THE MESSAGE OF THE RECTOR MAJOR
Fr. Fabio
Attard, SDB
Educating to Mercy
 |
The Pharisee & the Publican
(James Tissot)
|
For
us as educators and evangelizers, the parable of the Pharisee and the tax
collector (Luke 18:9-14) isn’t simply a moral tale about pride and humility,
but a profound revelation about how God encounters us and how we’re called to pass
on this transformative experience.
Faith as a call to a relationship of mercy.
When
the Pharisee goes up to the temple, he brings with him an image of God constructed
to his own measure: a God who records merits and demerits, who rewards the
righteous and condemns sinners. His prayer is a comparison with others: “I thank you that I am not like other people.”
An authentic relationship is missing. There’s only smugness, self-complacency.
The
tax collector, on the contrary, enters the temple aware of his own
unworthiness. His “O God, have mercy on
me, a sinner” isn’t despair, but the courageous opening to a possible
relationship precisely because it’s founded on mercy. He senses what the
Pharisee missed: God isn’t a judge but a Father who awaits the return of his
prodigal children. For us educators, this distinction is foundational. How many
times, unconsciously, do we transmit an image of God closer to that of the
Pharisee – a God who inspects, sits in judgment, and rewards or punishes based
on our spiritual “performance”?
Education
to the Faith fosters an encounter with Mercy, an experience where we discover
that we’re loved; indeed, we’re beloved children even in our fragility. To
evangelize means to introduce people into this merciful relationship. God doesn’t
wait for us to be perfect in order to love us; rather, the richness of his love
is made manifest precisely through our poverty. This is the good news that we
must announce: a relationship that transforms from within.
A relationship that begins with humility of
heart.
The
tax collector’s humility is the condition that makes an encounter with God
possible. Standing “at a distance” and “not even daring to lift his eyes to Heaven”
shows that he recognizes the infinite disproportion between God’s holiness and
his own wretchedness, and also trusts that this Holy God bends down toward
those who recognize their neediness. In contrast, the Pharisee’s prayer is full
of “I”: “I fast,” “I tithe.” He has built his religious
identity on self-affirmation, on comparison with others, on demonstrating his
own works. He feels he’s already full, has already “made it,” and is already
righteous.
In the
field of education and evangelization, humility of heart is the ability to
recognize that one is constantly in need of salvation, never taking one’s
relationship with God for granted, and remaining open to the gift of his grace.
It’s the attitude of those who know that the Christian life isn’t a possession
acquired once and for all but a daily journey in which we allow ourselves to be
molded by Divine Mercy. As educators, we’re called to be the first to bear
witness to this humility, recognizing our limitations, our weaknesses, and our
continuous need for conversion. Only in this way do we become credible and
create spaces in which others can also take off their own masks and present
themselves to God as they are.
To be sinners, loved and forgiven.
The
conclusion of the parable is perturbing: “This
man, unlike the other, went home justified.” The tax collector, who had
nothing to offer but his own misery, receives everything. The Pharisee, who had
so much to show off, remains in his sterile illusion. God doesn’t justify those
who consider themselves righteous, but those who acknowledge themselves to be
sinners. He doesn’t fill those who are full, but those who are empty. He doesn’t
have an encounter with those who don’t feel they need it, but with those who
implore healing. This is the paradox of the Gospel: even though we’re sinners, we’re
saved because God’s Mercy is greater.
In
religious education today, this parable shows us that when we acknowledge sin,
we open ourselves to his transforming grace. Sin doesn’t crush us.
Being
sinners who are loved and forgiven doesn’t equate to a status of inferiority,
but to the proper condition of the Christian. It’s this identity which allows
us to live in freedom, without pretending to be perfect, without hiding our
failures, without building façades of respectability. It’s the awareness that
the foundation of our life lies not in what we’ve done, but in what God has
done and continues to do for us.
Witnesses to God’s Mercy, experienced
personally.
The
tax collector who returns home justified inevitably becomes a witness. He can’t
remain silent about the experience of having been welcomed, forgiven, and
uplifted. His life will speak of the Mercy that transformed him. This is where
true evangelization takes place. We don’t pronounce abstract theories about God’s
mercy, but we bear witness to a personal experience. We speak of a forgiveness
we’ve received, of a Love that sought for and found us, of a relationship that
gave meaning to our existence.
For
those who work in the field of education and evangelization, this means, first
and foremost, the need to cultivate one’s spiritual life as a living experience
of this Mercy. Before being “masters” – teachers – we must be disciples; before
teaching, we must learn; before giving, we must receive. The credibility of our
message is measured by the truth of our experience. Furthermore, it means
creating educational contexts in which people can have this same experience – not
environments of judgment, but of welcome; not places where one must demonstrate
merit, but spaces where one can acknowledge one’s fragility; not structures
where religious skills are acquired, but communities where one experiences the
tenderness of God.
The
parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector reminds us that education to the
Faith is essentially an introduction to a relationship: with a God who loves us
with merciful love, who always awaits us, who always forgives us, who makes our
poverty the place of his encounter with us.
