So much of how we make meaning in life is just a study in contrasts. We appreciate light because of the darkness. When the first hints of spring appear after a long, bitter winter, our breath is taken away. After the scorched earth of a dry season, the first signs of fall foliage are striking.
The drama of a Mozart symphony lies in its terraced dynamics, where loud punctuated sections alternate with quieter moments. Major keys are juxtaposed with minor ones for added tonal effect. In visual art, the most important objects are set in vivid relief against an unassuming background. We live in a world defined by contrasts. There’s the yin and the yang. The contrasts must go together for us to find meaning in the larger picture.
There are theological contrasts, too. In the Book of Genesis, God created light because in the beginning, there was only darkness. In Scripture, light becomes an image for goodness, where darkness often symbolizes wickedness. Evil, said St. Augustine, is merely a privation of good. As I said, we so often make meaning through studies in contrasts.
In some respects, Jesus’s parable of the Pharisee and tax collector is a giant study in contrasts. The Pharisee and tax collector are stock characters. They are, in some respects, hyperboles of themselves. The Pharisee represents a dutiful and pious religious person of his day. The tax collector is the pariah of society because he participates in an immoral system of unjust financial practices. He is an agent of the oppressive Roman empire.
On the most obvious level, and in the simplest reading, the Pharisee and the tax collector could not be more different, which is really the point. The Pharisee conscientiously keeps the law. Indeed, he goes above and beyond, fasting not just at the appointed times but even twice a week. He doesn’t just tithe on some of what he has; he tithes on everything. The Pharisee, as I said, is a stock character in this parable, not simply a historical one. He stands in for everyone who comes after him and is faithful to how things should be done.
I’m talking about the person who never misses a Sunday in church. I’m talking about the parishioner who’s involved in everything and who goes beyond the call of duty. I’m talking about the one whose morality isn’t questioned and who appears to have everything in order.
On the other hand, the tax collector stands for all those who have abused the system, taken advantage of others, been deceitful, and slept in on Sundays. I’m also talking about the person of loose morals, or pretty much anyone who doesn’t check all the boxes of the ethical code. I’m talking about the person we whisper about behind shielded mouths as we tell our other pious friends how dirty he or she is.
There’s a point to all these contrasts, which is why Jesus uses them. But there’s also a problem. The point is that we have two very different persons and orientations toward prayer. The simplest way of reading this rather complicated parable is that the person we might expect to have earned favor with God—the Pharisee—doesn’t offer so much a prayer but a lecture to God about why he is good and why the tax collector is bad. On the other hand, if we see this parable as a study of contrasts, the tax collector demonstrates true humility, praying that God might be merciful to him. The tax collector is far from squeaky clean, and he knows that.
But we should be wary of moving too quickly towards a simplistic interpretation of this parable. Don’t you think there’s a problem with these contrasts? Could this parable be more than just a study in contrasts? For starters, pitting Pharisee against an erstwhile sinner who repents makes the Pharisee seem disingenuous. At worst, the Pharisee becomes a reason for anti-Jewish sentiment and a scorn for dutifully keeping the law. Christians have gotten much cheap mileage out of lambasting the law in order to argue for sole reliance on God’s grace. This has been harmful and destructive.
So, let’s avoid that route of interpretation. Let’s move deeper into what only appears to be a study of contrasts. It’s clear that any one of us could be just like the Pharisee, or the tax collector, for that matter. Which of us hasn’t given thanks that we weren’t like the reprobate sinner? How many of us have participated in virtue signaling, such as touting our self-righteous viewpoints, whether progressive or conservative? Isn’t it easy to be confident that our version of Christianity is superior to others? We have discerned the real truth of Scripture, and we’re so sorry for those who haven’t.
This is the world we inhabit. It seems that we can only make meaning out of contrasts, which means that everyone must be put into a category. You’re either a Republican or Democrat. You’re either black or white. You’re either rich or poor, moral or immoral. You’re either a faithful churchgoer or a backslider. There’s either a right answer or a wrong answer.
And so, if we use the contrasts of Jesus’s parable to make some meaning, it appears that one character must be justified while the other is condemned. One character gets it right, and the other gets it wrong. Indeed, to understand what it means to be right with God, there must be examples of people who are never right with God.
But there is a deficit to viewing the world as merely a study in contrasts. However beautiful contrasts and diversity may be, mercifully, our own justification with God is not based on contrasts. We’ve been strongly conditioned in our world to operate within a system of competition. If someone has something we don’t have, then we are losers. If someone else is beautiful, then I must be ugly. If my friend is praised for her intelligence, then I must be less intelligent. If a repentant sinner is forgiven by God, then someone else must experience a fall from grace. It’s as if God is holding a massive scale. When one side has more weight on it, the other side moves up, and vice versa. Somehow, it’s so very difficult for us to accept that God can still love and forgive us even when horrible sinners are forgiven, too.
It’s not a failing or weakness that the Pharisee keeps the law or is observant, because both are admirable. Our own weaknesses as we attempt to be faithful Christians are not our dutifulness and willingness to show up to church even when we don’t feel like it. Our own weakness lies in thinking we need to measure our favor with God against someone else’s sins or negative qualities. Our weakness lies in interpreting God’s mercy and compassion as a study in contrasts.
There’s even a risk for the tax collector himself, even though his humility is exemplary. Perhaps, having embraced God’s great forgiveness, he could veer into a complacent acceptance of cheap grace or even spiritual pride. None of us, whether saint or sinner, is ever immune from becoming one of the stock characters in this parable.
Contrary to what we might have been taught, God doesn’t keep a checklist or tally sheet. God doesn’t write our name on the board when we’ve been bad and add check marks for repeat offenses. God is not a study in contrasts. God in his infinite goodness does not require us to be evil to exhibit his own goodness. We don’t need a fall from grace for God to prove how wonderful he is. Despite the vast gap between our mortal weakness and God’s infinite goodness, God always seeks to close the gap, to move towards us, longing for us to accept his forgiveness and be freed.
God’s justice does not try to exacerbate contrasts so that some people come out on top and others get cast to the bottom. God’s justice takes the beautiful, diverse, and contrasting colors of this world’s painting and tempers them so that the picture of God’s kingdom becomes a cohesive work of art.
It’s not entirely our fault that we find it so difficult to accept this part of God’s nature. We are indoctrinated from an early age to believe that the meaning of our lives can only be found by pitting ourselves against others. And God knows this, which is why God invites us into a new way of thinking. God has sent his Son into this world not as a hyperbolic foil to our wickedness in order to prove his majesty. God has sent Jesus to show us similarities where we see only contrasts. God has given us the great gift of knowing that in the economy of his kingdom, more than contrasts are needed. And here’s the best news of all: in that glorious kingdom, there is enough of everything to be shared.
Sermon by Father Kyle Babin
The Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost
October 23, 2022