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The speaker addresses Bishop Foyes and other religious figures, expressing gratitude for the opportunity to gather at a Catholic men's conference. They discuss the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, highlighting the importance of humility in prayer and the dangers of self-righteousness. They emphasize that true prayer is focused on God and should not involve comparing oneself to others. The speaker concludes by emphasizing the need for humility and self-reflection in prayer, and the importance of aligning one's life with God's teachings. Your Excellency Bishop Foyes, my brother priests, deacons of the church, men who are in formation for religious communities and for holy orders, my brothers in Christ, what a great blessing it is for us to spend this day together. How uplifting, how edifying it is to see this large participation in this Catholic men's conference. What a great day this is, and how wonderful that we culminate our time together today in that liturgical action, which is the source and the summit of the very life of our church. We conclude this graced time together to be fed by the Lord at the table of his word and at the table of the Eucharist. What a great blessing this day is. Maybe you've heard this story about a small boy who said to his father, hey dad, watch, I'm the best batter in the world. And then he threw the ball into the air, swung the bat with all his might, and missed. Wait dad, watch this one, he said, and for the second time he swung with all his might and he missed the ball. Here is the one, dad, he called out, but for the third time he missed and the ball fell to the ground. Without a second's hesitation, the young boy called out, three strikes, you're out, dad, I must be the world's greatest pitcher. Such a confident self-assessment on the part of an innocent young boy is very understandable, and it brings a smile to our faces. But similar self-assessments in us adults can be a real obstacle to our growth in the spiritual life, to developing our own life of prayer, and to fulfilling our obligations in marriage, in family, in the church community, and in the world. The parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector is unique to St. Luke's Gospel. Throughout Luke's Gospel, the portrayal of the kingdom of God is full of surprises. The last are first, the humble are exalted, the despised are honored. The great reversal of things according to God's priorities is underway, and Luke wants us to get that message. Our Lord's parable pairs a tax collector and a Pharisee who both go up to the temple to pray. Now, one would think, both back then in the first century and today in the twenty-first century, that the religious leader would have no problem praying. After all, he's the acknowledged expert. One would think that we could predict from the outset of this story who is the good guy and who is the bad guy. But surprise, the outcome is not that simple. The Pharisee did not really go to pray to God. Jesus actually says in telling the parable, he spoke this prayer to himself, and indeed he did. He talked to himself in the temple. True prayer is always offered to God. The Pharisee was really giving a testimonial to himself before God. As we eavesdrop on the Pharisee's words, his attitude is clearly obnoxious and insufferable as we hear it. His so-called prayer is nothing more than a litany of self-praise. His prayer, if there is one, peaks with the first four words, I thank you, God. But it's all downhill from there. The only thanks he gives to God is for the fact that he is not like other people. And he cites a list of unsavory types of people to whom he is superior. The greedy, the dishonest, the adulterous, the adulterous, and even his neighbor in prayer, the tax agent. In his mind, humanity is divided into two groups, other people and himself. After highlighting what he is not, the Pharisee lists who he is. One so observant of the law that he does more than is required. He tithes everything, even things which there was no obligation to tithe. But the Pharisee did not really go to the temple to pray. He went to inform God how good he was. We might imagine him saying, God, I must be your best follower in the whole world. Then our Lord introduces us to the tax collector. The occupation of tax collector was particularly despised in the first century. Not the tax collectors of the most popular people, even today, but they were particularly despised despised in the first century by the contemporaries of Jesus tax collector made his living by collecting the taxes imposed by the occupying forces of Rome. While this alone would have been enough to make him unpopular, tax collectors necessarily added insult to injury. Since they received no actual wages from the Roman government to do this dirty work, they made their living by charging more than the Romans required and pocketing whatever was over and above. In the temple, the tax agent stood afar off and could not even lift his eyes up to God. He puts himself in a posture of contrition and remorse. Our Lord says that he pounds his chest. As he says his prayer, interestingly, in the Middle East, pounding one's chest is a traditional gesture of women and is practiced by men only when in deep anguish. So the gesture itself reveals that he is moved to the depths of his heart. In the Greek text of the parable, the tax collector actually prayed, Oh God, be merciful to me, the sinner. Usually our translation say, Be merciful to me, a sinner. But there is a definite article before the Greek word for sinner. It's as if he saw himself not merely as a sinner, but the sinner par excellence. Abbaqar Rahner, in writing about Christ's death and the forgiveness of sins in his book on the priesthood, remarked that, quote, Even if I could assume that the most abandoned of creatures made so by hereditary and environment, even if I were to defend those miserable, most miserable creatures in the whole world, I must be prepared to admit that there is one person in the world who cannot be defended, one person who knew. And although he might have had a thousand good excusing pauses, there is at least one person who has sinned. And I must have the courage to be that person. The publican knew that whether or not anyone else in the world had sinned, whether any other person needed God's mercy, he was the sinner who did. In his commentary on Psalm 31, St. Augustine offers a magnificent reflection on this parable and on God's mercy toward repentant sinners. St. Augustine wrote, The tax collector does not dare lift his eyes toward heaven. He examines and condemns himself. He makes himself his own judge, and God pleads his cause. He punishes himself, and God gives him grace. He accuses himself, and God defends him. He defends him so well that God judges him thus. This man went home from the temple justified, but the other did not. For everyone who exalts himself shall be humbled, while he who humbles himself shall be exalted. He has examined his conscience, Augustine said, and God did not wish to examine him further. The words of the great fifth century bishop of Hippo describe God's forgiving mercy toward the humble in the legal language of a trial. When we confess our sins, God, who is judge and advocate, finds in our favor. What does this parable teach us who are no longer divided into Pharisees and tax collectors? Let me offer two thoughts that we might carry with us as we leave today and throughout the remaining days of our Lenten journey. The parable instructs us regarding judging others and regarding prayer. On any given Sunday in any church, in any congregation, both Pharisees and publicans still gather together to pray. We have among us those who are convinced of our own righteousness and even sometimes despise everyone else. At times, perhaps we are they. And we also have in our midst, perhaps at times ourselves to those who, because they have failed in grave ways, believe that they can never be close to God again. Prayer is easily distinguishable from the other. Both are known for who they are only by God. If someone were to draw a cartoon of any congregation on a Sunday morning, the thought balloons above the heads might read like this. Thank God I am not like that liberal who is destroying the church. Thank God I am not like that traditionalist who is holding the church captive to the past. Thank God I'm not like that person who has given up the rosary. Thank God I'm not like that person who is so absorbed by old-fashioned devotions. Thank God I'm not like those social justice people who want amnesty for lawbreakers. Thank God I'm not like those pious Catholics who ignore the systemic evils in our society. Hundreds of thought bubbles that would betray the Pharisee-ism within us. Like the Pharisee, sometimes we don't know how to deal with God except by comparing ourselves to other people. Jesus pronounced the public unjustified because his prayer was centered on God, and that made all the difference. Our praying must lead us closer to God and draw us to a stronger realization of the mercy that God has for all of us. Secondly, this parable unmistakably tells us certain things about prayer. First, no man who is proud can pray well. It is said that the gate of heaven is so low that no one can enter it save upon his knees. An excessive use of I with an accompanying self-satisfaction so weighs down our minds and our hearts that they cannot be lifted up to God in prayer. Secondly, no man who despises his fellow men can pray well. In prayer we do not lift ourselves above our fellow men. The prerogative of judgment belongs to God. Judging ourselves so favorably and others so harshly prevents our growth in the ways of prayer. Finally, true prayer comes from setting our lives beside the life of God. No doubt all that the Pharisee said was true. He did fast. He did meticulously give tithes. He was not as other men are. Still less was he like that tax collector. Those things were objectively true. But the question is not, am I as good as my fellow man? The question is, am I being perfected as my heavenly father is perfect? The New Testament scripture commentator William Barclay tells the story of how he once made a journey by train from Scotland to England. As the train passed through the Yorkshire moors, he saw a little whitewashed cottage and it seemed to him to shine with an almost radiant whiteness. Some days later, he made the journey back to Scotland. New snow had fallen and was lying deep all around. The train came once again to the little white cottage, but Barclay says this time its whiteness seemed drab and soiled and almost gray in comparison with the virgin whiteness of the new fallen snow. It all depends on what we compare ourselves to. And when we set our lives beside the life of Jesus, beside the holiness of God, all that is left to say is, God, be merciful to me, the sinner. The church holds this clear and profound realization of who we are and who our God is. The norm of our belief is expressed in the norm of our prayer. For that reason, at the beginning of every Eucharistic celebration, just as we did already here, we turn toward God to beg that he have mercy on us. In the great Eucharistic prayer of every mass, we come in truth and humility before the mercy of God in the death and resurrection of our Savior, Jesus Christ. We remember in every Eucharist that we are justified not by our own actions or our own goodness, but by the sacrificial love of the body and blood of our Lord. It is right, it is just that our praise and thanks be given to God, who saves us from our sins and brings us to share in his own wonderful life. Forgiveness, mercy, redemption, and communion are gifts of God that only repentant sinners can receive. After the example of the tax collector in our Lord's parable, the church prays in the first Eucharistic prayer. For ourselves, too, we ask some share in the fellowship of your apostles and martyrs and all the saints. Though we are sinners, we trust in your mercy and love. Do not consider what we truly deserve, but grant us your forgiveness through Christ our Lord. Amen.