Luke 18:9-14

If you’re wondering what all the red is about this morning, it’s because today is Reformation Sunday. It is a moment to reflect upon those times in the life of our faith when we have had to look ourselves squarely in they eye and identify the need to change – to grow – to become reformed! Today’s sermon is titled “The Protestant Jihad”. We’ll come back to that in a moment!

She was an elderly woman. Moderately well-preserved, although a bit dried out. Fifty years old they estimate. Granted, fifty is not all that ancient – especially in a setting like ours. But three thousand years ago in ancient Egypt, fifty was a ripe old age.

This fifty-year-old woman was recently found in TT-95 – a burial chamber in the Egyptian necropolis at Thebes-West. And for someone who’s been dead for three thousand years, she looked pretty good – remarkably well preserved. But what most excited archaeologists about the mummy was neither her antiquity nor her high state of preservation. What surprised the scientists was the big toe on her right foot. It was totally artificial!

The prosthesis – which is the world’s oldest known artificial appendage – consisted of three pieces of carved wood fitted onto her foot with leather straps. The experts theorize that some form of artery disease may have cut off circulation to the toe. X-rays show that someone surgically removed it, and soft tissue and skin had overgrown the site where the toe had been taken off, and then the prosthesis added. Scuff marks on the underside indicate that the artificial toe had assisted the woman for quite some time while she was alive. Without it, she would have had a very hard time making it in the world of her day.

All of us have limitations of one kind or another. They may be physical, or mental, or sociological. Out on the golf course the other day, I yanked a big-time hook off into the woods. I sort of slammed my club down and asked out loud, “What the heck am I doing? Is it my grip? My tempo? My equipment?” One of my dear golfing companions said, “Either that, or lack of ability!”

We all have our limitations.

A family history of heart disease. A character flaw that sees us make the same mistake over and over again. A chemical imbalance that causes depression. An awareness that nothing in life prepared us for being parents. A fear that paralyzes us. A memory that keeps us from enjoying the present.

Human limitations come in all shapes and sizes. What are some of the limitations you face in life? And what, if anything, can you do about them?

In today’s Gospel lesson, we encounter a story about two people who approach the limitations of their lives in two very different ways. One is a Pharisee – a devoutly religious person who has become over the years a man who has learned to use his faith to overcome all of life’s rough edges. He is deeply aware of how blessed his life is, especially in comparison to others. He does not steal because he has come to live life honestly. He does not commit evil deeds because he has learned the law and devoted himself to following it. He does not fall into adultery because he has learned to overcome the temptations of the flesh, and to live life beyond his carnal instincts. We learn from the story that this Pharisee even fasts twice a week, and regularly gives ten percent of all he owns and produces to the service of God. And many of us would aspire to be such people ourselves – to overcome our limitations and rise to the point where we can live on a higher plane, where faith solves all our problems, and we can safely dwell beyond the sinfulness of humanity. We all want to be the Pharisee.

Quite the contrary when it comes to the other fellow in the story. He is a tax collector – a turncoat Jew who enforces Rome’s unjust laws of taxation against his own people. He is the exact opposite of the kind of person the Pharisee is trying to be, and quite frankly, this worm of a man is precisely the person you and I do not want our daughters to marry! He is the proverbial bad apple in the barrel, and even he knows it as we watch him beat his breast and cry out to God for mercy.

But this is a parable, and you know how the parables of Jesus go. They surprise us by turning the obvious upside down. And here’s how this parable flips it over: Jesus says, “This TAX COLLECTOR, rather than the Pharisee, went home justified before God.”

Now, how can that be? How is it that a person so full of actual righteous accomplishment can end up outside of God’s favor, and a person so spiritually bankrupt end up with God’s approval?

Hold that question in your mind for a moment while I introduce another element to this discussion. Something which is much in the news these days. Let’s talk for a moment about Jihad.

We all know the term as an Arabic word meaning holy war, and we well understand that the campaign of terror being waged against us these days is described as a jihad. However, the term holy war was coined in Europe during the Crusades, and it referred to the war conducted by Christians against the Muslims. The term holy war is more a Western word and, in fact, has no counterpart in the Islamic vocabulary

The word jihad means “striving.” In its primary sense, jihad is something that occurs within yourself. It is a kind of intense self-examination intended to reveal things that are not right, that are broken, that need to be changed. And Islam, like Christianity, is not a purely personal and inward faith. Both religions extend to the welfare of society and humanity in general. And so the idea of jihad includes with it a passion for identifying how the larger community must change to become more just and to build a better, more peaceful world.

What jihad seeks for both the individual and society is a change of heart. An honest recognition of our own sin – our own limitations – and need for change. And an unswerving commitment to seek that change.

So let’s bring this back to the Pharisee and the tax collector.

The Pharisee, I’m afraid, had fallen into the same trap many of us have fallen into. And the trap is that jihad is not practiced within oneself so that we ourselves can grow in faithfulness, but rather, jihad is applied to others. It’s us against them. Light vs. darkness. The faithful vs. the unfaithful. The good vs. the bad. The saved vs. the unsaved. The found vs. the lost.

The Pharisee in this passage – relieved that he is not like all those dirty rotten sinners out there – especially people like that awful tax collector – is precisely the kind of person whose mindset has in history produced the terribly destructive weapons of self-righteous religion: things like the Crusades, the Final Solution, racism, denial of human rights to people who are different, exclusion of some from the community, and – taken to its extreme – even crashing airliners into buildings packed with people. In the eyes of the self-righteous, these things make the world a better place.

But Jesus asks us to not be fooled by the Pharisee. He may look good on the outside, but he himself has forgotten who he is on the inside ­– that he too is a sinner. Not so the tax collector. This man is so aware of his failings, so aware of his limitations, so aware of his own sin that he cannot even bring himself to look upward toward heaven. Instead, with eyes cast down, this infidel beats his breast, and cries out, “God, have mercy on me a sinner!”

And Jesus tells us that God’s grace touched that tax collector, and he began to grow toward wholeness.

 And so can we – limitations and all! So long as we are willing to face them.

That’s what I find so compelling about the story of the Egyptian woman. Three thousand years ago, this incredible human being faced a serious limitation in her life. But she didn’t give in to it. She conducted a jihad. She identified her weakness, she acknowledged its reality, and then she did what she could to overcome it.

And this is what Martin Luther did, too, quite a number of years later. He identified within his own religious system – his own spiritual life – that something was missing. It was the loss of grace. His own church, his own culture, his own ministry as a monk had become so oriented around people earning their way into God’s favor, that the heart of Christ’s ministry had been lost. And out of his own inner striving, Luther came up with those ninety-five theses that he nailed to the doors of the Wittenberg church. And they were all about grace! About how it is God who justifies sinners, and not we ourselves. And an important reformation in Luther’s life – and his Church – was begun. It was a true jihad!

And you and I are called to jihad as well.

During these times of national tragedy, it has been tempting for us religious types to incorporate these terrible acts of evil into our own belief system about God. So for some, the events of September 11th were God’s punishment for not allowing prayer in school, for supporting women’s rights, for sexual promiscuity, and so on. For some of us in the church, these acts of evil were God’s “wake up call” to the nation. And yet, if you listen clearly, you can hear the voice of the Pharisee in those claims. “I thank God that I am not like those people!”

And what is lost here is grace! The core belief of our faith that we are all sinners, and yet God is hopelessly in love with us, wooing us toward salvation and never toward destruction. Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me….! God does not kill people to get our attention!

If anything, these difficult days should make us fall on our knees like that tax collector, for these days have revealed to us how much we don’t understand about God and his amazing love. How will God incorporate all of these tragedies into the building of a better world? Will he be able to do it? Can he redeem us from the mess we’re in? Can God bring Muslims and Christians and Jews together in one family as he has promised? Can God bring healing into the lives of those who’ve lost so much, and justice for the victims, and reconciliation between himself and those who violate his will? And what can I do to help make these things possible?

I don’t know how you feel about it, but these current times have me on my knees, beating my chest, and crying out, “O God, have mercy upon me, a sinner!”

 I truly cannot fathom the times in which we live. I have come to the limit of my understanding.

So what shall I do?

I shall examine my own life. My own faith. My own understanding.

And I will ask God to show me the way.

I will conduct a jihad right here within the heart of Marty Singley.

Jesus said, “Whoever humbles himself will be lifted.”

Just like that Egyptian woman who discovered a way beyond her own limitations. Just like Martin Luther who found a path that led to grace. Just like that tax collector who dared to look inside himself. And when he did, found God’s way to life!

Dear friends, the time has come for a new jihad.

Come and join me, on our knees together. Let us examine ourselves, and identify our limitations, our own weaknesses, our own need for change. And let us be fearless in asking God to show us the way to life!