Proper 25/Pentecost 23/Ordinary Time 30
Preaching
Lectionary Preaching Workbook
Series VII, Cycle C
Object:
Theme For The Day
We, who are recipients of God's mercy, cannot begrudge others their own experience of mercy.
Old Testament Lesson
Joel 2:23-32
The Lord Relents, Blessing Israel
Having spoken in the early verses of this chapter of the catastrophe of a locust infestation, now the Lord relents, promising peace and plenty. The turning point has been verses 12-17, the invitation to repent and "return [to the Lord] with all your heart" (v. 12). Now, in verses 23-32, the Lord, speaking through the prophet, catalogues all the many ways the people will be blessed for their repentance: "the threshing floors shall be full of grain" (v. 24). More than this, the people are blessed not only with material wealth, but with the very presence of the Lord, who is dwelling in their midst (v. 27).
New Testament Lesson
2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18
I Have Fought The Good Fight
This lesson is composed of two distinct parts: The author's acknowledgment that he has "fought the good fight ... finished the race ... kept the faith" (vv. 6-8) and his confession of absolute dependence on the Lord, who stood by and defended him in his hour of trial, and will do so again (vv. 16-18). The omitted material in between has to do with some very specific messages and instructions to particular individuals. This material has little homiletical significance, but is of great historical interest, for it provides a snapshot of day-to-day community life in the early church. Some preachers will want to include the omitted text in the reading, because of its historical interest and in order to maintain textual unity. Whether verses 9-15 are omitted or included, a sermon on this passage will likely deal with just one or two verses lifted from it, since the reading as a whole is so disjointed.
The Gospel
Luke 18:9-14
The Pharisee And The Tax Collector
Many of Jesus' parables reflect a vivid awareness of class divisions in first-century society, and how the coming reign of God will level all such divisions. Such was the case in last week's Parable of the Unjust Judge, and the same is true of this reading that follows immediately after it. Jesus draws a sharp contrast between the proud Pharisee, who ostentatiously prays in public for all to see, and the humble, contrite tax collector, who quietly begs for mercy from God. In choosing a tax collector for this second role in his story, Jesus is deliberately evoking sentiments of contempt and judgment in his listeners, for such would have been the reaction of devout Jews of his day to tax collectors, who were hated collaborators with the Roman authorities. Yet so powerful is the leveling effect of God's reign that even these prejudices will be swept aside. All that matters is the condition of the individual heart before God. In this assessment, the tax collector comes off looking better than the Pharisee.
Preaching Possibilities
Who's in -- and who's out? It's a question that consumes the minds of many and not just the readers of the entertainment tabloids, either, with their stories of the rise and fall of members of Hollywood's elite. There are some who are led to speculate as to who's in or out of God's favor.
Jesus tells a story of someone who was caught up in that kind of thinking, here in the eighteenth chapter of Luke. A Pharisee is standing in a prominent place in the middle of the temple. He's praying. "God," he intones -- in his well-practiced, resonant, "stained glass" voice -- "I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers ... or even like that tax collector standing over there."
At that very same moment, the tax collector is almost obscured behind a pillar. He's making no public display of his attendance at the temple. All he can do is gaze blankly at his feet, his tears falling down in big, wet drops upon his sandals. "God," he gasps out, "be merciful to me, a sinner!"
"I tell you," says Jesus, "this man went down to his home justified rather than the other."
It's a parable of reversal. This story turns the usual standards of human society on their head. Jesus' listeners would never have expected the story to turn out the way it does. They would have expected their teacher to say exactly the opposite. Everyone knows Jesus has his quarrels with the Pharisees, but, at the end of the day, even he has to admit they're pretty good at the righteousness business. There's no one can keep the Law like a Pharisee.
"I fast twice a week," boasts this particular Pharisee. "I give a tenth of all my income." Add those accomplishments to the huge collection of ritual laws that this man keeps with scrupulous precision, and you've got a holy heavy hitter, a spiritual slugger, a veritable Babe Ruth of biblical law.
Standing off to the side is the tax collector: perhaps the most hated and reviled member of Jewish society. Remember that Israel, in this era, is not independent. It's a colony of Rome, a nation under military occupation. The people groan and stagger under the tax burdens of King Herod, and of the emperor. Israel has no Internal Revenue Service. There's no body of tax law whose goal it is to insure a modicum of fairness. No, all Israel has is a network of freelance tax collectors: turncoat Jews working for the king and for Rome, whose job it is to scrounge as many shekels as they can possibly extort. Each tax collector has an assessment to meet. Whatever he can collect, over and above the assessment, is his commission and there's no limit to it.
In this respect, it's a license to steal. The first-century tax collector is kind of like the sheriff of Nottingham, in the Robin Hood stories. He's a figure of immense power, who's widely hated and feared. What he does for a living is just this side of treason, but there's no one who can stop him.
So, knowing what we do about Pharisees and tax collectors, it's hard to imagine Jesus' listeners expecting any answer other than, "The Pharisee is justified before God, but that sorry tax collector had better mean what he says, or it's the lake of fire for him!" So, when Jesus declares that the tax collector is justified and the Pharisee is not, he's truly turning the tables. Many of us can remember, as children, getting into roughhousing games and wrestling matches with other neighborhood kids. Usually these matches ended up with one child sitting on top of the other (perhaps aided and abetted by several others). The wrestling -- or the tickling -- would continue, until the one on the bottom uttered the magic word.
The word was "Uncle." It didn't matter how you said it: whispered, shouted, breathless, laughing -- as soon as that word made it out of the mouth, the fight was over. Everyone would get up, brush themselves off, maybe even shake hands (if they were following the Marquess of Queensbury rules).
"Uncle" means something very similar to "Mercy." It means, "I'm beat, it's over. I'm pinned, I can't recover." It means, "I can no longer help myself, so you help me, please."
"Uncle" -- or "Mercy!" -- is the very prayer the tax collector is uttering in the temple. Who knows what he's been going through in his life, how he's happened to hit rock-bottom, what depth of repentance has brought him to this place? Yet, as Jesus spins the story, he leaves no doubt that the tax collector's repentance is genuine. There's not a lot more the tax collector can add, to that simple statement. "God, be merciful to me, a sinner!" says it all.
God is merciful. That's something we can all count on in life. Jesus went to the cross, so we could fully realize that quality of God. When it comes to those times in our lives, when we have made serious mistakes, we can repent and rely on God's promised mercy. We've come to trust that God's mercy is available to us, and that it's going to continue to be there, reliably, in the future.
Yet when it comes to others, the situation often appears very different. Not all of us are so eager to see mercy offered when the offense is public, and grievous -- or, more to the point, if we ourselves are the ones who have been wronged.
There's nothing fair or just about mercy. By its very definition, mercy is a stepping back from the demands of justice, a calling off of the howling bloodhounds, an allowing of the fugitive to go free. Mercy is entirely the prerogative of the pardoning authority. It has nothing to do with how much, or how deeply, the offender has pleaded, or begged, or repented. It has only to do with the ruler's desire to be compassionate, and forgiving.
Notice that the tax collector, in our story, supplies no reasons why he should receive mercy. He makes not a single argument in his own defense. Unlike the Pharisee -- who's busily preparing a legal brief, listing his life's achievements in full detail -- the tax collector simply sobs, and beats his breast. He knows sin has beaten him yet again. He knows he doesn't have it in him to beat sin on his own. He knows he has but one alternative, to turn to a higher power: "God, be merciful to me, a sinner!"
The lesson the Pharisee in our parable has yet to learn is that everyone -- himself included -- is dependent on God's mercy. Because the Pharisee turns a blind eye to mercy, he's also blind to the similarities between himself and the tax collector. Both are human beings. Both are sinners in need of grace. Yet this Pharisee has erected an imposing wall of righteousness (or, more precisely, self-righteousness) that separates him from his neighbor. The only relationship he has with the tax collector is to notice him from afar, and to thank God that he has not been created as one of those dreadful people.
What the Pharisee fails to realize is a vitally important truth of faith: that, in drawing near to God, we also draw near to each other. In her book, Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith, Kathleen Norris tells of a sixth-century monk, named Dorotheus of Gaza, who envisioned our lives as arranged around God, as points on the edge of a circle. God is the center of the circle, and there are lines, like rays of the sun, constantly emanating from God toward us. For us to journey closer to God means that, of necessity, we also move closer to each other -- to sisters and brothers in the faith who are likewise arrayed around the edge of the circle.
These neighbors are at various stages in their own life's journey -- which includes their own journey toward God. Yet it matters not how far advanced they may be, personally. For it's a simple fact of geometry that any movement from the edge of a circle toward its center is a movement closer to every other point.
Every movement you or I make toward God, no matter how limited or experimental it may be, brings us closer to others. It is simply impossible to move closer to God, while at the same time continuing to praise God -- as the Pharisee does -- for making us superior to our neighbors. There can be no superiority among those who depend on God's mercy.
Prayer For The Day
Mark the milestones of your mercy and love, God;
Rebuild the ancient landmarks!
Forget that I sowed wild oats;
Mark me with the sign of your love.
Plan only the best for me, God!
Keep up your reputation, God;
Forgive my bad life;
It's been a very bad life.
Look at me and help me!
I'm all alone and in big trouble.
Take a hard look at my life of hard labor,
Then lift this ton of sin. Amen.
-- Psalm 25:6-8, 11, 16, 18, from Eugene Peterson, The Message: The Bible in Contemporary Language (Colorado Springs: Navpress, 2002)
To Illustrate
It has been said that there are two kinds of people who pray: those who pray because it is the right thing to do, and those who pray because their lives depend on it.
***
Once upon a time, there was a preacher who died and went to heaven. As he found himself standing before the Pearly Gates, waiting in line to meet Saint Peter, he wasn't worried. He knew he'd lived a virtuous life. Under his arm, he had even contrived to carry into heaven a notebook containing forty years' worth of sermon manuscripts (typed and double-spaced) -- not to mention a selection of elegantly written pulpit prayers for all occasions. If anyone were "in," before he even got to the Pearly Gates (or so the preacher thought to himself), it had to be him.
Standing just behind the preacher in line was another man, who had died at practically the same moment. This man was a New York City cab driver. He carried with him no sheaf of sermon manuscripts. He wore no pulpit robe. All he had in his possession was his worn-out taxi driver's medallion.
When the two of them got to Saint Peter's desk, the apostle took one look at the preacher and said, "Oh, it's you." And with that, he handed the man a huge pile of admission forms, to be filled out in triplicate -- and along with them a cheap ballpoint pen that had the words "Heavenly Property: Do Not Remove" stenciled on one side, in gold letters.
Then Saint Peter glanced over at the cab driver. As soon as he saw the man's face, his eyes lit up. "It's you -- at last! We've been waiting for you for a very long time!" And with that, the old apostle walked out from behind his desk, put his arm around the taxi driver's shoulder, and personally escorted the man through the Pearly Gates into the wonders of the heavenly places.
When Saint Peter emerged again into the waiting room, it was to see the preacher standing there, dumbfounded, his sheaf of sermon manuscripts (complete with elegantly written pulpit prayers for all occasions) now scattered in a heap at his feet. "Sir, I'd like to lodge a complaint," the preacher objected, as politely as he could manage. "I've given my whole life to the Lord's service, and what reward do I get but to stand at the Pearly Gates and see a mere cab driver escorted into heaven ahead of me!"
"Oh, don't worry," answered Saint Peter. "You'll get in. You just don't understand about that other man. The simple truth is, in just one day's drive around Manhattan, he could inspire more prayers than you did in a lifetime!"
***
The Pharisee's prayer may sound prideful (or even arrogant) to our ears, but to Jesus' listeners it would have sounded all too familiar. This is how Pharisees are supposed to pray. There are even a few examples of this sort of prayer that have come down to us. Here's one, from the Babylonian Talmud:
I thank you, O Lord, that you have given me my place with those who sit in the seat of learning, and not those who sit at the street corners; for I am early to work, and they are early to work; I am early to work on the words of the Torah, and they are early to work on things of no moment. I weary myself and they weary themselves. I weary myself and profit thereby, while they weary themselves to no profit. I run and they run; I run toward the life of the Age to Come, and they run toward the pit of destruction.
If that doesn't sound righteous enough, then try this one:
Rabbi Judah said: One must utter three praises every day: Praised [be the Lord] that He did not make me a heathen, for all the heathen are as nothing before Him; praised be He, that He did not make me a woman, for woman is not under obligation to fulfill the law; praised be He that He did not make me ... an uneducated man, for the uneducated man is not cautious to avoid sins.
***
Jesus tells another parable that makes a similar point. It's about some laborers in a vineyard. One of these laborers works all day, another works half a day, and a third comes rolling in only in the last few minutes. When all three empty out their pay envelopes, at the end of the day, they discover, to their amazement, that each one has been paid exactly the same.
"Now just you wait a minute," the first laborer says to the boss, as soon as he can hike over to the field office with his complaint. "I worked all day; I got paid. He worked a half-hour, yet he got exactly the same amount I got. Now I ask you, boss, is that fair?"
The big boss dismisses the first worker's complaint. This worker, he replies, has received exactly the pay he's been promised: not a penny more nor less. Is it any business of that first worker if the boss decides to take mercy on his poor fellow worker, and give him extra money to feed his hungry children?
That's the way mercy works. It's not deserved at all. It's a gift: an utterly free and unexpected gift.
***
There's an old legend that says when God decided to create the world, God called in Justice. And God said to Justice, "Go and rule this earth which I am about to create."
But, it didn't work out. God tried -- seven times -- to create a world ruled effectively by Justice, but each creation was a failure. It had to be destroyed.
Finally, on the eighth attempt, God tried something different. This time, God called in Mercy. And God said to Mercy, "Go, and together with Justice, rule the world that I am about to create, because a world ruled only by Justice cannot work." And behold, this creation was good.
We, who are recipients of God's mercy, cannot begrudge others their own experience of mercy.
Old Testament Lesson
Joel 2:23-32
The Lord Relents, Blessing Israel
Having spoken in the early verses of this chapter of the catastrophe of a locust infestation, now the Lord relents, promising peace and plenty. The turning point has been verses 12-17, the invitation to repent and "return [to the Lord] with all your heart" (v. 12). Now, in verses 23-32, the Lord, speaking through the prophet, catalogues all the many ways the people will be blessed for their repentance: "the threshing floors shall be full of grain" (v. 24). More than this, the people are blessed not only with material wealth, but with the very presence of the Lord, who is dwelling in their midst (v. 27).
New Testament Lesson
2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18
I Have Fought The Good Fight
This lesson is composed of two distinct parts: The author's acknowledgment that he has "fought the good fight ... finished the race ... kept the faith" (vv. 6-8) and his confession of absolute dependence on the Lord, who stood by and defended him in his hour of trial, and will do so again (vv. 16-18). The omitted material in between has to do with some very specific messages and instructions to particular individuals. This material has little homiletical significance, but is of great historical interest, for it provides a snapshot of day-to-day community life in the early church. Some preachers will want to include the omitted text in the reading, because of its historical interest and in order to maintain textual unity. Whether verses 9-15 are omitted or included, a sermon on this passage will likely deal with just one or two verses lifted from it, since the reading as a whole is so disjointed.
The Gospel
Luke 18:9-14
The Pharisee And The Tax Collector
Many of Jesus' parables reflect a vivid awareness of class divisions in first-century society, and how the coming reign of God will level all such divisions. Such was the case in last week's Parable of the Unjust Judge, and the same is true of this reading that follows immediately after it. Jesus draws a sharp contrast between the proud Pharisee, who ostentatiously prays in public for all to see, and the humble, contrite tax collector, who quietly begs for mercy from God. In choosing a tax collector for this second role in his story, Jesus is deliberately evoking sentiments of contempt and judgment in his listeners, for such would have been the reaction of devout Jews of his day to tax collectors, who were hated collaborators with the Roman authorities. Yet so powerful is the leveling effect of God's reign that even these prejudices will be swept aside. All that matters is the condition of the individual heart before God. In this assessment, the tax collector comes off looking better than the Pharisee.
Preaching Possibilities
Who's in -- and who's out? It's a question that consumes the minds of many and not just the readers of the entertainment tabloids, either, with their stories of the rise and fall of members of Hollywood's elite. There are some who are led to speculate as to who's in or out of God's favor.
Jesus tells a story of someone who was caught up in that kind of thinking, here in the eighteenth chapter of Luke. A Pharisee is standing in a prominent place in the middle of the temple. He's praying. "God," he intones -- in his well-practiced, resonant, "stained glass" voice -- "I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers ... or even like that tax collector standing over there."
At that very same moment, the tax collector is almost obscured behind a pillar. He's making no public display of his attendance at the temple. All he can do is gaze blankly at his feet, his tears falling down in big, wet drops upon his sandals. "God," he gasps out, "be merciful to me, a sinner!"
"I tell you," says Jesus, "this man went down to his home justified rather than the other."
It's a parable of reversal. This story turns the usual standards of human society on their head. Jesus' listeners would never have expected the story to turn out the way it does. They would have expected their teacher to say exactly the opposite. Everyone knows Jesus has his quarrels with the Pharisees, but, at the end of the day, even he has to admit they're pretty good at the righteousness business. There's no one can keep the Law like a Pharisee.
"I fast twice a week," boasts this particular Pharisee. "I give a tenth of all my income." Add those accomplishments to the huge collection of ritual laws that this man keeps with scrupulous precision, and you've got a holy heavy hitter, a spiritual slugger, a veritable Babe Ruth of biblical law.
Standing off to the side is the tax collector: perhaps the most hated and reviled member of Jewish society. Remember that Israel, in this era, is not independent. It's a colony of Rome, a nation under military occupation. The people groan and stagger under the tax burdens of King Herod, and of the emperor. Israel has no Internal Revenue Service. There's no body of tax law whose goal it is to insure a modicum of fairness. No, all Israel has is a network of freelance tax collectors: turncoat Jews working for the king and for Rome, whose job it is to scrounge as many shekels as they can possibly extort. Each tax collector has an assessment to meet. Whatever he can collect, over and above the assessment, is his commission and there's no limit to it.
In this respect, it's a license to steal. The first-century tax collector is kind of like the sheriff of Nottingham, in the Robin Hood stories. He's a figure of immense power, who's widely hated and feared. What he does for a living is just this side of treason, but there's no one who can stop him.
So, knowing what we do about Pharisees and tax collectors, it's hard to imagine Jesus' listeners expecting any answer other than, "The Pharisee is justified before God, but that sorry tax collector had better mean what he says, or it's the lake of fire for him!" So, when Jesus declares that the tax collector is justified and the Pharisee is not, he's truly turning the tables. Many of us can remember, as children, getting into roughhousing games and wrestling matches with other neighborhood kids. Usually these matches ended up with one child sitting on top of the other (perhaps aided and abetted by several others). The wrestling -- or the tickling -- would continue, until the one on the bottom uttered the magic word.
The word was "Uncle." It didn't matter how you said it: whispered, shouted, breathless, laughing -- as soon as that word made it out of the mouth, the fight was over. Everyone would get up, brush themselves off, maybe even shake hands (if they were following the Marquess of Queensbury rules).
"Uncle" means something very similar to "Mercy." It means, "I'm beat, it's over. I'm pinned, I can't recover." It means, "I can no longer help myself, so you help me, please."
"Uncle" -- or "Mercy!" -- is the very prayer the tax collector is uttering in the temple. Who knows what he's been going through in his life, how he's happened to hit rock-bottom, what depth of repentance has brought him to this place? Yet, as Jesus spins the story, he leaves no doubt that the tax collector's repentance is genuine. There's not a lot more the tax collector can add, to that simple statement. "God, be merciful to me, a sinner!" says it all.
God is merciful. That's something we can all count on in life. Jesus went to the cross, so we could fully realize that quality of God. When it comes to those times in our lives, when we have made serious mistakes, we can repent and rely on God's promised mercy. We've come to trust that God's mercy is available to us, and that it's going to continue to be there, reliably, in the future.
Yet when it comes to others, the situation often appears very different. Not all of us are so eager to see mercy offered when the offense is public, and grievous -- or, more to the point, if we ourselves are the ones who have been wronged.
There's nothing fair or just about mercy. By its very definition, mercy is a stepping back from the demands of justice, a calling off of the howling bloodhounds, an allowing of the fugitive to go free. Mercy is entirely the prerogative of the pardoning authority. It has nothing to do with how much, or how deeply, the offender has pleaded, or begged, or repented. It has only to do with the ruler's desire to be compassionate, and forgiving.
Notice that the tax collector, in our story, supplies no reasons why he should receive mercy. He makes not a single argument in his own defense. Unlike the Pharisee -- who's busily preparing a legal brief, listing his life's achievements in full detail -- the tax collector simply sobs, and beats his breast. He knows sin has beaten him yet again. He knows he doesn't have it in him to beat sin on his own. He knows he has but one alternative, to turn to a higher power: "God, be merciful to me, a sinner!"
The lesson the Pharisee in our parable has yet to learn is that everyone -- himself included -- is dependent on God's mercy. Because the Pharisee turns a blind eye to mercy, he's also blind to the similarities between himself and the tax collector. Both are human beings. Both are sinners in need of grace. Yet this Pharisee has erected an imposing wall of righteousness (or, more precisely, self-righteousness) that separates him from his neighbor. The only relationship he has with the tax collector is to notice him from afar, and to thank God that he has not been created as one of those dreadful people.
What the Pharisee fails to realize is a vitally important truth of faith: that, in drawing near to God, we also draw near to each other. In her book, Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith, Kathleen Norris tells of a sixth-century monk, named Dorotheus of Gaza, who envisioned our lives as arranged around God, as points on the edge of a circle. God is the center of the circle, and there are lines, like rays of the sun, constantly emanating from God toward us. For us to journey closer to God means that, of necessity, we also move closer to each other -- to sisters and brothers in the faith who are likewise arrayed around the edge of the circle.
These neighbors are at various stages in their own life's journey -- which includes their own journey toward God. Yet it matters not how far advanced they may be, personally. For it's a simple fact of geometry that any movement from the edge of a circle toward its center is a movement closer to every other point.
Every movement you or I make toward God, no matter how limited or experimental it may be, brings us closer to others. It is simply impossible to move closer to God, while at the same time continuing to praise God -- as the Pharisee does -- for making us superior to our neighbors. There can be no superiority among those who depend on God's mercy.
Prayer For The Day
Mark the milestones of your mercy and love, God;
Rebuild the ancient landmarks!
Forget that I sowed wild oats;
Mark me with the sign of your love.
Plan only the best for me, God!
Keep up your reputation, God;
Forgive my bad life;
It's been a very bad life.
Look at me and help me!
I'm all alone and in big trouble.
Take a hard look at my life of hard labor,
Then lift this ton of sin. Amen.
-- Psalm 25:6-8, 11, 16, 18, from Eugene Peterson, The Message: The Bible in Contemporary Language (Colorado Springs: Navpress, 2002)
To Illustrate
It has been said that there are two kinds of people who pray: those who pray because it is the right thing to do, and those who pray because their lives depend on it.
***
Once upon a time, there was a preacher who died and went to heaven. As he found himself standing before the Pearly Gates, waiting in line to meet Saint Peter, he wasn't worried. He knew he'd lived a virtuous life. Under his arm, he had even contrived to carry into heaven a notebook containing forty years' worth of sermon manuscripts (typed and double-spaced) -- not to mention a selection of elegantly written pulpit prayers for all occasions. If anyone were "in," before he even got to the Pearly Gates (or so the preacher thought to himself), it had to be him.
Standing just behind the preacher in line was another man, who had died at practically the same moment. This man was a New York City cab driver. He carried with him no sheaf of sermon manuscripts. He wore no pulpit robe. All he had in his possession was his worn-out taxi driver's medallion.
When the two of them got to Saint Peter's desk, the apostle took one look at the preacher and said, "Oh, it's you." And with that, he handed the man a huge pile of admission forms, to be filled out in triplicate -- and along with them a cheap ballpoint pen that had the words "Heavenly Property: Do Not Remove" stenciled on one side, in gold letters.
Then Saint Peter glanced over at the cab driver. As soon as he saw the man's face, his eyes lit up. "It's you -- at last! We've been waiting for you for a very long time!" And with that, the old apostle walked out from behind his desk, put his arm around the taxi driver's shoulder, and personally escorted the man through the Pearly Gates into the wonders of the heavenly places.
When Saint Peter emerged again into the waiting room, it was to see the preacher standing there, dumbfounded, his sheaf of sermon manuscripts (complete with elegantly written pulpit prayers for all occasions) now scattered in a heap at his feet. "Sir, I'd like to lodge a complaint," the preacher objected, as politely as he could manage. "I've given my whole life to the Lord's service, and what reward do I get but to stand at the Pearly Gates and see a mere cab driver escorted into heaven ahead of me!"
"Oh, don't worry," answered Saint Peter. "You'll get in. You just don't understand about that other man. The simple truth is, in just one day's drive around Manhattan, he could inspire more prayers than you did in a lifetime!"
***
The Pharisee's prayer may sound prideful (or even arrogant) to our ears, but to Jesus' listeners it would have sounded all too familiar. This is how Pharisees are supposed to pray. There are even a few examples of this sort of prayer that have come down to us. Here's one, from the Babylonian Talmud:
I thank you, O Lord, that you have given me my place with those who sit in the seat of learning, and not those who sit at the street corners; for I am early to work, and they are early to work; I am early to work on the words of the Torah, and they are early to work on things of no moment. I weary myself and they weary themselves. I weary myself and profit thereby, while they weary themselves to no profit. I run and they run; I run toward the life of the Age to Come, and they run toward the pit of destruction.
If that doesn't sound righteous enough, then try this one:
Rabbi Judah said: One must utter three praises every day: Praised [be the Lord] that He did not make me a heathen, for all the heathen are as nothing before Him; praised be He, that He did not make me a woman, for woman is not under obligation to fulfill the law; praised be He that He did not make me ... an uneducated man, for the uneducated man is not cautious to avoid sins.
***
Jesus tells another parable that makes a similar point. It's about some laborers in a vineyard. One of these laborers works all day, another works half a day, and a third comes rolling in only in the last few minutes. When all three empty out their pay envelopes, at the end of the day, they discover, to their amazement, that each one has been paid exactly the same.
"Now just you wait a minute," the first laborer says to the boss, as soon as he can hike over to the field office with his complaint. "I worked all day; I got paid. He worked a half-hour, yet he got exactly the same amount I got. Now I ask you, boss, is that fair?"
The big boss dismisses the first worker's complaint. This worker, he replies, has received exactly the pay he's been promised: not a penny more nor less. Is it any business of that first worker if the boss decides to take mercy on his poor fellow worker, and give him extra money to feed his hungry children?
That's the way mercy works. It's not deserved at all. It's a gift: an utterly free and unexpected gift.
***
There's an old legend that says when God decided to create the world, God called in Justice. And God said to Justice, "Go and rule this earth which I am about to create."
But, it didn't work out. God tried -- seven times -- to create a world ruled effectively by Justice, but each creation was a failure. It had to be destroyed.
Finally, on the eighth attempt, God tried something different. This time, God called in Mercy. And God said to Mercy, "Go, and together with Justice, rule the world that I am about to create, because a world ruled only by Justice cannot work." And behold, this creation was good.
