Sunday, October 26, 2025
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
©the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Luke 18:9-14
He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven but was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other, for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”
Does this robe make me look fat? Am I handsome enough? Am I having a bad hair day? A no hair day? And what about the bags under my eyes? Is my nose too big? Is my middle too soft? Am I smart enough? Am I loveable enough? Am I… enough?
Those are the kinds of messages that sometimes play in my head. But you have your own messages. And we all look for ways to alleviate the constant pressure of those voices.
I was a shy little boy, and we moved a lot, which meant that I was always adjusting to a new school, and never quite fitting in. And because I was shy and studious and not that interested in sports, I was an easy target for bullying by others battling their own voices. And that bullying often left me afraid and sad and angry. But every now and again, that constant pressure would be relieved when someone less cool than I became the object of ridicule. My classmates would suddenly leave me alone while they picked on someone else. Sometimes I even joined them as a way to further deflect unwanted attention away from me and onto others. Of course, I’m ashamed of that now. And I like to think that I outgrew the need to prop myself up by tearing others down. But that frightened kid, seeking to deflect attention away from self by attacking others, is still in there somewhere.
Two men went up to the Temple in Jerusalem to pray. One of them was a Pharisee and the other was a Tax Collector. Now, everyone who heard Jesus tell this story would have presumed that the Pharisee was the good guy. You see, most folks back then thought of the Pharisees as serving a noble purpose in society. And for the most part, they did. In the midst of Roman military domination, it was the Pharisees who preserved the faith of Israel. And after the Romans destroyed the Temple – the very center of their faith - in 70 AD, it was the Pharisees who then reinterpreted the faith for a post-Temple world. So, people thought of them as noble and good.
The tax collector, on the other hand, is the natural villain of this story, because tax collectors were universally despised. They made their living by collecting more tax than was actually due and then pocketing the difference. So, let’s say that your annual tax bill to the Roman government was $5000. And you had scrimped and saved to finally get that amount. But one day, the tax collector knocks on your door and presents you with a bill for $6000. And you don’t have the extra $1000. And you know that the tax collector is just going pocket it. It’s not fair. It’s not right. But there isn’t anything you can do about it if you don’t want to end up in a debtor’s prison.
No wonder people hated the tax collectors.
So, when Jesus began his story by saying that a Pharisee and a Tax Collector went up to the Temple to pray, everyone already knew who the hero was. And everyone already knew who the villain was. But like lots of things with Jesus, there was a twist. There usually is.
The Pharisee, in his gorgeous, expensive, flowing robes, was just settling into his favorite pew when he spied that dirty Tax Collector across the room. “What’s he doing here?” he whispered to his buddy. And then he fixed his gaze on the tax collector and gave him a long, smoldering, dirty look. But it didn’t really work, so the Pharisee decided that he’d probably better get started on his prayers.
And he used those prayers, his religion, as a weapon – something people still do to this day. His so-called prayers were actually pointed and public criticisms of someone he perceived as “less than.” And he said it all loud enough that the intended victim heard every word and felt every barb.
“God,” said the Pharisee, “I thank you that I am not like some other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like that TAX COLLECTOR over there. I fast twice a week. I give 10% of everything I make to the Temple. I follow all the rules. I’m a good guy.”
And you know what? In many ways, he actually was a good guy! Everything he said he did was noble. We should not steal. We should not cheat on our spouses. We should live generous lives. But what we should never do is prop ourselves up by denigrating others, especially when we’re talking to God, who knows all of our secrets anyway.
The tax collector, on the other hand, stood far off by himself. Maybe he was hoping that in the shadows no one would recognize him. And this man was so laden with guilt that he couldn’t even look up. And he beat his breast; an action most often associated with women in the Ancient Near East. And as he did, he kept repeating: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner! God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”
Jesus concludes this parable by saying that it was the tax collector who went home justified, while the Pharisee did not. Because everyone who exalts himself will be humbled and those who humble themselves will be exalted.
Biblical scholars refer to these kinds of statements as “Great Reversals.” Another example of that would be when Jesus said, “The first shall be last and the last shall be first.” These “Great Reversal” statements are at the heart of Jesus’s teaching.
In this Great Reversal parable, the so-called good guy, the Pharisee, turns out to be a self-righteous jerk. And because he is, it’s easy to dislike him. His so-called prayer was actually just a litany of self-righteousness at the expense of another. And don’t we all know how it is to listen to someone who props himself or herself up by tearing other people down?
The tax collector, on the other hand, despite his profession and reputation, is much easier to like. This man knew he needed to change his ways. He knew that he was a sinner. And so, he threw himself on the mercy of God. He refused to justify his actions by comparing himself to others. And so, the obvious conclusion is that we should be more like the Tax Collector and a lot less like that phony Pharisee. Right? Right!
But do you see what just happened? In coming to that logical conclusion, we just did to the Pharisee what the Pharisee did to the Tax Collector.
Think about it. The only thing we really know about this Pharisee is nothing more than a sound bite. We saw him at his worst moment and then imagined that that moment was all we ever needed to know about him. And we felt justified in vilifying him because he deserved it. And then we comforted ourselves with the thought that although we may not be perfect, at least we’re not like that Pharisee.
But in judging the Pharisee, we became the Pharisee.
In this painful and dangerous time in our common American life, we are bombarded by sound bite judgments. We are urged to think of others as less than ourselves based on a moment in their lives. And from that one snippet of a person’s life, we assume that we know exactly what motivates them and what they think and what they will do next. And then we congratulate ourselves that at least we’re not like them!
But we fool ourselves and so easily excuse ourselves from the rigors of the commandment of Jesus, who told us: “Do not judge or you will be judged.”
Now, let me be clear. This is not about making friends with evil. This is not about ignoring the suffering of others or the injustices that are rampant. But this is about how easily we dismiss the humanity of others we have judged. And this is about the idolatry of our own sense of goodness. By comparing ourselves with what we think we know of others, we convince ourselves that we don’t really ever need to look deeper into our own hearts because… at least we’re not that guy!
But I am this guy. I am James Campbell, a sinner. I am flawed. Sometimes, I am afraid. I am angry more often than I want to be. Sometimes, I am arrogant. And I stand in the need of God’s grace and mercy, just as much as those I so conveniently judge in order to prop myself up.
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
©the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Luke 18:9-14
He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.’ But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven but was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other, for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”
Does this robe make me look fat? Am I handsome enough? Am I having a bad hair day? A no hair day? And what about the bags under my eyes? Is my nose too big? Is my middle too soft? Am I smart enough? Am I loveable enough? Am I… enough?
Those are the kinds of messages that sometimes play in my head. But you have your own messages. And we all look for ways to alleviate the constant pressure of those voices.
I was a shy little boy, and we moved a lot, which meant that I was always adjusting to a new school, and never quite fitting in. And because I was shy and studious and not that interested in sports, I was an easy target for bullying by others battling their own voices. And that bullying often left me afraid and sad and angry. But every now and again, that constant pressure would be relieved when someone less cool than I became the object of ridicule. My classmates would suddenly leave me alone while they picked on someone else. Sometimes I even joined them as a way to further deflect unwanted attention away from me and onto others. Of course, I’m ashamed of that now. And I like to think that I outgrew the need to prop myself up by tearing others down. But that frightened kid, seeking to deflect attention away from self by attacking others, is still in there somewhere.
Two men went up to the Temple in Jerusalem to pray. One of them was a Pharisee and the other was a Tax Collector. Now, everyone who heard Jesus tell this story would have presumed that the Pharisee was the good guy. You see, most folks back then thought of the Pharisees as serving a noble purpose in society. And for the most part, they did. In the midst of Roman military domination, it was the Pharisees who preserved the faith of Israel. And after the Romans destroyed the Temple – the very center of their faith - in 70 AD, it was the Pharisees who then reinterpreted the faith for a post-Temple world. So, people thought of them as noble and good.
The tax collector, on the other hand, is the natural villain of this story, because tax collectors were universally despised. They made their living by collecting more tax than was actually due and then pocketing the difference. So, let’s say that your annual tax bill to the Roman government was $5000. And you had scrimped and saved to finally get that amount. But one day, the tax collector knocks on your door and presents you with a bill for $6000. And you don’t have the extra $1000. And you know that the tax collector is just going pocket it. It’s not fair. It’s not right. But there isn’t anything you can do about it if you don’t want to end up in a debtor’s prison.
No wonder people hated the tax collectors.
So, when Jesus began his story by saying that a Pharisee and a Tax Collector went up to the Temple to pray, everyone already knew who the hero was. And everyone already knew who the villain was. But like lots of things with Jesus, there was a twist. There usually is.
The Pharisee, in his gorgeous, expensive, flowing robes, was just settling into his favorite pew when he spied that dirty Tax Collector across the room. “What’s he doing here?” he whispered to his buddy. And then he fixed his gaze on the tax collector and gave him a long, smoldering, dirty look. But it didn’t really work, so the Pharisee decided that he’d probably better get started on his prayers.
And he used those prayers, his religion, as a weapon – something people still do to this day. His so-called prayers were actually pointed and public criticisms of someone he perceived as “less than.” And he said it all loud enough that the intended victim heard every word and felt every barb.
“God,” said the Pharisee, “I thank you that I am not like some other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like that TAX COLLECTOR over there. I fast twice a week. I give 10% of everything I make to the Temple. I follow all the rules. I’m a good guy.”
And you know what? In many ways, he actually was a good guy! Everything he said he did was noble. We should not steal. We should not cheat on our spouses. We should live generous lives. But what we should never do is prop ourselves up by denigrating others, especially when we’re talking to God, who knows all of our secrets anyway.
The tax collector, on the other hand, stood far off by himself. Maybe he was hoping that in the shadows no one would recognize him. And this man was so laden with guilt that he couldn’t even look up. And he beat his breast; an action most often associated with women in the Ancient Near East. And as he did, he kept repeating: “God, be merciful to me, a sinner! God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”
Jesus concludes this parable by saying that it was the tax collector who went home justified, while the Pharisee did not. Because everyone who exalts himself will be humbled and those who humble themselves will be exalted.
Biblical scholars refer to these kinds of statements as “Great Reversals.” Another example of that would be when Jesus said, “The first shall be last and the last shall be first.” These “Great Reversal” statements are at the heart of Jesus’s teaching.
In this Great Reversal parable, the so-called good guy, the Pharisee, turns out to be a self-righteous jerk. And because he is, it’s easy to dislike him. His so-called prayer was actually just a litany of self-righteousness at the expense of another. And don’t we all know how it is to listen to someone who props himself or herself up by tearing other people down?
The tax collector, on the other hand, despite his profession and reputation, is much easier to like. This man knew he needed to change his ways. He knew that he was a sinner. And so, he threw himself on the mercy of God. He refused to justify his actions by comparing himself to others. And so, the obvious conclusion is that we should be more like the Tax Collector and a lot less like that phony Pharisee. Right? Right!
But do you see what just happened? In coming to that logical conclusion, we just did to the Pharisee what the Pharisee did to the Tax Collector.
Think about it. The only thing we really know about this Pharisee is nothing more than a sound bite. We saw him at his worst moment and then imagined that that moment was all we ever needed to know about him. And we felt justified in vilifying him because he deserved it. And then we comforted ourselves with the thought that although we may not be perfect, at least we’re not like that Pharisee.
But in judging the Pharisee, we became the Pharisee.
In this painful and dangerous time in our common American life, we are bombarded by sound bite judgments. We are urged to think of others as less than ourselves based on a moment in their lives. And from that one snippet of a person’s life, we assume that we know exactly what motivates them and what they think and what they will do next. And then we congratulate ourselves that at least we’re not like them!
But we fool ourselves and so easily excuse ourselves from the rigors of the commandment of Jesus, who told us: “Do not judge or you will be judged.”
Now, let me be clear. This is not about making friends with evil. This is not about ignoring the suffering of others or the injustices that are rampant. But this is about how easily we dismiss the humanity of others we have judged. And this is about the idolatry of our own sense of goodness. By comparing ourselves with what we think we know of others, we convince ourselves that we don’t really ever need to look deeper into our own hearts because… at least we’re not that guy!
But I am this guy. I am James Campbell, a sinner. I am flawed. Sometimes, I am afraid. I am angry more often than I want to be. Sometimes, I am arrogant. And I stand in the need of God’s grace and mercy, just as much as those I so conveniently judge in order to prop myself up.
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