Luke 18:9-14 is a parable of the Pharisee and Tax Collector. The source is Luke. The context of the parable in Luke is that it ends the material in the travel narrative of Luke, a section that contains many of the stories and sayings unique to Luke. The story related to prayer in the first eight verses of this chapter suggested placing this parable of two people praying in the temple praying. Both segments deal with vindication and justification. A common observation of readers of Luke is that he has special concern for those on the outskirts of society, and thus has brought in stories related to the widow, the tax collector, and in the next segment the acceptance of little children into the rule of God. In this case, I want to share some observations and stories that help us look at view of ourselves. If a common human problem is that we deceive ourselves in thinking that we are better than we are, then we will have a challenging time hearing its message truly.
Luke opens by providing the parable with a narrative context. 9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous (δίκαιοι) and regarded others (τοὺς λοιποὺς) with contempt. The parable raises the question of those toward whom we are sanctimonious. The parable will contrast the demeanor and the prayers of two men.
Jesus shares the parable. 10 “Two men went up to the temple to pray. One was a Pharisee. The reason Jesus and the Pharisees did battle on so many issues may rest in their different notions about how best to preserve the integrity of their Torah community. Jesus depicts the Pharisee as an exemplar of the righteous man, as measured by the traditional religious practice of the day. The term means "separated." Through their extreme observance of the law, their strict adherence to all Torah minutiae, their moral rigidity, and their establishment of a counterculture, resident-alien identity, the Pharisees sough to separate themselves from their increasingly Gentile/pagan surroundings. Pharisaic piety, while it may act in arrogant self-confidence, is an attempt to embody the separateness preached in Psalm 1. We need to exercise some care in interpretation at this point. The Pharisee is not the villain. He is not going to get what he deserves. He represents those who have completely dedicated themselves to the law. The other a tax collector. The tax collector is not the hero. He is not going to get what he deserves. The attitude of the tax collector offers the opposite hyperbole from that of the Pharisee, complete self-loathing and shame. He knows he is working against the interest of his own people. He worked for Rome and was a traitor to his country. The tax collector made his living by collecting the taxes imposed by the occupying forces of Rome. Because he received no wages from the Romans to do this work, he earned his living by charging more than the Romans required and pocketing the profits. According to the assumption of the Pharisee, he was reprehensible in character. Yet, for all we know, he may have been a decent person trying to make a living in a demanding situation. However, if we make the mistake of praising him, we will miss the point that God justifies the ungodly. In any case, many Judeans would have assessed both men as Jesus depicts them in this parable. Yet, the characters in this story, both the Pharisee and the tax collector, are caricatures. The extremity of their actions and attitudes constitutes literary hyperbole, not an accurate portrayal of actual first century individuals. 11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people (οἱ λοιποὶ τῶν ἀνθρώπων, or the rest of humanity). Think of how different the story would be if the Pharisee, instead of separating himself, had gone over to the tax collector and embraced him. Think of how different the story of the church would be if, instead of self-righteously thinking it was better than those not in worship, recognized their union with them in their mutual need of grace. The Pharisee compares himself not with other righteous individuals, but with thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. One finds nothing spectacular about the vices that he names. These “sinners” commonly receive mention in vice lists of the New Testament. The effect of such a list is significant, however. They effectively draw lines. On the one hand, there is the Pharisee who considers himself righteous, and on the other hand the rest of the world whom he considers sinful. 12 I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.’ Thus, after the Pharisee praises God that he is not like the sinful tax collector, he proudly lists his own pious acts. These are commendable practices (5:33; 11:42), but the Pharisee’s boast demonstrates that he is a prime example of those who “trusted in themselves that they were righteous.” Although his prayer begins by thanking God, he fails to commend God for God’s own actions. The Pharisee seems consumed by his own pious deeds. Jesus portrays the Pharisee as regarding the other, a tax collector, as an obviously unrighteous man, dishonest in his dealings, disloyal to his country, and disregarding of his religious duty.
Abot, 2:3 in Mishnah: "Be wary of the government, for they get friendly with a person only for their own convenience. They look like friends when it is to their benefit, but they do not stand by people when they are in need." The Pharisee does not seek his own vindication, as the widow in the previous story did, but his own glorification.
The Pharisee points to his faithful observance of Law. In Lutheran theology, the law always accuses. In the Charlie Chaplain film, “The Immigrant,” Charlie plays the immigrant, newly arrived in this country, not a penny in his pocket. One scene shows him eating a huge meal in a restaurant, knowing all the time that he does not have a penny to his name. Between mouthfuls, he notices a huge, burly waiter and three large bouncers pounce on a customer, beat him to a pulp, kick him, and then toss him out into the street. Charlie asks another waiter what the man had done. The script reads, "He was ten cents short." That is the way the law works. If you play by its rules but do not follow them in every way, you are out on your ear.[1]
Those of us well versed in the language of the church, familiar with its hymns, songs, and ritual, need to be careful. It may come off the lips so easily. We can fix ourselves spiritually for a brief time. We do not feel needy. Yet, in that moment, we may well be the neediest! Thus, the message is that we need to admit our faults.
My wife and I had a college student and the girl he was dating over to our house for lunch on a Sunday. As we started to relax, I said, "Why don't you take your coat off?" I had already taken off my tie and coat. The young man hem-hawed around, however, as if he did not want to do it. Finally, he got me off in a corner and said, reminding me of an old trick I knew well when I was in college, "The only parts of my shirt I ironed were the cuffs and the collar." He had pressed just the parts that showed. The rest of the shirt looked as if he had ironed it with a weed eater! That was the way of the Pharisees: the part people could see looked great, but a weed eater appeared to have done the ironing on the inside.[2]
It may well be that the one things unites all human beings regardless of age, gender, religion, economic status or ethnic background is that deep down inside, we all believe that we are above average drivers.[3] We think we are better than we are in reality. If so, I may have difficulty convincing myself or a reader to have an honest self-assessment of who we are. To have an honest assessment of who we are requires some work. Granted, I am aware that some people hide behind false humility. Some people will descend into self-loathing. As we learn about the children of Lake Wobegon, “all the children are above average.” We have a great capacity to think we know the problem we have, when our biggest problem may well be self-deception. We lie to ourselves about who we are.
If so, the issue we face is pride. However, our pride often exhibits itself in subtle ways. The pride of power may lead us into gaining security for ourselves. If only we had the power, we could set things right. The pride of the intellect presumes that if people just had the knowledge that you did, you could set things right. The pride of morality or virtue is to presume that our virtue is the measure of all righteousness. The pride of self-glorification assumes one has no need of further growth when every stage of human life has its obstacles to overcome and lessons to learn.
The pride of virtue and spirituality is disturbing in that pride goes so thoroughly against the goal. John Wesley was preaching in a congregation, and he noticed a lady who was known for her critical attitude. All through the service, she sat and stared at his new tie. When the meeting was over, she came up to him and said very sharply, "Mr. Wesley, the strings on your bow tie are much too long. It's an offense to me!" John Wesley asked for some scissors, gave it to his critic, and asked her to trim the tie to her liking. "Are you alright now?" he asked. "Yes, that's much better," she replied. "Then let me have those shears a moment. I'm sure you won't mind if I also give you a bit of correction. I don't want to be cruel, but I must tell you, madam, that your tongue is an offense to me - it is too long! Please stick it out, I'd like to take some off."
Pride can seem like such a little thing. If so, let us admit that trivial things can have major consequences. I came across a story of the mistake burned down London. On the night of September 1, 1666, the oven of the royal baker to the king of England sparked a fire. It was not a spectacular conflagration, and it seemed like no big deal at first, but the fire burned for five days. In the end, it wiped out 13,000 homes and leveled 80 percent of the city. Sometimes we know when we have made a mistake. Sometimes we do not. The ones we do not see are the ones that can cause trouble.
Pride, often carried out in secret, can have a significant impact. What appear to be minor mistakes can get out of control and destroy us unless we see our secret faults and seek forgiveness. In some personal Bible study (2013), I came across a little verse tucked away in II Kings 17:9, in the middle of a list of the sins that led to the judgment of God upon Israel in 721 BC, when the Assyrians were victorious and carted them off into exile. Among their many sins was this: “And the people of Israel did secretly against the Lord their God things that were not right.”
13 But the tax collector, standing far off, presumably farther away from the inner court of the temple, even farther away from the holiest part of the temple, would not even look up to heaven. As a child who has done something wrong is afraid to approach a parent or even make eye contact, so this publican does not go far into the temple court and refuses to lift his eyes. He knows that he has sinned. He does not rely on fasting or tithing to make his relationship right with God. Rather, he was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ The tax collector has rightly asked for mercy. He knows what it is like to be near the bottom. He has much about which to be humble. In seeing himself as a sinner, he sees himself as he truly is. However, what will he do tomorrow? We do not know. Such an attitude can lead to a lack of responsibility and an "I can’t help what I do for I am a sinner" conviction. Although we assume the genuineness of the tax collector’s repentant posture, we do not hear anything about what he resolves to do about it. The tax collector does not dare talk to God in the manner of the Pharisee. Instead of thanking God for his exalted position, he recognizes his lowly status before a holy God.
I am thinking that some of us know what this means. We come to church, not knowing whether we ought to be here or not. We have secrets. We have done things we should not have. Some Sundays everyone else looks so righteous, so close to God, so near to getting it right. As for us, we are feeling far off from God. Distant. When it comes time for prayer, we do not know which words to use. We are down. The good news is, that is when God meets us, blesses us.
I have come across a prayer that I think might be helpful here.
So far today, God, I’ve done all right. I haven’t gossiped, haven’t lost my temper, haven’t been greedy, grumpy, nasty, selfish or over-indulgent. I’m really glad about that. But in a few minutes, God, I’m going to get out of bed and from then on I’m probably going to need a lot more help. Thank you. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
You may have heard the story of the man who came to the gates of heaven. St. Peter greeted him. Peter asks the man if he can give a brief history of his life with an emphasis on the good deeds he has done in order to gain entrance into the kingdom of heaven. “You will need 1,000 points to be admitted,” Peter tells the man. “This will be a cinch,” the man thinks to himself, “I’ve been involved in church from the days of my youth.” Then he begins to list his activities for Peter. He was an officer in his youth group, served in every position he could as a youngster. Was on the church council and every committee the church had to offer. His list was extensive. “Very impressive,” Peter smiles at the man. An angel standing with them also smiled and nodded as he tallied the points and then whispered in Peter’s ear. Peter tells the man, “This is quite striking; we seldom see men of your exceptionally good works. You will be pleased to know that you have 327 points! Is there anything else you can think of?” The poor soul breaks into a cold sweat and begins to reach deep for every single act of kindness he could think of. He listed them as the angel scratched furiously on his angelic clipboard and nodded his head in admiration. Peter looks at the clipboard and says, “This is quite exceptional! You now have a total of 402 points. Can you think of anything else?” The distressed guy strives to recall good deeds, like the time he helped a little old lady across the street. He finally arrives at a grand total of 431 points and cries out, “I’m sunk! There is no hope for me! What more could I have done? O Lord, all I can do is beg for your mercy!” “THAT,” exclaims Peter, “is a thousand points!”
The conclusion Jesus offers is surprising. 14 I tell you, this man went down to his home justified (δεδικαιωμένος) rather than the other (or one could translate that the tax collector went home more justified than the other did), who likely went home exactly as he had come, only thinking he was righteous. God views people as righteous only when they recognize their own sinfulness and repent of it. Now, for a first-century audience (as well as a 21st-century reader), one would think that the religious leader would have no problem praying. He does this every day. Surely, God will honor his prayer. Yet, it is the despised tax collector, who rarely prays, who earns praise from Jesus. God hears the prayer of the unrighteous. Thus, although the parable mentions that these two men prayed, the parable is not about prayer. Rather, the parable re-emphasizes the point of Chapter 15 on God's mercy toward the sinner. It re-enforces the New Testament view of justification, that one achieves uprightness before God not by one's own activity but by recognition of one's own sinfulness. If the point is that we are to identify ourselves with the tax collector, we also must admit that the Pharisee is within us. The key difference is that the Pharisee trusts in himself; the publican trusts in God. Those who preach and teach in the church need to exercise some care when handling this story. People gain nothing if they leave the worship service thankful that they are not like the Pharisee. The story deals with the doctrine of God's justification of sinners and judgment of the efforts of those who try to establish their own righteousness but doing so in story form. The parable portrays a stunning reversal of ordinary expectations in the manner of several parables of Jesus. The Pharisee does not receive approval from God for his prayer, but the tax collector who knows he is a sinner and only hopes for God's mercy does receive approval. The appropriate response comes from the improbable person.
The irony is that the one who comes regularly to pray is not the example to emulate. The problem is not one of consistency, but of intention. Today, we do not find the parable disturbing. Think of it this way. Is it possible that there are two good persons, but one had further to go than other? First century Judaism suggested the idea of the merits of the righteous. It may even suggest that some of the merits of the Pharisee rubbed off on the tax collector. Therefore, the Pharisee does all this good stuff for himself, but its benefits go to others as well. The “sinner” in the first century put themselves outside of the community.[4]
The parable of Jesus reminds us that spiritual life involves dealing both with ourselves and with attending to God.[5] In dealing with ourselves, we are better to live with the awareness that if God punished us for every fault, there would be no end. However, God passes by all God can pass by and “forgets” our sins in the sense of forgiving them.
Here is a way to relate the parable of Jesus in a modern setting.
Two people were in church on Sunday. One, lifetime member of the church, frequent teacher of the Bible, member of the board, prayed, "God, I thank you that my parents brought me to church, taught me the Bible as a youth; that my church planted in my heart a love of your church and a strong commitment to your will. I give 10 percent off the top, volunteer each month with Habitat for Humanity, and tutor underprivileged children at an inner-city school." Another man seated near the rear of the church, only muttered, "God, have mercy on me, a sinner." You see, when his liquor store went broke, after his marriage dissolved, just before that unfortunate scrape with the law, he had begun coming to church. Thus far, he had not joined a church; nobody had asked him. He was lousy at prayer; did not know which words to say. Two persons went home after church. Frankly, the Bible-believing Christian, member of the board did not get much out of the service. Something was missing. Nothing in the service touched his heart. Oh well, perhaps next Sunday. The other man stayed seated in his pew long after the benediction, crying, overcome with joy, or grief, he knew not which. He could not explain what had happened to him during the service. All he could say was, "God loves me." Now I want you to watch, not the actions of these men, but rather the actions of God. You are not to emulate the prayer of the Pharisee, "God I thank you, that I'm not like other people" (v. 11). On the other hand, you are not to copy the prayer of the tax collector, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner!" (v. 13). Rather, you are to watch God here. Two people come before the presence of God. God came close to one and not the other. Why? I do not know. Again, it is a story about the ways of God, not our ways.[6]
A woman wrote a letter to Ann Landers saying she was now living with a boy named Kevin whom the mother did not like. He was an alcoholic and beat her, but she was not strong enough to leave him. However, the mother kept bugging her to leave him. She will do it, but she wants to do it in her own time. This was Ann's response:
Your mother didn't write to me. You did. So, you're the one who is going to get the advice. Get into counseling at once and find out why you insist on hanging onto an alcoholic, abusive, unemployed liar. When your counselor get to the word "rebellion," listen with a third ear. Tell yourself, "I've got to grow up and stop using this lousy relationship to punish my mother." Then do it.
Our past can be like a prison. The point of forgiveness is to liberate us from that prison. A young nun came to the bishop of her diocese claiming to have had a vision of Jesus. The bishop questioned: "Sister, did you speak with Jesus?" She responded: "I did." Wanting to be sure that she had an authentic vision, he put her to the test. He said, the next time you have a vision of Jesus ask him this question: "What was the bishop's primary sin before he became a bishop?" If you receive an answer, come and tell me about it. The bishop, of course, knew that only God knew the answer. Later, the nun called upon the bishop again. He asked if she had another vision from the Lord. She admitted that she had. He asked her: "Did you ask the question that I told you to ask?" She said: "I did." Hesitantly, the bishop asked: "What did he say?" Remembering the vision, the nun replied to the bishop: "Jesus said...'I don't remember'"[7]
We recognize the loveliness of God in extending forgiveness toward unlovely us. God designs such forgiveness to release us from our past, so that it will no longer have a hold upon us. The point of forgiveness is to liberate us from our past so that we can embrace the new life God wants us to have. Thus, if we think that such forgiveness is indifference to our sin, we not only miss the point, but we have not asked honestly for forgiveness.[8]
Luke provides a saying from Jesus in a form that provides his narrative conclusion to the parable. The saying on promotion and demotion reflects the common wisdom of the time. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.” In the narrative context provided by Luke, the parable speaks against self-righteous pride and commends the virtue of humility. In the oral tradition, the saying, while remembered, had no context. The idea that God humbles the proud and exalts the humble is a common theme of Hebrew wisdom. In addition, Jesus frequently advocates reversal of roles. Such role reversal is a glimpse of the great reversal of accepted values that the coming rule of God will bring (cf. 1:50-53). While these values may not be human values, they will be the values at God's table. God is the one who "exalts" and "humbles." People fail to observe the counsel against arrogance and boldness that one can find throughout the Old Testament (Proverbs 15:25; Jeremiah 13:15; Isaiah 13:11), but especially the advice of Proverbs 25:6-7, which has to do with being humble rather than the experience of humiliation. It advises against self-righteous pride and commends the virtue of humility. Yet, surely the message is not, “All right people, get out there and be humbler.” Have you ever tried to be humble? Here is a character trait or virtue in which you either are or you are not. Humility is close to the word humus, earth, earthy. To be humble is to be close to the ground, near the bottom. If you are humble, down, close to the earth, empty handed, unsteady, unsure, then this parable may be your story. Rejoice. Hold out your empty hands to receive the gift. We call it grace. Unmerited, free grace. Do not worry about what you ought to say to God. Listen for what God has to say to you. You see, if you find yourself empty, silent, distant, needy, you can rejoice. The language of the church on Sunday morning is for you. Come close, lay your life on the altar, and open wide your empty hands. Here is the kind of God we worship: "He heals the brokenhearted, and binds up their wounds. . .Great is our Lord, and abundant in power; his understanding is beyond measure" (Ps 147:3, 5).
A non-biblical story about Abraham, King and prophet, goes like this. A young king from a distant land heard about the wisdom and kindness of Abraham. He had purchased a painting of Abraham when he was young and asked his counselors what they thought they saw in his face. He expected to hear about the wisdom and kindness. Instead, they told of the cruelty and arrogance that they saw in his face. Still, the young king wanted to visit Abraham, over the objections of his counselors. Though it was a long journey, the king finally reached where the now elderly Abraham resided. He waited three days before he was allowed to visit with the one he heard so much about. When he saw him, he saw full of grace and peace. After an hour of conversation, he told Abraham about the painting and the counselors. "They warned of the cruelty and arrogance which they saw in your face. Could you explain the confusion?" Abraham immediately said that what the counselors saw in him as a young man was true. "However, what they could not foresee was my struggle to overcome those defects in my character." He concluded, "All of us, my friend, have a dark side. It is in the struggle to transform those dark qualities into love that we come to know the best in ourselves and reach true communication with God."[9]
[1] Richard Lischer, professor of preaching at Duke.
[2] Mike Cope, Righteousness Inside Out, 1988
[3] humorist Dave Barry
[4] Amy-Jill Levine, The Misunderstood Jew (p. 39-41)
[5] (The Spiritual Life, quoted in A Guide to Prayer for Ministers and Other Servants, p. 320).
[6] Pulpit Resource, October-December 1998.
[7] (Emphasis, Sep-Oct, 1992, 54).
[8] George MacDonald, Creation in Christ (quoted in A Guide to Prayer for Ministers and Other Servants, 279).
[9] (Philip Oliver-Diaz and Patricia A. O'Gorman, 12 Steps to Self-Parenting, 34-35).
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