RETURN TO MERCY

A Homily on the Tenth Sunday After Trinity

The Rev. Deacon Timothy Wilson

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The Collect. O God, who declarest thy almighty power chiefly in showing mercy and pity; Mercifully grant unto us such a measure of thy grace, that we, running the way of thy commandments, may obtain thy gracious promises, and be made partakers of thy heavenly treasure; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

—

There is a remarkable movement in the Collect, and you may want to turn there with me

to follow along, on p.204 (or see above). There is an important progression here that we shouldn’t

miss. It begins with the nature of God, “who declarest thy almighty power chiefly in

showing mercy and pity”…and it ends with our participation in “thy heavenly treasure.”

Now look, between those two points… the Collect moves us from God and His mercy,

through grace which produces in us obedience and sustains that obedience in us, and

then ends with the heavenly inheritance that God has promised. In other words, we

have grace received, grace believed, and grace bringing us at last into the

heavenly inheritance. This is important because the Collect gives us the answer to a

question that we as Christians often struggle with: How am I supposed to live the

Christian life when I know how weak and sinful I really am?

And we seem to expect the answer to be, “Well, just try harder.” Or as some think that “if

it’s all grace, I can just live as I want.”

And faced with this question, we may be expecting another prayer of forgiveness, but

this Collect isn’t just some prayer for forgiveness, as we’ll see. It is a prayer that God

would so work upon us that His mercy would become the very power by which we

actually live.

“O God, who declarest thy almighty power chiefly in showing mercy and pity;

So, the prayer opens with a statement that is almost paradoxical: God's almighty power

is chiefly shown in mercy and pity.

We ordinarily associate power with strength, conquest, force,… the ability to impose

one’s will. But what does Scripture reveal about the Almighty? Scripture reveals that

God’s omnipotence is demonstrated not merely in creating the universe or conquering

His enemies, but in redeeming sinners.

Opposite our expectations of the use of power, His power is not only not diminished by

mercy, Mercy is one of the supreme manifestations of His power. He is able to take

the guilty and make them righteous…to take the dead and give them life.

Powerful enough to take a man who stands at a distance from the Temple, beating his

breast and saying, “God be merciful to me a sinner,” and send him home justified.

Powerful enough to take people who have wandered far from Him and bring them

home.

He is powerful enough to take an infamous persecutor of the Church and make him an

Apostle. And so, St. Paul says in our Epistle,

“For I am the least of the apostles, that am not meet to be called an apostle, because I

persecuted the church of God.”

What he had done was emblazoned on his memory. Paul has no flattering account of

himself. He doesn’t say, “I made some mistakes before I became a Christian.” He

remembers painfully that he persecuted Christ’s Church.

But then comes one of the great confessions of the Christian faith: “But by the grace

of God I am what I am.”

That is not false humility. Paul is not pretending that God has done nothing through him.

He goes on: “His grace which was bestowed upon me was not in vain; but I

laboured more abundantly than they all.”

The early Church Father, St. John Chrysostom, in his homily on 1 Corinthians, marvels

at Paul’s humility because he notices that Paul attributes his defects to himself, but his

good works to God; even when Paul says that he “labored more abundantly,” he

immediately adds, “yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me.” Chrysostom

relays to us that Paul neither boasts of his accomplishments nor uses grace as an

excuse for inactivity. Grace produces labor.

There are two errors we should be aware of concerning grace. One error is born out of

the “try harder” mentality and in reality implies that “I can save myself.” The other

says: “Since grace saves me, how I live doesn’t matter.” … The Gospel rejects both.

The Christian with understanding says, “I cannot save myself; therefore, I desperately

need mercy. And because God has shown me mercy, His grace now enables me to live

a new life.”

So, the Collect teaches us to pray, “Grant unto us such a measure of thy grace, that we,

running the way of thy commandments…”

Notice… St. Chrysostom hit upon exactly the theology of our Collect. Grace does not

eliminate obedience. Grace makes obedience possible.

And here is what I want you to understand explicitly…The Christian does not obey in

order to purchase God’s favor. But, How often do we live as if this is the case?

Rather, having received God’s mercy, we are enabled by grace to run in the way of

God’s commandments. That’s the distinction found in today’s Gospel.

And listen, the question is not whether we’ll be religious. Both men in our Gospel are

religious. Both go to the Temple. Both pray. Both know something about God. Both,

presumably, would have regarded themselves as worshipers. But what’s interesting is

that only one understands grace.

St. Luke tells us that Jesus spoke this parable to those who “trusted in themselves that

they were righteous, and despised others.” That sentence gives us the spiritual

diagnosis before we even meet the two men. The problem is not simply that the

Pharisee does good things. Indeed, the things he mentions are good things. He avoids

gross immorality. He’s outwardly disciplined. But, the danger is something far

subtler…He has begun to regard his righteousness as his possession rather than God's

gift.

We hear his prayer as it is ostensibly addressed to God, but it’s really an inventory of

himself: “I fast.” “I give.” “I am not like other men.”… And then, finally, “I am not like this

publican.” - The Pharisee has turned worship into comparison. He doesn’t need God’s

mercy because, in his estimation, he has already supplied himself with righteousness.

That, my friends, is where religion becomes spiritually dangerous.

It’s entirely possible to be outwardly religious and inwardly far from God. It’s possible to

attend church faithfully, know the Prayer Book, understand theology, read the Fathers,

receive the Sacrament, and still fall into the Pharisee’s temptation.

We begin to measure our righteousness against somebody else’s. “I may not be perfect,

but at least I’m better than him.” …“I have been faithful to church.”…“I know the

Scriptures.”…“I give.”…“I serve.” …“I don’t commit the sins that person commits.”

Beloved, the moment we begin to use another person’s weakness as evidence of our

own righteousness, we have begun to pray the Pharisee’s prayer.

Comparison is spiritually poisonous. It produces either pride or despair. If we think we

are doing better than someone else, we become proud. If we think someone else is

doing better than we are, we become discouraged.

The publican, however, comes into the Temple with nothing to recommend himself. He

stands “afar off.” He will not lift up his eyes. He beats upon his breast. And he says,

“God be merciful to me a sinner.”

What a remarkably short prayer… but it contains the whole posture, if you will, of the

Christian life…

He does not bargain, doesn’t negotiate, and certainly doesn’t offer to God his résumé.

In fact, He doesn’t even attempt to say, “God, consider the good things I have done.”…

He simply asks for mercy. And our Lord gives the astonishing verdict… “I tell you, this

man went down to his house justified rather than the other.”

This is extraordinarily good news for the Christian who is burdened by his past. Some

people carry their sins for years after God has forgiven them. They have confessed

them, but they continue to punish themselves for them. They say, in effect, “God may

forgive me, but I cannot forgive myself.” But notice the publican. He doesn’t attempt to

make himself worthy of forgiveness. He asks for mercy. And Christ gives it.

Others are discouraged because, by continual navel-gazing, they discover new

weaknesses in themselves…They thought they had conquered a particular sin, only to

discover that it remains.

They thought they had become patient, and then something provokes them. They

thought they had learned humility, and then somebody criticizes them. They thought

they trusted God, and then suffering exposes their anxiety.

Believe me, I know, it’s easy in this situation to fall into despair, but that's exactly what

we should not do. Do not despair, but don’t pretend either. Return to mercy.

The Christian life is not the accomplishment of sinlessness . . . Pride would then certainly

whisper to us that it was by our own strength. No, It’s a continual return to Christ.

We fall. We repent. We receive mercy. We rise. And by grace we continue running. That

is why the Collect doesn’t just merely ask for grace to forgive us. It asks, “Grant unto us

such a measure of thy grace, that we, running the way of thy commandments…”

Friends, God’s grace isn’t merely pardon behind us. It is power before us.

St. Augustine repeatedly returned to this parable because he understood that the

publican represents the sinner who has finally become honest before God. Augustine

says that the publican “showed his wounds to the Physician.”

What a beautiful image. Don’t you think?!

The Church is not a people who have no wounds. The Church is people who have

learned where to take their wounds. The Church proclaims, “I am forgiven because

Christ is merciful.”

You know, it’s important that our Prayer Book repeatedly places the words of confession

upon our lips. At Morning and Evening Prayer we confess our sins. Before receiving

Holy Communion, we confess that we are “miserable sinners.” We acknowledge that we

have “erred, and strayed” from God’s ways. And immediately after that confession, the

priest declares God’s absolution.

The Prayer Book does not teach us to live by pretending that we are better than we are.

It teaches us to come honestly before God, not trusting in our merits but in His mercy.

But we should be careful here also…Christian humility is not self-contempt. The

publican is not saying, “I am worthless, therefore God should hate me.” He is saying,

“I’m a sinner, therefore I need God.”

There is an enormous difference. The Gospel doesn’t teach us to despise ourselves. It

teaches us to stop making ourselves the center of the universe.

Our Lesson in Isaiah expresses, “Lord, thou wilt ordain peace for us: for thou also hast

wrought all our works in us.” Again, this is the theology of the Collect… Even the good

that we do is ultimately dependent upon the grace that God gives, and this is especially

important for those who become exhausted by trying to be “good Christians.”

Perhaps you know the feeling. You pray, but you think you ought to pray more. You read

Scripture, but you think you ought to read more. You serve, but you think you ought to

serve more. You try to love your neighbor, but then you discover just how difficult your

neighbor can be. You try to be patient with your family, and realize just how impatient

you really are.

Eventually, Christianity can begin to feel like an endless list of things you’re failing to

accomplish.

God’s grace precedes (goes before, walks ahead of) the work, accompanies the work,

sustains the work, and brings the work to completion.

This is why the Collect says, “Mercifully grant unto us such a measure of thy grace, that

we, running the way of thy commandments…”

The image is not of a man reluctantly dragging himself along the road of obedience… It

is of someone running, because Grace changes the Christian’s relationship to God’s

commandments.

And where does that road lead? The Collect tells us, “that we may obtain thy gracious

promises, and be made partakers of thy heavenly treasure.” …not in earthly applause,

but in heavenly treasure.

Psalm 124 gives us another aspect of the same truth, “If the Lord himself had not been

on our side…” Everything depends upon that phrase. If the Lord had not been on our

side, …we would surely have been lost.

Israel looks back upon dangers from which it could not have delivered itself. The

enemies were stronger…the waters were overwhelming…the trap was set… But God

intervened.

And so, the Psalm concludes, “Our help standeth in the Name of the Lord: who hath

made heaven and earth.”…Quite the opposite of the Pharisee’s spirituality. Right?!

Oh, how much is that Psalm a word of tremendous comfort. When you’re tired, when

you’re tempted, when you have sinned, when you’re grieving, Beloved, the Lord is

your help.

“They that trust in the Lord shall be even as the mount Sion, which may not be

removed, but standeth fast for ever.”

Some days we feel strong in faith. Other days we feel spiritually empty. Some days

prayer seems easy. Other days prayer seems painfully difficult. We have days we

rejoice, and days we struggle simply to get through the day.

Our assurance must therefore rest somewhere more stable than our ability to just “try

harder”. It rests upon Christ.

And that is precisely what the Eucharist proclaims. St. Paul tells us, “Christ died for our

sins according to the scriptures; and that he was buried, and that he rose again the third

day according to the scriptures.” Everything rests upon this.

Isaiah can speak of the dead living again because the Resurrection of Christ is the

beginning of the resurrection of His people.

Everything flows from God. Everything returns to God.

What do we bring to the altar? Our accomplishments? Our righteousness? Our religious

achievements? Our comparisons with other Christians? No… We come saying, “We do

not presume to come to this thy Table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own

righteousness…” The Prayer of Humble Access is almost the publican’s prayer put into

Eucharistic form.

We bring ourselves as needy sinners, as the publican came, confessing, “We have

erred and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep.” We come saying that there is no

health in us. And then we hear the Gospel of absolution. And we come to receive

something given, not something we have earned.

Christ Himself is given.

At the Table our prayer, like the Publican’s, is simple, “God be merciful to me a

sinner.” And our song as the Psalmist’s, “Our help standeth in the Name of the Lord,

who hath made heaven and earth.” And our hope is the promise of the Collect, that by

His mercy, will bring us at last into the heavenly treasure He has promised.

Let us confess our sins, and receive the mercy of Christ, trusting his grace.

Amen +