The mission of The Sage Forum is to encourage, equip, and empower women over 40 to mature in faith and grow in wisdom. Today’s Sage Forum Extra! is a short mid-month reflection meant to offer you a word of encouragement. Today’s Extra! is penned by Sage Forum member Michelle Van Loon. We also send out a newsletter at the beginning of each month focusing on a different theme relevant to women in the second half of life.
To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everybody 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 up and prayed about himself: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men–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.’
- Luke 18:9-14 (NIV)
There’s an amazing dance embedded in this parable, but it’s really easy to miss the choreography because the music of these words is so dissonant. Mute the words for a few moments, and imagine with me the movement of each man.
The first man comes into view, walking tentatively into a bustling courtyard outside the holiest place on earth. It is as if he is bearing an invisible weight on his shoulders that is growing heavier with each step. The closer he gets to his destination, the more labored his steps become. He pauses for a moment, then forces himself forward a couple of steps more. As he does, the tears he’s been fighting to hold inside spill down his face.
His hands cover his face, and his body shakes uncontrollably. His feet are frozen in place. He can move no closer. When his hands drop for a moment, you can see his lips moving. You can’t hear his words, but you can tell the words are rushing from him live a river.
Then he pauses, reaching out as if to grab a lifeline. The sight of his own empty, outstretched hand unleashes a fresh flood of tears. In a sudden, stabbing movement, he balls his hand into a fist and brings it sharply into his chest. He begins to repeat this motion again and again…left fist, right fist, left fist… It is an action typically reserved for women mourners of his culture, a physical response to a broken, grief-torn heart.
Others in the busy courtyard stare, then try not to stare. The man’s grief is such an intimacy that it’s difficult for most of the crowd to watch him for more than a moment before turning away. There are clusters of people quietly moving away from this man, trying not to touch or be touched by his hemorrhage of pain.
On the distant side of the courtyard, another man stands with his back to the crowd, a practiced actor performing the ritual movements of prayer with confidence born of a life lived in the religious spotlight. He is halfway through his routine when he senses the crowd’s attention has shifted. When he glances over his shoulder at the source of the disruption, his eyes flash rage, but his face is a mask of calm. He then repositions himself, digging his feet into the cut stones underneath him. He tilts his face upwards, his hands cupped upwards just so. He seems energized by the competition for the crowd’s attention. He steals one more glance over his shoulder, then flicks his wrist in the direction of the weeping man, brushing him away like he’s swatting at an annoying fly. He then turns his back to the crowd once again, certain he’s regained the attention of the crowd once again. He senses they’re all watching him again.
And they were. Everyone except for the weeping man.
When you turn up the sound again on this parable, the words of these two characters come as no surprise. You’ve watched each one show you what how he understood himself and his relationship with God.
For those who’ve been immersed in church life for a while, there is a subtle temptation to go through the motions – or even to perform what you might feel is expected of you in those circles. We know when to sit, when to stand, and when to say, “I’m fine” even when we’re not.
This parable reminds us of the truth. Religious performance might gain the attention of the crowd, but the tax collector’s unfiltered honesty is where he was met by God’s mercy when he couldn’t take another step forward on his own.
For further reflection: Spend a few moments imagiing what it was like to be the Pharisee in this parable. Why was he confident he was pleasing God? Did he have reason for feeling that way? Now put yourself in the sandals of the tax collector? Were his emotions misplaced? Why of why not?
To pray: God, have mercy on me, a sinner. I have been the Pharisee. I have been the tax collector. Please help me to remain tender and honest before you. In the name of the One who came to save sinners, Amen.
Painfully exquisite. The need for sincere humility and discernment of who is real and who is not seems to be a calling now.