Sermon for 30th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Year C Homily

30th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Year C

HE and I (Lk 18:9-14)

A few years ago, I came up with this definition of prayer: “Prayer is becoming aware of who I am in the presence of God.”  I could also consistently explain the different forms of prayers within this definition.  When I become aware of my dependence on God, it is the prayer of intercession.  When I become aware of my sinfulness, I begin the prayer of repentance. When I become aware of what God has done for me, I express it in prayer of praise and thanksgiving.

I was quite fond of using this definition in my retreats with young people.  It was very impressive. But that was until one day. That fine day this beautiful definition was threatened by a question from a young participant.  “Father,” she said, “What is God like in all this?”  The question set me thinking: who is the centre of my prayer?  Who holds the reins in my prayer?  Myself or God? I realised there were too many I’s in my prayer.

In the gospel text of this Sunday, Jesus brings to conclusion his trilogy on prayer: (a) from the story of the grateful Samaritan (who used to be a person with leprosy), Jesus taught us that gratitude, rather than just intercession, offers us a possibility of a personal encounter with God; (b) through the parable of the persistent widow, Jesus taught us to be constant in prayer.  Today we have the third story.  This story invites us to examine our inner attitude in prayer.

The evangelist Luke is a master storyteller.  His stories are not to be taken just for their face value.  To understand the depth of meaning, we need to dig deeper into his narrative style. We might have to pay attention to the final twist in the story. See, for instance, the story of the Good Samaritan (Lk 10:25-37), the story of the Unrepentant Son (Lk 15:11-32), and the story that we heard read in the liturgy of today (Lk 18:9-14).

My reflections on the text helped me become aware of five aspects of prayer and spirituality, which I would like to share with you.  These five aspects, I feel, are invitations from God towards deepening my prayer and life. They indicate a process, or a journey, that God invites me to embark on.

From an I-focussed prayer to a God-centred prayer

“The Pharisee stood there and said this prayer to himself…” (Lk 18:11).  Though his prayer begins with the word ‘God’, it seems not to be addressed to God.  Even without running a digital word-frequency count on his prayer, we can notice that his prayer has too many I’s (six, to be precise): “I thank you…; I am not grasping…; I am like this tax collector…; I fast…; I pay tithes….”  The pronoun ‘I’ is the subject of his prayer.

Sometime back, when we were praying the Magnificat – the prayer of Mary during the visitation (Lk 1:46-55) – it seemed to me that Mary was very proud, and I was reminded of the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican.  So I started comparing the two texts.  What I discovered was very uplifting.  In contrast to the prayer of the Pharisee, Mary’s prayer is God-centred.  Almost every clause begins with a ‘He’ (at least nine times); when she refers to herself, it is only as an object of the action of God.  True, Mary feels exalted, but it is because of HIM. It is a similar attitude that we recognise in the prayer of the Tax Collector. He focuses on the mercy of God. He sees himself as the object of God’s mercy.

So, who is the centre of my own prayer?  What is God like in my prayer?

From a wordy prayer to a silent prayer

The second contrast between the prayer of the Pharisee and that of the Tax Collector is that the first prayer is too verbose. The prayer of the Tax collector is brief but deep.  Jesus seems to be consistently sceptical about long vocal prayers.  Elsewhere in the Gospels, Jesus would say, “Beware of the scribes, who like to go about in long robes, and love salutations in the market places and the best seats in the synagogues and the places of honour at feasts, who devour widows’ houses and for a pretence make long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation” (Lk 20: 46-47, RSV; and the same text in Mk 12:38-40).

Again in Mt 6:7, He says, “And in praying do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard for their many words.”  He goes on to teach the ‘Our Father’, with the words: “Pray then like this… (Mt 6:9). It is only a model of our own attitude in prayer.

I am not implying that we do not need words in prayer.  We need them, particularly when we are gathered as a community.  Human language brings people together, even in prayer.  However, at a deeper level, am I willing to move beyond words to listening to God in the recesses of my heart?   The movement from words to silence in prayer also signifies a movement from the head to the heart.

From self-justification to being justified by God

The opening sentence of the gospel text of today declares the intention of Jesus: “He spoke the following parable to some people who prided themselves on being virtuous and despised everyone else…” (Lk 18:9).  The conclusion of the story again reminds us that it is only God who can justify us.

The Pharisee becomes a victim of the cancerous comparison even in prayer.  He justifies himself and despises his neighbour in the temple. The Pharisee is ‘justified’ in condemning the tax collector, given the historical context of that prayer.  Tax-collectors were seen as collaborators with the Roman colonialists. The Pharisee is not able to reject his social prejudices in prayer.  He knows that the tax-collector wields greater power in the social realm, but the he prides himself that he has an edge over him in the religious realm.  But he was mistaken. He went one step too far – he exalts himself even above the rest of humanity. By judging the inner life of others, the Pharisee makes himself a god.  Therefore, at the end of the story the tables are turned.  It was the tax collector who went home justified. He was justified by God.

Do I spend my time in prayer, putting myself on the throne of judgement, passing condemnation on others?  Am I justifying myself, or am I open to the saving grace of God?

From self-sufficiency to God-necessity

The prayer of thanksgiving offered by the Pharisee subtly hides his pride.  He is actually thanking God for what he is capable of doing for God: “I am not unjust, I fast, I pay tithes…” Originally, the people of Israel were obliged to ‘fast’ only once a year. That was on the Day of Atonement (Lev 16:29-31; Num 30:13). Later other ‘fasts’ were added around the attack of Nebuchadnezzar (Jer 39:2). But this fasting may not have meant forgoing food, because Dan 10:3 speaks of ‘unleavened bread’, and Deut 16:3 speaks of ‘the bread of affliction’ in connection to fasting. In general, it was referred to as ‘self-affliction’ or ‘humbling of oneself’. It is possible that by the time of the prophets there were greater efforts in fasting, forgetting its original meaning.  Therefore the prophets (Is 58:4-7; Jer 52:4; Mal 3:14) warn the people ofIsraelto return to the original spirit of the law: to humble oneself before God!

The Pharisee, in the story of today, “stands there” reminding God that he fasts twice a week.  He seems to imply that he does not need to beg the mercy of God. He has done enough to automatically merit it.  Instead of his fast being an act of ‘self-humiliation’, it becomes a reason for his pride.  Pride is an attitude of living in an illusion about ourselves.  Pride is a false belief that I don’t need God: God is for the weak and the poor!  This is the pride of the contemporary world.

The word ‘humility’, on the other hand, is related to the Latin word ‘humus’, which means, ‘earth’.  So humility could mean lowering ourselves to the ground.  That is what the Tax Collector does: “he stood some distance away, not daring even to raise his eyes to heaven…” (Lk 18:13). Humility also reminds us that we need God, as much as we need the earth to stand on.

From a doing-spirituality to a being-spirituality

This takes us to the last point of our reflection.  Yes, the Pharisee scores very high on practices of piety and good works. But his spiritual ‘activities’ could become the source of his fall. They deceive him.  The Pharisee is not able to listen to the God who invites him to just BE in His Holy Presence.

Am I willing to BE in the presence of God, or am I busy DOING many things for God – even in prayer?  Doing exaggerates the role of human efforts in experiencing God. Being, on the contrary, opens me up to His grace.

So what then is true prayer?  Prayer is becoming aware of HE WHO IS – God!