The Pharisee
A Dramatic Monologue for Ash Wednesday
March 1, 2006
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
I don’t understand why I always find that man so offensive. Maybe it’s conditioning; I’m so used to hearing him say unkind things about me and my kind that whenever he’s critical of someone I assume he means me.
Me? What am I? Oh, I’m a Pharisee. We practice an extra special regard for the demands of the Law of God. I think it’s important to be scrupulous about the rightness of my behavior, because if God taught us, for example, “Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy” and “Honor your father and your mother,” then who am I to think I know better than God about what I should and should not do?
(Pause)
There’s nothing in what Jesus just said that I really disagree with. Yes, the purpose of fasting is penitence and self-discipline, not to put on a show. Yes, the way to pray alone is to communicate privately with God, not shouting on a street corner. Yes, it’s uncouth to make a major announcement: I just gave 200 denarii to the Temple Poor Fund!
So what’s my problem?
(Pause) (Chuckle)
Actually, Jesus paints a rather silly picture. Just imagine yourself on the street corner out there, hands upturned and chanting a psalm. You don’t need Jesus to tell you not to do that! Or think about going to work wearing burlap and moaning, “Oh no! Alas! Verily now is a time of fasting!” when your friend invites you to lunch. Rather silly of Jesus to tell you not to do things you would not do anyway.
Maybe that’s my problem. I might do some of those things. I mean, isn’t it good for people to have someone remind them of their duty to their Creator? Isn’t that what I do if I pray in public, or let people know about my fasting and giving to charity? Don’t I encourage them to do the same?
(Pause)
You know what else bothers me? It’s this whole business about motivation. “Don’t do this, that or the other thing in order to be rewarded and applauded by others.” What difference does it make what your motivation is? If you give to charity in order to get approval from others, haven’t you done a good thing for the poor anyway? And if you pray in public so that other people will applaud you, isn’t that going to encourage someone else to start praying? Besides, it means that those prayers have been said and that’s certainly a good thing! I don’t care if my son prays for me in private or in public, just so he’s praying for me! And as for fasting – that is a good discipline for the soul whether others know about it or not.
So I don’t know what he’s picking about. Anyway, he says do these things secretly in order to be rewarded by God! How selfish can you get? If I want to be rewarded by God, my reward might as well be the approval of my neighbors.
(Pause)
What really gets me, I think, is that Jesus seems two-faced. In one direction he says, “Trust in God” and in the other he says, “Your righteousness must exceed that of the Pharisees.” Grace and discipline both, at the same time. I don’t see how they can go together and I don’t really see much evidence that Jesus’ followers take them together either. Some are hung up on discipline and wanting to discipline others; some are fanatics for grace and think everybody should do what they want. Grace and discipline together: what an insane idea.
(Long pause. Struggling for words.)
Still, to be honest with you, it’s an appealing insanity. I mean – sometimes – when I tell my criticisms to shut up and I listen to Jesus not just with my ears and my mind but also with my heart, then, somehow, he begins to make sense. Now don’t report me to the elders for saying that – I’m just telling you that’s probably why I keep going back to hear him. He’s offensive and boorish and very critical of me and my friends, but something keeps bringing me back to hear him. I wonder what it is.
I always stand in the back of the crowd. I’m afraid of his eyes, I guess. I think if once he were to look at me, right at me, then something would melt; I don’t know what. So I hope I never catch his eye.
So why do I go back? (Shaking his head) Grace and discipline and all his other strange notions. I would be a lot more comfortable if I just didn’t go to hear him. Yet there’s a quality to Jesus I can’t describe, something which appeals to me, if I could just put a finger on what it is. I wish I knew. Do you know?
Robert A. Keefer
Westminster Presbyterian Church
Clarinda, Iowa