Good Guys and Bad
Lord, we pray for the preacher, for you know his sins are
great.
Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father and from
our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
Let’s talk about good guys and bad guys.
In Jesus’ day, the Pharisees were unquestionably the good
guys. They represented tradition, morality, and piety in a world beset by
political and religious turmoil. A century of Roman civil wars had ravaged the Middle
East from Egypt to Iran. A foreigner sat on the throne of Israel, and a
bloodthirsty one at that, while a corrupted and sclerotic Temple priesthood so
disillusioned religious believers that alternate Temple communities were established
at Leontopolis and the wilderness of Judea.
The Pharisees were neither kings nor clergy but faithful
folk who rigorously kept both the written Law of Moses and the oral law that
surrounded it as a hedge against sin. They were scrupulous in their washings,
in their eating, in their charitable giving, and in their vigilance against heresy,
impurity, and spiritual sloth.
They were the moral majority. These were the guys who took
religion seriously, took righteousness seriously, and placed God first in life
and in society. The Pharisees were going to pull Israel up by the bootstraps, and
reestablish the good old days when men were men and Israel was great—the chosen
priestly nation of God.
Tax collectors, meanwhile, were dregs of society. These were
not government functionaries carrying out the will of the people. No, their
crime was treason, traitors to their own kind. As part of the Roman Empire, Israel
was taxed. And the way taxation worked was for the powers that be to select a
local, a turncoat, who was tasked with collecting so much in taxes from a given
population. Rome didn’t care how, and Rome didn’t care how much extra might be
extorted to line the collector’s pockets. It was a system rife with injustice
and abuse—by design.
Imagine then the scandal of the parable that Jesus tells
this morning. Two men go up to the holy Temple to pray: one a pious Pharisee,
zealous for the Law; the other a tax collector who works for an invading,
conquering, gentile, pagan army. And the Pharisee says, “Thank you, God,
that I am not like other men, thieves and rogues and adulterers, or this tax collector
over here; that I fast twice a week and tithe a tenth of my income.” Huzzah. Meanwhile,
the tax collector stands far off, beating his breast in repentance and saying, “God,
be merciful to me, a sinner!”
And Jesus says, “This man, I tell you, went home justified
rather than the other, for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all
who humble themselves will be exalted.” The Word of the Lord.
Now, this would’ve raised the roof 2,000 years ago. They’d
have broken out the pitchforks and the torches. Because this notion, that a tax
collector would be justified before God alongside a Pharisee, is intentionally provocative,
intentionally offensive. It’s meant to shake us up. Jesus is upturning our
expectations, our sense of right and wrong—or at least our sense of moral hierarchy,
of who is better than whom.
And I say that the tax collector is justified “alongside”
the Pharisee because, while our English translation reads, “This man, I tell
you, went home justified rather than
the other,” a more straightforward translation of the Greek would actually be, “this
man went home justified alongside the
other.” Because it’s not just about flipping the script, swapping the good guys
and the bad guys. It’s not just, well, everybody used to think “Pharisees good,
tax collectors bad,” but now Jesus tells us, “tax collectors good, Pharisees
bad.” Oh, no, no. That would be to make the very same error from a different
starting point.
Jesus is being more radical than that. He is implying that there
are not any good guys—that all are sinners before God, and that all,
subsequently, are recipients of unmerited grace. Jesus honestly seems to think
that the Kingdom of God is for everybody, from the snooty self-righteous to the
bottom of the social barrel. It is then the equality of outcome which exalts the
humble and humbles the exalted. And this is what scandalizes Jesus’ audience. Talk
like that gets a man crucified.
Lest we think, however, that today’s story is limited to a
time and a place far removed from our own—to 2,000 years ago and half a world
away—this parable actually speaks quite powerfully to our context today. We
live in an era of resurgent tribalism and ridiculous, uncharitable oversimplification.
We make astounding judgments about other people based on very little
information. We judge people based on their political party, or on their
clothes, or on their job, or on some silly little snippet that they posted on
social media.
And we hate each other for it.
There are, for example, liberals who think that all police
are evil, simply by dint of their being police. And there are conservatives who
write off refugees as criminals and parasites, when their only crime is to have
been driven from their homes. And I want to ask such people, “Really? Have you
met all the police? Have you ever listened to the story of an immigrant fleeing
from violence and injustice?” We cannot reduce persons to mere stereotypes or
snap judgments.
Thanksgiving is coming up. How many of us are looking
forward to sitting down and breaking bread across from relatives with differing
political points of view? Remember when there used to be more to relationships
than simply who you voted for, or which rights we most loudly defend?
We must refrain from writing off other people’s stories so
simplistically; from saying, “We are righteous. We are justified. And these
other people, ugh, I’m so glad I’m not like them.”—whether they’re tax
collectors or Pharisees or Republicans or Democrats or cops or immigrants or
what-have-you.
The bottom line is that the reason Jesus enraged so many people
is because He really did believe, if we take Him at His word, that the Kingdom
of God is for everyone: good guys, bad guys, rich guys, poor guys, Romans, Jews,
everybody. And that is still every bit as scandalous in America today as it was
in Israel back then.
“You mean to tell me that the people with whom I disagree might be right alongside me in the Kingdom of Heaven?” You bet your tuchus
they will be. If hell is other people, then Heaven is as well. And the way we
treat each other, the love and respect that we owe to our fellow human beings,
will determine how we experience eternity when we find ourselves seated
together at the End of the Age, in the great Wedding Feast of the Lamb that
knows no end.
That’s the kind of message that ticks people off. That’s the
kind of message that gets the Son of God crucified. But of course it is also
the message that brings eternal life and resurrection and redemption to the
world. So—thanks be to God for that.
Judge not, lest ye be judged. I’m not talking about
individual actions; there are plenty of individual actions that need to be
judged. But don’t judge people; because there is an infinity within each soul. Every
human person made in the Image of God is a world unto him- or herself,
deserving of compassion, love, and sacrifice.
Because every single person you will ever meet—Jesus died
for them. And if they had been the only person in the entire world, Jesus still
would have gone through all of that passion and suffering and death and rising
again, the Harrowing of Hell and the Hallowing of Heaven, all for that one single
soul. God help us when we write off a child of God as unworthy.
Lord have mercy on the self-righteous, and I being chiefest
of sinners amongst them.
In the Name of the Father and of the +Son and of the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Comments
Post a Comment