Luke 18: 9-14 ; 2 Tim 4:6- 8; 16-18
Who are the people worthy of remembrance? In a fortnight's time we will be recalling before God all those who fell in conflict and the struggle for lasting peace, those whose sacrifice commands our annual remembrance. But before that we have other acts of remembrance, special days whose origins predate the global conflagrations of the C20, days focussed around the Feast of All Saints on 1 November.
All Saints invites us to pay attention, and give thanks, for those holy women and men who, like St Paul in our first reading, fought the good fight, finished the race and kept the faith. People from different places and eras whom the Church has recognised as exemplary and worthy for one reason or another. People we are invited both to remember and emulate.
Yet the accounts of these people's lives can give rise to the view that they are in different category to us altogether. These saints, if Paul is anything to go by, kept the rules better than most. Surely they really merited God's love and all the rewards that come with it. If anyone deserves the stuff of heaven, the crown of righteousness, it is them.
However, a closer reading of St. Paul's second letter to Timothy, probably the last letter we have from the apostle's hand, suggests that this is not the case. The language here is of gift, not merit. Paul is not confident in what he has earned but grateful for what he has been given.
And such an important distinction is made abundantly clear in our gospel reading from Luke's gospel, the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector. For as in the story Jesus tells that religious leader takes up his comfortable place on the moral high ground, eased into position by a completed moral checklist, and peering down at the compromised, complicit tax collector, he is confronted with a shattering truth: justification - becoming right with God - is achieved not through a perfectly observed religious life but as the tax collector both modelled and experienced, through a humility before, and a dependence on, God for forgiveness and mercy.
That is, by the way, what real saints have always done. For all our wonderful Bede described and praised Cuthbert as a man of outstanding holiness and faith, it was clear that Cuthbert did not trust in his own track record but rather showed humility and trusted in the mercy of God.
This is one of the precious truths at the heart of the Christian faith, not an expectation that we will be perfect but a recognition that we are not. You may be familiar with the Jesus Prayer, from the Orthodox tradition but with a text drawn partly from this gospel reading. 'Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.' It is a prayer to be said daily, not to discourage us but to remind us of the reality that, however long we have been walking the way of faith and seeking to grow in holiness, there is never a day when we can say of God's love or any heavenly prize 'I earned that.'
And dare I say that is an important truth to be heard in a society where the approach of the Pharisees pops up in some surprising places. Yes Pharisee-like behaviour is sadly found in religious places today, in people who spend more time looking in synthetic horror at the sins of others rather remembering that God loves every single person made in his image. Of course we need to be reminded what the pattern of holiness looks like, but when that becomes a stick to beat others rather than a mirror to aid our own repentance, we are no better than the Pharisee.
But Pharisees aren't just found in religious places; they are located elsewhere as well. Former Bishop of Durham Tom Wright used to speak of those in the news media who would place the heavy burden of perfection on others without feeling the need to carry it themselves. Pointing out the sins of others but never owning their own failings. And it extends further. I sometimes wonder if at least one of the forces driving politicians in the present day to apologise for the mistakes of their predecessors is that it gives a sense of superiority over previous generations. 'I thank you, Lord, that I am not like leaders of 30, 100, 200 years ago', runs the unspoken prayer. So much easier to see the sins of others rather than own up to our own.
And social media can drive similar behaviour in us all; it feeds the desire in us to be seen as worthy and stokes the fires of shame when it becomes clear that we are not.
The irony of our society is that in neglecting its Christian roots it has grown a cancel culture which demonstrates a judgementalism of which our Pharisee would have been proud and yet offers none of the way back which Jesus clearly said the tax collector had. The only thing offered is an enduring sense of shame.
There is a challenge here in this passage for us here today and our world: whatever is persuading us to avoid facing the reality of our own sin and brokenness, whether it is comparing ourselves to others or looking to the mistakes of previous generations, we need to start looking in the mirror.
The good news is that when we do we discover all the love and compassion we will ever need. For when with the tax collector we come in repentance, as we will to the Lord's table today, we are neither shamed nor turned away. Instead, trusting not in ourselves but in what Jesus did for us on the cross, we find ourselves welcomed, fed, loved. And we are called afresh to live lives of thanksgiving, service and holiness to the Lord.
For let me be clear: Jesus is not saying in this parable that our actions don't matter. Acts of service and sacrifice matter; it's just that they can never be the basis of our confidence before God nor a reason to judge others.
The mark of real saints – what makes them really worthy of remembrance - is not that they look down on others, while polishing their own self-acquired halo. That may be what some religious people are known for doing but it is not what saints who follow the way of Jesus are about. What makes saints so inspirational is that they invite us to join them at the foot of the cross, praying in humility and looking to Jesus. And it is from that place of grace that they fight the good fight, run the race, keep the faith - and invite us to do the same. As we come to the Lord's table today may we be inspired to grow both in godly repentance and in faithful service. Amen.