The Pharisee and the Tax Collector
Two weeks ago, I went on my yearly retreat to the Trappist monastery in Kentucky. In case you’re not familiar with the Trappists, their life is made up of three things: prayer, work, and spiritual reading. I think when most people think of the monks, they think of prayer, more than they think of the work or the spiritual reading, and that’s no surprise. The prayer is what visitors see. Most of the work and all of the reading are done in areas that visitors aren’t allowed to go.
They start their day at 3:00 am. They pray Vigils at 3:15, Lauds at 5:45 followed by mass at 6:15. Then at 7:00, after they’ve been up for four hours, they have breakfast. In total, they’re be in the chapel eight times each day ending with night prayer at 7:30 pm.
They follow the same schedule, every day, seven days a week. Sunday mass is later to accommodate the people who live in the surrounding area, but otherwise it’s always the same. They started in December of 1848 and will continue as long are there are monks there to carry on. So, if you ask most people what the monks do, they’ll say “they pray”.
I was disappointed that last week wasn’t my turn to preach because the Gospel was the story of the persistent widow. Monks are very persistent in prayer. By the way, you know what monks pray for? They pray for you and me. They don’t watch television or listen to the radio, but they do read magazines and newspapers. They even have a few hours each day when they can use the Internet. They know what’s happening in our lives and they pray for us.
But, back to the Gospel. It turns out the monks live today‘s Gospel even more than last week‘s. It’s about humility.
Notice that it begins, “Jesus addressed this parable to those who were convinced of their own righteousness and despised everyone else.” He goes on to compare the self-righteous Pharisee to the humble tax collector. “I tell you the latter went home justified, not the former; for whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”
The real story of the Trappists isn’t the time they spend in prayer, it’s what they do with the rest of their day. If you do the math, they actually spend about three hours and forty-five minutes in the chapel each day. Subtracting eight hours for sleep, that leaves twelve hours and fifteen minutes for other things.
The second part of the monk’s lifestyle is work. It takes a lot of work to run and support a community of sixty men. They have some outside help, but for the most part, they do everything themselves, from the Abbot who runs place to the men who cook and clean up.
They run a retreat house for the hundreds of visitors they welcome each year. The operate three factories; one making fudge, one making cheese, and one making fruit cake. They operate a retail gift shop and a huge mail-order business. There’s a lot of work to be done and unless a man is in the infirmary, he’s expected to do his share.
I think when most people first visit the Abbey, they’re impressed with the peace and spirituality of the place but think they could never stand the schedule. How can they do the same thing, day after day, without going crazy? How do they stand the boredom?
The monk who greets visitors to the gift shop is eighty-nine years old. He entered Gesthemani when he was fifteen. That’s seventy-four years! The monks pray the 150 Psalms every two weeks. This man has prayed them 1,924 times. Do you think he still needs the book? I doubt it. Talk to this man and you’ll realize that here’s someone who is truly happy and content. He loves to tell his life story and it’s very interesting, not boring at all.
After going back to the Abbey several times I realize that it’s not the repetition that would do me in, it’s the humility that I couldn’t handle.
When a man first enters the monastery as a novice, he’s given a short white coat, kind of like a chef’s jacket, which he wears all the time. When (or if) he takes his final vows, he’s given a long white robe and a black scapular. He’ll wear those every day from the time he takes his vows until they lower him into the ground in the graveyard outside. Their habit is symbolic of the fact that we’re all equal in God’s eyes.
No matter what job a man has, no matter what his rank is in the community, they all dress the same. There are about a dozen priests at Gesthemani, but unless you go to mass and see them on the altar, there’s no way of knowing who’s who. Even the Abbot, who’s the equivalent of our bishop, looks exactly like everyone else. The only way to distinguish him is in the chapel, where his staff is mounted next to his choir stall.
Here’s the part where I wouldn’t pass the test. The monks are given jobs at the discretion of the Abbot. There’s no set amount of time for a particular job, but they do change occasionally. It all depends on the needs of the community. One day you may be managing the fudge plant. The Abbey calls you to his office. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to be working in the garden. Just like that. No warning. Today you’re working in an air conditioned office, supervising the other monks, making decisions, and testing the bourbon fudge to make sure it‘s ok. Tomorrow you’re out in the hot sun, working alone, eating dust.
Father Anton, who used to run the retreat house now works in the kitchen. Notice I said Father Anton. Being a priest gets you a good seat at mass and that’s about it.
No, the cold hard fact is that I could learn to follow the monk’s prayer schedule. If you look at it, there’s plenty of time in the day to get in three hours and forty-five minutes of prayer. Most of us watch more television each day. There’s only one fifteen minute time of prayer at the monastery that actually falls within the normal nine to five workday. I could do that. We all could.
But, I just don’t think I could handle the humility. If my boss called me into his office and told me that from now on, instead of working in a nice office, I’d be working on the loading dock, I don’t think I could do it. After a few days of sore muscles, I could handle the physical part of the job. I could learn to live with the heat and the cold. I just don’t think my ego could stand it. How do the monks do it.
The answer is that God has called them, just like He’s called all of us to live the Gospel. Not just the parts we like. Not just the parts that make us feel good. ALL OF IT! Even when it doesn’t seem to make sense. Even when it’s not convenient. He’s given each of us the grace to live our particular calling, whether it’s cloistered or something else.
“Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” What kind of logic is that? It just doesn’t make sense. Why should a bunch of grown men put on long dresses, all of them exactly the same, and put up with a lifestyle that makes them get up at three in the morning knowing that today may be the day that the Abbot decides they’re going to have to give up their comfy job in the guest house and go dig ditches. Why should a man invest years of study to become a priest, knowing that he’s liable to end up washing dishes? Why should I humble myself, beat my breast and pray, “Oh God, be merciful to me a sinner?”
The fact is that we’re all the same. Any differences between us are superficial. It doesn’t matter whether you wear a Roman collar or a button-down collar. It doesn’t matter if you wear a miter or a baseball cap. It doesn’t matter if you live in a mansion in Town and Country or an apartment in Lemay. It doesn’t matter if you’re a household name of an anonymous monk in an abbey in the Kentucky mountains. The old saying “you can’t take it with you” doesn’t just apply to money. When we stand before Jesus on our personal day of judgment, we’ll be naked and empty-handed. All we’ll have to offer is the life we’ve lived.
The question we all have to ask ourselves when that day comes, not if that day comes, but when it comes, will we be more like the Pharisee or the tax collector?
They start their day at 3:00 am. They pray Vigils at 3:15, Lauds at 5:45 followed by mass at 6:15. Then at 7:00, after they’ve been up for four hours, they have breakfast. In total, they’re be in the chapel eight times each day ending with night prayer at 7:30 pm.
They follow the same schedule, every day, seven days a week. Sunday mass is later to accommodate the people who live in the surrounding area, but otherwise it’s always the same. They started in December of 1848 and will continue as long are there are monks there to carry on. So, if you ask most people what the monks do, they’ll say “they pray”.
I was disappointed that last week wasn’t my turn to preach because the Gospel was the story of the persistent widow. Monks are very persistent in prayer. By the way, you know what monks pray for? They pray for you and me. They don’t watch television or listen to the radio, but they do read magazines and newspapers. They even have a few hours each day when they can use the Internet. They know what’s happening in our lives and they pray for us.
But, back to the Gospel. It turns out the monks live today‘s Gospel even more than last week‘s. It’s about humility.
Notice that it begins, “Jesus addressed this parable to those who were convinced of their own righteousness and despised everyone else.” He goes on to compare the self-righteous Pharisee to the humble tax collector. “I tell you the latter went home justified, not the former; for whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”
The real story of the Trappists isn’t the time they spend in prayer, it’s what they do with the rest of their day. If you do the math, they actually spend about three hours and forty-five minutes in the chapel each day. Subtracting eight hours for sleep, that leaves twelve hours and fifteen minutes for other things.
The second part of the monk’s lifestyle is work. It takes a lot of work to run and support a community of sixty men. They have some outside help, but for the most part, they do everything themselves, from the Abbot who runs place to the men who cook and clean up.
They run a retreat house for the hundreds of visitors they welcome each year. The operate three factories; one making fudge, one making cheese, and one making fruit cake. They operate a retail gift shop and a huge mail-order business. There’s a lot of work to be done and unless a man is in the infirmary, he’s expected to do his share.
I think when most people first visit the Abbey, they’re impressed with the peace and spirituality of the place but think they could never stand the schedule. How can they do the same thing, day after day, without going crazy? How do they stand the boredom?
The monk who greets visitors to the gift shop is eighty-nine years old. He entered Gesthemani when he was fifteen. That’s seventy-four years! The monks pray the 150 Psalms every two weeks. This man has prayed them 1,924 times. Do you think he still needs the book? I doubt it. Talk to this man and you’ll realize that here’s someone who is truly happy and content. He loves to tell his life story and it’s very interesting, not boring at all.
After going back to the Abbey several times I realize that it’s not the repetition that would do me in, it’s the humility that I couldn’t handle.
When a man first enters the monastery as a novice, he’s given a short white coat, kind of like a chef’s jacket, which he wears all the time. When (or if) he takes his final vows, he’s given a long white robe and a black scapular. He’ll wear those every day from the time he takes his vows until they lower him into the ground in the graveyard outside. Their habit is symbolic of the fact that we’re all equal in God’s eyes.
No matter what job a man has, no matter what his rank is in the community, they all dress the same. There are about a dozen priests at Gesthemani, but unless you go to mass and see them on the altar, there’s no way of knowing who’s who. Even the Abbot, who’s the equivalent of our bishop, looks exactly like everyone else. The only way to distinguish him is in the chapel, where his staff is mounted next to his choir stall.
Here’s the part where I wouldn’t pass the test. The monks are given jobs at the discretion of the Abbot. There’s no set amount of time for a particular job, but they do change occasionally. It all depends on the needs of the community. One day you may be managing the fudge plant. The Abbey calls you to his office. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to be working in the garden. Just like that. No warning. Today you’re working in an air conditioned office, supervising the other monks, making decisions, and testing the bourbon fudge to make sure it‘s ok. Tomorrow you’re out in the hot sun, working alone, eating dust.
Father Anton, who used to run the retreat house now works in the kitchen. Notice I said Father Anton. Being a priest gets you a good seat at mass and that’s about it.
No, the cold hard fact is that I could learn to follow the monk’s prayer schedule. If you look at it, there’s plenty of time in the day to get in three hours and forty-five minutes of prayer. Most of us watch more television each day. There’s only one fifteen minute time of prayer at the monastery that actually falls within the normal nine to five workday. I could do that. We all could.
But, I just don’t think I could handle the humility. If my boss called me into his office and told me that from now on, instead of working in a nice office, I’d be working on the loading dock, I don’t think I could do it. After a few days of sore muscles, I could handle the physical part of the job. I could learn to live with the heat and the cold. I just don’t think my ego could stand it. How do the monks do it.
The answer is that God has called them, just like He’s called all of us to live the Gospel. Not just the parts we like. Not just the parts that make us feel good. ALL OF IT! Even when it doesn’t seem to make sense. Even when it’s not convenient. He’s given each of us the grace to live our particular calling, whether it’s cloistered or something else.
“Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.” What kind of logic is that? It just doesn’t make sense. Why should a bunch of grown men put on long dresses, all of them exactly the same, and put up with a lifestyle that makes them get up at three in the morning knowing that today may be the day that the Abbot decides they’re going to have to give up their comfy job in the guest house and go dig ditches. Why should a man invest years of study to become a priest, knowing that he’s liable to end up washing dishes? Why should I humble myself, beat my breast and pray, “Oh God, be merciful to me a sinner?”
The fact is that we’re all the same. Any differences between us are superficial. It doesn’t matter whether you wear a Roman collar or a button-down collar. It doesn’t matter if you wear a miter or a baseball cap. It doesn’t matter if you live in a mansion in Town and Country or an apartment in Lemay. It doesn’t matter if you’re a household name of an anonymous monk in an abbey in the Kentucky mountains. The old saying “you can’t take it with you” doesn’t just apply to money. When we stand before Jesus on our personal day of judgment, we’ll be naked and empty-handed. All we’ll have to offer is the life we’ve lived.
The question we all have to ask ourselves when that day comes, not if that day comes, but when it comes, will we be more like the Pharisee or the tax collector?
Labels: 30th Sunday, Gesthemani, Pharisee, tax collector, Trappists
posted by Mike at 9:19 PM
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