Gospel: Luke 18:9-14
Through today’s parable in Luke we’re invited to witness a moment in the lives of two men, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. Before Jesus’ ministry the people held one set of views about each: Pharisees for instance were seen as righteous, while tax collectors were considered sinful individuals out for their own self-interest and profit. As we see throughout Luke’s gospel, however, Jesus completely flips the predominant view of each – something even seen here, in this parable. Those viewed as righteous are now considered the elite who repeatedly complain about Jesus’ message and companions. It’s the sinful ones who come to listen to and follow him.
At the outset it’s important to note that because this scene takes place in the temple in Jerusalem, these two most certainly weren’t alone. As I’ve mentioned before in my preaching, there’s a lot going on in these scenes that’s not described – the movement and action in the gaps of the text. Regardless of whether they were engaged in public prayer at the usual time of either 9:00 a.m. or 3:00 p.m. or were visiting for private prayer at some other point in the day, they weren’t the only two in the temple. So as we watch the parable unfold, we recognize that even as we focus on these two there were perhaps many others gathered the holiest place of the Jewish faith – other perhaps silent witnesses to solitary prayer.
The Pharisee stands alone but not necessarily apart, while the tax collector stands far off. On the surface this could be simply an effect of the layout of the temple, which as Joel Green describes was designed in a way that mirrored societal boundaries of the day. It was not only a religious center but a cultural one, with individual areas that segregated Jews from Gentiles, men from women, priests from non-priests, and the clean from the unclean.[1]
But perhaps it’s also a reflection of how these two men view themselves. The Pharisee with nothing to be ashamed of, standing in a spot where he felt he was entitled to be. The tax collector, filled with shame and remorse, hidden away where he felt he was condemned to be. Perhaps we see their views of themselves in the words of the prayers they offer. The Pharisee, focusing on what he has done, the repeated use of “I” a sign not just of righteous living but of self-righteousness. Look at me; I’ve done even more than I was required to – and thank goodness I’m not like that tax collector. And then we have the tax collector, also focused on what he’s done – but the things he’s done where he’s fallen short. God, I’ve messed up. I’ve really messed up. Have mercy on me.
We can develop conclusions about these two men based on the words of their mouths; what we can’t see, however, is what’s going on within the meditation of their hearts. Here I think is an important lesson on which to reflect: we don’t know what’s in their hearts. Yes, it would be easy for us to point the finger at the Pharisee and say with a hint of accusation, “You don’t even know the tax collector or what’s in his heart; how can you judge him so harshly? How can you think that your life is so good that you’re thankful you’re not him?” But if we point one finger at the Pharisee, we must be prepared for the other fingers pointing back at us with their own accusation: “You don’t even know the Pharisee or what’s in his heart; how can you judge him so harshly?”
This is a parable about prayer, yes, but I think it’s also a parable about judgment – of how we judge others and about how we’re judged. As I mentioned earlier, we focus a lot of attention on what’s outlined for us in the text, without taking time to reflect on what else may be there. Shouldn’t we do the same when we look at others and make our judgments about them based only upon what we see or hear in a single brief encounter?
I think it’s an unfortunate aspect of human nature to draw conclusions about others based on the very brief moments in which they may encounter one another. Someone makes a statement about a pressing current issue, and someone else decides from that alone where they fall on the political spectrum. Someone sees a parent lose their temper with a child in public, and they decide from that alone they’re a bad parent. Someone sees a person on the side of the road asking for a few dollars to help them out, and they decide from that alone that they really want the money for alcohol or drugs. Someone sees a person use food stamps in the grocery store and then drive away in a better car than they think they should have, and they decide from that alone they’re cheating the system.
But brief encounters don’t tell the whole story. It’s easier to make assumptions than to try and learn more. We won’t know what’s in someone’s mind or heart unless we ask. We won’t know someone’s story unless we ask. We won’t know why someone feels strongly about a particular issue unless we ask how they’ve been impacted by it. We won’t know why a parent loses their temper with their child without asking what else has happened during their day. We won’t know what someone will use those few dollars for unless we offer to make the journey with them, however briefly, to see what life means for them from one hour to the next. We won’t know unless we ask that perhaps the family on food stamps includes a parent who lost a good-paying job, and without that income may soon lose the car we don’t think they should have.
And the Pharisee praying across the room? We won’t know that they’re coming from a place of self-righteousness unless we ask about their journey. What we assume we know about them – what we may think is their high opinion of themselves – could very well be wrong. The prayer they’re offering may in fact be a prayer of thanksgiving, looking at the sinful tax collector off by himself and thinking “There but for the grace of God go I.”
This is a parable about prayer, but it’s about so much more. It’s also about assumptions, and judgment, and basing opinions on what’s seen on the surface rather than what lies beneath. Who are we, the Pharisee or the tax collector? And what about the one on that street corner, or in that car, or with that child; are they righteous or sinful? Pray deeply; listen deeply; discern deeply. The answer God gives may surprise you.
Amen.
[1] Joel B. Green. The Gospel of Luke, p. 646.