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Lenten Quiet Day 2025 St. Martin's Church Luke 18:9-14
A few weeks ago, I dropped off my 3-year-old daughter at school and noticed her doing something I hadn’t seen her do before. The front doors of her school are reflective like a mirror, and teachers come and go from the doors, escorting the kids to their classrooms. It’s like Grand Central Station each morning.
But on this day, she got out of the car, and the school doors were closed for just a moment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her stand there, looking at her reflection, and then she took a deep breath in and smiled.
That image has been tattooed on my brain ever since. It is precious, and it’s such a powerful moment because there is such an innocence to her smiling at what she sees. I want her to feel that way about herself every single day of her life, but I know she will not always like what she sees in the mirror.
There will likely be times she disappoints herself and cannot bear to look at her reflection. She will feel pressure as a teenager to conform to a certain body image, and the doubts that she may feel of not being pretty enough, or not good enough, or smart enough, will likely make her scowl at the person looking back at her in the mirror.
I’d venture to say that all of us don’t like what we see in the mirror a decent portion of our lives. The reflection we see brings a sense of shame or a reckoning with imperfections, whether that’s what we see on the outside or what we know is happening on the inside. A mirror doesn’t lie, but the voices in our head tell us so many lies about ourselves.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall. Who's the fairest of them all?
Now, there is the other extreme, as well. Greek mythology tells of a handsome teenager named Narcissus who was unimpressed by the young maidens around him. It was only when he saw his reflection that he discovered his true love.
We live in a narcissistic society where love of self can lead to self-promotion, which quickly turns into self-absorption. Glinda from Wicked is a great example of complete self-centeredness. “I’m going to do something for you out of the goodness of my heart. I’m going to remind you I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart…and oh, you’ll definitely owe me later on.” Narcissus lives on in each of us.
Love of self is not a bad thing, but we have made it into an art form—thank you influence culture.
When we look in the mirror, I don’t think we should say, “Gosh, I take my own breath away.” Again, there is such a simple beauty to a three-year-old smiling with delight at her reflection and then running to class. She stayed there for a moment, not forever.
For the ancient Israelites, if they were to look in the mirror and be proud of what they saw, it was because they were living a righteous life. Meaning they were in right relationship with God and their neighbor by keeping his commandments. To love God was to obey him.
As our Creator, God knows what’s best for us more than we do, and his commandments would keep our malformed hearts on the path of the righteous. Left to our own devices, we would go the way of Narcissus nine times out of ten.
To be known as a righteous person was more valuable than wealth or honor. It meant you had lived your life in step with God. For an Israelite, “the good life” was a righteous life, and our goal as humans was to seek after righteousness—nothing should distract God’s people from seeking after the way of the righteous.
With that in mind, hear this parable from Luke 18:9-14.
To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’
“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’
“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
Jesus tells a parable that his listeners would’ve known from personal experience. Everyone would’ve gone to the Temple at some point for a service like this. These services happened twice a day, at dawn and at 3 o'clock, as part of the atonement offerings.
People would gather around the high altar in the temple courts, just outside of the Temple itself. A lamb would be sacrificed for the sins of Israel, and its blood would be sprinkled on the altar. There would be cymbals and trumpets going off and the reciting of a psalm, and then the priest would go to the outer courts to burn incense before the Lord. When the priest left to do that, those in attendance could then offer their private prayers.[1]
And so, notice the details Jesus gives us—the parable begins as the priest has left and the people begin offering their private prayers. The Pharisee stood by himself—the crowd is around the altar, but he is at a distance. But why?
Pharisees were the most devout, most pious rule followers; They were religious superstars. They lived and breathed the Torah—and all the interpretations of the Law that had accumulated over the years. Thus, they were always the smartest ones in the room—you weren’t going to outwit a Pharisee.
Yet, it seems that this Pharisee stood by himself because he didn’t want “those other people” to defile his worship experience. It’s like showing up for Christmas Eve, and you are so excited to sing all the great hymns, but then you discover you’re surrounded by people who are tone deaf. They may be singing at the top of their lungs, but it is so off-key that it ruins your whole worship experience.
In the Pharisees’ book, the other people gathered around for the service were just wannabes who would never take God’s law as seriously as him. God has blessed him so much, he has become so righteous, that he’s in a league of his own. When he looks in the mirror, he likes what he sees, and he knows God does, too. Righteous certainty can make us blind to reality.
Contrast that to the disposition of the tax collector. He too is standing at a distance from those gathered around the altar, not so that others will defile him, but so that he doesn’t defile others. He is unworthy to gather around the altar. He’s a sellout to the Romans, a hack, an enemy of the people. He’s sold his soul to Caesar for a steady paying job. He’s a loser, and he knows it. He’s stopped looking in the mirror years ago.
The acceptable position while in the Temple courts was to look down and keep your arms crossed over your chest as a sign that you are a servant of God. But the tax collector goes a step further, he beats his chest. Women beat their chest, men typically did not. And yet, there he is, away from everyone, ashamed and pounding his chest, asking for mercy.
He may not be as smart and devout as the Pharisee—he sure can’t quote Scripture like him, but just maybe, God will hear his prayer for mercy.
Surprisingly, this parable is not as much about humility as it is about how we are justified (made righteous) before God. Remember, Luke said at the beginning of this passage, “To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else.”
Living a righteous life was always the goal—that was the standard of a life well-lived. But Jesus reminds us of the disposition we should have as followers of God. Righteousness is not attained by the things you can accomplish—for even good things can become idols.
As the author Kenneth Bailey writes, “The righteous person is not the one who observes a particular code of ethics but rather a person or community granted a special relationship of acceptance in the presence of God. That relationship is maintained by acting in loyalty to the giver of the unearned status.”[2]
God had chosen Israel. There was nothing of note for this family-turned-nation. God didn’t choose them for any merits of their own. Yet, Abraham is the prime example of faith. Remember, in Genesis 15, it says that “Abraham believed God and it was accounted/reckoned to him as righteousness.”[3] Paul then artfully uses this example in his Letter to the Romans to talk about the role of faith and the work of Christ on our behalf. Righteousness is an unearned gift, but it is retained through faithful obedience to the Divine Gift Giver.
Who is justified before God? The one who looks in the mirror and knows that apart from God, there is no health in us. Jesus told people he hadn’t come for those who were well, but for those who were sick. The sick knew they needed to be cured; they knew they couldn’t cure themselves, and so they were longing for the healing that only God in Christ could bring.
There is freedom when we reckon with the truth of who we are…and who we are not. Christians aren’t meant to sit around in self-pitying circles and continually cry, “Woe is me, the great sinner that I am!” No, we are to recognize our brokenness, our continual need for repentance and renewal, and then be in awe of what God does for us (and through us), though we don’t deserve his precious gift to us.
Someone told me the other day that Bishop Bill Frey used to say, “Any good you see in me is a triumph of grace over nature.”
When we look in the mirror, we should see glimmers of God’s grace that has shaped who we are (and who we are to become) in Christ. We are a work in progress, but this revelation of grace should lead us from lives of self-obsession to lives of endless gratitude (and righteousness). And when that happens, we become a mirror of grace to others. It is a gift that multiplies when we can accept who we are through the gracious action of God.
That is why we can say the Prayer of Humble Access in our Traditional service, not with a sense of shame but a sense of gratitude for God’s actions on our behalf.
"We do not presume to come to this thy Table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table. But thou art the same Lord, whose property is always to have mercy: Grant us therefore, gracious Lord, so to eat the flesh of thy dear Son Jesus Christ, and to drink his blood, that we may evermore dwell in him, and he in us. Amen."
Not trusting in our own righteousness…though we hold onto God’s great mercies.
We are not worthy…yet God’s nature is always to have mercy.
We can honestly confess our unworthiness, our brokenness, and sin because we know the nature of the One to whom we confess such things. He does not desire the death of sinners, but a broken and contrite heart he will not despise.
Another prayer worth thinking about is the Jesus prayer. It’s a simple phrase that people can say under their breath, and it can become so rhythmic that you might pray it most of the day and not realize it. It goes: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.”
What did the tax collector say? “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”
We are sinners in need of saving, and the Good News is that we have been saved. We can look in the mirror, and honestly assess what we see, but then we recall to mind the power of Jesus’ sacrificial love and unending grace, which transforms us from mere sinners into heirs of his kingdom, worthy to sit at his table.
We can walk away from the mirror and into our daily lives confident that we are reckoned, set right by God, and called into lives of righteousness and grace for the glory of God.
Questions to Ask:
1. What do you see in the mirror? What have you held onto? What do you need to give to God?
2. How can you cultivate an attitude of gratitude this Lent?
3. What would righteousness look like in your life? Among your family, friends, and co-workers?
4. Pray the Jesus Prayer for a while. See what emotions come up.
[1] Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes p. 346
[2] Jesus Through Middle Eastern Eyes p. 345.
[3] Genesis 15:6
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