Proud Pharisees and English prisons

“Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector.  I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get. ‘But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” Luke 18:10-14

My young African friend came today. ‘Life is boring without God,’ He said. ‘I want to know more about Him.’ ‘Let’s read about the Pharisee and the tax collector,’ I said. Now, he didn’t know what a Pharisee or a tax collector was so I explained. I explained the word ‘conceited;’ he hadn’t heard that one before. I explained, too, that the tax collector was also most likely a thief.

My young friend talks out his thoughts to me. ‘Yes, Miss Julia, when I lived in ……….. I got into fighting and went to court. The judge had mercy on me. He told me I was young and naïve and had a girlfriend to look after. He let me off. Then I did the same thing a second time; I got into fighting again.  I found myself before the same judge again. Again he let me off. When it happened the third time, the judge send me to prison. Yes, Miss Julia, that judge showed me mercy.’

 ‘Samson’ (not his real name) I said, ‘God is like that. If we ask Him for mercy, He will give it to us.’

 ‘Yes,’ said Samson wisely, ‘but not if we keep on doing bad.’ I haven’t got to teach him much …. I think the Holy Spirit has got there first.

Fatted chickens, hungry beggars and unlikely Samaritans

A young African refugee sometimes comes to our meetings at the Jesus Centre. ‘Please explain to me, Miss Julia, about Christianity,’ he said the other day, ‘I don’t get what it’s all about.’ 

He’s really keen to learn, this young friend of mine, and we’ve started reading parables together. He’s just had an elementary education and reading in English doesn’t come that easy – but he’s doing well. I love it! I’m so familiar with these stories but seeing them through a young African‘s eyes can put a different light on things. Well .. the fatted calf … yes, I get it,’ he exclaims, ‘In Africa we have the fatted chicken for special guests!’

Last week we read the story of the poor beggar man Lazarus (and, believe me, my young African friend has seen poverty I have never seen.) Jesus, shockingly – and not the best story to tell while your listeners are eating - describes the plight of a poor disabled man, malnourished and incapable of work, who has to be carried to the gates at the end of the drive of a rich man to beg. His skin has erupted in boils, showing serious signs of malnourishment. Although the rich man lives in luxury, eating well and is clothed in the most expensive of clothes he does little to feed the poor man and nothing to clothe him or tend his skin. The latter is left for the hungry dogs who lick his sores – even they show more compassion than the rich man.

 In time both men die. Lazarus is taken to a place of comfort, no longer lying on a street corner but resting in a place of greatest honour - Abraham’s lap. Roles are reversed: the rich man is hungry and thirsty now and his place of torment exceeds anything Lazarus suffered in this life – it is hell itself. Now it is his turn to beg. Lazarus’s begging in his life has fallen on deaf ears. Abraham, from afar off (for there is a great chasm between), does hear but there is nothing he can do. ‘Send Lazarus to my brothers,’ the rich man cries, ‘Let him warn them that they must mend their ways so they do not end up here! Surely they will believe Lazarus’s testimony if he rises from death; after all he has seen these eternal realities first hand.’

 Abraham, with kindness replies, ‘If their hearts are hard on earth and they do not listen to the law and prophets that tell us to care for the poor man at our gate, it will make no difference even if someone was to rise from the dead and tell them.’

The story would have been shocking, even revolting, to Jesus’ hearers, especially as the villain was a well-to-do Jew. Yet, in our western eyes, he is no villain actually - he didn’t do anything bad – he just didn’t do anything!

Jesus of Nazareth – you’re practical. You told us we got to do something. I hope I get it.

We read the Good Samaritan next. I was happy when we finished the story and had talked about the behaviour of the three men on that lonely Jericho Road and my young friend turned to me and said, ‘Miss Julia, that’s you! Helping me read, you have been like the Samaritan to me!’ 

Hello: this is Jules' blog: 'Diamonds in the Rough'

Garth Hewitt's song, 'We saw Beauty in the Ashes' has got to be one of my top favourites  - a beautiful expression of how some of the best, most beautiful riches (kingdom people)  are found on what some might term 'life's scrap heap.' All I  know is that Jesus would have felt very at home there. And, 'learning from the poor,' - for me, never a truer word.

 

We saw beauty in the ashes

We saw treasure in the dust

We saw joy come out of mourning

We saw diamonds in the rough

And though the image may look broken

We saw Jesus shining through

And on each forgotten feature

He was writing ‘I love you’

Come and stand with the broken

Come and learn from the poor

Take the side of those forgotten

Let the image be restored

As the poverty of riches

Leaves us stranded on the shore

Where the rising tide of selfishness

Will leave us thirsty evermore

Our image of those in poverty

Must be broken once for all

To see the beauty in their lives

To hear the good news from the poor

Come and walk the road with Jesus

On the side of the oppressed

Come and stand inside the kingdom

Where the story is redressed

And though our image looks so broken

Jesus still says, ’Follow Me’

And give yourselves for others

And live in simplicity

Garth Hewitt: Word Music