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“God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” — Saint Luke 18:13
In the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Luke 18:9–14), two men stand in the same temple, but only one truly encounters God. The Pharisee suffers from a peculiar spiritual blindness. He is not immoral, not dishonest, not outwardly corrupt. In fact, he is disciplined, generous, and religious. Yet he is so busy cataloging his virtues that he has lost sight of God. He thanks God—but listens closely and you will hear that he is really admiring himself.
His prayer is full of “I.”
“I fast.”
“I give.”
“I am not like others.”
He stands in the temple, but the altar of his heart is occupied by his own reflection. The tax collector, by contrast, cannot even lift his eyes. He brings no résumé, no comparison, no defense. Only a plea: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” And Jesus says it is this man who goes home justified.
As Saint Ephrem the Syrian writes, “The proud man’s righteousness is a veil over his eyes, but the humble man’s tears wash his sight.” Humility restores vision. Spiritual blindness is subtle. It grows when we measure ourselves against others instead of against God’s holiness. It thrives when gratitude turns into self-congratulation.
Today, examine our prayers. Are they centered on God’s mercy—or our merit? Lay down the list. Lift up our needs. In humility, we finally see clearly—and in seeing clearly, we are truly justified.
By The Ladder“God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” — Saint Luke 18:13
In the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Luke 18:9–14), two men stand in the same temple, but only one truly encounters God. The Pharisee suffers from a peculiar spiritual blindness. He is not immoral, not dishonest, not outwardly corrupt. In fact, he is disciplined, generous, and religious. Yet he is so busy cataloging his virtues that he has lost sight of God. He thanks God—but listens closely and you will hear that he is really admiring himself.
His prayer is full of “I.”
“I fast.”
“I give.”
“I am not like others.”
He stands in the temple, but the altar of his heart is occupied by his own reflection. The tax collector, by contrast, cannot even lift his eyes. He brings no résumé, no comparison, no defense. Only a plea: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” And Jesus says it is this man who goes home justified.
As Saint Ephrem the Syrian writes, “The proud man’s righteousness is a veil over his eyes, but the humble man’s tears wash his sight.” Humility restores vision. Spiritual blindness is subtle. It grows when we measure ourselves against others instead of against God’s holiness. It thrives when gratitude turns into self-congratulation.
Today, examine our prayers. Are they centered on God’s mercy—or our merit? Lay down the list. Lift up our needs. In humility, we finally see clearly—and in seeing clearly, we are truly justified.