Sermons

It was a crazy and heavy week. Many of us were in the path of the tornado and experienced a lot of worry and uncertainty. Some of us lost everything. Others of us only had some minor yard and tree damage. Many went days without power. And all of us have been concerned as we pray for each other and pray for our neighborhood and pray for Dallas. We can also be relieved and grateful that there was not a single loss of life in this natural disaster.

Royal Lane was in the path of the storm as well. Although not hit badly, our church did suffer a lot of tree and landscape damage, including a big sheet of Central Market’s roof that lodged deep in the ground. We also had a tremendous loss of the gazebo, the two haunted houses, and most of the pumpkins in the pumpkin patch. All roads were shut down around the church and power was out for days. But, as many of us were here the days after the tornado, we looked up at the steeple to gather our bearings, to know that there was something bigger than us and higher than us and grander than us. And what we saw was a battered and bruised steeple with pieces falling off of the base and a big gaping wound, a hole, in its side. There is a hole in our steeple. Barbara Merry, one of our Administrative Assistants, told me that while driving home on Thursday evening, she had a song running through her head, “There’s a hole in the steeple, dear Liza, dear Liza. There’s a hole in the steeple, dear Liza, a hole.”

The original title for the sermon was “Have Mercy on Us, Sinners and Saints.” The title was supposed to point us to how we are a mix of Pharisees and tax collectors, proud and humble, sinners and saints. And because of that, we all need to approach God in worship and we all need God’s mercy. But the title has changed a little bit based on recent events. The new title is, “There’s a Hole in Our Steeple.” And the tornado of last Sunday has left us feeling as if we have holes in our lives, deep places of sadness and grief. But we also know that whether we are sinners or saints, each one of us is affected by the tornadoes of life, and we all need the mercy of God.

Yes, there is a hole in our battered steeple. Yet, our facilities and our community are rather intact and we were able to get up and running in order to help our neighbors rebuild. Many of us came together on Thursday morning and afternoon to refresh the pumpkin patch, pick up and move all of the metal and wood debris, and pile up the broken limbs. Amongst this group of seven or eight church members were some of our Muslim friends from the Dialogue Institute, volunteers from Cliff Temple Baptist Church, and a staff person from Faith in Texas. We are truly blessed to have strong partners in ministry and goodwill in Dallas who will not only work with us when we are strong but will support us when we are down.

And so, we come back to the scripture lesson for today and I’m sure many of us noticed different things. I noticed that each of these men came to the temple alone. They had broken lives and were probably both outliers of their communities, seeking to find a place at the feet of God, the place where they would be welcomed and loved for who they were. But that’s not often how we read this story. We often put ourselves in the role of the hero, the saint in the story. I’m sure many of us have already placed ourselves in the shoes of the humble tax collector. We want to be the unpretentious one. We want to be the one who relied on God to love and hold him, make and remake him. We want to be the one who asked for mercy and received the admiration of Jesus and the blessing of God.

As I like to do, I want to understand all the characters in this narrative. And so, when looking at the tax collector AND the Pharisee, we should acknowledge that both probably relied on God and that both were actually religious people. But also, both were not living as they should: one hiding behind his religious acts and the other unable to live a life of fairness and justice because of his job. Both men had every reason to be in the temple and yet every reason to not feel worthy enough to be there, too.

But let’s understand the characters better. Who were these Pharisees? They were self-righteous, rule-following, religiously precise overseers, lacking in compassion for the followers of Jesus and showing off their anger at those who broke customs and laws. They directly opposed Jesus and cared more about strictly adhering to the Jewish law rather than caring for the Jewish people. We also know from today’s parable that one particular Pharisee stood up and stood out among the worshippers at the temple, extoling his own good works and bragging to God about his praying, his helping, his giving, and his fasting. He puffed out his chest and thanked God that he was not like the degenerate people skulking in the corners of the temple.

Feminist theologian, Dr. Elizabeth Johnson, thinks, “It is curious that [the Pharisee] goes to the temple at all, since the Pharisees are the first to promote ‘priesthood of all believers,’ and the locus of their religious lives is the home rather than the temple altar.” This understanding of the role of a Pharisee makes the Pharisee in this parable and his outward showing of his faith all the more arrogant as he goes to the center of religious life to show off his status. Not only does he remind the populous of how important he is, but it seems that he needs to remind God of how fortunate God is to have such a wonderful, exact, and faithful follower. I wonder if that describes us, our posturing and our pride? Could be.

If we take our eyes off the arrogant Pharisee, we notice the other character in the temple, standing far off stage, worried, humiliated, and sincere. The tax collector, an unlikely saint in this parable, is portrayed as authentic, honest, penitent, heart-broken, meek, and remorseful. So, as readers of this text, we clearly cringe at the haughtiness of the Pharisee and embrace the humbleness of the tax collector. We want to identify with the hero in the story, even though we don’t fully see that the tax collector, like the Pharisee, has a deep hole in his life as well.

You see, first century Jews had a different understanding of tax collectors than we do. Again, Dr. Johnson gives us a history lesson, stating, “Ancient Palestinian tax collectors, of course, are not like contemporary Internal Revenue agents paid to enforce the law. They are franchisees of a corrupt and byzantine system that gouges the poor and enriches the wealthy. The tax collector, by definition a wealthy man, pays the empire a set amount for the privilege of gathering whatever he can squeeze from his neighbors. Although he is personally responsible for the money owed by his district, he is free to collect the money any way he wants, and anything he collects above what he owes is his profit.” So, we see that the tax collector is not a moral person; and the Jewish leader is not a humble person. This story has a saintly sinner in the tax collector and sinning saint in the Pharisee. Both are sinners, both are saints as well: saints who lean into their hopes for mercy, saints who lean into their hopes for filling the holes in their lives and in their hearts.

Vanthanh Nguyen, priest and professor at Catholic Theological Union, says, “there is little doubt about which of these men has lived a righteous life and which has not. Yet Jesus’ evaluation in the parable turns the normal order of things upside down. The surprising twist of Jesus’ conclusion challenges us to examine anew the values and standards by which we live and practice our faith. Our religious observances and asceticism should make us humble before God and more loving toward others. Furthermore, it should not push us away from other people but rather draw us closer to them, whether they are saints or sinners.”

I think that’s what the winds of change, whether tornados from the sky, or the tornadoes of poverty or disease or prejudice do to each of us. These storms of life draw us together, the sinners and saints that we are. We all have holes in our steeples. We all are battered and bruised by the world. We aren’t perfect. We might be tax collectors, in dead end jobs or hurtful relationships, not sure if who we are or what we do does any good in the world. Yet, we come to the house of God, looking to find meaning and purpose and to be with other people of faith. We also might be religiously pious and economically influential. We might be wonderful people who just keep tripping over our pride and our power. But we still need the grace of God and the love of friends. We are a combination of sinner and saint, and all we want to do is draw closer to God and be with God’s people.

Because, you see, that’s what happens in this text. These two men, mix of sinners and saints, were drawn to the temple of the Lord. They needed to be with and worship with God’s people and be with and worship with a community of goodwill. Both characters needed God. Both characters needed loving people. Both characters needed each other. So, neither man should have been standing far off. They should’ve both drawn nearer to God and to each other regardless of their situation or their status. Because everyone has a hole in their steeple, a wound in their spirit, a hurt in their soul. And that is why we need God… and that is why we need each other.

Friends, we are both saints and sinners who need to draw closer to each other, to our community, and to God. We are a mix of both tax collectors and Pharisees. I’m afraid, like the Pharisees, we often huddle close to our traditions and our rituals, hoping that is where we will find God. We feel safe in the things we know. But we are also tax collectors who slip up, mess up, and give up. We are bound by our greed and let our pride rule the day. We desire recognition and power and purpose. Maybe it’s time that we bring both of these sides of ourselves into the temple, into worship, into the presence of God, while leaving our pride at the door. For if we do, we might recognize that God loves us, the sinners and the saints that we are. Maybe we need to cry out to God, every single one of us, “Have mercy on me, O God! For I am a sinner… and a saint.”

Yes, there is a hole in our battered steeple, but we are still a people of hope. We know that we are a church loved by people in this community just as we love them. We know we are a church who has faithful friends that will assist us just as we will assist them. We know that who we are as Royal Lane neighbors means that when one person suffers we all suffer. We know that even though there are holes in our hearts and in our lives and… in our steeple… we will continue to share hope with this city. So, Lord, have mercy on us, sinners and saints… for we all have holes in our steeples. And you know what? That’s ok. Come. For you are welcome and loved in this temple of God.

Amen.