Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

I remember that as a child I was always puzzled by today’s gospel. Not by its simple message of humility, but by how it was named in those olden days:  the Parable of the Republican and the Pharisee.  Why, I wondered, weren’t the democrats mentioned? As it turned out this is the story of the publican, the Jewish tax collector who worked for the hated Roman occupiers, not the republican followers of Ike or Reagan or either or both of the Bushes.  This close to a contentious election, I’d better stop right now.

Like so many of the parables of Jesus—recall the story of Lazarus and Dives from a few weeks ago, or the Good Samaritan—this story teaches by setting a dichotomy, a contrast between two poles of behavior, represented by two very distinct characters. Here we see two men at the temple in prayer. 

The Pharisee, the learned doctor of the law, stands up tall in the front and says his prayer, praising God that he is not like the rest of fallen humanity. He is righteous, obeys the rules perfectly, pays his tithe and fasts on all the appointed days. Listen to the text: “The Pharisee took up his position, and spoke this prayer to himself.”  While the original Greek means “he murmured the prayer so only he could hear it,” the translation actually tells us the full story:  he spoke this prayer to himself. These prideful words about perfect observance aren’t directed to God, but to himself: he has made an idol of himself, exalted himself to the level of God.

How different is the picture we see of the tax collector.  He was a hated outcast, one who collaborated with the despised Roman occupiers. He collected taxes from his own people to support the oppressors’ regime, probably because he needed a job, and that was what was available. Yet the tax collector went home justified, and the Pharisee did not. Why? Because he acknowledged his sins and failings, acknowledged that he needed only one thing: God’s mercy. He stands far off, and beats his breast: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” And he went home justified. “For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

As the Jubilee of Mercy draws to a close just before Thanksgiving on the feast of Christ the King, it might be good to recall Pope Francis’ reflection on the relationship between justice and mercy from the papal bull that called the Jubilee.

“It would not be out of place at this point to recall the relationship between justice and mercy, Pope Francis wrote. “These are not two contradictory realities, but two dimensions of a single reality that unfolds progressively until it culminates in the fullness of love. Justice is a fundamental concept for civil society, which is meant to be governed by the rule of law. Justice is also understood as that which is rightly due to each individual.”  So far, so good.  He then goes on to remind us that the legalism of the Pharisees was the opposite of the true meaning of Justice, which is “the faithful abandonment of oneself to God’s will.”

Jesus, Pope Francis reminds us, ate with sinners and tax collectors and prostitutes. The core of his teaching is anti-pharisaical: “I have come not to call the righteous, but sinners.”. Francis writes “Faced with a vision of justice as the mere observance of the law that judges people simply by dividing them into two groups – the just and sinners – Jesus is bent on revealing the great gift of mercy that searches out sinners and offers them pardon and salvation. One can see why, on the basis of such a liberating vision of mercy as a source of new life, Jesus was rejected by the Pharisees and the other teachers of the law.”

           “Mercy, he reminds us, “is not opposed to justice but rather expresses God’s way of reaching out to the sinner, offering him a new chance to look at himself, convert, and believe. Experience shows that an appeal to justice alone will result in its destruction. This is why God goes beyond justice with his mercy and forgiveness. Yet this does not mean that justice should be devalued or rendered superfluous. On the contrary: anyone who makes a mistake must pay the price. However, this is just the beginning of conversion, not its end, because one begins to feel the tenderness and mercy of God. God does not deny justice. He rather envelopes it and surpasses it with an even greater event in which we experience love as the foundation of true justice. God’s justice is his mercy given to everyone as a grace that flows from the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Thus the Cross of Christ is God’s judgment on all of us and on the whole world, because through it he offers us the certitude of love and new life.

“For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

“Go and do the same,” Jesus tells us; “Go and do the same.”

Fr. Thomas Lucas, S.J.