Don Friesen
Earlier this week I was wrestling with the parable just read, thinking about the self-righteous Pharisee and planning to write a clever little prayer about how thankful I am that I was born in Saskatchewan. I was quite taken with the idea until Dorothy pointed out that this might fail to get the point across. She was kind enough not to elaborate, so I'm not sure if she meant that most people don't really care where I was born — or — that most people are thankful they were not born in Saskatchewan.
This left me with the conventional approach to this parable, which is to poke away at the pompous Pharisee — which is fun to do. This parable presents a wonderful opportunity to poke at the pious; to prick the balloons of the pretentious; to take a few layers off the legalistic; to castigate the self-righteous; and tear a strip off hypocrites. I enjoy doing that, but I can't do it in good conscience, for I've developed an irritating habit of late. I've noticed that in conversations I've started dropping names. It's embarrassing. I don't know if it's a function of my age — a last desperate attempt to show that while I haven't accomplished anything I know some people who have — but what's even more embarrassing is the quality of the names I'm dropping! I find, upon sober, second thought, that I'm not even that impressed with them. My conversations are sounding more and more like acts of desperation!
Is it about the Pharisee?
There's no doubt that the Pharisee in Jesus' parable could use some comeuppance. There he is, in the temple, standing off by himself, a contemptuous grimace on his face when he looks at the others there, and he prays, "God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector" (Luke 18:11). I guess he prayed with his eyes open. And then, as if God doesn't already know his accomplishments, the Pharisee starts listing them. (18:12)
The Pharisee in Jesus' story deserves criticism and one has only to read Jesus' seven woes in Matthew, chapter 23, to realize the depth and insidious nature of Pharisaic hypocrisy. But is this story really about the Pharisee? He seems too easy a mark. It's an instinctive human reaction to humble the haughty and bring down the braggart.
An Australian church leader (Gordon Ramsay) talks about the "tall poppy syndrome," which borrows its name from an ancient Roman myth in which the heads of poppies were cut off. People like to cut each other down to size! In his culture, he says, "it can be pretty dangerous to do too well at something — or at least to know that you are good at something. As soon as you do, you ...get rubbished, jeered, ridiculed or turned into a joke to bring you ‘back down to size.'"
I'm familiar with the impulse — many of us are — so what would be the point of Jesus telling a story that encourages us to do what we already do so well? We may find the Pharisee's self-righteousness disgusting and his pomposity off-putting, but he was actually a sincerely devout person who tried very hard to do what God required, and more!
Is it about the Tax Collector?
Is Jesus' story about the tax collector, then? That's also an easy conclusion to draw, for in contrast to the Pharisee the tax collector looks good. His head is bowed in contrition. He won't even look up to heaven (Luke 18:13), but beats his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!'"
The tax collector looks good compared to the Pharisee, but would we feel the same way if we found out that he was a telemarketer? One who followed up his telephone calls with an obnoxious call to your door? What if we discovered that he was a scoundrel? That he exploited customers' fears in order to sell them home security systems? That he sold life insurance policies to people in their nineties? That he was just one step ahead of the Better Business Bureau? What business would a person like that have being in church? A person like that would give us pause, as the tax collector gave the Pharisee pause. In comparison to tax collectors, who were scam artists, the Pharisee did look good, to others as well as himself!
What is attractive is the tax collector's humility, and perhaps the traditional interpretation is the right one; it certainly jibes with the conclusion drawn by Luke, who writes, at the end of the story, "I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted." (Luke 18:14)
It m—a—y apply to you and me
If that is the correct interpretation of the story, then the story applies to you and me. If I engage in negative gratitude, thanking God that I am not like so-and-so, then I have something to learn from this story — an obvious lesson, but then, we often neglect the obvious.
If I pray with a sideward glance, making comparisons, scanning the congregation to see if my piety outshines the piety of others, then I am the one being caricatured in Jesus' story and I should learn to laugh at myself. Jesus is already laughing at me, so I may as well join him.
If I'm as smug and self-absorbed as the Pharisee, or just generally quite impressed with my own importance, then this story is for me. And it will serve me well if it cuts me down to size.
It may be about God!
I would like to suggest, however, that perhaps this parable is not about the Pharisee or the tax collector or even about us! I wonder if it isn't a very subversive story, designed by our tricky Saviour and Lord to trap us. There are some treacherous undercurrents in the story, for as soon as we do the obvious and begin comparing the two figures in the parable, we're hoisted by our own petards! We're caught in a loop!
A Sunday School teacher taught this Bible story to his students, telling them that it does no good to boast to God. And then he finished with the lesson by saying, "Now children, let's all pray and thank God that we aren't like that Pharisee."
Trying to pick a winner in Jesus' story of two losers may be a futile exercise! It's like trying to be humble. You either are or you ain't! Perhaps we should refrain from rushing to apply this parable to ourselves, and simply meditate upon it. The circular nature of the story, like the double-edged sword of Scripture (Hebrews 4:12), defies an easy application.
I would like to suggest that Jesus' story is not really about the Pharisee or the tax collector or us, but about God. It's about God, and about God's amazing grace. Remember that both fellows are in the temple, praying! The intent of prayer is to be in the presence of God — in the presence of the Almighty! Unless you're rather brash, when one is in the presence of someone great one does not begin the conversation by rattling off one's own accomplishments. It's enough just to be in that person's presence and to soak up his or her words and spirit.
When in the presence of God, humility is the only appropriate response. This is different from saying, "God is great, and you are a worm." You may be, but that too is beside the point. What is utterly and irrepressibly humbling about being in the presence of God is realizing the greatness and majesty of God, and then realizing that the Almighty loves me like I love my own child!
I come to God, "just as I am, without one plea," because I know God loves and accepts me whether I'm a Pharisee, a tax collector, a hypocrite, a poser, a self-righteous prig, a telemarketer, a winner, a loser — it d-o-e-s n-o-t matter! The good news of the gospel is that we are all accepted by God through the marvellous grace of God. "All have sinned and come short of the glory of God," wrote the Apostle Paul (Romans 3:23), and for that reason "there is no distinction" (3:22) — no distinctions are to be drawn between us — we are all "justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus...." (3:24) AMEN
All quotations of Scripture, unless otherwise noted, are from the New Revised Standard Version.