Thirtieth
Sunday of Ordinary Time
October 24, 2004
Where
does the Pharisee go wrong in his prayer? (Or how can you tell the good guys
and the bad guys in the gospel?)
It was easy to tell the good guys
and the bad guys in the spaghetti Western’s of our culture. The bad guys
wore black hats, the good guys wore white ones. That made it pretty simple. Look
for the hat and you’ll know. Today’s gospel starts about the same
way. We have the obvious good guy – the Pharisee, and the obvious bad guy
– the Tax Collector, the collaborator with the Roman’s. The prayer
of the Pharisee, ‘to himself’ – which may mean either quietly
or something else – tells us that he is a good guy. He prays in gratitude
– the ‘there but for the grace of God go I’ prayer – that
he is not like others – greedy, dishonest, adulterous. He lists his ‘accomplishments
– fasting 104 times a year when only 1 time was required; and tithing on
ALL his income, not just the profit margin. He’s wearing a white hat, and
wearing it well.
But he makes one mistake with his prayer. For whatever reason, he ‘notices’
the tax collector. He is aware of that other person standing in the back of the
church, and from his position in the front, he makes a judgment on the state of
the tax collector’s soul. And it just kind of slips out into his prayer:
“Thank God that I am not like him…” And in that judgment, it
all goes sour. In the midst of his prayer of thankfulness for all God has allowed
him to do, you get a glimpse of the pride that spills over into judgment, and
all is lost. And you realize suddenly that it is no longer about God, but about
him.
The obvious bad guy – the tax collector (read in our day and age the terrorist,
the quisling, the one who sold his country for money) makes no such pretensions.
Aware of his need for mercy, he simply asks for that mercy. Nothing else. He came
to the temple, seeking mercy and he left living under that mercy. “I tell
you the latter went home justified, not the former…”
The difference between the good guy and the bad guy was not their history of good
deeds – the Pharisee wins that contest hands down. The difference was in
the judgment. The difference was in that insidious attitude, sometimes called
pride, that makes us believe we are better than others, and therefore, can look
down upon others.
Thomas Merton, the monk, wrote a prayer that used to get printed a lot on the
cards that priests gave out upon their ordination. I have found it to be a good
antidote to the tendency to judge that I find sometimes in my own heart.
My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead
of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. (Been there, seen that done
that, still trying to figure it out) Nor do I really know myself, and the fact
that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing
so. (I try, but how do I know? Yet, here is the part that consoles me) But I believe
that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that
desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from
that desire.
As I pray that prayer for myself, it also allows me to believe that prayer about
others. When others disagree with me or I with them, instead of judging them as
wrong or evil or whatever, it gives me the heart of the tax collector. I know
I need God’s mercy. I pray that people will see me, not as perfect or having
it together, but trying to figure out in the unclear road that is ahead how to
do God’s will. And it allows me to see them in the same light – fellow
pilgrims, people trying to do God’s will the best they know how…
Merton concludes his prayer this way. And I know that if I do this you will
lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I
trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will
not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils
alone. Lord, keep us like the tax collector, mindful of the mercy we need
and the mercy we are invited to share. Amen. Amen.