The Rabbi walked up to the front of the synagogue and fell to his knees praying: “Dear God, I am not worthy, I am the lowest of the low, a worm and no man. I am dust and ashes, small and of little account.” The cantor then walked up to the front of the synagogue and fell to his knees praying: “Dear God, I am not worthy, I am the lowest of the low, a worm and no man. I am dust and ashes, small and of little account.” Then the usher walked up to the front of the synagogue and fell to his knees praying: “Dear God, I am not worthy, I am the lowest of the low, a worm and no man. I am dust and ashes, small and of little account.” Then the Rabbit leaned over to the cantor and whispered, “So look who thinks he’s not worthy.”
We live in a competitive world. My team is better than your team. The South Side bests the North Side. Coke is tastier than Pepsi. Ford is cooler than Chevy. The Bears… well, the Bears aren’t better than anybody, but that’s another story. But the point is that we compare that’s what we do – who’s up or who’s down. Who’s in or who’s out. Who’s hot or who’s not. So when the Pharisee in the parable as told by Jesus compares himself to the tax collector it is the most natural thing in the world. And, of course, he’s right. He is good. He goes to pray more often. He is better at keeping the commandments. He is more faithful and more generous. He mows his lawn, eats fruits and vegetables, flosses his teeth, never plays the radio too loud, let’s you into his lane, helps little old ladies across the street and watches his cholesterol. He’s the guy you want for a neighbor. No wonder he does a little fist pump, an end zone dance when he comes into the temple. He’s good and he knows he is good.
But Jesus says it was the loser, the ninth round draft pick, the sad sack that went home justified. Jesus admires the tax collector who knows he is unworthy. Why didn’t he join the Pharisee in chanting “we’re number one?” What made the pathetic tax collector more praiseworthy than the top of the world Pharisee? The way Jesus tells the parable the Tax Collector was willing to change, to grow, to become better. He was open to taking another step with God. On the other hand, the Pharisee seemed pretty content with standing pat, holding onto the hand he was dealt, doing what he always did. Good was good enough. What Jesus warns against in the parable is that the good is the enemy of the better.
Think how that works in our lives. People who have good marriages might be tempted to settle for what is instead of improving their relationship. To have a better marriage couples need to do things like apologize when you hurt your partner, put yourself in your spouse’s shoes, work at communicating clearly even about the little things, say thanks. Doing things like that makes a good marriage better. Or look at our parish, at St. James. We take some pride in being a pretty good parish. We are welcoming and hospitable, our prayer and worship is lively, we reach out to those who are less fortunate. Pretty good. But that very goodness can lull us into a complacency that keeps us from being better. We need to bring the gospel into the lives of people who are hurting. We need to deepen our spiritual lives. We need to respond to the unmet needs of the community. We can’t stay good, we must become better. And of course that applies to the personal level as well. Those of us here in Church today are pretty good. We say our prayers, keep the commandments as best we can, don’t do all the good things the bad boys do. But the example of the Pharisee reminds us we must become better. We are called to be saints but we can slip comfortably into remaining decent. The good is the enemy of the better.
How do we get better? How do we get off the schneid? The tax collector provides the clue: let God’s mercy wash over you. “Oh God, be merciful to me.” Becoming better is not a matter of self-improvement. We can’t make ourselves better through an exercise routine. There are not seven habits we can practice which will make us better. The gift of God’s grace and God’s mercy – that’s what makes us better. The problem of the Pharisee: he was full so of himself that there wasn’t any room for God to shower down the mercy. The tax collector knew his need so God could pour the sweet balm of Gilead upon his sin-sick soul. God’s mercy is what picks us up, turns us around and sets our feet on solid ground.
We touch the mercy of God every time we greet the rosy-fingered dawn, every time we contemplate the scent of a rose, every time we marvel at the teeny, tiny fingernails on the hands of a newborn babe. The mercy of God breaks into our lives when we realize that every breath we take is a miracle, that the spirit of God is what fills our lungs. The mercy of God is manifest when we are able to forgive someone who hurt us and when we receive forgiveness from someone we hurt. We experience the mercy of God when we feel down to the marrow of our bones that we are loved, we have been named and claimed by God, not because we’re good but because God is good, not because we are worthy but because God is generous, not because we have earned it but because God gives it away freely. And once we understand that we are surrounded by the mercy of God, then genuine change is possible, then we become more kind and loving and forgiving and compassionate, then we move from being good to being better.