[Pentecost+23] exalted, humbled, prayerful -- and connected?

Jesus also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt:

"Two people went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.

The Pharisee, standing alone, was praying thus: 'God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.'

But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating their breast and saying, 'God, be merciful to me, a sinner!'

I tell you, the tax collector went home justified rather than the Pharisee; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted."

Luke 18:9-14 (NRSV, alt.)

It's difficult for me to hear these familiar stories as if I'd never heard them before. We who have heard these stories over and over know that the Pharisee (or any other religious authority or scholar, or anyone with wealth or power) is the "bad guy" and the tax collector (or anyone else labeled as a sinner or an outcast or on the margins in some way or in any way looked down upon by the mainstream) is the "good guy."

But Andrew Prior (in his 2010 commentary on this text) quotes Craddock:

If the Pharisee is pictured as a villain and the tax collector as a hero, then each gets what he deserves, there is no surprise of grace and the parable is robbed. In Jesus' story, what both receive is "in spite of," not "because of."

Prior says, "The story is not about us. It is about God,and God's scandalous love and forgiveness for us all."

To help us better understand God's scandalous love and forgiveness, I want to dig a bit more into who these two characters are.

Everything the Pharisee says about herself is true -- she goes above and beyond what her religion requires of her. We might liken her to the church member who gives ten percent of her gross income (not just her net) to the church AND pledges to the Capital Campaign -- and buys everything fair-trade/organic from pro-union local businesses...

The tax collector was an agent of the occupying Roman Empire -- she collected money from impoverished people, to fund the occupying forces; and she might well have garnished her own wages by collecting more from these oppressed people than they actually owed. Imagine she works for ICE (U.S. Immigrations and Customs Enforcement). Her job involves tearing apart families -- sending undocumented immigrants back to their countries of origin, while their children who have been born in this country are shunted into an overburdened foster care system.

Now you have in your mind a church member we probably all feel like we "should" strive to be like, and a loathsome government agent. Now hear the story again.

Imagine the church member prays, "God, I give thanks that I'm not like those other people -- those people who make millions by exploiting tax loopholes and exploiting the poor, those people who sexually harass people they're in positions of authority over, those people like that ICE agent over there."

And the ICE agent merely says, "God, have mercy on me a sinner."

And Jesus says, "That ICE agent? She went home right with God. Not that church member. For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted."

There's no indication that either of them knows how God responded to their prayer -- the church member likely still thinks she's right with God. She hasn't repented of her self-righteousnes. And the ICE agent hasn't necessarily repented either.

Prior quotes John Petty:

... what about next week? Let's say that the same two guys show up in the temple. The cleanly-attired and clean-minded pharisee reminds God (again) of how devout he is, while, this week, the tax collector shows up (again) with his whisky-breath and a blonde on each arm, and intones the same "I'm a jerk/let me off the hook anyway" prayer.

Guess what? The pharisee would (again) not be justified, and the tax collector (again) would. Week after that, same thing. Week after that, same thing. How heartwarming is this story now?

You were thinking that this story is fine as a start, but, in the future, we expect some amendment of behavior on the part of the tax collector. In other words, while the pharisee is clearly going overboard, we want the tax collector to start acting like one anyway.

Some commentators wonder exactly where the tax collector repented. Fact is, he didn't, and it wouldn't have mattered a bit even if he did. The story is not about our righteousness after all, not about our piddly attempts at self-improvement, not about our crying our eyes out or feeling suitably bad about ourselves.

Quite the contrary. Our situation is always hopeless.

I want to be very careful here, because I think the "we're all sinners who are only redeemed by the grace of God" can often be really Bad News. But I do think it's important to note that we can never, under our own power, be perfect. We are limited, fallible human beings; and we are deeply embedded in broken systems. Even the apostle Paul (who was arguably given to self-righteousness at times) confessed, "I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate" (Romans 7:15 and elsewhere).

Commenting on the passage this year, Prior gives an example of a prominent politician who vaunts his Christian faith but who seems very un-Christ-like in many of his policies and attitudes. It's easy to condemn that politician, to accuse him of hypocrisy. But Prior says:

I am writing to you on a computer, wearing cheap jeans, enjoying the luxury of a country built upon exploitation. [...]

We are all compromised. We do not have a prayer. Each week we— I— come back to church with whiskey breath and a laptop in my arms. This is before I fail my parishioners, or am short with my family, or parsimonious with my offering.

In that same commentary, Prior reminds us:

Teresa Lockhart Stricklen says, "Self justification has no need of God." In fact, it sets itself as God! When we disparage others whom God loves; we say we have no need of God. The "piety which despises other human beings," becomes idolatry. We "exalt ourselves." (Luke 18:14)

Bruce Maples talks about "passive contempt" -- perhaps we wouldn't be as vocal as the Pharisee in this story, but how often do we treat other people as only means to our own ends or ignore them altogether? Maples quotes Elie Wiesel -- "The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference." -- and asserts that Jesus wasn't indifferent to anyone but really and truly recognized every single person, and treated them as special and beloved of God. And we, of course, are called to do the same.

As I mentioned in my email, one of the things that really interests me about this story is the different models of prayer.

One of the things this story tells me is that prayer is a positive model of prayer is offering one's truth up before God. I wonder if being able to be more honest about who we are (flaws and all) better enables to encounter the totality of each other. And accepting God's love and forgiveness of us can help us extend that same grace to others.

***

What about you, Beloved?

What did this text bring up for you?

In keeping with Molly's Year of Radical Curiosity, Jeff wondered about the ways in which the Pharisee and the tax collector were both standing alone/apart (despite the crowds filling the Temple) and about whether they could bridge the gap between them by reaching out and getting to know each other.

Do any of these ways in to the story help it feel more real and relevant to you?

Are there things that still trouble you about this story?

(As always, you're invited to comment anonymously/pseudonymously if you prefer.)