The Pharisee and Taxman Story.

Luke 18.9-14.

Immediately after the Persistent Widow Story, Jesus tells this one. It likewise touches upon prayer… but it’s more about people who consider themselves devout, yet are jerks. Sometimes it’s called the Pharisee and Publican story, ’cause “publican” is how the KJV translates τελώνης/telónis, “collector of tolls, customs, or taxes.” But “publican” is an anachronism at this point in history.

Yep, it’s history lesson time, kids. Before the Cæsars took over, Rome was a republic. Not a democracy; it was an oligarchy run by patricians, the Roman upper caste. At some uncertain point in their past, the patricians overthrew their king and ran Rome collectively. Every year, patricians elected two consuls to run things; the consuls selected senators, and these senators ruled for life. But senators weren’t permitted to collect taxes, so they hired lower-rank patricians to do it for ’em. These tax-gatherers were from the publicani rank, and over time, publicani became synonymous with taxmen.

These publicans practiced tax farming: Different companies applied for the job of collecting taxes in a certain town or county, by offering the government an advance—say, x10,000. (The x stands for denarii; it’s like our dollar sign.) If they outbid everyone they got the contract, and had to pay the government the x10,000 advance. Now they had to make the money back: Collect rent, charge tolls, demand a percentage of merchants’ profits. They shook everybody down to make back that x10,000.

Everything they made beyond that x10,000, they got to keep. So the more unscrupulous the publican, the higher taxes would be, and the richer they got. Richer, and corrupt. They’d bribe government officials to get their contracts, bribe their way out of trouble if they were charged with over-taxing, and bribe their way out of trouble for any other crimes.

When Cæsar Augustus took over the senate in 30BC—that’d be about 60 years before Jesus tells this story—he took tax-gathering away from the publicans and put government officials in charge of it. He figured it’d lower taxes and reduce bribery. The publicans switched careers, and got into banking and money-lending. So, like I said, “publican” is an anachronism: Publicans weren’t taxmen anymore.

But Cæsar’s reforms didn’t fix the problem. Lazy government officials simply hired tax farmers to collect for them. Any wealthy person could bid for the job and get it. That’s what we see in first-century Israel: Wealthy Jews became tax farmers, and did the Romans’ dirty work for them. Their fellow Jews saw them as traitors—as greedy, exploitative sellouts. Which, to be fair, they totally were.

So to Jesus’s audience, a Pharisee—a devout follower of the Law of Moses—would be the good guy; and a taxman would be an utter scumbag. And now, the story.

Luke 18.9-14 KWL

9Jesus also says this parable

to certain hearers who imagine themelves fair-minded

and despise everyone else.

10“Two people go up to temple to pray.

One’s a Pharisee, and the other a taxman.

11The Pharisee, standing off by himself, is praying this:

‘God, thank you¹ that I’m not like every other person!

Greedy capitalists, totally unfair, totally unfaithful!

Or even like this taxman!

12I fast twice a week.

I tithe whatever I get.’

13The taxman, who’d been standing way back,

didn’t even want to raise his eyes to heaven,

but beat his chest, saying,

‘God have mercy on me, a sinner!’

14I tell you² this taxman goes back to his house

declared right in God’s eyes

—same as the other man!

For everyone who raises themselves will be lowered.

And those who lower themselves will be raised.”

Messiah and taxmen.

Christians, I’ve found, often assume all Jews were Pharisees. Nope; Jews could be of any denomination… or none; they might be completely secular. But if you were particularly devout, you were likely Pharisee. These are the folks who followed God so closely, they’d go to synagogue every Friday, go to temple thrice a year, wash themselves all the time, and follow all the commands. Or try to. Or try to look like they do; Pharisees were notorious for their loopholes.

The coming of Messiah was a uniquely Pharisee belief. Not every Jewish denomination believed it; Sadducees certainly didn’t. Pharisees believed during the End Times, Messiah would descend from the clouds of heaven with a full angelic army, and restore Israel to full strength, to the height of David and Solomon’s reigns. Then conquer the whole world. This kingdom would last forever. This was the “age to come.”

(Yeah, it has a lot of parallels with Christian popular views of the End Times. Christians swiped some of the core ideas from Pharisees. They claim they got ’em from bible, but not entirely.)

Anyway, if you were Jewish and absolutely fed up with the Roman occupation, the idea of Messiah coming to take over the world was really appealing. Messiah would free Israel, overthrow the Cæsars and Roman senate, and reign over Rome in their place. Some of us like to imagine Jesus doing the very same thing with our various governments. Sounds good to me, anyway. But Jesus had no such plans back then… and I’m not entirely sure it’s gonna look like that at his second coming either. It could… but I could be wrong. I’m not gonna make a doctrine out of things which could happen any which way. Jesus will rule the world, but how he does so is up to him.

Tied together with overthrowing Romans, was of course overthrowing the quislings who gathered taxes. They were robbing the people to fund their oppressors, and doing it so they themselves could get rich. Those greedy, unjust traitors. So when the Pharisee in Jesus’s story refers to “Greedy capitalists, totally unfair, totally unfaithful!” Lk 18.11 I guarantee you the audience would’ve immediately thought, “Yep, that’s a taxman.”

Then Jesus turns round and has the Pharisee say, “Or even like this taxman!” Surprise! You thought the Pharisee was already talking about taxmen. Woulda got a big laugh from the crowd; Jesus made a joke! Too bad the joke goes right over the heads of people nowadays.

And the reason it goes right over our head is we don’t think of our taxmen as greedy, unfair traitors. We may not like taxes; we might have a problem with certain specific taxmen when we get audited, and have to pay more than we think is fair. But our taxmen are nothing like Roman taxmen. Our taxmen aren’t trying to rob us for personal gain. Aren’t conspiring with a foreign government. Aren’t evil traitors. They’re just government employees trying to make sure we pay our fair share so we can have working roads and clean water; so our soldiers and first responders have support, equipment, and healthcare. (Yes, they’re squeezing us extra hard because billionaires have special billionaire tax loopholes and don’t pay squat; but we don’t blame the taxmen for that. We blame Congress. But that’s another rant.)

Pharisees commonly saw themselves as better than taxmen. For obvious reasons: They supported their nation, not oppressive foreigners. They sought God, and even though there were many hypocrites among them—same as there are among Christians—they felt they were following him; certainly better than taxmen were. Taxmen were despoiling and ruining Israel; they pursued Israel’s glorious future. And wouldn’t Messiah feel the very same way as they?

Except, y’know, Messiah himself tells this parable. In which the Pharisee prayed the very same thing any Pharisee would, and the taxmen prayed for mercy… and God justified the taxman. Wait, what?

The Pharisee’s self-righteousness. And ours.

The Pharisee in this story listed two of his good works: Fasting and tithing. These are far from the most challenging of Pharisee good works. Just about any Pharisee did ’em. Even the biggest hypocrites among them did ’em.

According to the Didache, Pharisees fasted every Monday and Thursday. But since Jewish days run from sundown to sundown, this is what those two fast days actually looked like:

SUNDAY. Eat breakfast and a big evening meal. But no food after sundown.

MONDAY. No breakfast, no lunch. After sundown, big supper!

TUESDAY. Ordinary day.

WEDNESDAY. Same deal as Sunday.

THURSDAY. Same deal as Monday.

FRIDAY. Ordinary day… but no cooked food after sundown, ’cause it’s Sabbath.

SUNDAY. No cooked food till sundown.

So, two days of the week you gotta skip two meals. Followed by big ol’ Monday and Thursday night feasts. Fasting is more of a real challenge when you go to bed hungry.

As for tithing, that’s just setting aside 10 percent of your produce… so you can feast with it. (Except for every third year, when it went into the community storehouse for the poor and the Levites.) No it’s not the same thing Christians do when we tithe. And even though Pharisees would nitpick all the stuff they figured they were supposed to tithe, all the way down to the very herbs in their gardens, Lk 11.42 tithing wasn’t hardship. At all.

Y’notice neither of these “good works” really did anything for others. They’re entirely about making this Pharisee feel devout. And they’re both about food—about putting stuff in his stomach—or not. I figure you already know the stomach is one of the more popular idols in every culture.

Jesus is way more interested in the justice and love of God, Lk 11.42 in mercy and humility Mc 6.8 and fruit of the Spirit. Good works are nice, but they ain’t fruit. You actually can do them without fruit—and as a result they’re not good anymore.

Yet for all that, Jesus doesn’t say the Pharisee isn’t righteous; he says he is. Seriously: Read the story again. He doesn’t condemn the Pharisee. “I tell you this taxman goes back to his house declared right in God’s eyes—same as the other man!” Lk 18.14 The other man being the Pharisee.

Yes, nearly every other translation is gonna say the Pharisee’s not righteous. The KJV inserted the word “rather” into the text—“this man went down to his house justified [rather] than the other”—but the Greek text doesn’t actually contrast the men like that. It has παρ’ ἐκεῖνον/par’ ekeínu, “besides the other.” Yes, pará and its shortened form par’ can be used to suggest something opposite or contrary, like when Paul writes about those who teach inconsistently with what Christians were rightly taught. Ro 16.17 But that’s not its usual meaning.

Nonetheless most bibles have followed the KJV’s lead. Why? Obviously ’cause we have our prejudices against Pharisees. Plus, the Pharisee in this story is being a dick—boasting to God about how he’s a good man, unlike his neighbors and this taxman, and thank God he is! Of course we’re gonna want to say he’s unjust or unrighteous. Especially when contrasted to this repentant taxman. Especially after Jesus says everyone who raises himself will be lowered, Lk 18.14 and what’s lower than unrighteousness?

But notice why we’re condemning the Pharisee: Because of something he did. Does God consider us righteous (or unrighteous) because of our works? Is that what we teach when we talk about Christian doctrine? I don’t teach works righteousness, and I would hope you don’t either. We are right with God because of faith—because we put our faith in Jesus, and we trust God. Works don’t make us righteous! And thanks to God’s grace, our thoughtless misdeeds don’t strip that righteousness away.

That’s why it’s wrong to teach the Pharisee was unrighteous. Did he trust God? Well he was in temple, praying, and thanking God for his situation. Badly, with a really graceless attitude, but still. Jesus has nothing good to say about him, but neither does he condemn him either—unless you insist on translating verse 14, “Rather than the other man,” which is still wrong.

And heads up, lest you vaunt yourself over this Pharisee, and become guilty of the very same thing you think he did.

Humility and justification.

Regardless of whether the Pharisee’s right with God, Jesus largely ignores him and points to the taxman. Remember, we’re justified by faith. The taxman is a Roman collaborator, probably a bit of a thief, and we’ve no idea how much he fasts or tithes. But he is in temple praying—and he’s beating his chest because he feels bad, and wants to physically feel bad too. He’s a sinner. He knows it. He’s begging for God’s mercy.

His prayer has become the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Which we call the Jesus Prayer instead of the taxman’s prayer, ’cause you do realize Jesus made up this story, right? He approves of this prayer. It’s a good prayer. We oughta pray it!

Often we oughta pray it, ’cause we certainly shouldn’t be praying the ridiculously proud prayers of this Pharisee. Seriously, “Thank you that I’m not like every other person”? Yes we are like every other person: Sinners who need grace. Who are doomed if we don’t receive it. Who, thank God, do receive it, and oughta be grateful we do, and never take it for granted.

Contrary to popular belief, Pharisees did know they were saved by grace, not works. God didn’t free the Hebrews from Egyptian slavery because they were righteous, y’know. They weren’t. It was always grace. But like too many of us, we sometimes take God’s grace for granted, and thank God for his blessings, and presume he’s blessing us because we’re such good people—after all, we believe all the correct things and tithe to our churches. And sometimes we make the Pharisee’s mistake of thinking this makes us better than others—better than heathens, better than sinners, certainly better than people who voted for the opposition party. We unwittingly become jerks like this Pharisee. We receive God’s grace nonetheless—just like this Pharisee—but we’re still jerks, and that still needs fixing.

So whenever we get this way, this parable’s for us. Gotta be humble, like the taxman. Gotta pursue God’s justification, not self-justification. Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.