Which are you – a Pharisee or a Tax Collector?

This is a tricky parable for Christians – the Pharisee and the Tax Collector. I had to ask myself an uncomfortable question – which one was I like?

The awkward question is, do we try to appear holy and righteous, forgetting that God sees us for who we are?

Or are we humble and transparent before God and others, admitting that we are fallen people?

I was a rebellious child. My mum still tells people that as a toddler I would constantly say, “I will do it my way.” In those spanking days, I smarted a lot! Growing up, my slightly non-conformist behaviour, or my “outrageous” (knee-length) skirts would be challenged with: “What would neighbours think?” Given my philosophy of “I’ll do it my way,” my response was “I don’t care!”

As a teenager I started to follow Christ. However, I acquired an unfortunate characteristic. While I genuinely tried to be holy and righteous, I also worked at being seen as a good Christian – praying the right prayers, learning spiritual phrases and a tone of voice, working out how to behave in Christian fellowship. I never realised, back then, how much my appearance of spirituality and holiness mattered to me; how I looked down on my friends who went to wild parties or had secret boyfriends, or those who smoked, or drank. I had quite a lot of Pharisee in me! I was holy, they were sinful.

I also turned myself into the quiet, docile Christian woman I thought I should be. Paul laughed disbelievingly when I told him this. Thankfully, during my university years and afterwards, I recovered from this lapse. Although I cared about what God thought, my attitude of “I don’t care what others think,” resurfaced – and has never left me since.
 

Luke points out that Jesus told this parable to people who “trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.” The Amplified Bible, which expands the meaning of the Greek text, tells us that the Pharisee was “posing outwardly as upright and in right standing with God.” And adds “the Pharisee stood ostentatiously, and began praying to himself, in a self-righteous way, saying: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of men… swindlers, unjust, dishonest, adulterers, or even like that tax collector. I fast twice a week, I pay tithes….’” I am curious – Did he think that God was impressed?

There is line from a poem by T. S. Eliot that I love:  

“There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;”

“Preparing a face, to meet the faces we meet,” could be the mantra for our society, couldn’t it? Appearance matters immensely. In our politics today, politicians “prepare their faces” for the faces they meet – so much so, that we don’t really know who they are any more. We tidy our homes for visitors, because we want them to think well of us. We are conscious of our appearance because we want respect and admiration. People constantly display their “best life!” on Social media platforms, like Facebook and Instagram. But this false culture of admiration and approval of others exacts a terrible price. For many, an abiding anxiety that they don’t look good enough – and for teenagers, the devastation of bullying, victimisation and suicides.

We often do “prepare faces to meet the faces” we meet as we go about our world. We can be the grumpiest at home, but the most charming when we get to church – can’t we? If you’re a fan of Father Ted you will know the couple who fought furiously, and switched on the charm as soon as Father Ted appeared. We are many people within us. My clergy apparel might give an illusion of holiness and saintliness (or perhaps it doesn’t!), but my husband will tell you that he is privileged to see other “faces:” Grumpy, Sleepy, Dopey, Sad… Raging.

The irony of the parable is that the Pharisees saw themselves so differently to how Jesus saw them. Earlier in Luke’s gospel, in Chapter 11, when Jesus was invited for dinner by a Pharisee, the conversation took a dark turn. The Pharisee was shocked that Jesus hadn’t ritually washed himself. Jesus’ response to him and the other Pharisees was “Woe to you Pharisees – you make the outside of the cup clean, but the inside is full of greed and wickedness; Woe to you Pharisees – you tithe religiously, but ignore justice and the love of God. Woe to you Pharisees – you love the best seats in the synagogue and the greetings in the market places.” The relationship between the Pharisees and Jesus went somewhat downhill after that.

But what about the Tax Collector?

Tax Collectors in Jesus’ time had a lot to repent of; or so people felt. They were hated. The Romans’ privatised tax system auctioned the contracts to wealthy entrepreneurs, who paid the Romans out of their own wealth, and then extorted as much money as they could from the Jews. Stereotypically greedy, Tax Collectors were cruel profiteers who abused the public. We see parallels in today’s society: millionaire landlords who exploit their tenants; loan sharks; utilities increasing tariffs and banks reducing savings rates when you’re not looking; investment bankers who gamble with people’s pensions, expecting the state to bail them out when it goes wrong. People skilled in siphoning money from the vulnerable. In fact, in the Gospels, tax collectors and sinners are mentioned in the same breath. 

But in the parable, the tax collector’s self-awareness, honesty humility, and transparency stand out. His repentance is public and genuine. He doesn’t even turn his eyes to heaven, he beats his breast with sorrow. His confession foreshadows the story of tax collector Zacchaeus in the next chapter. That same outflowing of repentance and humility, a desire to make amends.

The conclusion of the parable is pretty straightforward. The tax collector went home justified rather than the Pharisee. Because, says Jesus, those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted. This is a theme that reappears throughout the NT because in God’s upside down kingdom, things are very different.

The parable asks us the question – are we like the Pharisee or the Tax Collector?

Doesn’t Jesus’ description of the Pharisees fit us – church people – sometimes? Don’t we Christians regard ourselves as righteous? Don’t we sometimes have contempt for others – for their morals, their choices, their appearance, their behaviour, their attitudes? We too pose as outwardly righteous, with a right standing with God. We too wear spiritual faces like the Pharisee does, forgetting that Christ looks past them into our hearts? 


Should we not care more about how God sees us!

I love our beautiful Eucharist liturgy that opens with the collect for purity, and leads us to confession:

“Almighty God, to whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hidden – Cleanse…”

We need this reminder – that we are naked before God, that he sees us as we truly are, and we need his cleansing. We then turn to Confession, that moment when we need the heart of the tax collector.

“Our heavenly Father, we have sinned in thought, and word and deed, and in what we have left undone. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent”

As we later give voice to the prayer of Humble Access, we echo the tax collector’s humility:

“I am not worthy so much as to gather the crumbs under the table.”

The truth is we are all broken and sinful. A friend of mine recently told me that she had hoped that after Covid society would have changed, and that after the Queen’s death the spirit of unity would last. She was disappointed it hadn’t happened. But human selfishness and self-centredness, and its effects, play out in our society.

If we look deep within ourselves, we see things we do not like – weakness, hypocrisy, selfishness, greed and indifference. We are the Pharisee so often. We often prepare faces to meet faces when we should focus on who we really are!

Who are we? A Pharisee exalting himself or a humble Tax Collector?

Let me close with a verse from our offertory hymn this morning:

“Let holy charity
mine outward vesture be,
and lowliness become mine inner clothing;

true lowliness of heart,
which takes the humbler part,
and o’er its own shortcomings weeps with loathing.”