Sometimes,
when you hear Jesus talk about the Pharisees, you would think they
were really wicked, awful people.
Worst
sinners in the universe.
But
they weren’t, of course.
They
were actually really religious, holy people.
People
like Nicodemus, you remember, or St Paul –
they
were Pharisees.
Not
even wicked villains at all!
And
that, of course, was the problem.
Because
back then, if you wanted to be God’s person,
it
was thought that you had to keep loads of rules and regulations.
It
was all very well when it was just the Ten Commandments,
and
some of the food and other rules laid down in the book of
Deuteronomy, they were simple enough to follow.
But,
of course, people got themselves rather worried by all of this.
What
did you mean when you said
“You mustn’t work on a Sunday”?
Was
lighting a fire work?
Was
getting dressed work?
That
sort of thing.
So
the Pharisees and their like laid down all sorts of rules and
regulations to try to cover every possibility,
from
how far you could walk on a Sunday,
to
just exactly what you could and couldn’t eat.
Even
today, observant Jews have two sets of crockery and cutlery,
one
for when they eat meat, and one for when they eat dairy products.
Well,
okay.
But
there were then two problems:
first
of all, you simply couldn’t keep all the rules and regulations –
nobody
could.
No
matter how hard you tried, it simply wasn’t possible.
So
almost everybody went round feeling like a failure.
And,
of course, as happened in Jesus’ story, people who could and did
keep most of the rules felt very proud of themselves, very clever.
And,
Jesus says elsewhere, some of the time they got so wrapped up in
keeping the rules that they forgot all about loving other people!
Actually,
there was a third problem, too.
And
that is that human nature simply adores rules.
Especially
when it comes to our relationship with God.
It’s
a lot easier to keep the rules than to live in a relationship with
God –
that’s
just scary!
But
we like rules anyway –
and,
of course, we need rules to keep ourselves and our society safe.
But
we do tend to impose our own personal rules on other people.
To
take a very silly example, when I was a child, my mother had a rule
that my brother and I were only allowed tomato ketchup if we were
having chips –
I
think we would have poured it on to everything if we could, and never
developed any appreciation of any other flavour!
So
even though I know better, I still think it’s awful when I see
someone put tomato ketchup on anything else!
I
have to remind myself that not everybody grew up with that rule, and
it’s perfectly all right to put tomato ketchup on your egg and
bacon, if that’s what you like.
And
sometimes we make rules for ourselves because we know we are tempted
in certain areas, so need to steer clear.
Some
people, for instance, can’t drink any alcohol as they can’t stop
once they start.
So
they would like to have a universal rule saying that nobody can drink
an alcoholic drink.
Which
those of us who are able to enjoy a drink without being addicted, or
without having to get drunk, can’t see the point of at all.
And
if you remember your history, you’ll know that they tried that rule
in the USA in the 1920s and it didn’t work at all,
just
created a whole new load of crimes and criminals.
But
the problem in today’s reading is that the Pharisee in Jesus’
story was so pleased with himself for keeping the rules –
and
indeed, keeping them even better than most people, look how he boasts
about fasting twice a
week, when he really only needed to do it once –
he
was so proud of himself that he actually seems to have forgotten what
it was all about.
He
forgot he needed God!
The
publican, or tax-gatherer, on the other hand, knew he was a pile of
pooh all right.
He
had a rather awful job, actually.
He
was working for the colonial authorities and had to collect taxes
from people.
Which
was fine, only he wasn’t paid a salary, and was expected to charge
people a little extra and provide a living for himself that way.
And
many, if not most, tax-gatherers got a reputation for making a very
good living for themselves that way –
you
remember Zaccheus, who hid up a sycamore tree to watch Jesus, and
Jesus decided to go and have supper with him.
You
can quite see the temptation, of course.
And
they were pretty well hated anyway, as quislings, collaborators, so
they might just as well do what they were accused of!
So
all the tax-gatherer could pray was “God, have mercy on me, a
sinner!”
We
don’t know whether the Pharisee went on from the synagogue to take
a basket of fruit to an elderly member of the synagogue who was
housebound, or whether the tax-gatherer went back to his job,
but
it’s quite probable that they did.
But
the difference was that, that day at any rate, God had heard and
answered the tax-gatherer’s prayer,
but
the Pharisee had been far too pleased with himself to need
God –
and
God can’t get in where there isn’t room!
That
was the Pharisee’s big mistake –
he
forgot that even though he did keep the rules, and was good at it, he
still needed God’s help.
We
all need God’s help, of course.
No
matter how good we are, no matter how clever, or talented,
we
still need God.
We
are still sinners.
That’s
why Jesus came –
because
every single human being is a sinner.
We’d
rather go our own way than God’s way, it’s part of human nature.
And
when we do decide we want to go God’s way, we would rather do it by
means of rules and regulations than by a relationship with the living
God.
Again,
it’s part of human nature.
It’s
why we have a prayer of confession at the start of every service.
The
Pharisee forgot that.
He
reckoned that because he was a good, God-fearing Pharisee that made
him a better human being than the tax-gatherer who was also praying
that day.
And,
of course, in human terms he was!
But
not in God’s terms.
God
loved the tax-gatherer every bit as much as he loved the Pharisee,
and was quick to answer his prayers and forgive him. In God's eyes,
that day, the tax-gatherer was the better person.
We
do find it difficult not to go by rules and regulations, don't we?
Years ago, I read of a Sunday-school teacher who shared this story
with her class, and then said “Now, children, let us thank God we
are not like this Pharisee!”
Well,
yes, that's all very well – until you find yourself, as I did,
thanking God I was not like that Sunday-school teacher! Derrr!
But
you see, that's human nature! We like to compare ourselves with
those around us – are we doing it right? Are we doing better than
he or she is? We like to have rules and regulations to tell us how
we should behave, and what we can to do make God love us. We like to
define our relationship with God by the rules.
And,
of course, it's not like that. Christianity, it has often been said,
is a relationship, not a religion! It is about having a mutual
relationship with our Creator. It's about letting God love us.
It's
the kind of relationship where, when you go astray, the Good Shepherd
pulls on his boots and wellies and goes in search of you. No
reproaches when he finds you, either, only joy: “Rejoice with me,
for I have found that which was lost”.
It's
the kind of relationship where, when you take one tiny step towards
God, when you are still a long way away, God rushes to meet you and
celebrates your return with a massive party.
It's
the kind of relationship where you are encouraged to dare great
things for God, where you're encouraged to let go of the rulebook and
throw it in the bin.
It's
the kind of relationship where you are encouraged to allow God to do
great things in and through you. All the time, not just the hour or
so a week you spend in Church on Sundays.
Most
people do a fantastic job of being human without God, of course. But
think, how much better could you do with God?
Do
you dare try for a relationship with God on his terms? Without rules
and regulations? Maybe you have been doing so this past fifty years,
and wonder what I am on about – if so, that's fabulous, and I
congratulate you!
But
all too many of us cling frantically to the rules. The trouble is,
when we let go of them, we don't have anything else to cling to –
only the Cross of Christ. And that is scary.
The
tax-gatherer was able to let go, though. “God, have mercy on me, a
sinner!” That was all he needed – and it is all we need, too.
God,
have mercy on us sinners. Amen.
