Only Mercy
A parable about prayer
[Jesus] also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven but was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other, for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted. (Luke 18:9-14)
The parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector is a brief, powerful, and challenging teaching on prayer. There is a lot packed into this little story. It is a familiar parable, but one that is easily and dangerously misunderstood. Over time, it has lost its power to shock and challenge us. It takes a bit of effort to recover its original punch.
The first thing to appreciate about this parable is its use of a Pharisee and a tax collector as its main protagonists. We have come to think of Pharisees and tax collectors as stock characters straight out of central casting. But this Pharisee is not a stand-in for all Pharisees and this tax collector is not a stand-in for all tax collectors. In fact, they act in ways that ran completely counter to the expectations of people in Jesus’ time.1
Pharisees were members of a Jewish movement known for its commitment to making holiness available to everyday people, and breaking the Temple priesthood’s monopoly on access to the divine. They were the religious populists of their day. It is important to remember that Jesus hung out with Pharisees. He agreed with them on a number of theological points. Some of his followers, including Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, were Pharisees.
The stereotype of Pharisees as hypocritical legalists, devoid of authentic spirituality, came much later.2 What makes the Pharisee in the parable so shocking is that he does not conform to the popular image of Pharisees, who were held in high regard as genuinely devout and holy people. For a Pharisee to be revealed through prayer as so unctuous and arrogant was unimaginable!
Similarly, the parable plays against the popular image of tax collectors, who were universally disliked. For a Jew to be a tax collector collaborating with the Roman Empire was considered to be impious and traitorous. For a tax collector to pray at all, much less with such awareness and humility, also was unimaginable.
With his choice of characters, Jesus is disrupting our usual way of dividing the world between good guys and bad guys, undermining our assumptions about who are insiders and outsiders. The usual markers of identity are not reliable indicators of spiritual authenticity or depth. In fact, our tendency to compare and separate people is the greatest barrier to spiritual growth. It makes religion about us vs. them, or even just about me!
This was the problem with the Pharisee’s prayer. It reminds me of a Zen story. A young seeker, keen to become the student of a certain master, is invited to interview at the master’s house. The student rambles on about all his spiritual experiences, his past teachers, his insights and skills, and his pet philosophies. The master listens silently and begins to pour a cup of tea. He pours and pours, and when the cup is overflowing he keeps right on pouring. Eventually, the student notices what is going on and interrupts his monologue to say, “Stop pouring! The cup is full.” The teacher replies, “Yes, and so are you. How can I possibly teach you?”
Like the student in the Zen story, the Pharisee lacks an inner attitude of openness and receptivity. He is self-enclosed in his self-righteousness. His prayer is no longer a bridge that connects him to God and the world, but a barrier protecting him from vulnerability and intimacy with God. This guy is all talk (about himself) and no listening.
The other problem with the Pharisee’s prayer (actually, this is a caricature of prayer), is its focus on evaluation and comparison. The Pharisee defines himself not only by what he does – as if holiness resulted from an accumulation of points for good behavior – but by who his is not. He defines himself over and against the tax collector. For the Pharisees, holiness is an island of sanctity that separates him from everyone else; especially those people.
Notice how different the tax collector’s prayer is. He is fully aware that he participates in a system of oppression, that he is complicit with an unjust and violent regime. He is a sinner – one who is in state of separation from God and others. This awareness actually moves him to be vulnerable and open before God. Acknowledging our participation in separation is the first step to reunion.
This man is no island of sanctity. He is fully connected to the realities of God and the world, and takes responsibility for his involvement in the messiness of life. He knows that his only hope for holiness – for wholeness – is the forgiving power of God’s love that heals and unites what has been separated. His holiness is totally dependent upon God, and does not come at anyone else’s expense. Here there is no comparison with anyone else, no reputation to protect or defend. There is no barrier between him and the flow of divine mercy.
Jesus told this parable to those who trusted that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt. It would be ironic to use this parable as yet another excuse to feel better about ourselves by treating other people with disdain. If we come away from hearing this parable thinking, “Thank God I’m not like that Pharisee!,” then we have missed the point of the parable entirely. We have too much self-righteousness and contempt for others in our culture today already.
It is a mistake to think that Jesus is introducing a new criteria for separating good people from bad people in this parable. Christians have used this parable to separate themselves from Jews. Protestants have used it to separate themselves from Catholics (for being too “Jewish”). Jesus reversed the usual way of thinking in his day (Pharisee = good, tax collector = bad), to subvert the whole project of comparison and exclusion. Mercy doesn’t depend upon us being the right kind of people or belonging to the right club. Mercy just is. It massively precedes us. The only question is whether or not we are open to receive it, and allow it to flow through us into the world. When we do so, there is no more separation. There is no more us vs. them, and it certainly is no longer just about me.
Jesus undermines our assurance that we know who is good and who is bad, who are the insiders and who are the insiders, so that we might become free from our bondage to sin, which is precisely this project of comparison and exclusion. He invites us instead to pursue self-awareness and compassion, realizing that we all rest on the buoyant mercy of God.
Genuine prayer is not a complicated preoccupation with self-analysis, much less taking anyone else’s inventory. It is simply openness to divine love. This openness doesn’t make us better than anyone else, or distinguish us from others in any way. How could it, when there is only mercy?
This stereotype was part of the polemic between early Jewish Christians and rabbinic Judaism (which developed out of pharisaic Judaism) after the Roman Empire destroyed the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem in 70 A.D. It reflects a later prejudice retroactively placed on to Pharisees in later New Testament texts. What was an intra-Jewish debate in the New Testament became fodder for later anti-Jewish and antisemitic rhetoric and violence. This is why we must handle this parable with care, and not reintroduce the scapegoating dynamic the parable seeks to undermine.