1 In case you were wondering, Peruvian preschoolers are just as rambunctious as American preschoolers. To be fair, I don t know how rambunctious preschoolers are in the States because I don t play with them too often. I had the chance to go to Peru a few weeks ago with a group from Wilshire and churches in Houston and Rome, GA. In the afternoons we would spend an hour or so with two classes of preschoolers. We would sing, we would make crafts, and we would play. One afternoon I decided to play a game of tag, where I was it every time, even if I caught the kids. Well after this began to wear me out, I thought it might be a good idea to switch up the game, and have them chase me. It must ve been the lack of oxygen getting to my brain because this was a terrible idea. With every lap around the playground, they multiplied. Fifteen preschoolers suddenly seemed like fifty. Somehow I got them to pause so I could take a breather. I try to show them what I m doing without knowing much Spanish-- Un momento, as I hold up a finger and take only semiexaggerated deep breaths. As I m soaking up as much of the break as I can, a chubby Peruvian preschooler comes up to me, pokes me, starts rattling off something in Spanish, and then starts pounding his chest, ahhhhahhhhahhahha! I don t know the proper response to a King Kong impersonation in Peru, but in the States, we take off running. I have no idea where he learned it, I m guessing a movie. I didn t know King Kong was big in Peru. But chestbeating is everywhere. It s in movies, it s in sports, it s in preschools across South America, it s even in our text for today. In one corner, overcome by shame, guilt, humiliation, you name it, a tax collector beats his chest and cries out to God for mercy. In the other corner, a dedicated Pharisee brags his way through a prayer that looks and sounds an awful lot like he just hit the game winning shot in the playoffs. Two different kinds of chest-beating. The Pharisee represents the religious elite, those who regard themselves as righteous and who are understood as such by everyone else. They are the ones you turn to with your questions, when you want to know how you re supposed to live. They were the good guys, the teachers with the answers to life s daunting questions. They knew the law and the prophets like the backs of their hands. 1
The tax collector, it s important to remember, is not some endearing character we all root for. No, tax collectors were crooked, and they overcharged their customers in order to ensure higher margins for themselves. Jewish tax collectors were often seen as traitors for taking money from their countrymen on behalf of Rome. You wouldn t be far off track to remember Bernie Madoff and his giant Ponzi scheme a few years back and substitute him for the tax collector here. Tax collectors were reviled. They had a lower approval rating than Congress during a government shutdown. Jesus parables often reversed expectations; they often had surprise endings. How surprising it must have been that the religious leader was the one in the wrong. The Pharisee rests on his self-righteousness; he looks and brags about all he has done. He judges the tax collector and other sinners and in so doing, declares that he is better. The tax collector might be comparing himself as well; we don t know, but in the end, he only knows that he needs God s mercy. Do you remember this story? For some, the punch line is so familiar it s more of a soft left jab at this point: pride is bad; humility is good. It can be difficult to allow a familiar story to speak to us anew. But what if we imagined together for a moment that Jesus continued on with the story, and what if we imagined for a moment that we were the tax collector? (What if): The next day, the Pharisee went on his way; unaware that he was doing anything wrong, unaware that his prayer was more about judging others than expressing his need for God. Meanwhile, the IRS agent went home to his posh house. He would wake up the next morning and read the New York Times over his usual cup of coffee. He would hug the kids and kiss his wife as he grabs his briefcase and backs the donkey out of the driveway. He would ride to work, reflecting on the day before at the temple, remembering the stares and the whispers and that oh-soloud prayer of the Pharisee. The IRS agent would arrive at work. He knows no other business. He is a spinster by trade. Here it is only the third hour of the morning, and he has to collect tolls from his countrymen. His salary is actually quite small. He makes his living his family s living on the margins he gets in these transactions. A little off the top never hurt anyone. He gets to it; he has a full day of appointments, and he s skipping lunch because he s leaving early again today to go back to confession at the temple. 2
He s glad he went to the temple yesterday. After all, if only two things are certain, he wants to make sure he s covered for all the taxes he collects. There are those of us who look very much like the Pharisee, beating our chests, living an externally holy life for the applause of others. Maybe some of us teach Sunday School, or serve on a committee, or sing in the choir as a way to feel more spiritual than others. There are others of us who are so proud of ourselves for not being like the Pharisee that we end up just as guilty of judging others as he was. 1 I try to read the right books once in awhile; I cuss once in awhile; I drink once in awhile. I m not like those holy rollers And still others of us are the tax collector; we re forgiven, and presumably that forgiveness leads to a changed life. But when it comes to the next day, we return to the same jobs, telling the same jokes and looking at the same websites. We make the same questionable business decisions, looking for the fastest buck or the cheapest deal or the largest margins, and we fail to recognize that a changed life calls us to more, not more of the same. 1 Luke, David Garland. Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament, 723. 3 We are the tax collector in our hypothetical Part II of the story. We keep asking God for forgiveness, not realizing that we have the responsibility to live differently as those who are changed by God s love. We carry on the next day thinking that forgiveness is a mental activity and not a holistic one. But forgiveness is not just something we do at the end of our day, God forgive me of all my sins today. No, forgiveness changes us. When we don t live into the joy and challenge of creatively attempting to right the wrongs in our world, then we are just as guilty of pride and self-absorption as the Pharisee. If our lives look the same, then that s all we are: the same. If nothing changes, then we haven t been changed. A changed life is not about looking holy or perfect or suddenly possessing some miraculous ability to be so. It is less concerned with looking a certain way at all, but rather with seeing others. It means we are less concerned with attaining perfection, after all, that s inwardly and self-focused. It means we are more concerned with the needs and cares of others. A changed life in the kingdom of God means we turn away from ourselves and toward God and others. This is the essence of humility: loving God and others. And that s exactly what Jesus says is necessary at the end of this
parable. Those who exalt themselves will be humbled and those who humble themselves will be exalted. The way of Jesus is humility; it is love. It s beating our chest out of our need for God and over how we can meet the needs of others; it s not beating our chests over how we think we are better than others. Scott and Maria Albrecht live on a farm with their two kids in Hertfordshire, England. Back in 1992, Scott invited people he saw sleeping on the streets to come stay with his family. When it became clear that his current house was not big enough, his family found the farmhouse where they live now. Yes, that s right. They upgraded to a bigger house, not to impress friends and neighbors, but to love their neighbors, realizing they could help more people with a bigger space. Their rental house has 13 bedrooms and four bathrooms. And over the past seven years since they moved to the farm, they have housed 250 homeless women and children. They now receive referrals from the British Red Cross and refugee organizations. 2 I could tell you the story of two billionaires who are reverse tithing, intentionally living on 10% of their income and giving away the other 2 http://news.yahoo.com/meet-the-family- who-take-the-homeless-into-their-home- 163051007.html 90%. 3 I could tell you about organizations right here in Texas that are aiming to bring food security to Texas children and healthy food alternatives to those living in food deserts and food swamps. There are stories out there of people doing really good and really big things. I m not saying we all need to house homeless people in our homes or give away 90% of our income or even know what food deserts are. But we have to love others well. We don t leave it for the ministers and politicians and charities; we take action, somehow, somewhere. If we have been forgiven by God, we should live a changed life. We don t go back to living the way we always did. The hope we have, the joy that consumes us, that we are all passionately loved and known and valued by the God who created us, should change us. It should catapult us toward lives of love and hope and justice and action. We love because we have been changed by the richest Love. I m still learning my way on this journey. I grew up in a church culture that very much looked like Baptist 3 http://www.theage.com.au/national/radical- kindness-the-banker-who-gave-it-all-away- 20090409-a25j.html 4
Pharisees. We cared that we didn t do anything wrong publicly, that we appeared different and holy by not doing things that we thought the worldly did. We defined following Jesus as looking a certain way, and we beat our chests with pride when we accomplished it. It usually involved not looking like the tax collector. But I have come to understand that s not gospel. It s window dressing. It s not good news; it s a lot of work. Christ calls us to follow him, and that means we love God and we love others. That is what defines us. We beat our chests not because we are proud, but because we need God and because we see the needs of others. And that does something to us. It moves us to action-- to active, kinetic love. We care less about how we look for others or compared to others, and we focus on seeing others, helping others, loving others. Jesus said the tax collector left the temple justified. Most likely he went the way of Levi and Zacchaeus, a changed man. We have been forgiven. What does that look like for us? 5