Today’s question calls for a bit of imagination. The question is this: What image comes into your mind when you think of “justice”? For most of us, I would guess that it’s a woman in long robes, wearing a blind-fold and holding up a set of scales. Some of us, when we think of a scale, picture the one at the deli counter in the supermarket, the one that gives us a digital read-out of the weight and cost of our luncheon meat. The scales of justice aren’t like that. They are the balance kind, where you put weights on one side to even-out the pans.
This image of blind-folded justice, with her balance scales, leads me to the focus for today’s homily which has these four elements: justice, mercy, being a sinner, and balancing. But, as usual, let’s begin with a closer look at today’s Gospel Reading.
Today’s reading is about three individuals: a pharisee, a tax-collector and their God. We need to look at all three. First of all: the pharisee. I’ve described a pharisee before. But to remind you, in case you’ve forgotten, a pharisee was a member of the upper middle-class who wanted to worship God in the right way. And the “right way” consisted of following, as exactly as possible, all 613 rules derived from the Torah, the Law. To be a pharisee, you had to be as pure as possible.
You did what the law required, or better yet, what the law demanded. And if you did even more, you would be rewarded even more. If you fasted twice a week, you were better than someone who fasted only once a week, or who didn’t fast at all. And if you paid to the temple one-tenth of everything you really owned, instead of what you might say you owned, you were certainly better than the man who cheated God by underestimating his share. Many of us probably know several modern-day pharisees. We may even know one of them very well.
And what about the tax-collector? What sort of person was he? For one thing, he was a social outcast. Why? Because he was a Jew who worked for the Romans. His apparent loyalty was to Caesar and not to his God. He collected money from his countrymen and kept part of it as his salary and turned the rest over to the authorities. Most people thought he probably kept more of it than he should have. Otherwise, why did the Romans always seem to be saying they needed more taxes? Probably because the tax collector was skimming more off the top than he should have.
So here we have today’s story, where the pharisee and the tax collector went to the temple to pray. Now the Jews who heard Jesus’ story weren’t at all surprised at what he said when he began his parable. They expected that a pharisee might go each morning and each afternoon to pray in the temple. This is what was expected of a religious man. And the pharisee was recognized by his fellow Jews to be a very religious man, one who had every right to stand with his head unbowed in a prominent place and shout out his thanksgiving to God: “Hey, I’m not like anyone else. I’m a lot better than anyone else. And that little guy, back there. The one who demands my hard-earned money and gives it to the Romans. He really is a sinner. I’m not like him. Not at all.”
Maybe this seems like a strange prayer. But it’s one we may have heard first-hand from people we know. Maybe from someone we know very well and agree with. After all, those fellow Jews who heard Jesus tell his story, agreed with what both the pharisee and the tax collector said. And what did they hear the tax collector say? “I am a sinner.” Everyone who heard Jesus’ story would agree with that statement. In their eyes, the tax collector is a sinner.
A sinner. What’s a sin? The Jewish concept of sin is a very interesting one. The word they used has been translated by scholars to mean something like: “to miss the mark. to fall short of a goal.” And from that meaning, comes the concept that to sin, is to fail. To fail big time. It’s in this way that each one of us is a sinner. Each one of us has failed, “big time”, in our goals, in the promises we have made to our self, to others and to our God.
And what happens when we fail, when we have missed our goal, broken our promise? When we are out of balance? When we recognize that we have sinned, we try to bring things back into balance. Which is why I began with justice and the scales of justice.
For you see, in order to deal out justice, a judge balances the facts of the case. Justice is not “punishment” so much as it is “correction.” Correction that must be done to bring the person and society back into a “right balance.” Justice is seeing and doing the right thing to correct a situation which is out of balance, which is wrong. If this were a homily on social justice, I would remind us of the words of Paul VI: “Those who seek peace must work for justice.”
But today’s Gospel Reading includes the words of the tax collector: “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” Mercy. Justice and mercy. As justice is seeing and doing the right thing in order to bring about a balance, mercy is seeing and doing the right thing; but at the same time, being gracious and forgiving, without having an obligation to be gracious and forgiving.
Last week we heard the parable which immediately precedes today’s Gospel Reading from Luke. Last week we heard about a prayer and justice being given by a judge, not out of a sense of mercy but because it was expedient for him to render a decision. This week we hear the other part of Luke’s story about prayer, about a prayer for God’s mercy for us sinners.
For some, justice is “merited.” For some, God’s love is “merited.” They say: “I’ve done everything God asked of me, and for this reason I merit my reward in heaven.” But others are able to say: “I have tried, but I know I’ve failed. I pray that God who knows when I try and fail, looks into my heart and sees what is inside of me and not just my external actions when balancing the scales of my life on earth and in his kingdom.”
For the Christian, the image of justice is not someone who is blind-folded, but rather, one who can look deeply into each heart and soul. And this means that Christians seek this quality not only in our God, but also in ourselves, in each one of us.
I need to be able to look at myself without wearing a blindfold. I need to recall that Luke says today’s parable was “addressed to those who believed in their own self-righteousness.” Nowhere in today’s reading is the pharisee condemned for doing the right thing. He was not told that he should stop praying or being faithful, stop fasting or contributing to the temple. He was taken to task for exalting himself, for being smug about his accomplishments, for not seeing that there was still room for improvement.
On the other hand, the tax collector admitted that he had his failings. He was probably a good tax collector and had retained only the money he was supposed to; but he had fallen short of his spiritual goals. His life needed to be balanced.
Each of us is called to examine our life and, in this examination, not to become self-righteous. For some, this examination is difficult. In our modern culture with its emphasis on psychology, we are repeatedly told that our problems come from a negative self-image, one in which we see only the bad things about us. Unfortunately, we then believe that the opposite of a “negative” self-image is a “positive” in which we should see only the good and wonderful about us. It’s from this attitude of looking at only the good and wonderful parts of us that we become smug and self-righteous.
Instead, what is really called for is an image of true justice, of looking into our selves and seeking an internal balance. Of recognizing our failings, our shortcomings – our sinfulness – and trying to balance them with needed changes.
A sinner is not an evil person. An evil person justifies any harm he does in terms of that harm being good and being worthy of continuation. Evil people have no desire to balance the actions of their lives. They are content in being out of balance. A sinner, however, recognizes that there are failings which need to be addressed and changed. A sinner seeks reconciliation: a balance with self, others and God.
Many of us recall that ancient formula: “Bless me father, for I have sinned.” In this request, we do not ask for a blessing because we have sinned and want to be excused for what we have done. Nor do we say it in order to have our actions condoned so we can go on sinning. Rather we ask for a blessing, for God’s help to recognize our failures and to help bring our lives back into balance. It is with great trust in God’s love, that each of us can pray and know that our prayer will be answered: “O God, be merciful to me, a sinner.”
Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time; October 25, 1992
Sir 35: 12-14, 16-18; 2 Tim 4:6-8, 16-18; Lk 18:9-14