While I was visiting Poland a couple of years ago, I bought a computer game. I bought it purely as an act of patriotically-driven support for the Polish maker of the game. The unopened game landed up in a drawer where it remained virtually forgotten. Since my teenage years I had always considered the playing of computer games to be a rather dull, mindless and time-wasting activity. Six months later, after having learnt that the game had amassed countless awards, I decided to have a look at it. I installed the game on my computer, launched it – and got really hooked! It turned out to be rather like a very good film, but much more engaging and interactive. Unlike watching films – which is a pretty passive activity – there I was, actively playing out the story. There were decisions to be made, and they impacted directly on the plot much later on in the game. The story, although it was set in a pseudo-medieval, make-believe world, was touching upon some of the very real problems of our own time, including the abuse of power, domestic violence, war, religious extremism, racism, corruption… The game had two possible endings; a happy one and a not-so-happy one. The ending was the final result of all the decisions I had made throughout the game. Those decisions driven by greed, violence and abusive behaviours tipped the ending towards an unhappy one; the decisions driven by mercy, understanding, compassion, and so on made the happy ending more likely. The problem was that sometimes – as in real life – the available choices were bad or worse-than-bad. And – as in real life – the consequences, which were sometimes very surprising, unexpected and unpleasant – came to light much too late to do anything about them. In the game, generally speaking, the reward for following the conciliatory, compassionate way forward was a happy ending.
In the parable we heard in today’s gospel, Jesus presents two people praying in the Temple. One man is listing his all good deeds and avoiding all mention of any sins; the other one is beating his breast and asking for mercy. Unlike the former, the latter leaves the Temple justified. I think we could quite easily identify ourselves with the ‘good one’: each one of us can present a list of bad deeds we haven’t done, and another list of good deeds that we have done. We can compare ourselves to others, and perceive ourselves to be morally better than other people. Moreover, we could be absolutely correct! The very beginning of that ‘good man’s’ prayer is exemplary: ‘I thank you God for…’ He seems to attribute his good moral stance to God, not to himself. The other man is hardly someone with whom we would like to be associated. He calls himself a sinner, he’s seemingly overly humble and he’s got nothing to present as a moral achievement. This kind of attitude can win Jesus’ approval, but it certainly will not help someone to find a good job or to further his career. The times when humility and modesty were fashionable are long gone – if indeed there ever was such a time.
Yet in everyday life we generally tend to disapprove of those who brag loudly or are boastful. We instinctively see some of their overblown claims to fame as ludicrous at best and dangerous at worst. We kind-of approve of people whose self-esteem and humility are well-balanced. Today’s parable is exactly about that. It’s not about two men, one with an overblown ego and the other with dangerously low self-esteem. It’s about finding that fine balance between identifying my personal skills, talents and knowledge in order to develop and enhance them, and keeping my ego at bay. This balancing process is never finished, and I may only see the actual outcome of my decisions much later. In a computer game I can always start again. In real life it’s much more difficult, so you and I had better consider our decisions carefully. I can offer you one piece of advice that I employ in order to keep myself from turning into an unbearable boastful daftie. It’s a gauge or a means of verification. Do my skills, talents or knowledge serve just me alone, or do they serve other people? If the latter is the answer, then I hope that the story of my life will have a happy ending. And I wish that yours will too.