Luke 18:9-14
Jesus spoke this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others:
“Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.
The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, ‘God, I thank You that I am not like other men—extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this tax collector.
I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I possess.’
And the tax collector, standing afar off, would not so much as raise his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me a sinner!’
I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.” This is a very challenging parable from our Lord; it cuts to the heart. And why is that? Because it condemns, not our vices, but our virtues. Rarely will we — we, church-goers — we, baptized Christians — we, Bible-reading, psalm-singing, conservative American Calvinists — rarely will we boast in our outright vices. When we do give into lust or petty theft or greedy behavior, we’re rightly ashamed; it’s not something we’re proud of, in other words. But, we are proud. We do think highly of ourselves, just not of our vices. We think highly of our virtues. Like this pharisee, being the good Calvinists that we are, we even thank God for our virtues. “Thank you, O God, that we have such good theology, not like that church across town. Thank you, O God, that I can sing, not like that other guy over there. Thank you, Father, that I am hard-working — and not like that lazy excuse of a man. Thank you, Lord, for keeping me pure, for preserving me from dressing like that promiscuous woman.” You get the idea. We don’t boast in our vices. But we are tempted to make much of our virtues — and that is a problem. There’s a proverb about this; it goes like this: “There is a generation that is pure in its own eyes, yet is not washed from its filthiness” (Prov. 30:12). Now, are these virtues good? Absolutely. Is diligence a thing we should pursue? Yes. Should we be self-controlled and pursue sexual purity? Absolutely — in fact we must. Should we aim to become more knowledgeable in the Scriptures, more skillful in singing, more productive in our work, more generous in giving? Yes, yes, yes. These are again virtues. So, where does the fault lie? The ‘fault’ — or, really, the sin — lies in the comparison part. It lies in the boasting part. The sin lies in the despising part. The “Thank you Father that I am — not like that guy . . . not like that girl.” Of course, we don’t phrase it that way. We’re not as arrogant as that pharisee, right? Instead we say stuff like, “Well, I would never have done that . . . I would have never let her wear that . . . I wouldn’t have responded like that.” Or, “Can you believe what she said? Can you believe what they did? Can you believe what she feeds her kids? Can you believe how they drink?” These kinds of comments betray our contempt for another. They show that our virtues have soured. We are pure in our own eyes—but we are coated in the filth of self-righteousness. That’s what Isaiah said after all:“But we are all like an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses” (i.e., all of our virtues) “are like filthy rags” (Isa. 64:6). Better is the sinner, the Lord says, the shameful tax collector who beats his breast and says, “Have mercy on me, a sinner.” The Lord delights in that man, over the virtuous man who despises his neighbor—but who does everything well. The Lord delights in the sinful woman who in humility washed His feet with her hair and tears—over the woman who has it all together and who can smell a sinner a mile away. It’s always sobering to remember this: it was not the tax collectors and prostitutes that killed Jesus. No, the pious did. The righteous did. The virtuous did. Those who thought highly of themselves and their own virtues, they killed Jesus thinking they were doing God a service. But they were wrong. And they, too, if they were to be saved, they had to repent like all the sinners they despised. So you must kill your vices, that goes without saying. But you must also die to your virtues. Even those good things that set you apart from others, you must die to those, too. You must die to boasting in them and despising those who do not have them. For like the Pharisee, they will get you nowhere with God. You will not go away justified. But you may end up persecuting the Son of God. Instead, we ought to strive to become the man, the woman who lives virtuously, with a heart lifted up to God with thanksgiving, who holds the true faith with fear and trembling, and who has great compassion toward those around him, with little thought of himself or of herself. We are to strive to become that kind of person, since that kind of person looks like Jesus. This reminds us of our need for mercy. Let us prepare our hearts to confess to our God how our virtues have soured.