“O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”
These are the words of the tax collector today. He knows the things he’s done. He knows God knows. And he knows that he is an unimportant man, not even worthy to kneel before God. He stood off in the distance, and had the humility to tell God he is a sinner and asked Him for mercy.
The Pharisee thanked God for what he was not, that he was not like the tax collector, and rest of humanity – greedy, dishonest, adulterous.
Notice he left out prideful and self-righteous.
Many of us today, much like 2000 years ago, are like the Pharisee. The Pharisee thought he had it all figured out. And he thought that God owed him for being who he was, the devout person that he appeared to be. He felt entitled.
Many of us Catholics today, feel that we are entitled to rewards as well. We go to church every Sunday. We go to confession. We go sit in adoration for a while. We say, “I’m doing all of these great things, where is my reward God?”
Or maybe we look down the pew, and we see that family that shows up to Mass from time, but not every week. We see them sneak out the back door right after communion. They never help in the parish. We think, “I’m glad we’re not like them. We do all these things in the parish, and are always here.” We do all the right things Lord; I can’t wait to see my reward!”
Or perhaps we’re out in the secular world. In the workplace, or in our school, or in out at a community event. People are taking group pictures, selfies, enjoying the moment. Everyone is happy. Work is going well. The school football team has won the championship. This Halloween party for the community is great! We say to ourselves, “Thank God I work harder than him and don’t make those mistakes. Or we have such an awesome school; thank God we don’t have the issues that other schools have. Or my community is perfect! Thank God we don’t have the problems of other communities!”
So many times, we’re out in the world thanking God for the things that we’re not. “I do this, this, and this, I am great! Thank God I’m not like those people”, we think.
We think this as individuals, we think this as families, as communities, and as countries. We fall into the trap of thinking that we are more significant than we are, and we lose sight of the fact there are countless people – not in some far off land, but those very people around us that are dealing with issues that we know nothing about. Those people next to us, that we go to Mass with, work with, go to school with, and live near have their own stories, their own challenges, and their own demons they are dealing with internally.
Perhaps the family attends Mass at another church when they’re not at yours, maybe one that is closer. Maybe their schedules don’t allow for them to do more at the parish. Maybe they leave early because a child is sick, or perhaps a parent has to work.
Or with the co-worker – maybe he’s struggling with something personally that keeps him from focusing on his job.
The school might be awesome and have the best teams and programs and resources – but what about the student in the picture, faking the smile, who is struggling with suicidal thoughts.
Or what about those in our community who, as nice as the community is, as great of activities they provide – the parents that can’t afford a costume for their kids, they may not have a home to live in, or they are divorced and their family is broken, or a family member deals with addiction?
My point is this – we are both people in the gospel today. And both people in the gospel today are all around us.
We are the Pharisee, who takes pride in the fact that we do all the right things, and that we do more than others, and better. We are good people, and we are good Catholics! We do everything right!
We are also the tax collector. We’re broken, and we know that we’re broken. We may put up a façade, but we’re not immune to the problems and challenges that plague others. We deal with the same issues, and we know, that we are not good Catholics, we are not worthy to truly approach Christ. And so we ask for mercy.
The question is, which one do you identify with more? Are you more like the Pharisee, applauding your good deeds and thanking God you’re not in the position of others and in denial of who you are? Or are you more like the tax collector – who knows who he is, and who simply, and humbly asks for mercy?
We don’t know what is going on in the minds of others, what battles they are fighting, and the conversations they are having with God. We don’t know what is on their conscience and what their relationship is with Christ. But just because something seems a certain way on the surface doesn’t mean that’s what it is like inside.
You see, the Pharisee put up a façade, and kept telling himself he did all these great things, to justify or offset some other, not-so-great things in his life. Deep down, he knows that he is the tax collector, and the tax collector is he. But his pride stands in his way. He has to keep telling himself that he is better, that he does all these great things, expecting a reward because of that.
Just take a minute and imagine. Imagine, if in this world, we were more often like the tax collector. Not in what afflicts him or in the actions he takes. Because in that regard, we don’t need to imagine. In that regard, we are like the tax collector, we are all sinners, we all make mistakes, and we all make poor choices. We are not immune to it, no matter the front we try to portray or the justifications we try to make.
No, imagine if we were more like the tax collector in how we approached our faith, God, and those around us. What if we all took a humble approach, and admitted who we truly are to ourselves and to God?
What if we choose to look at those around us, and really try to look at life from their perspective, understand their situation, and truly try to care about their significance, and not our own?
And what if rather than justifying our own significance, we simply look at our own insignificance in life, how small we truly are? What would this world be like?
What if more of us were truly humble in life, admitting that we are insignificant – a sinner, broken, and fragile.
Perhaps if we did more of this, we’d not only save our souls, but be more apt at helping those who are fragile and insignificant among us.
SIR 35:12-14, 16-18; PS 34; 2 TM 4:6-8, 16-18; LK 18:9-14
