The Pharisee and the
Tax Collector, or, There but by the Grace of God go I !
We have all heard it. We have all said it. But like, “God
helps those who help themselves,” is it Biblical?
I don’t think so. As the Chicago Daily News’ Mike Royko
famously used to say, “I may be wrong, but I doubt it!”
The Pharisee is a best understood as a Doctor of the Law,
the “Law” being Torah, the first five books of the Bible: Genesis-Deuteronomy.
Today he might be a professor of Hebrew Scriptures/Old Testament, or a church
Canon Lawyer, or a Divinity School Theologian of some kind. At the time of
Jesus in this little parable, if you had questions regarding the living of
Torah, or what the Hindus might call living your dharma, you would go to your
local Pharisee for a consultation. Despite the negative and adversarial ways in
which New Testament scripture tends to portray them, these were good, respected
citizens dedicated to the study and practice of Israelite religion.
Tax Collectors, on the other hand, were considered, and
indeed were, collaborators with the much hated functionaries of the ironically
termed Pax Romana – a “pax” or peace enforced by repeated acts of brutality on
behalf of the Roman military against the citizens of any and all regions Rome
had conquered in the name of Caesar – whichever one that may be – aka “Caesar
is God.” Tax collectors in the Pax Romana were local citizens tasked with
getting money out of their fellow local citizens by any means – a certain
amount for Rome to feed its endless appetites for commodities and to sustain
the shock troops that kept the local populace under control, and any amount the
tax collector wanted to keep for oneself. The basic problem is that tax
collectors were the man next door whose money collecting system fed the troops
who meted out brutality daily against your other neighbors – crucifixion being
the primary means of “teaching the locals as lesson.” In modern day terms, he
is the equivalent of a Nazi collaborator, a Pol Pot collaborator, or any other
collaborator you might want to put in as a placeholder, keeping in mind this is
not a “chosen profession,” but one placed on his shoulders which, should he
refuse to do it, probably meant instant crucifixion on the side of the road as
a reminder to one and all that this is what happens to those who do not please
Caesar.
So, you have the tax collector, painted by Jesus with
heart-wrenching pathos, truly sorry that he has to be the means by which Rome
makes his fellow citizens suffer on a day-to-day basis, begging God for mercy –
mercy, which Kurt Vonnegut once said in a Palm Sunday Sermon, is the one good
idea we have been given so far; and the Pharisee, who is proclaiming the first
century ce equivalent of, “There but by the grace of God go I.”
Which one best exemplifies what Biblical religion has in
mind?
Never missing the teachable moment, Jesus shocks his first
century listeners by holding up as an example to one and all the man whom
everyone despised – the tax collector. He is the kind of person Torah sets out
to make each and every one of us – a humble servant of the Lord who recognizes
his own failures and asks to be forgiven. Note, he does not justify what he is
doing, he does not defend it, he acknowledges and bewails (great word!) his
shortcomings and begs for the one good idea we have been given so far, mercy.
The rest we can figure out. Except perhaps the heart of the
lesson: to come away thinking ill of the Pharisee is to participate in just the
kind of thinking he represents in the parable – there but by the grace of God
go I. It’s a trap. Neatly set, and we willingly and eagerly spring it on
ourselves nearly every time. For you see, God wants us to be merciful just as
God promises to be merciful. We are to be merciful to the tax collector AND the
Pharisee. Hard work, to be sure, but it is necessary work if we are ever to
experience personally and collectively the emerging Kingdom of God that Jesus
is sent to promote. No one ever said loving our enemies would be easy.
I remember one day serving in a soup kitchen in Baltimore
many years ago. About a hundred or so homeless and nearly homeless people
passing through the serving line one at a time, each stopping to say thank you,
each looking tired but glad to have one hot meal on that day. A colleague of
mine, The Reverend William Rich, turned to me and said, “There by the grace of
God am I.” I hope and pray that I will never forget that moment.
So there you have it. God helps those who help others. There
by the grace of God am I.
Be merciful. It’s the one good idea we have been given so
far!
Amen.
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