For quite a few weeks our Gospel lessons have been based on parables that Jesus taught during His ministry. Today we have yet another parable, but as we look forward to the end of this current Church year in four weeks and the beginning of the Season of Advent, this is actually the final parable we’ll be studying until July of next year. Now obviously we learn something from every parable – otherwise, Jesus would not have told the parables in the first place – but in my opinion this is one of the most important parables that we can study in this or any year.
It’s called “The Pharisee and the Tax Collector,” and the basic outline of the story is pretty simple. Two men are standing in the Temple, praying to God. The first is a Pharisee. You’ll remember that a lot of the parables were directed toward the Pharisees, and this one is no different. The Pharisees were important people in Jesus’ time, and some of them made sure that everyone knew just how important they were. Jesus often had run-ins with Pharisees and criticized them harshly. Some Pharisees even plotted to have Jesus killed.
Today with our 21st century hindsight we sometimes turn the Pharisees into cartoonish villains, but the fact of the matter is that some of them were pretty good men. Egotistical, perhaps – but not necessarily so bad. Were faithful, God-fearing men. In John chapter 3 we read about the Pharisee Nicodemus who came to Jesus, and following Jesus’ death John tells us that Nicodemus brought 75 pounds of spices and precious oils to anoint Christ’s dead body in the tomb. In the book of Acts we learn that some Pharisees became early members of the Christian Church. So they weren’t all what we would call “bad guys.”
But the one in our parable? Well, by human standards he didn’t seem so bad. After all, he regularly put a tenth of his income into the offering plate. He fasted twice a week. He obviously could be seen frequently and regularly in God’s house. He was probably a pillar of his community, a perceived role model for others to follow. Today he would be the kind of man who would be sitting regularly in the pews right along with the rest of you.
But listen to how he begins his prayer. “God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.” In other words, he is saying “I thank you God for making me better than all of those lowlife sinners.” When he entered God’s house he looked around in judgment and gave himself a pat on the back because he thought he was better than everyone and anyone else. He made sure that everyone knew it. And he wanted God to know it, too.
But what about the other man? Well, remember that Luke tells us specifically that the other man is a tax collector. Two thousand years ago tax collectors were usually every bit as wealthy and important as the Pharisees. But while the Pharisees were respected by the people, tax collectors were hated. They were despised. They worked for the Roman government, and they were seen as both heretics and traitors. A tax collector was, in effect, his own corrupt version of the Internal Revenue Service. And there was nothing fair about the way they collected taxes. You see, taxes back then weren’t based on books of tax codes and forms like 1040 and Schedule A. A tax collector was simply obligated to produce a certain amount of income for the government – and whatever he collected above and beyond that amount was his to keep. It didn’t matter if the amount you were told to pay was fair, because there was no appeal – if you didn’t pay what you were told, the Roman soldiers would come and get it from you one way or another. Tax collectors generally gouged people like crazy, and there wasn’t a single thing the average person could do about it. So the tax collectors became more and more wealthy – and they were generally considered to be the scum of the earth.
Luke gives us some interesting details about this specific tax collector. While the Pharisee had been standing in a prominent place where everyone would see him, Luke tells us that the tax collector was standing “far off” – away from other people where no one would pay any attention to him. Pharisees generally prayed by holding their hands up and looking to heaven, but we read that the tax collector “would not even lift up his eyes to heaven.” While the Pharisee bragged about how good he was, the tax collector “beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner.’” The Pharisee was consumed by pride, but the tax collector showed nothing but humility.
And here’s the most important part. Even though he technically is thanking God, it is clear that the Pharisee is one of those who in Luke’s words “trusted in themselves that they were righteous.” But the tax collector does nothing but humble himself before God. And pray for atonement.
Now if you were listening closely to the Gospel lesson when I read it or if you want to re-read it on your bulletin insert, you didn’t hear and won’t find the word atonement anywhere in our lesson. But it’s there. Sometimes our English translations really miss the mark, and this is one of those times. Not a single one of our translations – and I’m including everything from the King James Version of 1611 to the NIV and the ESV that we use today – gets this one right. In the original Greek our translation that reads “God, be merciful to me, a sinner” really says “God, make atonement for me, the sinner.”
“Atonement” is another of those Biblical words that we never use in our everyday speech. You hear it at Church or in Bible Class, but I’d be willing to bet that many of you have never really stopped to study what it really means. It comes from the Hebrew word kaphar (כפר ), which can be translated as “to cover over.” Atonement is closely related to the concept of redemption, where an innocent life is offered as a substitute for a guilty person. In the Old Testament sacrificial system, the innocent life of an animal – a bull, a sheep, a goat, a bird – was shed to atone, to cover the sins of sinful men and women. In fact, the holiest day of the Hebrew year was Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, the only time that the High Priest would enter the Most Holy Place of the Temple and would sprinkle blood – blood of atonement – on the Ark of the Covenant.
You may very well be wondering what an ancient ritual where a Jewish High Priest would enter a room of the Temple that no longer exists to sprinkle blood on the Ark of the Covenant which was lost over 2,500 years ago has anything at all to do with us. We’ll get to than in a minute, but first let’s go back to the literal translation of verse 13, where the tax collector said, “God, make atonement for me, the sinner.” Here’s another key point that our English translations miss, for in every one of them the tax collector refers to himself as “a sinner.” But in the original Greek he’s actually calling himself “the sinner.” Our English translations always seem to miss the word “the,” but it’s really important to what Jesus is telling us. The tax collector did not just see himself as a bad person. In his mind, he was the worst of sinners. He felt than no one could be a worse sinner than he was. He could very well have been saying the words that we sang just before the sermon, hymn 611 that begins with these words: “Chief of sinners though I be.”
The tax collector wasn’t looking around the Temple to find others who were worse sinners than he was. He wasn’t looking around the Temple to tell God that he was better than all of the other people there on that day. He simply said, “God, make atonement for me, the sinner.” That, my friends, is true humility. That is true repentance.
The tax collector of the parable recognizes that he has sinned against God in his words, in his thoughts, in his deeds. He knows that God hates sin, and that the punishment for sin is nothing short of eternal death and suffering. And unlike the Pharisee, who seems to think that his good character and his good deeds will satisfy God, the tax collector knows that he can do nothing – absolutely nothing – to make things right with God. He needs atonement. He needs his sins to be covered, to be forgiven, so that when God looks at him he sees no sin and evil – but only holiness. In short, the tax collector knows – but the Pharisee does not know – that he needs a savior to atone for His sins. Thanks be to God, we know that, too.
The problem is that even though we have this knowledge, we sometimes act far more like the Pharisee than the tax collector. Have you ever heard someone say something like “I used to be a great sinner”? It sounds good, doesn’t it? When you hear things like that, don’t be so quick to put a halo around his head, because he is still a sinner. It’s not enough to simply recognize your sins and sinfulness. You have to be repentant.
Last week we talked about why we are Lutherans and the fact that in our Lutheran tradition we rightly teach Scripture exactly as God gave it to us and we administer the Sacraments exactly as God has given them to us. But even though we thank God that he has led us to the true faith instead of manmade myths and false teachings, we need to make sure that our thanks never become a pharisaical “we’re better than you” type of attitude. We need to hold off on our own halos, too. Because we’re all still sinners. Forgiven, yes. But as long as our sinful bodies continue to draw breath, we remain sinners. We remain sinners who desperately need atonement. Just like everyone else. Just like the tax collector. And even though he didn’t realize it – just like the Pharisee.
God, in His unknowable but perfect wisdom and holiness, cannot overlook sin – and must punish it. But in His unfathomable but perfect love, God personally set everything in motion to atone for our sins. He sent His own Son to take the curse of sin on Himself and redeem us. The great and ultimate sacrifice of blood occurred not on the altar of the Jewish Temple, but on an ugly rocky area just outside the walls of Jerusalem, where Jesus was crucified and died. The blood that ran from His wounds has covered every one of our sins. We truly have been washed by Jesus’ blood – washed clean. Washed holy. And by this act of atonement, we have been forgiven.
The word “atonement” can be broken into three syllables: “at … one … ment.” When Jesus died for the atonement of sinners like you and me, the gulf that divided Holy God from sinful mankind disappeared. We are at peace with God – we are “at one” with Him.
Every Sunday, our liturgy reminds us to act not like the Pharisee, but to act like the tax collector of our parable. In the Kyrie we sing: “Lord, have mercy; Christ, have mercy; Lord, have mercy.” We could just as easily sing: “Lord, atone for us; Christ, atone for us; Lord, atone for us.” There was even a tradition in the ancient Church to place your fist over your heart whenever you say “Lord, have mercy” just like the tax collector did when he beat his breast in humility, in shame and in repentance.
Although it’s impossible to create a perfect timeline, it appears that Jesus told the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector shortly before he entered Jerusalem on Palm Sunday in preparation for His suffering, His death and His resurrection. Our Savior has had mercy on us, and atonement has been made for our sins. Atonement that the tax collector prayed for on that day in the Temple. And atonement for which we give thanks today.
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