Great Lent is coming, my friends. The season of spiritual renewal—the time to pause, reflect, and redirect our hearts toward God—is creeping into view. But before we jump into fasting routines or dust off our Lenten recipe books, the Church gives us a powerful reminder of what should guide all this effort. It starts with a story, a parable. And trust me, it’s not just any story—it’s a spiritual gut check. Meet the Publican and the Pharisee.
Two Men, Two Prayers, Two Directions
Jesus tells this short but striking parable in Luke 18:10-14. Two men go up to the Temple to pray. First, we meet the Pharisee, a religious leader—a VIP in the faith community. He’s got his fasting schedule down, he tithes like clockwork, and he’s not shy about telling God all this during his prayer. And just to drive home how “together” he is, he adds, “Thank God I’m not like these people—especially that tax collector over there.”
Cue the tax collector, the Publican. This guy is seen as a bottom-dweller in society, hated for collaborating with the empire and squeezing hard-earned money out of his neighbors. But what does he do? He stands far off, can’t even lift his eyes toward heaven, and beats his chest, crying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”
Jesus drops the punchline with no frills. The tax collector, not the Pharisee, goes home justified before God. And then comes the mic drop moment for us all to chew on: “Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” (Luke 18:14)
Wait—Is It Just Me, or Are We All the Pharisee?
Here’s where it gets tricky. Chances are, when you hear this story, you relate to the Publican. “I could never act like that smug Pharisee,” you think. “Gross.” But hang on—do you see what just happened? You judged the Pharisee for being judgmental. Oops.
This is the not-so-hidden challenge in the parable. Pride is sneaky. It’s like a shadow; it shows up even when we think we’ve left it behind. The Pharisee’s problem wasn’t his fasting, tithing, or religious discipline—it was the arrogance that came with it. And ironically, even as we try to learn from this story, we can still fall into the same trap.
A Warning Against Self-Righteousness
The Pharisee wasn’t a bad guy because he fasted, prayed, and tithed. These are good things. The problem? He used those spiritual practices to boost his ego. Instead of seeing them as gifts from God, he saw them as proof of his superiority.
St. Cyril of Alexandria had his number, saying, “The Pharisee, while thanking God, was actually flattering himself.”
This hits home because, if we’re honest, we’ve all done it. How often do we compare ourselves to others to feel better about ourselves? “At least I’m not like that person.” But spiritual pride is a pothole on the road to God. The second we think we’re better than someone else, we’ve lost the plot.
St. Basil the Great put it bluntly, “Fasting and prayer are good, but pride renders them useless.” Oof. That one stings.
The Publican’s Superpower? Humility.
Now, the Publican gets something crucial in this story. He knows he’s broken, and he owns it in front of God. There’s no sugar-coating his faults or performing spiritual gymnastics to justify his actions. He prays from the gut—a raw single sentence that would later inspire the Jesus Prayer many of us know and love today. “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” That’s it.
This isn’t about theatrics or overblown guilt trips. It’s about honesty. The Publican’s prayer isn’t polished or impressive; it’s real. And God meets him right there, in his messy, unvarnished humility. St. John Chrysostom captures this perfectly, describing the two men in this parable as if in a chariot race—one weighed down by pride, the other lifted by humility.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.
Breaking the Comparison Trap
If we’re all being real here, there’s another trap the Pharisee fell into that we need to call out. It’s the comparison game. Every one of us is guilty of it. We scroll through social media, watch our neighbors, or gossip at work. We tally their flaws, measure their sins, and somehow, use that data to boost our personal self-esteem. “At least I’m not like them.”
But this is dangerous for the soul. St. Macarius of Egypt warns, “The greatest deception is to think you are righteous. The more you believe yourself to be holy, the further you drift from God.” Comparing yourself to others is a distraction that pulls you away from what actually matters—your relationship with Christ.
Instead of pointing fingers, we’re called to look inward. St. Dorotheos of Gaza hits it on the head, saying, “If we see our brother’s sin and judge him, our heart is sick. Instead, let us only see our own sins and weep.”
The greatest deception is to think you are righteous. The more you believe yourself to be holy, the further you drift from God.
Real Talk—What This Means for You and Me
This parable is not some moralistic bedtime story; it’s an invitation. Lent isn’t about appearances, or showing off how disciplined you are. It’s about a complete transformation of the heart.
St. Gregory Palamas sums it up beautifully, “The heart that knows its sinfulness is closer to God than the one that boasts of its righteousness.”
This means we have real work to do. Here’s how to start:
- Examine Your Heart: Honestly ask yourself—am I acting like the Pharisee? Am I comparing myself to others or judging their faults while I ignore my own?
- Pray the Jesus Prayer: Keep it simple. “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Make this a daily habit.
- Go to Confession: The Publican asked for mercy, and he received it. Confession is your chance to do the same—no pride, just honesty.
- Humble Yourself: Remember, anything good in you is because of God’s grace, not your own awesomeness.
An Invitation to a Humble Lent
Lent isn’t about giving up meat, dairy, chocolate or carbs just to prove you’re tough. It’s about giving up pride, arrogance, and self-righteousness. It’s a time to stand before God like the Publican—uncovered, unpretentious, and hungry for mercy. And here’s the good news—the door is open.
Jesus said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:3) When we acknowledge our spiritual poverty, God steps in with His abundance. The Publican found mercy because he came to God with an open heart. And the same is true for us.
One of my all-time favorite quotes comes from a saint who lived such a radically transformed life, he’s kind of the poster child for what God’s grace can do. I’m talking about St. Moses the Ethiopian. This guy went from being a murderous gang leader (yes, you read that right) to becoming one of the great desert fathers of the Church. And he didn’t pull any punches when it came to spiritual truth. Here’s one of his most powerful insights:
“You fast, but Satan does not eat. You labor fervently, but Satan never sleeps. The only dimension with which you can outperform Satan is by acquiring humility, for Satan has no humility.“
Boom. Talk about hitting you right between the eyes. St. Moses is basically saying, “Hey, you might be religiously on fire—fasting, praying, staying busy with all the Church things—but guess what? Satan can keep up with all of that. He doesn’t sleep either. The one area he can’t touch? Humility. That guy has zero humility.”
It’s such a wake-up call because we often focus on the external signs of our spiritual life—how much we pray, how well we fast, or how active we are in serving others. These are all good things, but they’re not the real litmus test. According to St. Moses, if we’ve missed out on humility, we’ve missed the whole point. And the devil knows it. He can mimic piety, but he absolutely cannot fake an ounce of humility.
This teaching lines up beautifully with St. John Climacus, another heavyweight in the spiritual life, who wrote in The Ladder of Divine Ascent: “Humility is the only thing that no devil can imitate.” Think about that. Out of all the spiritual virtues—love, patience, generosity—humility is the devil’s kryptonite. Why? Because humility strips away his power. It’s the antidote to pride, which is pretty much the devil’s signature move.
If you need a mental picture, think of humility as a fortress. When you have humility, it’s like you’ve reinforced your spiritual walls with steel and stone. Pride, on the other hand, turns your fortress into a house of cards, ready to collapse at the first puff of temptation.
And here’s the kicker—humility isn’t about pretending to be weak or beating yourself up. It’s about seeing yourself honestly. It’s recognizing that every good thing you have is a gift from God. It’s realizing you’re nothing on your own, but in Christ, you have everything. That’s a mindset the devil can’t stand, and more importantly, can’t beat.
St. Moses and St. John are giving us not just advice, but a battle strategy. Lean into humility. Stop keeping score of your spiritual accomplishments. Stop comparing yourself to others. Instead, follow Christ’s example—because if the King of the Universe could humble Himself to the point of washing feet and dying on a cross, we’ve got no excuses.
You fast, but Satan does not eat. You labor fervently, but Satan never sleeps. The only dimension with which you can outperform Satan is by acquiring humility, for Satan has no humility.
Embrace This Season
Whether you’re a seasoned Orthodox Christian, a believer from a different tradition, or just someone curious about God, this Lent is an opportunity. It’s a time to set aside the distractions, comparison games, and pride traps. It’s a season of turning back to God and finding not judgment, but joy.
Join the Church’s services, pray, reflect, and prepare your heart. Easter morning is coming—the day when the risen Christ tramples down death forever. And here’s the incredible part—you’re invited to be part of it.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us sinners.
Amen.
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