The theme for this Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time is "Thank God That I Am Not Like . . ." The texts are, from Psalm 65: "Silence is praise to you, Zion-Dwelling God, and also obedience. For you hear the prayer in it all!" And, from the Gospel of Luke: "Jesus told his next story to some who were complacently pleased with their right-ness before God and regarded others with contempt: 'Two men went up to the Temple to pray, one a Pharisee, and the other a tax collector.'" Let us pray . . .

So let me say it right out of the shoot this morning! DAMN THE LECTIONARY! I say that aloud because I literally wish I could have dammed up the words from the Lectionary this week so that I would not have to deal with this lesson from Luke-this story told by Jesus to those who were complacently pleased with their rightness before God yet who were quick to regard others with contempt. To make matters even worse, Jesus centers this searing teaching within the practice of personal entreatment before God-for we are told that a Pharisee and a tax collector had gone up to the Temple to pray. And more troubling still-the author of Luke lets us in on what each one had to say in their prayers-meditations that are hard for both progressive pastors and parishioners alike to hear and take to heart.

Damn the Lectionary this day! And let me tell you why!

As hard as it is for me to admit I am the Pharisee in this story. I am the Pharisee because I am a person who, throughout my life, has always tried to do the right thing-be it around social, political, racial, economic, or sexual issues. I have carefully tried to understand, decipher and uncode what the Divine Spirit asks of me and of my being, and I have done my very best to follow where I thought the Spirit was leading-even when my gut told me to run the other way. I am not now, nor have I ever been, a thief or a liar, a cheat or a deceiver. From the first day I went to work to this very day, I have given, and continue to give, a full 10% of my income to the work and witness of the church. I am proud that I can stand before this congregation and say to my beloved bride, who is serving as liturgist today, that I have never been adulterous or disloyal in our rich relationship of 22 years. I have been, and I continue to be, a devoted father to my grown children and a dedicated son to my aging parents. And I do all this because I believe it to be right, and just, and proper. I do all this because I judge it to be correct, and true, and appropriate.

But here is the stumbling block for me! For the good and right-living Pharisee, we are told, prayed as follows: "Oh God, I thank you that I am not like other people! Thank you, O God, that I am not a robber, or a crook, or an adulterer, or heaven forbid, someone like this misguided tax collector who abuses his own people! Here my prayer, O God, for I daily do what is proper and correct and-what's more-- a give a tenth of all my income to your work!" Sadly enough, I must confess that the words of the Pharisee in this passage from Luke, and the content of his exposed prayer, are found far too often on my own lips . . .Too often I have prayed "I thank you, O God, that I am not like our president, George Bush- so overconfident, so full-of-himself, so blatantly brash while being nothing more than a Biblical illiterate when it comes to understanding the good news of the Gospel . . . I thank you, O God, that I am not like the Presbyterian lawyer Paul Rolf Jensen-evil in his actions, arrogant in his theology, and abusive to anyone who believes that the church should be a place of re-formation and not regression! . . I thank you, O God that I am not like my conservative brothers and sisters in this Presbytery-so cock- sure in their personal faith, so clearly simple in their global outlook, and so narrow-minded when it comes to sexual expression and orientation! . . . I thank you, O God, that I am not like all those proper, old Presbyterians who want nothing more than to live in the past, or who want nothing more than to label the future as suspect, or who want nothing more than to resist, at any price, present change!"

Man, O Man, and I the Pharisee!

For you see, this story asks us to look at ourselves in the mirror of its message and see the places where, in the service of our strongest and our best convictions, we may have been, or may be now, self-righteous and denigrating of other folk. I must confess that I do not like this exercise one bit-this looking into the mirror to recognize the dark side of my deepest certainties and beliefs-but this is what this passage asks each of us to do-to look into that mirror and see if we can see ourselves as the Pharisee in this story! And as progressive Christians, so very certain in our convictions and positions, we must listen ever so carefully to our "Thank God that I am not like . . ." prayers-for they can lead us to treat those with whom we differ in unacceptable, and un-graceful and un-Christ-like ways.

Tich Nat Han is a Vietnamese Buddhist monk who taught and practiced non-violent resistance to the war that ravaged his homeland. He remains to this day a peace activist of renown-but interestingly enough, other peace advocates do not always appreciate him. During the first Gulf War, Han was asked to address a peace rally here in California. He accepted the invitation-but he went further in his address than some of his audience were willing to venture-for he said to them, "This work you are doing against the war and for peace is very important work, some of the most important work in the world. But I tell you that you do not do the work of peace fully and faithfully unless you can both oppose the war and at the same time write President Bush a letter of love!" Few of the anti-war protesters that day were willing to go that far. To them President Bush was the Devil Incarnate, evil incorporated. Their mantra, their prayer, was, "Thank you, O God, that I am not like this wicked man"- and thus Han was quickly booed from the stage!

And here is the rub, I think. For what Han was saying, what Jesus is saying in this passage, is that even though we may hold deep and abiding convictions, it is incredibly important how we treat other people-even those people with whom we disagree vehemently. How many of us here today could go home and write a letter of love to our current President Bush? How many of us here could sit down this evening and write a letter of compassion to Paul Rolf Jensen, or to a friend who has dismissed us because of our convictions, or to a parent who has disowned us because of who we really are? How many of us here today are willing to passionately pray for our enemies, and to pray for our opponents, and to pray for those who have hurt us time and time again? This is the hard work, the over-looked work, of making peace fully and faithfully. This is the tough work, the ignored work, of truly living a Christ-like, and thus Christian life. This is the demanding work, the disregarded work, of realizing that we are bound together, friend and foe, in the gift and grace of life! And this is the hard work, the overlooked work, for us as progressive Christians-for we must refuse to be complacently pleased with our right-ness before the Divine while ever-regarding others around us with damning contempt and caustic distain.

And so it is the prayer of the Tax Collector that we must finally place on our lips-not a haute pharisaic prayer that informs God of how right we truly are but this humble prayer which asks God to give us mercy and to forgive our transgressions. Unlike the prayer of the Pharisee, which is arrogantly informational, the prayer of the Tax Collector is amazingly transformational-for it acknowledges that our certainty may not be as certain as we would like it to be, it acknowledges that we are not the end-all and the perfect center of righteousness, and it acknowledges that we have needs and desires that cannot be fulfilled or faced alone! This prayer of the Tax Collector allows us to bring before God where we have fallen short, where we are fearful and unsure, where we have begrudged and belittled, and, most importantly, where we have loathed instead of loved.

If we choose to pray otherwise-like the Pharisee-Jesus tells us that we will be humbled for the pride with which we have exalted ourselves. But if we hold no contempt, even in the service of our deepest beliefs, and if we are open to others and to God, then Jesus tells us that we will live holy and healed lives-lives that are freed by grace and bound up in abundant love.

I am not a big Calvin quoter. Rarely will you hear me raise up his thoughts and theses in a prompting-but when it comes to the whole notion of prayer I want to give John Calvin his full due. He writes, "Prayer must not be self-centered. It must arise not only because we feel our own need as a burden we must bring before God, but also because we are so bound up in love for our fellow human beings that we feel their need as acutely as our own."

Are we willing, truly willing, this day and all days, to be so bound up in love for those around us that we feel their need as deeply as our own desires? What "Thank God I am not like" prayers do we harbor and hold this day? And how will we be a part of doing justice, and embracing kindness, if we are unwilling to undertake the harder work of walking humbly with our God?

Damn the lectionary! But still I give thanks for its leadings! AMEN