What do you mean, Jesus? What’s the difference? In the parable you tell today, it is very clear you take a dim view of the Pharisee making a list in his head of the good things he does and feeling good about it. On the other hand, in your Word recorded in 2 Timothy, the list Paul makes of what he has done is held up as a model for the young evangelist Timothy and for us. I don’t understand.
My prayer around these scriptures this week was very “Oratio.” By that I mean Jesus and I have had a lot of conversation as I let the Gospel today sink into my mind and heart. I am a Myers-Briggs J. That means I like to make plans, lists, and cross things off as they are done. When I check things off at the end of the day, my mental conversation sounds a lot like the Pharisee’s list in Jesus’ parable. Is Jesus preaching this parable to me?
But the apostle Paul also lists off what he has done, “I am already being poured out like a libation, and time of my departure is at hand. I have competed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith. From now on the crown of righteousness awaits me, which the Lord, the just judge, will award to me on that day, and not only me, but to all who have longed for his appearance.”
Certainly, Paul’s accomplishments are greater than those of the unnamed Pharisee who listed, “I fast twice a week, and I pay tithes on my whole income.” But the first reading from Sirach says, “The LORD is a God of justice, who knows no favorites” and “the prayer of the lowly pierces the clouds.” Jesus praises the very lowly tax collector who simply says, “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”
What’s the difference? Let’s look carefully at the readings to see what we can discover.
Pride in Luke and II Timothy
Hmm. This reading from Luke begins, “Jesus addressed this parable to those who were convinced of their own righteousness and despised everyone else.” So this is meant for the self-righteous—those who identify as good, holy people—who perhaps “hunger and thirst after righteousness,” but are also full of their righteousness—maybe too full. Maybe full of pride instead of righteousness.
Meg Funk in Thoughts Matter has some strong words to say about pride, “Pride is the most deadly of thoughts because it tries to conquer the perfect. Pride poisons all my previous work regarding thoughts, all my desires and passions. When I am doing all the right things with regard to food, sex, anger, things, dejection and acedia, I begin to feel that I can accomplish everything on my own (vainglory). With only a slight jump, I can then imagine that I am the engineer of my own destiny and I can determine the destiny of others too.” (p 159)
That definitely sounds like the Pharisee in the parable. It does not sound like Paul. What’s the difference?
Paul begins with “I am already being poured out like a libation.” In Biblical times, just as it was common to give meat to a god by slaughtering an animal and putting it on a fire, it was common to offer wine to a god by pouring it out on the ground. Paul is saying HE IS BEING POURED OUT on the ground as a sacrifice. No, that doesn’t sound like the pride of the Pharisee. In chains in prison, likely awaiting the trial that would lead to his death, Paul is filled with righteousness, but he is not self-righteous. He is not prideful. He says, “I have competed well; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith.” Considering that competing well included spreading the Gospel to Europe, shipwreck, multiple imprisonments, floggings, and being cast out of synagogues and cities while carrying the Gospel to Gentiles—that’s a pretty humble way to look at it.
But There’s More
The more is the role of relationship. The Pharisee “went up to the temple to pray,” but he “spoke his prayer to himself.” He wasn’t talking to God. He was checking off his To Do List. He was self-absorbed, satisfied with what he was doing, resistant to doing more. In fact, he said, “O God, I thank you I am not like the rest of humanity—greedy, dishonest, adulterous—or even like this tax collector.”
He was addressing God, but Jesus makes a point that he wasn’t really talking to God. He was talking to himself, saying in effect, “I am good enough the way I am.”
God didn’t hear that prayer. God doesn’t hear that prayer because that prayer denies God permission to enter into us, to move us to some great or small metanoia (conversion). The Pharisee was saying either “I’m good enough” or “I can do this myself.”
The tax collector in the parable, however, talked to God. Even though he might have been far away from righteousness, he was asking God to enter into him and change him, “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”
Paul’s description is all about his relationship with Jesus and how God is working in him. “I am being poured out.” In fact, he names that righteousness IS GIVEN TO HIM by God: “From now on, the crown of righteousness awaits me, which the Lord, the just judge, will award me…” Paul runs the race, but God gives the righteousness.
And More
God’s work in and through Paul literally forms a cross within him. His relationship with God forms the vertical beam. But he doesn’t stop there. His relationship with Timothy and with those who hurt and abandoned him form the horizontal beam. He writes, “At my first defense no one appeared on my behalf, but everyone deserted me. May in not be held against them! But the Lord stood by me…”
Paul may have demonstrated that he “was not like the rest of humanity,” because he forgave, but there was no pride in himself—only gratitude to Jesus who stood with him in solidarity.
For Me, For Us
Running through a To Do List of virtuous acts in our head is not the issue. The issue is what is the message we are giving ourselves. Are we making an act of thanksgiving, humility, and contrition when we tell God how our day went in evening prayer? Or are we reviewing the day with a tone of “What a good girl (or boy) am I!” Do we go over the day with “I completed the tasks you sent to me, Lord” or with “I sacrificed for you, Lord, and now you owe me” or “well, I sure didn’t act like…, “ then letting our thoughts go to “I thank you I am not like the rest of humanity.” Do we forgive the wounds of the day, or nurse them into the night?
I have to admit that I’m somewhere between the Pharisee and Paul. On retreat last weekend I looked at my evening prayers. Evening is not a good time for me to pray. I asked God for help. I think he gave it to me in the readings this week and the oratio God and I have had.
What’s the difference for you?
Prayer:
Lord, help me make a review of the day with you a daily practice. I check things off my To Do list, but I do not check things out with you in a consistent, humble way. I do not deliberately make an act of forgiveness for any wounds of the day. Give me the energy each evening to say with the tax collector, “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner,” and with Paul “rescue me from every evil threat.” You remind me, Lord, of the final lines from Robert Frost’s poem “The Road Less Traveled,” “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I/I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all difference.”
