following God's law with meticulous precision. When this Pharisee comes to the temple to pray, he stands upright and confidently. His prayer begins with gratitude:

"God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers."

He lists his good deeds: fasting twice a week and giving a tithe of everything he earns. He stands in the temple, surrounded by people, and declares his superiority, even singling out the tax collector who stands at a distance. He believes he has earned God's favour through his own efforts. His prayer is not a request; it is a boast. It is a resume presented to God, a checklist of his moral and religious accomplishments. He is not seeking God's mercy because, in his mind, he doesn't need it.

Now, let us take a look at the second man, the tax collector. The Jewish people despised tax collectors. They were seen as traitors working for the Roman occupiers and were often corrupt, extorting more money than required. This man knows he is hated, and he knows he is a sinner. Unlike the Pharisee, he stands at a distance, a posture of shame and unworthiness. He won't even look up to heaven. Instead, he beats his chest in a public sign of sorrow and desperation, and his prayer is simple, heartfelt, and profound:

"God, be merciful to me, a sinner!"

That's it.

No lists of good deeds, no comparison to others, no self-justification. Just an honest admission of his brokenness and a plea for grace. He understands something the Pharisee missed: he has nothing to offer God except his need. He has nothing to boast about, only to repent for. He knows he is a sinner, and in that moment, he puts all of his hope not in his own merit but in God's mercy.

And what is Jesus's verdict? It is shocking to those listening. Jesus declares,

"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"

The tax collector, despised and considered a traitor, was declared righteous by God. The Pharisee, the one who did all the right things, went home just as he came—unjustified, relying only on himself.

Five long, difficult years had left my life in ruins. A failed relationship had shattered my heart, and a fire had left me homeless, burning away the home I'd known for 22 years. I was a broken mess, completely lost, and felt I had nothing left to give—least of all to God. I wasn't prayerful or even spiritual; I often wondered,

"What would God want with me? I am worthless."

Despite this feeling of worthlessness, a quiet but persistent pull drew me back to the Church each week. I was seeking guidance and a sense of belonging to something greater than I could imagine. In that space, I learned how to pray again and give thanks for the life I had. The fire, which had felt like a final act of destruction, became the catalyst for a new beginning. From those flames, a renewal of faith was born, and I devoted my life to God. Today, I am grateful to stand before you as a Lay Leader of Worship.

For most of my adult life, I had been considered a "sinner," and I accept that truth about myself. I asked Christ for mercy. The first time I practised Lectio Divina alone, I felt the Holy Spirit enter me, and by God's grace, my life was changed forever. I have never looked back. I know it was God who saved me, Christ who rescued me, and the people of this parish who lovingly led me back to faith.

To admit your own failings and declare yourself a "sinner" isn't dressed up or trying to carry favour; it is brutal, desperate honesty. This isn't dressing up each week in your finest clothes to attend Church like the Pharisee; it is the raw truth of someone who has not led a blameless life, is despised by others and cannot even raise their head to heaven.

"God, be merciful to me, a sinner!"

This parable shows us that our righteousness does not come from comparing ourselves to others. It does not come from our good deeds, our church attendance, or our acts of charity. Our righteousness comes from God alone.

The one who humbles himself, who acknowledges his need for God's grace, is the one who will be exalted.

The one who exalts himself, who relies on his own goodness, will find that his pride leaves him empty and alone.

Let us pray with the heart of the tax collector, not the Pharisee. Let us come to God, not with a list of our accomplishments, but with open and honest hearts, confessing our need for His boundless mercy.

Let us not find our worth in how we stack up against others, but in the unconditional love and grace of Jesus Christ. For in Him alone, we see our justification, our worth, and our true humility.

Amen.

Alana D, 2025.