It seems we spend the first half of our lives accumulating merit badges and other goodies much like the Pharisee in Jesus’ parable in today’s gospel. Our culture says that when we have power, esteem, control, we’ve got it made; we can be proud of what we have achieved. Sometime around midlife or after, however, something happens in our lives, and our perception changes. It may be something delightful; it may be something dreadful, but whatever it is, we begin to see life through a different lens. Perhaps the lens of gratitude, or acceptance, or humility opens our eyes, our hearts and minds to a new way of living, to deepening our relationship with God day by day.

The humility of the tax collector in the parable grabbed my attention. He may have been rich and powerful with the Roman government’s backing, but he knew he wasn’t in a right relationship with God. When we recognize our relationship to the Holy One as creature to Creator, humility just naturally rises up from deep within. We may express it in what we call the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner” which surely finds its basis in the tax collector’s humble, heartfelt prayer.

Recently, a portion of Psalm 119 was appointed for Morning Prayer. Using Nan Merrill’s Psalms for Praying, I was drawn to the phrase: “. . . learn from the earth of humility.” (v.61b, p.256) Take some time to consider the humility of the earth itself. It just sits there and lets us walk on it, waiting for us to take care of it, to use it to grow food, and flowers, and trees. It gives us a ground on which to stand—a standpoint. It accepts it all and gives of itself for us no matter how rude we are. Thomas Keating in his book Open Mind, Open Heart (p.72) says, “Humility is forgetfulness of self,” the very opposite of our Pharisee example. Imagine a line stretching from the Pharisee’s pride to the tax collector’s humility, and picture where you are on that line today.