Title: Luke 18:9-14
Author: Kenneth Cherney
Last saved by: Barb Bartz
Company: Martin Luther College

Sadly Sing a Happy Song
Luke 18:9-14  +  Ash Wednesday

	“Get rid of those sad songs!” The hymnal committee heard that a lot when they put this red hymnal together. “What do we need all those sad, old songs for? People don’t like them. They want music that’s lively and happy. When they come to church, they want to sing songs that make them feel good.”
	
I don’t know what your opinion about that would be, but I know what the hymnal committee said. Some of them said it’s good to remember that what sounds sad to one person doesn’t always sound sad to someone else. It’s going to depend on your background, your culture, and your musical taste. Others pointed out that you can make just about any song sound sad; a lot depends on how you play it and sing. And in some churches in our Synod, they said, maybe that’s the real problem. But the committee also agreed: the old Lutheran hymnal probably did have more sad songs than we really needed. One example was the old marriage hymn, TLH #624 (Sing first few lines). The words are beautiful, but the tune sounds like it was written for a funeral, not a wedding. And so, when the red hymnal was put together, some hymns like this were left out. And that was probably a good thing.

But there’s something here that’s just a little disturbing.  If you think about it, one note in the criticism of “those sad old songs” doesn’t sound quite right. “People don’t like those songs.” Is that what worship is all about - giving people what they like? “People want to feel good.” Is that really the reason we come here - to feel good? Of course not. Above all, we come here to be with our God. We come here to hear his Word. And some of what our God says to us in his Word makes us feel very good. But some of it doesn’t. Some of what God says to us in his Word shocks us. Some of it disturbs us. Some of it, if we are really listening, will make us feel awful. It’s supposed to. And I would hope - I would hope - that we would never say to our God: “God, the parts of your Word that make me feel sad - I don’t want to hear them. God, give me the kind of message I want, or I’m going to change the channel. God, I came in here to feel good, and you’d better not let me down, or I’m going somewhere else.”
	
The Gospel reading for Ash Wednesday is Jesus’ story about two men who went to church one day.  They both went up to the Temple to pray. Now as you know, many of the hymns we sing in church are really prayers. And as we listen to Jesus tell us about these two men, let’s think about this question. If these two prayers were both set to music, how do you think they would sound?

Worshiper #1:  The Pharisee
	
	When we meet Pharisees in the Gospels, they are usually taking a stand against Jesus. I know we tend to want to go, “Boo!  Hiss!” every time we hear about a Pharisee, and to think of them as the really bad people. But if you had been living at Jesus’ time, you would probably have thought of the Pharisees as the really good people. They were the kind of people who always tried their best to do the right thing. If you had lived next door to a Pharisee, he would probably have been the kind of neighbor who kept his yard neat and clean and kept his radio turned down, and if he found your wallet you would have gotten it right back with every cent still inside. And spiritual? The Pharisees the most spiritual people you’d ever want to meet. They would talk to you about God all the time. When we meet this Pharisee, where is he? He’s at the Temple. He’s right where he’s supposed to be - in church.  
	
In fact, he probably went to church a lot. He probably enjoyed church thoroughly. Every time he went to church, he probably felt really good. The question is: why? He tells you why, in his prayer. He feels great joy, he feels thankful to God - because he’s not like other people. This Pharisee had found that church was the perfect place to take inventory of all the wonderful things he had done. For him, church was the place to reflect on all those things God wants people to do and not do, on all God’s rules and laws, on what a wonderful job he had done of keeping all God’s rules and laws, even going beyond God’s rules and laws, and how this made him such a good person.  Certainly better than all the robbers, evildoers and adulterers out there. Certainly better than all those people who are home in bed or in front of their TV set right now, all those people who didn’t bother to come to church today. Certainly better than that tax collector in the back pew, who wouldn’t even say “Good morning!” or look me in the eye when I walked into church.

Just thinking about all this made the Pharisee feel really good - so good that he just had to pray about it. But did you notice something about his prayer?  t begins, “I thank you God” - and after that, God’s name is never mentioned again. After that, it’s “I am not like other men,” I fast twice a week. I give a tenth of all I get…I, I, I, I, I.” This Pharisee wasn’t worshiping God at all. His worship was all about “me.” It was, “God, let me tell you all about how lucky you are to have someone like me in your church. All glory be to me on high.  Praise to me and adoration. Joyful, joyful, we adore me.”
		Just as I am, without one flaw,
		My holy life fills me with awe.
		I’m the greatest Christian you ever saw.
		O church of God, I’m here; I’m here!
Let’s admit it.  Who wouldn’t feel “happy” singing a song like that? Who wouldn’t like to “exalt himself” that way? I’ll bet this Pharisee worshiped regularly and enjoyed it thoroughly, every time. 

But the God whom the Pharisee thought he was worshiping heard this proud, happy song. And while the Pharisee enjoyed the song, God took a different view.

Worshiper #2: The tax collector

	And you know what kind of people they were. Their job was to collect taxes for the Romans, and so their fellow Jews looked at them as traitors. But they were also famous for being corrupt. They over-collected taxes and put the difference in their own pockets, and everybody knew it. In the Gospels one group that’s often mentioned together with the “tax collectors” is who? It’s “the prostitutes.” If you had been alive at that time, and you found out you were getting a new neighbor, you would have been happy to hear that it was going to be a Pharisee. You would not have been happy if you learned that your new neighbor was going to be a tax collector.
	
Now we don’t know, but I don’t imagine that this tax collector had gone to church all that often. Maybe he was even the kind of person that people made jokes about, saying things like, “Him? I’ll bet the Temple would fall over if he ever walked in there!” If you think about it, if this tax collector hadn’t been in Temple all that often, it’s no surprise. When he comes, look at how the “good” church members treat him. They look up at God and point to the tax collector and say, “See, God? That’s what I mean! Right there is a perfect example of the kind of person that I am better than.” And who would enjoy that? And when he comes to Temple, the tax collector sits way in the back, maybe hoping nobody will see him; maybe feeling that that’s as close to God as he dare come.

And when he opens his mouth to pray, what does he say? “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”  And if this prayer were set to music, how do you think it would sound?  
	How about:  “God, forgive me//I’m a sinner…” (To: Joyful, Joyful)?  Probably not.
	How about:  “Sinfulness//I know my sinfulness” (To:  Majesty)?  Probably not.
This would be a sad song. Because that’s how the tax collector honestly felt. Mournful. Sad. It was not a song to make you feel good. But God heard this prayer, this song, and God thought that it was a gem. God thought it was beautiful.

Because you see, unlike the Pharisee, this tax collector was in touch with reality. Unlike the Pharisee, the tax collector stood up and told God the plain, unvarnished truth. Yes, he was a sinner; and so are you, and so am I. He had broken God’s law many times, even that same day. He was born in sin, even conceived in sin. As he was by nature there wasn’t anything he had done that he could hold up to God and say, “God, look at this - here’s something I’m really proud of!” “God, here’s what makes me better than someone else!” “God, here’s why you should be pleased with me!”
	
He’s not here to ask God, or anybody else, for applause. He’s here to be God for mercy. He asks God for forgiveness. And that’s exactly what he gets. “This man went home” - what? “Feeling good?” Nope. “Happy?” Nope. “This man went home justified.” This man went home forgiven. This man went home declared not guilty, declared innocent, declared holy, declared righteous and holy and good, by a gracious, merciful God.  

Because at his Temple, that’s what God does. He justifies. Remember that the Temple wasn’t just a place for praying. Most of all, the Temple was the place for slaying. The Temple was a place of sacrifice. It was the place where people confessed their sins, symbolically laying their sins on bulls and goats and lambs that were taken away and killed to take the sins away. Though of course it wasn’t really the bulls and goats and lambs that took those sins away, it was the Lamb of God that takes away the sin of the world, that takes away your sin, that takes away my sin, because almighty God, our heavenly Father has had mercy on us, and has given his only Son to die for us, and for his sake, forgives us all our sins.
	
Knowing that does make us happy. That’s why there is most definitely a time for happy songs in church. Our justification gives us everything to be happy and sing about. But beware of a faith that refuses ever to hear the sad news. Beware of a Christianity that refuses ever to slow down, to reflect, to repent, to suffer, to endure. There is also a time to be a sad, and it’s today. It’s Ash Wednesday. It’s when we reflect on our sins. Because there’s only one path to that empty tomb, and it leads past a cross. Because Easter is given only to those who have been through Lent.  Amen.