The Pharisee and the Publican
Gospel: Lk 18:9-14
Homily given to JPII Seminarians
“Jesus addressed this parable to those who were convinced of their own righteousness and despised
everyone else.”
Those who were convinced of their own righteousness.
If we ever find ourselves in this condition, something went terribly wrong.
St. John Henry Newman remarked that it is the unique inheritance of the Judeo-Christian faith to
hold the confession of one’s sins as the very foundation of holiness. He says that while every
religion acknowledges a need for repentance, “what is peculiar to our divine faith, as to Judaism
before it, is this, that confession of sin enters into the idea of its highest saintliness, and that its
pattern worshippers and the very heroes of its history are only, and can only be, and cherish in their
hearts the everlasting memory that they are, and carry with them into heaven the rapturous avowal
of their being, redeemed, restored transgressors.” Indeed, the saint is not one who is convinced of
his righteousness, but the one who is convinced of his sinfulness. Think about some of the figures
in our history:
St. Teresa of Avila thought that her sins may have been the cause for the spread of the Lutheran
heresy.
At a time when many prelates were causing gross scandal, St. Catherine of Siena thought that it was
her sins that were the reason for people’s abandoning the Church.
St. Augustine said, “Let us never assume that if we live good lives that we will be without sin. Our
lives should be praised only when we continue to beg for pardon.”
And St. Paul believed that he was the very worst of sinners.
The height of holiness coincides with a deep conviction of one’s own sinfulness. This is because the
saint is looking at the right thing. The pharisee in today’s Gospel is looking at other people, as
though they set the standard for holiness. “I thank you, O God, that I am not like the rest of humanity
– greedy, dishonest, adulterous – or like this tax collector…”. He does not look at God, but at
humans. And so he is convinced of his own righteousness. He assures himself that he is in right
relationship with God by comparing himself to other people. And the result is that he is in right
relationship neither with God nor with others. He does not go home justified, and he despises
everyone else.
But his desire is good. He wants to be in right relationship with God. The thought of not being in right
relationship with God is horrifying to him. And so he sets up external standards to find security in
his relationship with God. This is such a real temptation. There are relationships we have – with
friends, family, superiors, etc. – without which our interior equilibrium gets thrown off. If we are
unsettled in a particular friendship, it is very difficult to be settled in ourselves. And it can be hard to
find peace until whatever it is that is plaguing that friendship is resolved. How much more with

God? If we are not secure in our relationship with Him, how can we be secure in ourselves? The
pharisee wants so bad to make sure he is right with God. But precisely by convincing himself of his
own righteousness, he moves himself out of right relationship with him. It is the one who is
convinced of his sinfulness that is able to be in right relationship with God. How can this be?
My brother-in-law is a really really good man. I have so much respect for him. We were house-
mates in college together, and I respected him then, and that respect has only grown as I’ve seen
him be such an excellent husband and father. But. He is nowhere close to being worthy of my sister.
My sister is amazing. I cannot describe how much I love her. And as good as my brother-in-law is,
my sister is way out of his league. And I tell this to my brother-in-law. It’s good for him. Not
primarily because it’s good to rib him a bit (though it is that, too). But more-so because he can only
hold my sister’s heart if he approaches her aware of his unworthiness. He can only receive her as a
gift, and reverence the gift that she is, and that his children are, if he recognizes more and more how
unworthy he is of them.
Jesus wants us to hold his Heart. The priest holds the Heart of God in his hands at the altar every
day. And if he for a moment forgets his unworthiness, He will fail to hold God’s Heart with
reverence. It is only by the continual begging for mercy – “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have
mercy on me, a sinner” – by the continual beating of his breast in repentance, that he has the right
disposition to receive the gift of God.
And it is precisely this disposition that puts us in right relationship both with God and with others.
Only in this disposition can I rightly venerate the presence of God in others. Woe to me,
hypocritical spiritual director, if I forget that the heart I hold in a direction meeting belongs to
someone in whom God dwells! But what joy to appreciate the gift that is given! By approaching
God with the perpetual awareness of our unworthiness, we dispose ourselves to live in perpetual
wonder at the gift of God, given to us in Jesus Christ. And in that, we receive a foretaste of Eternity,
where we will sing of the mercy of God forever. Amen.