Proper 25 (30) – Year C
20th Sunday after Pentecost: October 26, 2025
Gospel Lectionary Text
Luke 18:9-14
18:9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt:
18:10 "Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.
18:11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, 'God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.
18:12 I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.'
18:13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, 'God, be merciful to me, a sinner!'
18:14 I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted."
Context
Welcome to the 20th Sunday after Pentecost. In this week’s Gospel, a Pharisee and a tax collector go up to the temple to pray. Sounds like the beginning of a joke, and maybe it is.
One man stands tall, praying not so much to God as to himself. His words drip with comparison. He props up his goodness by pointing out the failures of others. It’s parody at its finest: the prayer is less communion with God and more a performance of self. This should sound familiar. We too know how to build a fake self by defining ourselves over and against others, spiced with contempt. It feels like strength, but it’s a fragile identity that depends on enemies to survive.
The other man, a tax collector, can’t even lift his eyes. He has no system of virtue to hide behind, no false self to prop up. It may sound harsh to modern ears, but his prayer is simple, honest, desperate: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” This is the essence of the famous Jesus Prayer that has served the Church well for more than 1,500 years. In praying it, the tax collector lets go of the need to create a self against others. He’s surrendering the whole performative project.
To confess “I am a sinner” is not bad news or self-loathing. It’s the profound recognition that we are all prone to creating identity over and against the other, maintained by a constant procession of scapegoats. Seeing this clearly is the beginning of freedom and the discovery of our shared humanity, worked out in communion with God and each other.
Question
What would faith look like if we stopped managing our goodness and let mercy have its way?
Reflections
Prayers you can’t F#CK Up
By Ron Ruthruff |
Our lectionary text this week picks up on a common theme in Luke’s Gospel. The writer of this gospel often places those that have little political power or religious clout, social outsiders, at the center of the story. This usually happens to the dismay of those that might consider themselves righteous and worthy of being...
Who is More Right?
By Lina Thompson |
To not judge ourselves in comparison to others is extremely difficult. Sometimes, the only way we know we are “right” is when we judge and compare ourselves against others; our opinions, our strongly held views, our values. The binaries of “right-wrong”, “good-evil”, “us-them”, etc. define who we are.
Superhero Spandex
By Justin Mootz |
Superhero movies are all the rage recently. I’m sure there are a variety of reasons why…such as an affinity for spandex. A more likely reason might be the attraction of a clear-cut good guy/bad guy dichotomy. In our world of gray, there’s nothing more satisfying than the clarity of Captain America. When he’s around, we…
Praying Eucharistically - Weekly Homily by James Alison:
Understanding the Bible anew through the Mimetic Theory of René Girard.
Poetry
In light of this week’s Gospel lectionary text about the tax collector who prays for mercy, we invite you to consider Rainer Rilke’s poem. Notice how “The Mercy We Long For” invites us to step into what Rilke calls “the undefended heart" — a place where authentic meeting happens, absent of "iron collars." Such a meeting is not without its risks, but it is the place where we discover ourselves “claimed lightly” by something more than ourselves, and where the “infinite union” of shared humanity may come as easily as “play.”
The Mercy We Long For
by Rainer Maria Rilke
Don't boast, you judges, that you no longer torture
or clamp an iron collar 'round the neck.
Though the mercy we long for
may rearrange your features
and the scaffold fall into disuse
like an outgrown toy,
no one is better off.
The god of true mercy would step differently
into the undefended heart.
He would enter with radiance
the way gods do, strong as the sea wind
for treasure-bearing ships, and claim us lightly
as the child of an infinite union
absorbed in play.
Prayer
This week, the call to prayer comes from the Street Psalms Centering Prayer:
Come, Holy Spirit, wild and free. Do as you please. Shine your light on me that I might see things as they are, not as I am. Free me to act in your name with courage, creativity, and compassion.
