Publican or Pharisee?

  • When­ever you hear para­bles, do you think real quick whether you’d be the bad guy or the good guy in the story? I do, but the Pub­li­can and the Phar­isee — which we all heard today in church — poses a bit of a prob­lem. Because of course every­one would hope they’re more like the Pub­li­can. But then, if that leads you to say, “I thank you, God that I am not like that Phar­isee,” aren’t you being more like the Pharisee?

    Here’s a bit of icon read­ing for the day. It’s just some­thing that occurred to me, so I can’t say that it’s what the icon is def­i­nitely sup­posed to be say­ing. But I noticed this a few years ago when teach­ing a church school ses­sion about iconog­ra­phy, and I pass it along for what it’s worth.

    publicanpharisee.jpg Here is the icon of the Pub­li­can and the Phar­isee. It has the kind of split action that is used to advance the nar­ra­tive in ancient art. So we have the Phar­isee pray­ing at the tem­ple on the left and leav­ing on the right. The Pub­li­can prays on the right and leaves on the left.

    This struck me as strange. Sym­bolic lan­guage in icons is very con­sis­tent in some ways. Just as Christ said that at the Judg­ment, the faith­ful would be at His right and the impi­ous at His left, icons usu­ally use those direc­tions to indi­cate good and evil, right and wrong, or — in the words of this para­ble — jus­ti­fied and unjus­ti­fied. Except the direc­tions are reversed. The Phar­isee should be leav­ing on the left side and the Pub­li­can on the right.

    And then it occurred to me that if I were look­ing out from inside the tem­ple — in the place of God, so to speak — the posi­tions would be reversed. In other words, if I stood in the tem­ple and looked at these two men on strictly human terms, I might judge the Phar­isee as wor­thy and the Pub­li­can as unwor­thy. If, on the other hand, I saw as God sees — looked through His eyes — I might see things differently.

    As I said, it’s just my own inter­pre­ta­tion, so I’ve got no way of know­ing if that’s what was meant for cer­tain. But look­ing at things that way helps me with one thing, and that is the very strong incli­na­tion I have to con­sider that I can accu­rately spot the sin­ners and the saints. It’s an idi­otic con­ceit, of course, but I find myself jump­ing to con­clu­sions all the time, judg­ing all the books around me by their cov­ers, con­grat­u­lat­ing myself on my uncanny abil­ity to read human nature … and all the time hop­ing, nat­u­rally, that other peo­ple are kinder than I am.

    One last bit of read­ing from the icon. As they leave the tem­ple, the Phar­isee walks off with­out a back­ward glance, hands tucked neatly in his sleeves and look­ing every bit the self-righteous one who con­sid­er­ing a job well done. The Pub­li­can turns back as he goes, he raises his head to the tem­ple, his hands are raised as if in won­der. Is he meant to have felt some­thing of God’s good­ness and mercy in that moment? Or is it just the nat­ural atti­tude of one who has poured out his real heart in humil­ity, that he can’t bring him­self to turn his back on God’s house?

    More to the point, I sup­pose, did I look back as I left church today? Did I con­sider that I had done my duty?

    And did I leave on the right or the left?


    Related posts:

    1. The Sitka Icon (again)
    2. A bit dis­ap­pointed with the Getty exhibit
    3. The Sitka Icon
    4. A splen­did exhibit at the Getty Museum
    5. The scary Mary prayer

9 Responses and Counting...

  • E Rica 01.28.2007

    LOL!

    I enjoyed that line, “Lord, I thank you I’m not like the Phar­isee.” SOme­one told that joke last night… I really liked it.

    I can’t tell which one is the Pub­li­can or the Phar­isee. How can you?

    But in the icons of the crucifixion…the theif that repented is always on the right…right to the per­son look­ing at it, right? Or Christ’s right? Have I said, “right” enough.

    I loved this post.

  • Because the Pub­li­can has a halo so is saintly, and the Phar­isee does not.

    I am with you, I am usu­ally far closer to the Phar­isee than I’d like to admit.

  • Ah, makes sense.

  • wait are you sure that they are leav­ing the church? the halo isn’t at trhe bot­tom of the icon. Am I mak­ing sense?

    I think the bot­tom of the icon is the two enter­ing the church. The pub­li­can oinly obtains the halo on the top of the stairs.

  • Uh oh. I think you’re right. Okay, so much for that part of the lesson.

    I think I bet­ter stick to quot­ing “Diary of a Russ­ian Priest.”

  • Some­thing went badly wrong with the trans­mis­sion of this para­ble to the writ­ten text of the New Testament.

    The obvi­ous vques­tion is “What hap­pened next?”

    Pre­tend you’ve never heard any­one com­ment on the text. What it says is that the Phar­isee was a right­eous Jew who obeyed the Jew­ish law. The pub­li­can was a tax farmer, who oppressed and cheated other Jews. He was the oppo­site of righteous.

    The pub­li­can goes into the tem­ple and emo­tion­ally beats his breast. But what hap­pened next? Did he leave the tem­ple and resign his scam as a Pub­li­can? Or did he go out and con­tinue to oppress the Jew­ish peo­ple and then the fol­low­ing Sab­bath go to the tem­ple and beat his breast again.

    In every other para­ble, when we wit­ness repen­tence, somthing hap­pens. Zac­cha­eus, another pub­li­can, gives one half of his ill-gained wealth to the poor. The prodi­gal son goes home, etc. Indeed, in every para­ble but this one, some­thing hap­pens. Here noth­ing hap­pens. No one changes.

    Thus we must assume that the the Phar­isee will con­tinue to obey the laws of God, while the Pub­li­can will con­tinue to break the laws of God. (Remem­ber that, given it’s posi­tion in the NT, this is a story by a Jew addressed to Jews.)

  • […] As I said back here, I tend to won­der who I would be in a para­ble. Tomor­row we will all hear the para­ble of the Prodi­gal Son as we count down the Sun­days to Lent, and at some point I’m bound to won­der whether I’m more like the wan­der­ing son or his stead­fast but envi­ous brother. I sup­pose the answer for this one — and ulti­mately for all the para­bles — is that at dif­fer­ent times I’ve been dif­fer­ent char­ac­ters. I am the prodi­gal son when I sin and repent; I’m his brother when I judge oth­ers and am envi­ous and self-righteous. […]

  • Some­thing went badly wrong with the trans­mis­sion of this para­ble to the writ­ten text of the New Testament.

    The obvi­ous vques­tion is “What hap­pened next?”

    Pre­tend you’ve never heard any­one com­ment on the text. What it says is that the Phar­isee was a right­eous Jew who obeyed the Jew­ish law. The pub­li­can was a tax farmer, who oppressed and cheated other Jews. He was the oppo­site of righteous.

    The pub­li­can goes into the tem­ple and emo­tion­ally beats his breast. But what hap­pened next? Did he leave the tem­ple and resign his scam as a Pub­li­can? Or did he go out and con­tinue to oppress the Jew­ish peo­ple and then the fol­low­ing Sab­bath go to the tem­ple and beat his breast again.

    In every other para­ble, when we wit­ness repen­tence, somthing hap­pens. Zac­cha­eus, another pub­li­can, gives one half of his ill-gained wealth to the poor. The prodi­gal son goes home, etc. Indeed, in every para­ble but this one, some­thing hap­pens. Here noth­ing hap­pens. No one changes.

    Thus we must assume that the the Phar­isee will con­tinue to obey the laws of God, while the Pub­li­can will con­tinue to break the laws of God. (Remem­ber that, given it’s posi­tion in the NT, this is a story by a Jew addressed to Jews.)

  • […] 1.  I dis­cov­ered Grace at This Side of Glory before I was blog­ging myself. I wish I could write like her, she makes it seem so easy to be witty and thought­ful at the same time.  I feel like I strug­gle for hours over one entry and it seems like her’s just slip off the fin­gers. I still think about that first para­graph of her entry titled: Pub­li­can or Phar­isee? almost 6 months later. […]

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