Canter Bridge

I am not like other people.

Six words, these mere eight syllables, constitute the first mile-marker on the long road to hell. Neatly engraved on a gilded road-side sign, they appear to embody all the authority of law and decency. Yet they are the precise opposite of their claim.

Jesus abhorred the pious contempt with which people who mouth these words distance themselves from those who know their need. His uncanny appreciation of evil’s finest textures allowed him to diagnose both the negative and positive aspects of hellish self-differentiation.

First, the Pharisee in his famous parable of two men praying rests comfortably upon the platform of what he does not do. Not for him the bumptious filthiness of petty thieves, extra-marital coupling, and employment at the margins of decency. Then, the Pharisee takes those good disciplines of Israel’s shared life and makes them his moral bulwark: I fast twice a week … and I tithe!

The scene is made the more vivid for the parable’s brevity:

Jesus 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 look up 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.’

Who has not had such piety thrown in his face, his groaning prayers interrupted by the emotional violence of the self-righteous? Who has not poured out his heart in anguish to his Maker while heavenly ears bend to hear, only to be dismissed by the mocking religiosity of someone near at hand who tithes and with her glorious tenth presumably satisfies heaven’s need for justice?

Jesus will not allow that conversation between heaven and earth works this way. In his view, the tax collector’s plea for mercy throws celestial windows and doors wide open. The careful and self-possessed purveyors of mechanical obedience, on the other hand, hear only their own echoing voices in response.