“I’ll tell you what. Some people are simply a worthless waste of space. I don’t know why they even bother to get up in the morning. Just looking at them is enough to turn your stomach. The sound of their voice is enough to drive you mad. I might fall short, but I’m doing my darnedest to contribute to society. That’s not true of certain others. They even dare to enter the holy place.”
Could I possibly say that? Maybe not using those particular words, but maybe something in that spirit.
I am challenged by Jesus’ parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector in Luke 18. It seems simple enough. The two of them go to the temple and pray. The Pharisee reminds the Lord he isn’t like those “worthless” ones. The other cries out, knowing he is “worthless.” What is the result? The prayer of the “worthless” is accepted. He has behaved like the righteous.
How is the story prefaced? Jesus addresses this “to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.” The point is made that the Pharisee is “standing by himself,” while the tax collector is “standing far off.” He stands for those who dare not hang out with the respectable, and the latter makes sure the others know their place. That might include those who ask uncomfortable questions about certain vaccines.
What’s the moral of the story? The Lord says, “this man [that is, the worthless] 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.”
In speaking of this parable, Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber refers to “the terrible mercy of God.”
Are there crimes truly unforgivable? No doubt. Are the ones who committed the crimes truly unforgivable? It would seem so. But there’s that terrible mercy of God. As shocking, revolting, and deeply unjust as it might seem, even Mao, even Stalin, even Hitler are not beyond the reach of a saving Lord who turns our notions of right and wrong on its head. (Remember, Moses was a murderer, David was a rapist, and Paul was a persecutor of the church.)
Still, stepping back from the monstrous, we have our own petty notions of worthlessness. How about us versus them? Is it possible that one of our own can do or say something—and one of theirs can do or say the exact same thing—and ours is to be saluted, while theirs is to be scorned? Maybe we see that dynamic played out in the news.
We can learn lessons from the art of dialogue. There are a number of models, but a useful and popular one was developed by Leonard Swidler, who has taught at Temple University for decades. A sample of principles include: be willing to listen and learn from the other. Be willing to criticize one’s own point of view. Be willing to experience the other’s viewpoint “from within,” if even for a short time. (You know—walk in the other’s shoes!) Go to the Dialogue Institute website to get a better understanding.
Imagine how the parable would have ended had the Pharisee walked in the worthless one’s shoes (or sandals) for a moment.
The Lord knows what is in everyone's heart. If God accepts someone we think is not deserving, then we really don't believe that God knows best.