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Pharisees and and the tax collector Yr C - Pr 25 - October 28, 2007
Rev. Tom Trutner
Some
years ago, on a British Airways flight from Johannesburg, a middle-aged,
well-off white South African Lady had found herself sitting next to a black man.
She called the cabin crew attendant over to complain about her seating. “What
seems to be the problem Madam?” asked the attendant.
“Can’t you see?” she said. “You’ve sat me next to a kaffir. I can’t
possibly sit next to this disgusting human. Find me another seat!” “Please calm
down Madam.” the stewardess replied. “The flight is very full today, but I’ll
tell you what I’ll do- I’ll go and check to see if we have any seats available
in club or first class.” The woman gave a snooty look at the outraged black man
beside her (not to mention at many of the surrounding passengers also).
A few minutes later the stewardess returns with the good news, which she
delivers to the lady, who cannot help but look at the people around her with a
smug and self satisfied grin: “Madam, unfortunately, as I suspected, economy is
full. I’ve spoken to the cabin services director, and club is also full.
However, we do have one seat in first class”.
Before the lady has a chance to answer, the stewardess continues, “It is
most extraordinary to make this kind of upgrade, however, and I have had to get
special permission from the captain. But, given the circumstances, the captain
felt that it was outrageous that someone be forced to sit next to such an
obnoxious person.” With which, she turned to the black man sitting next to her,
and said: “So if you’d like to get your things, sir, I have your seat ready for
you in first class up at the front...” At which point, apparently the
surrounding passengers stood and gave a standing ovation while the black guy
walks up to first class in the front of the plane.
This Gospel lesson that we have heard this morning does not need a lot of
elaboration. It is pretty clear to whom Jesus is talking and what he is talking
about. However, just a bit of explanation and interpreta-tion does allow the
impact of the lesson to come through more forcefully.
In the very first sentence, it says that Jesus told this parable or story
“to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and despised
others,” or as another translation puts it, “to some who believed in their own
goodness and looked down on others.” The reason this second translation is
useful is that it better reveals the shades of meaning in this passage. Words
like “righteous” and “despise” are very strong - almost scathing - and when we
hear them, we tend to read ourselves out of such a story, thereby diminishing
its relevancy to our lives. We tend say to ourselves, “Why I don’t consider
myself ‘righteous’ and I don’t ‘despise’ anyone, so this is really a little
harsh in my case.”
On the other hand, phrases like “believe in their own goodness” and “look
down upon others” tend to gnaw at our consciences a little more. Who of us
hasn't felt a little more proper or principled or ethical because we have, at
least, tried to live a decent Christian life? Who of us hasn’t felt just a
little bit more superior - if not a lot more superior - when it comes to
comparing ourselves, for instance, with slumlords who charge exorbitant rents to
the poor for flop-house apartments, and then ignore the codes that demand
improvements? Or perhaps sub prime lenders who tempted people to buy houses
they couldn’t afford and now face foreclosure. Or people who sell scam
investment schemes and wipe out the savings of some of our elderly? Or people
who prey upon our youth to get them to smoke or drink or use drugs?
You see, until we juxtapose ourselves with these types and then carefully
examine our own feelings of moral superiority, we will never get the import of
this Gospel lesson. Indeed, it would be difficult to under-stand much of what
Jesus taught, for he very carefully used these kinds of sharp juxtapositions to
make his point.
The Pharisee in today’s lesson is a good man. There is no denying that. He
goes to temple, he prays, he tithes on all that he earns, and he fasts not once,
but twice a week. He would be, in our day, a perfect candidate for running the
stewardship campaign, or for a vestry person, or for an Altar Guild member. He
is a good, upstanding, moral, law-abiding citizen. One wag commented that “by
the Episcopal Church’s standards, this guy is a dream come true”
And the tax-collector? Well, given the context of these biblical times, he
was mud. As one commentator put it, “He comes into the temple looking like sin
warmed over. That’s because he is sinned warmed over. He’s a combination of
Benedict Arnold and Jimmy Hoffa, taxing the Jews to pay the Romans, while being
a card-carrying member of Palestine’s version of organized crime. Needless to
say, he’s been banned from the synagogue. He cannot give testimony in a Jewish
courts, nor can he hold any public office. By a Pharisee’s standard, he is an
unpardonable disaster.”
With that little bit of explanation, you can see how clearly Jesus draws
the lines between these two men. And yet, it is the tax-collector’s prayer that
is acceptable to Jesus - far more acceptable - than that of the Pharisee. Why?
Because of one thing: humility.
The entire lesson of this passage is about one thing: humility. Scholars
call this one of the ”Great Reversals” of Jesus’ message and ethic. Jesus
consistently and persistently pops the bubble of our hubris, our pride, and
cautions us that it is only the humble who will enter the Kingdom of God. Time
and again, Jesus sets up a predicament and we immediately think that we know the
answer based upon our conventional understandings of goodness and piety and
well-doing. Then Jesus reverses our presumed understanding, and presents us with
the shattering surprise of God’s grace and view of life. How many times did he
conclude one of these stories by telling us that “ the last shall be first and
the first shall be last?” And didn’t he tell us that when we were invited to a
big dinner party, we shouldn’t sit in the place of honor, but at the lesser
seat?” He also told us that when we have fed the poor and visited the prisoners
and given water to the thirsty and taken care of orphans - if we have done it to
one of these least important of people, then we have done it to him. He told us
that if we really wanted to be great, then we must be a servant. Look at the
heroes in Jesus’ stories: a Samaritan (almost as reviled as a tax-collector); a
rebellious youth (in the Parable of the Prodigal Son); a leper; a
poverty-stricken widow. Ultimately, what all these people have in common is one
thing: humility.
Indeed, the entire drama of God’s loving action towards us in Jesus the
Christ is one of remarkable humility. Jesus was born poor and given the
circumstances surrounding his birth, he may well have been taunted by
embarrassing questions. He had little education, he operated in an obscure part
of the world, he was eventually betrayed by his own best friends, and, at the
last, he was executed on a garbage heap outside the city walls of Jerusalem. Now
this picture is difficult for some people to accept because there have been
almost two thousand years of glorious and inspiring stories and paintings and
music - as well as fabulously ornamented churches (and prelates) - and these
“pictures” have lulled us into a rather false and surreal perception of the life
and times of Jesus. But in reality, his birth, life, and death were unglamorous,
unpretentious, and marked by some abysmal conditions. Very humble.
St. Paul gives expression to this humility of God’s way when describing the
incarnation in his letter to the Philippians - and it takes the form of some
instruction to the young (and older!) church: “So do nothing from selfishness or
conceit, but in humility count others better than yourselves. Let each of you
look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. Have
this mind among yourselves, which you have in Christ Jesus, who, though he was
in the form of God, did not count equality with God a things to be grasped, but
emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of
men. And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto
death, even death on a cross” (2:3-9). In this most sublime passages, we are
given one of the shortest, most lucid and poignant sermons about Christian
behavior. It is humility that Jesus taught, a humility born of God’s grace,
nurtured by God’s spirit, and, in the end, favorably acceptable to God.
But make no mistake: this humility is not a recipe for an insipid,
retiring, unflavored, milquetoast kind of life. On the contrary, the humility of
God comes from a gutsy honesty with ourselves - who we really are and what we
have been given. It comes from gratitude and realism. In turn, it leads to a
magnificent love of life, a strength of character, and a surging enthusiasm for
the common good of all of God’s people and creation. We can begin to enjoy the
power of God spirit, God’s life within us, only when we are humble enough to
know that we need it. This is why Jesus saw a possibility and hope in the
tax-collector and saw just the opposite in the Pharisee. The tax-collector knew
he was needful of God’s grace, and he knew at the same time that he had done
nothing to deserve it. In fact, by his own reckoning, the choices and actions of
his life made him all the more undeserving. On the other hand, the Pharisee
considered himself not only quite self-sufficient, but also better than
others. In this and so many other lessons, Jesus makes it abundantly clear
that we will never be able to do anything that will gain us the privilege of
deserving God’s grace. It is a free and unconditional love that has been
bestowed upon all of God’s people, but it will only be the humble who will ever
realize just how astonishing this gift is!
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