Luke 18:9-14
He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, 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 his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ 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.”
I learned this week that Luke, the Gospel writer, has a thing for tax collectors that I never noticed before. Smarter people than me say that Luke – the writer of this morning’s Gospel and the book of Acts – was a physician by trade, so I wonder what his deal was with tax collectors. Maybe he was friends with one. Maybe his brother or his favorite uncle was a tax collector. Maybe a tax collector helped salvage his 401K during a recession, or something. I don’t know. But Luke has a thing for tax collectors.
In Luke’s Gospel, more than the others, Jesus eats with tax collectors and gets the goat of the self-righteous religious leaders of his day because of it. Luke makes a point of Jesus having called Levi, a tax collector, to be one of his disciples and then going to a banquet at Levi’s house with a bunch of other tax collecting so-and-so’s.
And, according to Luke, it’s in response to accusations about all of this – his “eating with tax collectors and sinners,” I mean – that Jesus tells some of his most famous stories about the wideness of God’s mercy: the parables of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the Prodigal Son. And it’s also Luke who tells the story of Zacchaeus, the wee little man and Chief Tax Collector, who falls in love with Jesus, and gives half his possessions to the poor and makes reparations to everyone he’s ever ripped off, because of it.
So, you see, Luke goes out of his way, more than any of the other Gospel writers, to use infamously, stereotypically sinful tax collectors as foils against the proverbially, religiously righteous and faithful Pharisees. Luke loves to paint tax collectors as the unlikely recipients of God’s mercy and blessing; as the archetype of the surprisingly loveable, redeemable reprobate; as the forgivable, forgiven sinners upon which every story of grace could turn; tax collectors, for Luke, are the unexpected examples of obedience and righteousness, goodness and gratitude.
And today’s parable shows us all of those things.
Remember, the prelude to this morning’s parable, as the Bible tells us, is that Jesus was speaking to “some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.” It means he was speaking to people, like the Pharisee in the parable, who were pretty confident that they were on the straight and narrow and who took it upon themselves to judge others who they believed were not. So he tells them that story about the Pharisee and the Tax Collector.
And it matters that Pharisees and Tax Collectors existed on opposite sides of the social spectrum in Jesus’ day. Pharisees were religious, righteous and “right” about most things when it came to issues of faith and theology – at least as far as most people were concerned. They followed all the rules. They made all the right sacrifices. They read scripture, gave their offering, showed up for worship – and everyone knew it.
Tax collectors, on the other hand were not the most well-liked people in town. And Jewish tax collectors – to other Jews, like the ones listening to Jesus – were seen as puppets of the occupying Roman authority who often took advantage of their power to swindle fellow Jews out of money – some of which they paid to the Romans, and some of which they kept to line their own pockets.
So it would have captured anyone’s imagination to see these two strolling toward the temple, at the same time, to pray. The Pharisee, right and righteous as he was, toots his own horn and thanks God for just how good it is to be a Pharisee. “Thank God I’m not like other people:” he says, “thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.” And the Tax Collector, standing somewhere off in the distance, prays just the opposite. Unable even to raise his eyes toward heaven, beating his breast with shame, guilt and remorse, he begs simply for forgiveness, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”
And I don’t think how or what these two prayed would have been much of a surprise to Jesus’ listeners. Like I said, everyone knew Pharisees did what they were supposed to do, that they followed the rules and towed the line. And everyone knew, too, that tax collectors were sinners and they were probably thrilled to hear of one who felt the weight and shame and guilt of his sins, for a change. But what would have surprised any of Jesus’ listeners – and what I hope surprises us still – is what Jesus has to say about it.
Jesus promises that the tax collector went home justified, forgiven, redeemed, in spite of his sins, and that “all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”
What the grace of God does in this parable, as always, is it levels the playing field on which the Pharisee and the Tax Collector stand. Not only does it bring down the high and mighty, but it raises up the down and out. It exposes the sinfulness of both men and lets the love of God do the rest. And, since you and I don’t come across Pharisees and Tax Collectors in the same way that we might have back in Jesus’ day, we’re invited to fill their shoes with names and faces that might be a little more familiar and meaningful for how and where we live, now.
Like, maybe we need to see a Republican and a Democrat praying on the steps of the temple.
Or a Christian and a Muslim praying alongside one another.
Or a Lutheran and a Catholic, gathered around the communion table.
Or the Right to Lifer and the Pro-Choice advocate; the Black Lives Matter marcher and the Oath Keeper; the divorcing couple; the warring siblings; the bickering neighbors; the disagreeable co-workers.
If tax collectors, for Luke, represent the proverbially prolific sinners of all sinners, and if the Pharisee is the proverbially sanctimonious, self-righteous saint of all saints, we can fill their shoes with any number of stereotypes from our own day and age; from our own life’s experience; from the cast of characters with whom we live and move and breathe, every day; and we might be able to see ourselves as either one of them, on any given day, when we look in the mirror, too; so that we can be challenged and changed by what Jesus tells us today.
Because I learned a new thing this week that gives all of this an entirely different twist. Bear with me, but someone else smarter than me – a guy named Evan Garner, an Episcopal priest who learned it from a professor and theologian named William Brosend – says that the Greek words that get translated most often in this parable as “rather than” are more likely to mean, “alongside.” And this changes EVERYTHING, people.
Because if that’s the case, Jesus actually says, after all of this drama on the steps of the temple between these two unlikely prayers … these proverbial opposites … that one man “went down to his home justified – not rather than, but alongside – the other.” “…this man went down to his home alongside the other!” “the tax collector went down to his home justified alongside the Pharisee.”
Whether figuratively or literally – (I’m not sure they left holding hands and skipping down the street) – but that Pharisee and that tax collector left the temple together as far as God’s grace and mercy were concerned: each humbled, each exalted, each forgiven, each loved, each redeemed, each transformed by the mercy given them both, by the grace they each counted on, prayed for and trusted would come.
And so can we. And so can “they.” And so will we all be, justified by God’s grace, thanks to the power of Jesus’ promise, in the end, that “all those who humble themselves will be exalted. And all those who exalt themselves will be humbled.”
Amen
