Sermon
In 2018, there was an art exhibit at James Madison University in Virginia by artist painter, Archie Rand. The exhibit was called “The 613 by Archie Rand” and featured 613 paintings, one painting each, for all of the 613 Mitzvot, or 613 commandments that Pharisees must follow.1 The Pharisees were a Jewish religious party that emerged about 160 BCE. They separated themselves from the Sadducees who were a party of the high priesthood that were traditionally the sole leadership of the Jewish people, who based their decision solely on the Written Law of Moses, the Torah. One of the ideas that separated the two Jewish religious parties was the Pharisees' insistence on the binding force of oral tradition, along with the Written law that was given by Moses. This is a basic tenet of Jewish theological thought even today. In our minds, there is every reason to honor this Jewish theological historical development along with all that our Jewish siblings represent.
However, the authors of all of the Biblical writings, including the gospel writers often held up current religious and societal thought processes side-by-side with Jesus' lessons in order to differentiate Jesus' teachings from the norms. In the gospels of Matthew and Mark the Pharisees are hypocrites and broods of vipers. In Luke, the criticism isn't so sharp, but even so, Pharisees are not to be emulated according to the gospels.
Tax collectors on the other hand were, well known as offensive residents of the Roman Empire, who bid for contracts to be part of the Empire's taxation system. They regularly lined their pockets with whatever they could collect over and above any contractual obligations. They were, and I quote, “slimy opportunists and collaborators, willing to victimize their own neighbors while assisting the occupiers. They upheld Roman interests at the expense of the people of God.” Skinner, the commentator I'm quoting, writes, “To collect taxes in places like neighborhoods, highways, markets, and docks, Roman officials enlisted members of the population to bid for contracts. Tax collectors could line their own pockets with whatever they could collect over and above their contractual obligations.” Skinner calls them mobsters, and people who made a living off of denying mercy to others.2
Usually when Jesus tells a parable, the audience, disciples, crowds, temple authorities, you and me, we are supposed to quickly determine the good guy and the bad guy and the lesson is always to try to be the good guy. Today's parable though has two contemporaries, who were considered to both be bad guys. The Pharisee in the parable technically isn't even bragging when he stands apart from others, and tells God that he fasts twice a week and gives a tenth not just of his landholdings earnings, but a tenth of all of his income. These are two of the 613 things a Pharisee would have been required to do.
So what is a modern listener to do? We don't want to be the Pharisee and we don't want to be the Tax Collector. Do we choose the lesser of two evils?
I suggest that we don't choose. I would really have to search my heart to honestly say if I have ever been a tax collector. It would be hard to admit to oneself or anyone else, let alone to God, if we were someone who lived a life like the tax collector. Having a life where my existence was better when other people suffered. A tax collector could finagle his way through his day charging way more than people owed and pocket the extra, day after day after day after day, and end up with a really good life. Nothing in his society would hinder him. A tax collector could change the story to make it look like they didn't do anything wrong.
When I first moved to San Francisco the first time 30 years ago, I was at a cast party for a musical I had played in, at the end of the run and celebrating the show. I was meeting all kinds of new people and getting to know the musicians in the pit a little better. Someday, some of these people would become my friends. One of the new people I met told me about how he was going to a big concert in a park, where people bring picnics and wine, etc. As he was walking through the parking lot he noticed that the back window of the cover on a small pick up truck was open. Inside were several bottles of wine. My (non) friend took one of the bottles of wine, and enjoyed his concert. He didn't even act like he was telling me something off. I said, “You just took it?” “Yes.” “But it wasn't yours!” “Well they shouldn't have left the back of the truck open!” Besides, who did it hurt?
Well, this wasn't going to be one of my new friends! How could he convince himself that what was clearly stealing, wasn't stealing? This self-justifying behavior was his life being better if someone else suffered. Not quite up to the level of stealing as our tax collector in our story. But the idea of doing something wrong, just because you can. Our family knew someone when I was a kid, who knew how to open the cover on the water meter and change the dials, in order to get a favorable less expensive reading when it came time to be billed. Cheating yes, but since our friend knew how to get past the barriers he felt the lower water bill was his due. Besides, who did it hurt?
Well, I'm not a tax collector, I haven't stolen anything from any persons, and I've never broken into a water meter box. How does this parable that includes this tax collector, someone we are so clearly not, have any lesson for us? Why did this tax collector leave the temple and go home, justified, or made whole?
Because it seems, the tax collector “got it.” He was “standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, 'God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” In that moment the tax collector could no longer justify his actions, could no longer set aside the impact his life was having on the community around him. No matter the level of wrong doing or the level of self-deception, once we suddenly (and it almost always is sudden) see what we are doing and the harm we are causing, we get this feeling of “Oh!” It's kind of a feeling of awe, only it's sometimes amazing and a sinking feeling all at the same time. With that feeling, the tax collector did not even approach the place of prayer, and could not even look up to heaven in the typical stance of prayer with hands raised, looking up to heaven. All he could do was cry out for mercy. Much like the people with leprosy who cried out at Jesus' passing, Lord, have mercy on us. Psalm 51, begins, “Have mercy on me” and is likely the psalm the tax collector was quoting. The addition of naming himself a sinner was important.
Parables are made up stories about made up people in made up situations. Jesus told these parables to the disciples, and they are equally alive to us today, because they are a place for us to use our imagination to find lessons that apply to us. The language of Pharisee and tax collector were important because they would have meant something to the audience. We might use language of “politicians” or “The Government” or “IRS” or “the system.” If we were native Americans we might use language like “the colonizers” or “the white people.” If we were black people we might use language like “white supremacy” or “the system.” If we're poor we use language like “corporations” or “government” or “landlords” or “bureaucracy” or “trapped.”
We don't want to be the tax collector because he was a cheat. But we do want to be the tax collector because he was the one who was aware at the moment before God, of who he was and what he was doing and felt burdened by that knowledge, knowing he fell short. He asked for mercy because he knew he needed it.
We don't want to be the Pharisee because he was not humble. But we do want to be the Pharisee because he was being faithful to his rules and tradition, and he did not ask anything from God. But he was self-centered. His prayer was all about him alone and not about the relationship with God. He not only told God what he was already doing right, he even gave himself some more credit for not being like that guy. Not being like thieves or rogues or adulterers, and especially not like that guy, that tax collector. Knowing nothing about “that guy” at all, just that at least I'm not that!
How can we live in our current world as Christians without looking at the rise of dangerous Christian Nationalism and not say “At least I'm not that kind of Christian!” Or see a supposed imperfection in yourself, and compare yourself to someone even more so – a struggling anorexic learning that thin isn't what they thought it meant and saying “at least I'm not like that thin person” or the opposite, a person slowly gaining lots of weight and seeing another person who is large and saying “at least I'm not that big.” Any category we feel worried about can take us to that place. At least I'm not that bad of a cook like that guy. At least I'm not that bad of a driver, like that person. At least I'm not that ugly, that slow, that short, that tall, we can really get carried away.
The Pharisee did a lot right, but didn't connect with God, and judged another who he knew nothing about. The tax collector did a lot wrong in his work collecting taxes, but made an immediate deep heart connection with God.
I know from experience that I am a little bit Pharisee, and a little bit tax collector. I list my good points, I compare myself to someone else to make myself look better, if even only in my head. And I forget that my impact on others is sometimes consequential and I need to repent. I have often discovered that if I say “At least I'm not….something” sure enough, I find that I am that very thing sometimes, or in some ways, or at a later time.
This parable isn't set up for you and I to choose one character and not the other. The fact is, we are a little bit of both at different times. The relationship each character has with themselves in relation to God is honest. The Pharisee is faithful. And the tax collector has courage.
Our tendency to be binary has been more recently shown to be less than helpful. Whether we're talking about our own blessings, or failings, or gender definitions, or abilities, or whether we're constantly thinking that we have to choose between extremes, we have to stop thinking on a spectrum. Every individual and every circumstance and every topic contain so many variables it makes it impossible to make any exact comparisons. We have to start using words like “and” and “also” and “too” and “both” and “us.”
We are individuals yes, but always in relationships so isolationist thinking is no longer helpful. The Pharisee in me who is always faithful needs to go further, expand my thinking, and consider how to use that faithfulness in order to further God's purpose. The tax collector in me needs to look inward and ask for mercy and work to change, also to further God's purpose.
It shouldn't be that hard – I mean, at least we don't have to obey 613 commandments!
Let's pray…
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1 The 613