The Prayer That Pierces the Clouds
October 26, 2025
Opening Thought
It is a deeply ingrained human impulse to measure ourselves against others. We do it almost unconsciously. We glance at a colleague’s success, a friend’s curated life on social media, or even the piety of the person in the pew next to us, and we perform a quick, internal calculation of where we stand. It can feel good to come out “on top,” to feel that we are on the right track, that we are, in essence, “one of the good ones.”
I know this impulse all too well from my life as a musician. Like other competitive talents, such as sports, it is always foremost in our thoughts about how to come out on top, to be better than the person next to me, to be better than everyone. I must be the best, is what we tell ourselves. Organists, I must admit, probably have their fair share, if not the corner on the market, when it comes to haughtiness and self-righteous attitudes. This impulse, however, is not just harmless professional competition; it is spiritually dangerous. It can slowly build a wall of self-righteousness around our hearts, a wall that prevents us from seeing both our own profound need for grace and our neighbor’s profound worthiness of it. What we often forget in this struggle is our true purpose: to bring together, to create community, and to encourage. Instead of tearing down, we are called to lift one another up. We can still strive to be the best we can be, but never at someone else’s expense, transforming any inward pride into an outward expression of compassion and love for our fellow mankind.
This Sunday, our lessons are a direct and powerful assault on that wall. Jesus, in one of his most searing parables, presents two people at prayer: one who is outwardly righteous but inwardly proud, and one who is outwardly sinful but inwardly desperate for God. The outcome is a shocking reversal that forces us to ask: what is the posture of our hearts? What kind of prayer does God truly hear?
Engaging the Word
The centerpiece of our liturgy is the unforgettable parable from Luke (18:9-14). Jesus tells this story specifically to those “who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.” We see two men: a Pharisee, a pillar of the community, and a tax collector, a reviled sinner. The Pharisee’s prayer is not to God, but to himself. He lists his virtues, his tithing, his fasting, and, most damningly, he thanks God that he is “not like other people... or even like this tax collector.” He is self-contained and self-congratulatory.
The tax collector, by contrast, is so ashamed he cannot even look up to heaven. He beats his breast and offers one of the shortest, most powerful prayers in all of scripture: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” Jesus’s conclusion is an earthquake: it was the sinner, not the religious expert, who went home justified. Why? Because, as Jesus says, “all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”
Our reading from Sirach (35:12-17) provides the Old Testament commentary for this very moment. It explains why the tax collector’s prayer was so effective. Sirach writes that God is a “God of justice” who “does not ignore the orphan’s supplication.” And then, this beautiful line: “the prayer of the humble pierces the clouds.” The Pharisee's prayer bounced off the ceiling of his own ego. The tax collector’s humble cry, born of desperation, shot directly to the heart of God.
But what does this humble faith look like at the end of a long life? 2 Timothy (4:6-8, 16-18) gives us a powerful model in the apostle Paul. At first glance, his words might sound like boasting: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” Is this not like the Pharisee? The crucial difference is in where he places his trust. Paul’s confidence is not in his own strength; he makes a point to say that when all others deserted him, “the Lord stood by me and gave me strength.” His crown is not one he earned, but one “the Lord, the righteous judge, will give me.” He models a holy confidence that is rooted entirely in the grace and mercy of God, not in himself.
This idea of being truly rooted in Christ, trusting in Godself rather than our own achievements, is central to our journey of faith. It’s the core theme of our upcoming “Rooted: An Evening of Song and Spirit” service on Tuesday, November 4th at 6 PM in Jones Chapel. As our service synopsis explains, we gather to be “rooted in the Good News of God in Jesus Christ,” exploring together, with holy curiosity, how God is “manifesting Godself among us.” Staying rooted in God is one of the most difficult things we do. It is hard. But, because it is hard doesn't mean we shouldn’t try. As Paul testifies, even when others desert us, God himself is there; always!
Finally, Psalm 84 (1-6) captures the heart posture of the tax collector. It is a song of pure longing for God’s presence. “My soul longs, and faints, for the courts of the Lord.” This is not the voice of a man who feels he deserves to be in God’s house, but of one who knows that just “a day in your courts is better than a thousand elsewhere.”
A Journey in Song: Our Musical Guides
Our extensive musical journey today guides us from a place of humble trust to a final, glorious shout of praise, all while grounding us in the themes of mercy and service.
Our Opening Voluntary, Healey Willan’s Prelude on ‘St. Anne’, sets the tone. “St. Anne” is the tune for “O God, our help in ages past.” We begin our worship by acknowledging that God has been our help and our strength, not the other way around. It is an immediate musical counterpoint to the Pharisee’s self-reliance.
The Entrance Hymn, “Praise, my soul, the King of heaven” (#410), is a joyful command to praise God for His actions, not our own. We sing of a God who has “in distress... gently brought us,” reinforcing our total dependence on His grace and favor.
The Gloria, “All glory be to God on high” (#421), continues this theme, giving all glory to God and praying for “peace... to those on whom his favor rests”—a favor that, as the tax collector learned, is a gift of mercy, not a reward for merit.
The Sequence Hymn, “Lord, whose love through humble service” (#610), becomes the practical application of the day’s lessons. How do we avoid the Pharisee’s sin? By following Christ “to the faint and weak.” This hymn is a prayer to live out the humble, others-focused life that is the hallmark of true righteousness.
The Anthem, “Judge eternal, throned in splendor” by Malcolm Archer, serves as a powerful corporate prayer that directly confronts the sin of the Pharisee. It begins by acknowledging God’s ultimate authority (“Judge eternal, throned in splendor”), immediately humbling human pretensions. The text then takes the tax collector’s personal plea for mercy (“God, be merciful to me, a sinner”) and expands it into a communal cry for purification. The choir sings of a nation where the “city’s crowded clangor / Cries aloud for sin to cease,” pleading with God to “Cleanse the body of this nation / Through the glory of the Lord.” This is a profound counterpoint to the Pharisee’s self-justification; it is a collective admission of need, asking God to purge the land of “bitter things” like pride and contempt, and bring solace through the “healing of thy wings.” It transforms personal humility into a shared yearning for national righteousness, rooted entirely in God’s action, not our own.
The Presentation Hymn, “From all that dwell below the skies” (#380), lifts our gaze from our own piety to God’s universal glory, uniting our small voices in a global chorus.
Our service music for the Eucharist, Healey Willan’s Sanctus (#S 114), is the ultimate prayer of humility. As we sing “Holy, holy, holy Lord,” we join the angelic chorus in acknowledging the infinite, awesome holiness of God, a holiness that reveals our own unworthiness.
Robert Powell’s Fraction Anthem (#S 163) provides the immediate answer. As we acknowledge God's holiness, we pray, “O Lamb of God... have mercy on us.” This is the tax collector’s prayer, “God, be merciful to me,” set to music for the whole community.
The Communion Hymn, “Just as I am, without one plea” (#693), is perhaps the most perfect summary of the day’s Gospel, sung at the very moment we embody its truth. It is the anthem of the justified tax collector, yes, but it is sung not in isolation, but as one body. As we approach the Altar of Christ, we come individually, yet profoundly together. We bring not only our personal burdens and unworthiness but also the collective weight of our community’s struggles, laying them all at Jesus’s feet. This hymn strips away the temptation to compare or boast, uniting us in our shared need for grace. There, at the rail, kneeling side-by-side, we have no spiritual resumé, no list of accomplishments, “without one plea, but that thy blood was shed for me.” It is the ultimate act of communal humility, the lived experience of receiving God’s mercy not as deserving individuals, but as the beloved, broken, and redeemed Body of Christ.
Our Closing Hymn, “God of grace and God of glory” (#594), serves as our powerful commissioning. Having been humbled by the parable, reminded of our need for mercy, and justified by God’s grace at the communion rail, we are now sent forth. As the dismissal prayer charges us, “And now, Father, send us out to do the work you have given us to do, to love and serve you as faithful witnesses of Christ our Lord.” This hymn becomes the prayer on our lips as we accept that charge. Its stirring verses, pleading for God to “Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, / For the facing of this hour,” equip us for the task ahead. We ask God to “Cure thy children's warring madness” – the madness of pride, comparison, and division we’ve confronted today – and to “Banish error, cleanse distress.” It transforms the personal experience of justification into a corporate commitment to act justly and humbly in the world, sending us out not in our own strength, but empowered by God’s grace and glory.
We are sent forth with a dramatic and powerful Closing Voluntary, the famous Toccata from the Suite Gothique by Léon Boëllmann (1862–1897). After a liturgy focused on humility and mercy, this grand and energetic piece provides a sound of resounding affirmation. Its driving rhythms and majestic harmonies evoke the awesome power of the God whose grace has justified us. It sends us out not timidly, but with a sense of awe and purpose, propelled by the glorious mystery of faith – the confident sound of the humble heart uplifted and empowered by God.
A Closing Note on Our Journey
This parable isn’t just about two men who lived 2,000 years ago. It is a mirror reflecting two postures of the heart, temptations that exist within each of us. There is the temptation toward self-reliance, comparing ourselves favorably to others, and finding security in our own actions, much like the Pharisee. This path, however well-intentioned, can lead to contempt and blind us to our own need for grace. Then there is the path of the tax collector: acknowledging our brokenness, casting aside comparison, and throwing ourselves wholly upon God's boundless mercy.
It is crucial to remember that God’s love extends to both figures in the story, and to all of us, regardless of the path we are currently on. Our call isn’t to condemn those who seem self-righteous, but rather to examine our own hearts. This week’s liturgy, through its powerful Word and guiding music, is a profound invitation. It calls us away from the trap of comparison and invites us onto the freeing, humble path of the tax collector—a path open to everyone—where we stop keeping score and simply, honestly, and gratefully rely on the mercy of God.
As I send this out, our parish family is holding Chris Abbott in our hearts as he and his brother Jay mourn the sudden loss of their parents, Jim and Betsy. For 60 years, Jim and Betsy embodied a life of genuine kindness, service, and grace. In a world that so often tempts us to "keep score," they lived with a different set of values—centered on family, community, education, and simple joys. Their loss is a profound reminder of how precious this life is, and how powerfully a life of kindness can reflect the very mercy and love of God we celebrate today. Our prayers are with Chris and his entire family in their grief.
A Prayer for the Week Ahead
Let us pray for the Church and for the world.
For the Church, that it may be a house of prayer for all people, rejecting all forms of self-righteousness and becoming a true haven of mercy for the humble and the broken,
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For all leaders, that they may govern with humility and seek justice for the widow, the orphan, and the oppressed, whose cries you hear,
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For all who are “finishing the race,” especially those like Paul who feel abandoned, that your presence may stand by them and give them strength,
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
For the grace to see ourselves with honesty, that we may have the courage to stand before you, not with a list of our virtues, but with the simple plea: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner,”
Lord, in your, mercy, hear our prayer.
That, like the psalmist, we may find our strength in you and discover that a single day in your courts is better than a thousand elsewhere,
Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayer.
Almighty and everlasting God, increase in us the gifts of faith, hope, and charity; and, that we may obtain what you promise, make us love what you command; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.
Amen.
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