Gospel of Jesus Christ according to Saint Luke

At that time,
    to some who were convinced they were being just
and who despised others,
Jesus told this parable:
    “Two men went up to the Temple to pray.
One was a Pharisee,
and the other, a publican (that is, a tax collector).
    The Pharisee stood and prayed to himself:
'My God, I thank you
because I am not like other men
– they are thieves, unjust, adulterers –,
or like this publican.
    I fast twice a week
and I pay a tenth of everything I earn.'
    The tax collector stood at a distance
and did not even dare to raise his eyes to the sky;
but he beat his breast, saying:
'My God, show yourself favorable to the sinner that I am!'
    I declare to you:
when the latter went back down to his house,
he was the one who became a righteous man,
rather than the other.
Whoever exalts himself will be humbled;
whoever humbles himself will be exalted.

    – Let us acclaim the Word of God.

Descend to rise transform prayer through authentic humility

How the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector reveals the paradoxical path to justification and renews our relationship with God.

We often pray by counting our merits rather than acknowledging our poverty. The parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Luke 18:9-14) reverses this seemingly sensible logic: the one who goes up to the Temple displaying his virtues comes down unchanged, while the sinner who beats his breast becomes righteous. These words of Jesus overturn our understanding of prayer, divine justice, and the spiritual path, offering a key to all authentic living before God.

The common thread of our exploration

We will discover how this brief parable places humility at the heart of justification, unfold the contrasting attitudes of the two prayer leaders, and then explore concrete applications in our daily lives. We will then delve deeper into the resonances in the spiritual tradition before proposing a meditative practice and addressing contemporary challenges. A liturgical prayer and practical reference points will conclude our journey.

Context: A parable to correct spiritual delusion

Luke places this parable in Jesus' final ascent to Jerusalem, between the teaching on perseverance in prayer and the welcoming of children. The context is precise: Jesus is addressing "some who were convinced of their righteousness and who despised others." This literary precision is not insignificant. Luke is targeting a dangerous spiritual attitude that threatens all believers: the certainty of one's own righteousness coupled with contempt for others.

The narrative framework is carefully constructed. Two men go up to the Temple in Jerusalem to pray. The first, a Pharisee, represents the religious elite respected for their scrupulous observance of the Law. The second, a publican, a tax collector for the Roman occupier, embodies the hated collaborator, considered a public and impure sinner. The opposition is maximal: purity versus impurity, observance versus transgression, honor versus shame.

The Pharisee's prayer perfectly illustrates the delusion he is denouncing. His gratitude to God masks self-congratulation: "I am not like other men." He lists his practices that go beyond legal requirements: fasting twice a week instead of the prescribed fasts, tithing all his income. His physical posture—standing—and his inner gaze—"prayed within himself"—reveal a prayer that never truly leaves itself. He compares, measures, distinguishes himself.

The tax collector adopts a radically different posture. He stands "at a distance," probably in the outer courts reserved for the less pure. He does not dare raise his eyes to heaven, a customary gesture of Jewish prayer. He beats his breast, a sign of deep contrition rarely mentioned in Scripture. His prayer is contained in eight Greek words: "My God, be merciful to me, a sinner." No comparison, no justification, only the naked appeal to divine mercy.

The verdict of Jesus falls, paradoxical and definitive: it is the tax collector who comes down "justified" (passive form of the Greek verb dikaioō, to be made righteous by God). The Pharisee, despite his authentic works, remains unchanged. The final sentence states the general principle: "Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; whoever humbles himself will be exalted." This law of the Kingdom reverses the worldly and religious logic of accumulated merit.

Analysis: Justification as a gift received in truth

The theological heart of this parable lies in the very nature of divine justification. Jesus does not criticize the Pharisee's religious practices—fasting and tithing are legitimate and praiseworthy. He reveals the inner attitude that turns these acts into obstacles: the pretension of self-righteousness and the corresponding contempt for others.

Justification, in the biblical thought taken up by Paul, designates the action of God that makes the sinner righteous, not by his merits but by grace. The tax collector intuitively understands this truth. His prayer does not plead any extenuating circumstances, does not invoke any hidden merit. He presents himself as he is: a sinner in need of mercy. This radical truth about himself opens the space where God can act.

The Pharisee, on the other hand, closes this space. His prayer remains trapped in the closed circuit of the ego. By comparing himself to others—"I am not like them"—he bases his righteousness on difference, and therefore on the judgment of others. His very gratitude becomes a subtle assertion of superiority. He thanks God for being different, better, more observant. This attitude reveals a fundamental misunderstanding: righteousness is not measured, it is received.

The expression "became righteous" (Greek dedikaiōmenos) uses a perfect passive participle, indicating a completed divine action with permanent effect. It is not the tax collector who justifies himself by his humility—that would be falling back into meritorious logic. It is God who justifies the one who humbly recognizes his condition. Humility is not a virtue to be counted but the disposition that allows one to welcome the gift.

This dynamic is consistent with Paul's teaching on justification by faith: "God made him to be sin for us who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God" (2 Cor 5:21). Christian righteousness is participation in the righteousness of Christ, not the accumulation of personal merit. It presupposes the prior recognition of our inability to save ourselves.

The two faces of prayer, the two spiritual paths

The parable contrasts two radically different conceptions of prayer and, by extension, of the spiritual path. Understanding this opposition sheds light on our own practices and attitudes.

The Pharisee's prayer illustrates what we might call "performative prayer": it enunciates accomplishments in order to congratulate oneself on them. The Pharisee comes to the Temple not to meet God but to reassure himself of his own moral worth. His prayer functions as a mirror in which to contemplate his virtuous reflection. The "I" dominates: "I give you thanks," "I am not," "I fast," "I pour." This multiplication of the pronoun reveals the true center of gravity: not God, but the self and its accomplishments.

Even more subtle, this Pharisee prays “within himself” (pros heauton), an ambiguous expression meaning either "apart from oneself" or "for oneself." The two meanings converge: his prayer remains interior, withdrawn into his own judgment. It never truly goes out toward the Other, does not expose itself to the divine gaze that scrutinizes hearts. It is a prayer without risk, without vulnerability, where everything is controlled and mastered.

The tax collector's prayer, on the other hand, embodies the "prayer of abandonment": it renounces all control in favor of mercy. The tax collector is not standing, but probably bent over, crushed by the weight of his guilt. He does not raise his eyes, a customary gesture of prayer, as if shame prevented him from doing so. He beats his chest, a sign of inner pain and visceral repentance. His entire body speaks before his lips.

His brief invocation—"My God, be merciful to the sinner that I am"—uses the verb hilaskomai (to be propitious, to forgive) linked to the ritual of Yom Kippur where the high priest sprinkled the mercy seat (hilastērion) of the atoning blood. The publican does not invoke his merits but asks for ritual atonement, implicitly recognizing that only God can purify. The definite article "the sinner" (tō hamartōlō) suggests that he identifies totally with his sinful condition, without distance or excuse.

These two prayers reveal two spiritual paths. The first seeks elevation through the accumulation of virtues and distinction from sinners. It is the path of separation, of purity achieved, of justice constructed. The second accepts descent, stripping, and radical poverty before God. It is the path of union in the recognition of our common wounded humanity. Paradoxically, it is descent that elevates, poverty that enriches, and humiliation that justifies.

Contempt as a symptom of spiritual illusion

Luke emphasizes that Jesus is referring to "some who despised others." Contempt (exouthenountes) is not a secondary defect but the symptom of a deep spiritual pathology. Analyzing this contempt sheds light on the roots of the illusion denounced.

Spiritual contempt arises from a twofold misperception. First, it confuses holiness with separation. The Pharisee believes that his righteousness isolates him from sinners, places him above them. He forgets that biblical holiness is not isolation but consecration—being set apart. For to serve, no against others. Second, he ignores that all human justice remains relative and imperfect before the divine absolute. As Paul will write: "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Rom 3:23). The dividing line does not pass between the righteous and the sinners but passes through every human heart.

Contempt also functions as a psychological defense mechanism. By projecting blame onto others—"thieves, unjust, adulterers"—the Pharisee protects himself from recognizing his own shadow. The sins he lists are precisely those he must repress to maintain his image as righteous. His prayer thus becomes an unconscious attempt to ward off his own demons through projection.

This contempt also contaminates prayer itself. Instead of being a loving dialogue with God, it becomes a tribunal in which to judge others. The Pharisee does not pray. For the sinners but against them, using their supposed unworthiness as a foil for his own virtue. This instrumentalization of others betrays a purely comparative and competitive vision of spiritual life: I am good because they are bad, I am saved because they are lost.

The tax collector's attitude is in stark contrast. He does not compare, does not judge, does not even mention others. His prayer is a pure vertical relationship with God. This absence of comparison reveals an authentic humility: the humble person does not measure himself against others or against himself; he accepts himself as he is under God's gaze. The tax collector does not need to despise in order to exist; he exists in the naked truth of his condition before the One who alone can save.

This analysis of contempt echoes Jesus' teaching on judgment: "Judge not, that you be not judged" (Mt 7:1). Not that all moral evaluation is forbidden, but judgment that condemns, excludes, and despises usurps the divine prerogative. Only God knows hearts; only He can judge in truth and mercy. Our task is not to judge others but to watch over our own hearts and pray for all.

Elevation through abasement, paradox of the Kingdom

Jesus' final sentence—"Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; whoever humbles himself will be exalted"—states a fundamental principle of the Kingdom of God. This paradox runs throughout the Gospel and reveals a divine logic that reverses worldly standards of greatness and success.

The self-abasement Jesus speaks of is not calculated false modesty or spiritual masochism. It is the clear-eyed and peaceful recognition of our truth: we are finite, sinful creatures, radically dependent on God for our existence and salvation. This recognition is not degrading but liberating. It frees us from the exhausting obligation to justify ourselves, to construct our salvation, to prove our worth.

The tax collector embodies this authentic humiliation. He doesn't play at humility, he lives it. His bodily posture—distance, downcast eyes, beaten chest—expresses a real humiliation before the weight of his sin. Yet, this humiliation is not despair but a cry: "My God." He still believes he can turn to God, still hopes in His mercy. His humiliation is therefore pervaded by faith and hope.

God's elevation does not come despite this humiliation but through it. It is precisely because the tax collector recognizes himself as a sinner that God can justify him. Humility creates the void in which grace can unfold. As Mary will write in the Magnificat: "He puts down the mighty from their thrones and exalts the humble" (Luke 1:52). Divine logic inverts human hierarchies not out of arbitrariness but because only the humble welcome the gift.

This paradox culminates in the Paschal Mystery. Jesus himself "humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God highly exalted him" (Phil 2:8-9). Christ's voluntary self-abasement in the Incarnation and Passion becomes the path to his glorification and our salvation. The cross, an instrument of extreme humiliation, becomes a throne of glory and a source of life. Every Christian is called to follow this paradoxical path.

Living the parable daily

This parable is not just a theoretical lesson, but a practical challenge that transforms our real lives. Let's explore its applications in different spheres of existence.

In the life of personal prayer, the parable invites us to examine our deepest motivations. Do we pray to meet God or to reassure ourselves of our spiritual worth? Do our prayers enumerate our merits or expose our poverty? Do we use prayer to compare, judge, or distinguish ourselves? The practical exercise is to gradually simplify our prayer, prune self-justifications, and return to the simple, naked cry of the tax collector. A prayer of humility might be: "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner"—the famous prayer from the heart of the Eastern tradition, directly inspired by our parable.

In the ecclesial community life, the pharisaical danger constantly threatens. Regular churchgoers can develop a subtle contempt for the "lukewarm," the "occasional," those who "don't make an effort." The concrete implication: welcoming everyone where they are, rejoicing in every presence rather than lamenting absences, recognizing that we are all beggars of grace. In our parish communities, this could mean: taking special care in welcoming newcomers, avoiding circles of "faithful" who implicitly exclude, valuing the diversity of paths rather than imposing a single model.

In charitable and social commitments, the parable warns against condescension. Serving the poor with a sense of superiority reproduces a self-righteous attitude. Authentic charity recognizes our common humanity and receives as much as it gives. Concretely: truly listen to those we help, learn from them, recognize that they perhaps evangelize us more than we help them. In Christian social works, prioritize personal relationships over anonymous distributions, create spaces for genuine encounter rather than streams of "beneficiaries."

In professional and social life, the spirit of comparison and competition often reigns. The parable suggests an alternative: measuring one's work not by comparison with others but by fidelity to one's own vocation. Practically: authentically rejoicing in the successes of others, rejecting the logic of denigration, cultivating collaboration rather than rivalry. In professional Christian circles, this implies demonstrating a different relational style, less competitive and more supportive.

Tradition

Our parable resonates deeply with the whole of biblical revelation and Christian spiritual tradition, forming a coherent weave of wisdom.

The Old Testament already prepares for this reversal. The Psalms sing: "A broken spirit is the sacrifice that pleases God; a broken and contrite heart, O my God, you will not reject" (Ps 51:19). The prophet Isaiah announces: "My eyes are on the humble and the contrite in spirit, and on those who tremble at my word" (Is 66:2). The book of Proverbs teaches: "A man's pride will bring him to humiliation, but the humble in spirit will obtain honor" (Prov 29:23). Biblical wisdom has always celebrated humility as a fundamental virtue.

Saint Paul develops theologically what our parable illustrates narratively. His teaching on justification by faith in Romans 3-5 follows exactly the same logic: "All have sinned... and are justified freely by his grace, through the redemption accomplished in Christ Jesus" (Rom 3:23-24). The Pharisee/publican distinction becomes that between the righteousness of works and the righteousness of faith. Paul himself experienced this passage, he, the former zealous Pharisee transformed by the encounter with Christ on the road to Damascus.

The Fathers of the Church have commented extensively on this parable. Saint Augustine sees in it the condemnation of spiritual pride, the root of all sins. Saint John Chrysostom insists on the sincerity of the publican, a model of authentic confession. These patristic commentaries have nourished the entire subsequent spiritual tradition.

Monastic spirituality, particularly in the East, has made humility the cardinal virtue. The ladder of Saint John Climacus places humility at the pinnacle of spiritual ascension. The Desert Fathers repeated: "The awareness of one's sin is greater than raising the dead." This tradition recognizes in the tax collector the model of the hesychast, the one who descends into his heart to encounter God in the naked truth.

Saint Thérèse of Lisieux would reformulate this wisdom in her "little way": not to rely on one's virtues but to abandon oneself to divine mercy. She wrote: "My weaknesses rejoice me because they give me the opportunity to feel the mercy of Jesus." The Curé of Ars confessed: "I am the greatest sinner the earth has ever known," not out of false modesty but out of genuine humility before God.

Appropriating the Publican's Prayer

To transform this parable into a living spiritual path, here is a progressive meditative practice in seven steps to experience daily for a week.

Day 1: Prayerful Reading. Read Luke 18:9-14 aloud slowly, three times. Each time you read, focus on a different detail: the body postures, the words, the final verdict. Take note of what resonates, challenges, or disturbs you.

Day 2: Identification. Ask yourself honestly: In what ways am I sometimes the Pharisee? When have I compared myself favorably to others? When have I counted my spiritual merits? Note these moments without judgment, simply to see clearly.

Day 3: The Publican's Posture. During prayer, physically adopt your posture: stand at a distance (symbolically withdrawn), lower your eyes, gently beat your chest. Let the body teach humility to the mind.

Day 4: The Publican's PrayerRepeat slowly, like a mantra: "My God, show yourself favorable to the sinner that I am." Let this prayer descend from the mind to the heart. Repeat it ten, twenty, a hundred times until it becomes spiritual breathing.

Day 5: The Examination of MercyIn the evening, revisit your day not to count sins and merits but to welcome God's merciful gaze on our reality. Recognize your faults with confidence, not despair.

Day 6: The Fast of Comparison. For one entire day, refrain from any comparison with others, mental or verbal. Whenever a comparison arises, notice it and return to your own truth before God.

Day 7: Thanksgiving renewed. End with a true prayer of gratitude, not for being better than others but for the gifts received, recognizing that they all come from God and do not belong to us alone.

Contemporary challenges

This ancient parable challenges our contemporary world in surprising ways and raises legitimate questions requiring nuanced answers.

Is humility compatible with the self-assertion needed today? Our culture values self-confidence, personal assertion, and even professional self-promotion. Christian humility seems to contradict these demands. In reality, true humility is not self-denial but truth about oneself. It lucidly recognizes one's talents while knowing that they are received, not constructed. Paradoxically, it allows for healthy self-affirmation, free from the neurotic need to prove one's worth. The humble can dare because they do not risk their identity in success.

How can we prevent the recognition of sin from becoming masochism or toxic guilt? Some rigorous readings of the parable have indeed engendered unhealthy spiritualities, obsessed with personal unworthiness. The key lies in the complete movement of the tax collector's prayer: he recognizes himself as a sinner. And addresses God. His confession is filled with trust. Christian humility is never a desperate withdrawal but a trusting openness to mercy. It says "I am a sinner" not to overwhelm itself but to welcome salvation.

Does this parable condemn all regular religious practice? Some might conclude that fasting, praying, and giving are useless or even counterproductive, since the Pharisee who practices them is rejected. This would be a serious misinterpretation. Jesus does not condemn the practices, but the attitude that accompanies them. The humble and discreet fasting that he recommends elsewhere (Mt 6:16-18) remains valuable. It is the claim to save oneself through one's works and the corresponding contempt for others that are denounced, not the works themselves.

How does this parable apply to current church debates? In our churches, the divide between "regular churchgoers" and "occasional churchgoers," "traditionalists" and "progressives," and "committed" and "consumers" often reproduces pharisaical logic. Each side can believe itself to be righteous and despise the other. The parable invites us to transcend these divisions by recognizing that all of us—conservatives and reformists, faithful and distant—are beggars of mercy. It calls for humble dialogue rather than mutual condemnation.

Doesn't humility risk paralyzing social and prophetic action? If I recognize myself as a sinner, can I still denounce injustices? True humility does not prevent the prophetic word but purifies it. The humble prophet knows that he is no better than those he denounces, that he shares their wounded humanity. This awareness makes him both more radical—because he does not negotiate with injustice—and more merciful—because he does not condemn people. Authentic Christian social engagement unites moral clarity and compassion.

Prayer: To become righteous through Your mercy

Lord Jesus Christ, Incarnate Word and Master of truth,
You taught us that humility opens the doors of the Kingdom
while pride closes them, even to the most observant.
We thank you for this parable that reveals our hearts
and reveals the paradoxical path of justification.

Like the Pharisee, we have often counted our merits,
compared our efforts to the weaknesses of others,
transformed our prayer into a tribunal where we judge our brothers.
We believed ourselves righteous by our works,
forgetting that all righteousness comes from You alone.
Forgive us for this pretension that hurts You and isolates us.

Like the tax collector, teach us to keep our distance,
not out of despair but out of humility,
knowing that we are sinners before Your holiness.
Give us the courage to lower our eyes,
to strike our breast, to invoke Your mercy
without calculation or reserve, with filial trust.

May our prayer become simple and true,
stripped of all artifice and all comparison,
pure relationship of love between our poverty and Your wealth.
Teach us to no longer measure our justice by the injustice of others.
but to receive it from You as a free and undeserved gift.

Purify our ecclesial communities from all spirit of judgment.
That we welcome everyone where they are,
without contempt for the “distant” or pride for the “practitioners”.
Make our assemblies spaces where all, righteous and sinners,
recognize themselves as beggars of Your grace and witnesses of Your mercy.

In our charitable and social commitments,
keep us from all condescension.
That we serve our brothers by recognizing our common humanity,
learning from them as much as we give them,
receiving their evangelization as much as we evangelize them.

At work, in our families, in all our relationships,
free us from the spirit of competition and comparison.
May we find our joy not in superiority over others
but in fidelity to Your will and in service of the common good.

Lord, bring down in us this humility which elevates,
this poverty which enriches, this abasement which justifies.
May we come down from our prayers transformed each day,
not by our merits but by Your mercy,
not by our righteousness but by Yours which is given to us in Jesus Christ.

You who humbled yourself to the point of death on the cross
and whom the Father has exalted in glory,
lead us on your paschal path
of fruitful humiliation and promised glorification.
Amen.

From the Temple to the home, from the parable to life

The parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector leaves us at a crucial crossroads. Two paths are open to us: that of proud elevation which leads to abasement, and that of humble abasement which leads to elevation. Our daily choices determine not only our relationship with God but our entire existence.

Like the tax collector, let us "go back down to our house" transformed by this Word. Going back down here is not a failure but a fruitful return to ordinary life, bearers of a new truth. The tax collector returns home justified, that is, reconciled with God, with himself, and potentially with others. His humble prayer in the Temple now bears fruit in his home, his work, his relationships.

Concretely, let's choose three immediate actions. First of all, adopt the publican's prayer as your daily morning prayer, the spiritual anchor of the day. Secondly, practice “comparison fasting” daily for a week, observing how we constantly measure ourselves against others. Thirdly, identify a person we have judged or despised and make a concrete gesture of reconciliation or openness.

The liberating truth of this parable is that we do not have to build ourselves up, to prove our worth, to earn God's love. We can finally stop this exhausting race and receive ourselves, beloved sinners, justified not by our merits but by pure mercy. This freedom transforms everything: our prayer becomes loving dialogue, our community life becomes true fraternity, our action in the world becomes joyful service.

Both the Pharisee and the tax collector dwell in our hearts. Every day we choose which one to feed. May we, by grace, choose the humility that opens us to true greatness, that of the Kingdom where the last are first and where those who humble themselves are exalted by God himself.

Practical

• Daily Prayer : Repeat every morning “My God, show yourself favorable to the sinner that I am”, with a humble posture and a trusting heart.
• Renewed examination of conscience : In the evening, revisit your day under the merciful gaze of God, recognizing faults and graces without comparison with others.
• Comparison fasting : Abstain for a week from any mental or verbal comparison with others; observe how difficult and liberating it is.
• Unconditional welcome : In one's parish community, give a particularly warm welcome to a "different" or "distant" person without judgment or condescension.
• Purified Gratitude : Thank God for His gifts by recognizing that they come from Him, not from our personal merits or superiority.
• Gesture of reconciliation : Identify a person who is judged or despised and take a concrete act of openness: message, invitation, request for forgiveness.
• Weekly Meditative Reading : Reread Lk 18, 9-14 every Sunday, identifying yourself successively with the Pharisee then with the tax collector, to better know his heart.

References

Primary sources:

• Gospel according to Saint Luke 18, 9-14 (Jerusalem Bible)
• Epistle of Saint Paul to the Romans 3-5 (justification by faith)
• Psalm 51 (Miserere, sacrifice that pleases God)

Secondary sources:

• Saint Augustine, Sermons on the Gospel of Luke (patristic commentary)
• Saint John Chrysostom, Homilies on Penance (eastern tradition)
• Saint Therese of Lisieux, Story of a soul (little way of humility)
• John Climacus, The Holy Ladder (Eastern monastic spirituality)
• Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth Volume I (contemporary theological exegesis)