Another of my plays from the '70s.
THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN, PART 2
The Announcer, in modern clothes, stands in his pulpit addressing the audience. Near him are two men, one standing in front, one kneeling behind, though without pulpits. They are dressed as Jews of Jesus’ day. The Announcer begins his story, sounding rather like a TV narrator. “One day two men went to the Temple to pray. One was a…” His voice changes, and he pronounces the following words as if a bad taste in his mouth. “…snobby, stuck up, self righteous, two faced, hypocritical, Pharisee.”
The Pharisee looks over at the Announcer in surprise. “Huh?”
Now the Announcer is moved with admiration, so much so his that voice nearly breaks. “The other... bless his heart... was a humble, meek, mild, gentle, patient, saintly, pious…” The announcer rushes through the next word, as if embarrassed to admit it. “…crooked, tax collector.”
The Pharisee looks back at the Publican, wondering what is so wonderful about a crooked tax collector.
The Announcer continues. “The egomaniacal Pharisee drew himself up at full length, so that none could miss, as he proceeded to spew forth the following... humph!... prayer.”
The Pharisee snaps back to facing front, goes into a posture like a politician beginning a speech, and prays. “Father, I thank you that I am not like other men. Adulterers, drunkards, liars cheats, and thieves, well, like that crooked Publican back there, for example. I fast 2, count them, 2 days a week! And I pay 1/10th of everything I get to you.”
The Announcer, voice breaking with emotion, continues the story. “Meantime, back at the rear of the Temple, not daring to raise his eyes to Heaven, but beating his chest with deep, deep godly sorrow and repentance (sob!)…”
The Pharisee watches as the Publican prays on his knees, beating his chest, not looking up. “Oh, God…”
The Pharisee has had enough. “Hey, wait a minute!”
The Publican stops and looks at the Pharisee in surprise. “Huh?”
The Announcer was also caught off guard. “I beg your pardon?”
The Pharisee points at the Announcer. “Just what's going on around here?”
That annoys the Announcer. “Weren't you listening? I'll start over. He shuffles his notes and goes on in his professional voice “This is the story of the Pharisee and the Publican. One day two men went to the Temple to pray…”
The Pharisee waves that off. “Yes, yes, yes. I got that part. But what I want to know is: how come he's the hero, and I'm the villain, when as even you have to admit, he's a crooked tax collector.”
The Publican crawls to the Pharisee and tugs on his robe. “Can I say my line now?”
“No. Not till I get to the bottom of this.” He turns to the Announcer and points at the Publican. “Do you know why he's down there on his knees?”
“Uh, Respect?”
The Pharisee snorts in disgust. “Hangover! He came crawling in through the door because he still can't stand up straight without falling over from that wild party he was at last night, that's why.”
The Publican tries again. “Can I say my line now?”
The Pharisee waves him off impatiently. “No, I'm not through yet.” He turns to the Announcer. “Know why's he’s beating his chest?”
The Announcer looks at his notes. “Uh, it says here... ‘deep, deep, godly sorrow and repentance‘?”
The Publican hears his cue. “Oh, God.…”
The Pharisee cuts him off. “Not yet. You want to know the real reason?”
The Announcer is curious. “The real reason? All right. Tell me.”
“Heartburn! From all that rich and fancy food he wolfed down!
The Publican is apologetic. “I was hungry?”
“And why can’t he raise his eyes to heaven?”
The Announcer hazards. “Humility?”
The Pharisee is really disgusted now. “Bloodshot! All the candles and the fires on the altar hurt his eyes too much! He's got the hangover of the year from the party of the year!
The Announcer is losing control of events. “Well... yes... But…”
The Publican crawls up and tugs the Pharisee’s robe again. “Are you sure I can't say my line yet?”
“Yes, I'm sure you can't say it yet. What do you story tellers have against us Pharisees, anyway?”
The Announcer gets defensive. “Whatever do you mean?”
The Publican is indulging in self pity. “I know how he feels. They always pick on us Publicans, too. Take me for instance. I only have one line lousy line in this story, and nobody lets me say it.”
The Pharisee looks at him. “Yes, but you deserve to be picked on. You are a crooked tax collector.” He turns to the announcer. “Whenever you need a villain, you trot out the Scribes and the Pharisees. We're always the bad guys.”
“Well, yes but…”
The Pharisee is losing his temper. “But me no buts! Who was it who kept the Israelites on the true path when the Temple was destroyed by Nebuchadnezzar? The Scribes and the Pharisees, that's who! When it came time to return to Jerusalem, to rebuild the Temple, who was the leader? Wasn't it the scribe, Ezra? Who kept the Law from oblivion when the Greeks tried to destroy Judaism? The scribes and the Pharisees.”
“Well, that may be true…”
“And what about such Pharisees as Nicodemus and Joseph of Aramathea?”
The Publican is off in the corner, sitting singing sadly to himself. “Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, think I'll go eat some worms. Big ones, long ones, juicy ones, ooh, yuck! I hate the taste of worms!”
The Pharisee looks at him snootily. “Really.” He turns indignantly to the Announcer. “What can you have to complain about? Look at my prayer!”
“O.K., let's do just that.”
“I thank God I am not like other men. See there, I give Him the credit for that. I don't lie, cheat, or commit adultery. I give my tithes. I keep the Law. The whole Law. All 613 of Moses' Laws! Where could I have gone wrong!”
“It is precisely because, your sins are less blatant than those of most others that you fail to spot and acknowledge them. Yes, you keep the whole Law. And what is the main result of that? Pride. Pride in your accomplishments. And because you feel you have nothing to forgive, that you never seek forgiveness for your sins, few though they are. If you never seek forgiveness, they cannot be forgiven. Yes, the Publican was up all night soaking up the booze, and performing all kinds of riotous behavior at the wild party. No one denies that. But it was the massive hangover the morning after which caused him to see the evil of his ways. The bloodshot eyes, rumbling stomach, dizziness and headache led him to see that sin may be fun for a season, but in the end it is death. Thus he came humbly to God, having learned his lesson, and seeking forgiveness. That is why he will be forgiven. And this lack of repentance on your part, fewer though your sins may be, is exactly why they are more deadly than his. For he has come to repentance, and you have not. Now, would you do me a favor?
The Pharisee crosses his arms sullenly. “What?”
“Wake him up. It's time for his line.”
The Pharisee taps him on the shoulder.
“What? Now? Oh, God have mercy upon me, a sinner.”
The Announcer goes back into his story mode. “I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other; for everyone who exalts himself shall be humbled, but he who humbles himself shall be exalted. The end. Now kiddies, aren't you glad your not like that nasty old Pharisee?”
The Pharisee screams and points at the Announcer. “AHA!!”
The Publican crawls off in fear. “Eek! “
The Announcer realizes his mistake too late. “Oops!”
The Pharisee dances with delight. “See! See! You're just as bad as I am, you snobby, stuck-up, self righteous, two faced, hypocritical Announcer, you!
“But... but... But…”
THE PHARISEE AND THE PUBLICAN, PART 2
The Announcer, in modern clothes, stands in his pulpit addressing the audience. Near him are two men, one standing in front, one kneeling behind, though without pulpits. They are dressed as Jews of Jesus’ day. The Announcer begins his story, sounding rather like a TV narrator. “One day two men went to the Temple to pray. One was a…” His voice changes, and he pronounces the following words as if a bad taste in his mouth. “…snobby, stuck up, self righteous, two faced, hypocritical, Pharisee.”
The Pharisee looks over at the Announcer in surprise. “Huh?”
Now the Announcer is moved with admiration, so much so his that voice nearly breaks. “The other... bless his heart... was a humble, meek, mild, gentle, patient, saintly, pious…” The announcer rushes through the next word, as if embarrassed to admit it. “…crooked, tax collector.”
The Pharisee looks back at the Publican, wondering what is so wonderful about a crooked tax collector.
The Announcer continues. “The egomaniacal Pharisee drew himself up at full length, so that none could miss, as he proceeded to spew forth the following... humph!... prayer.”
The Pharisee snaps back to facing front, goes into a posture like a politician beginning a speech, and prays. “Father, I thank you that I am not like other men. Adulterers, drunkards, liars cheats, and thieves, well, like that crooked Publican back there, for example. I fast 2, count them, 2 days a week! And I pay 1/10th of everything I get to you.”
The Announcer, voice breaking with emotion, continues the story. “Meantime, back at the rear of the Temple, not daring to raise his eyes to Heaven, but beating his chest with deep, deep godly sorrow and repentance (sob!)…”
The Pharisee watches as the Publican prays on his knees, beating his chest, not looking up. “Oh, God…”
The Pharisee has had enough. “Hey, wait a minute!”
The Publican stops and looks at the Pharisee in surprise. “Huh?”
The Announcer was also caught off guard. “I beg your pardon?”
The Pharisee points at the Announcer. “Just what's going on around here?”
That annoys the Announcer. “Weren't you listening? I'll start over. He shuffles his notes and goes on in his professional voice “This is the story of the Pharisee and the Publican. One day two men went to the Temple to pray…”
The Pharisee waves that off. “Yes, yes, yes. I got that part. But what I want to know is: how come he's the hero, and I'm the villain, when as even you have to admit, he's a crooked tax collector.”
The Publican crawls to the Pharisee and tugs on his robe. “Can I say my line now?”
“No. Not till I get to the bottom of this.” He turns to the Announcer and points at the Publican. “Do you know why he's down there on his knees?”
“Uh, Respect?”
The Pharisee snorts in disgust. “Hangover! He came crawling in through the door because he still can't stand up straight without falling over from that wild party he was at last night, that's why.”
The Publican tries again. “Can I say my line now?”
The Pharisee waves him off impatiently. “No, I'm not through yet.” He turns to the Announcer. “Know why's he’s beating his chest?”
The Announcer looks at his notes. “Uh, it says here... ‘deep, deep, godly sorrow and repentance‘?”
The Publican hears his cue. “Oh, God.…”
The Pharisee cuts him off. “Not yet. You want to know the real reason?”
The Announcer is curious. “The real reason? All right. Tell me.”
“Heartburn! From all that rich and fancy food he wolfed down!
The Publican is apologetic. “I was hungry?”
“And why can’t he raise his eyes to heaven?”
The Announcer hazards. “Humility?”
The Pharisee is really disgusted now. “Bloodshot! All the candles and the fires on the altar hurt his eyes too much! He's got the hangover of the year from the party of the year!
The Announcer is losing control of events. “Well... yes... But…”
The Publican crawls up and tugs the Pharisee’s robe again. “Are you sure I can't say my line yet?”
“Yes, I'm sure you can't say it yet. What do you story tellers have against us Pharisees, anyway?”
The Announcer gets defensive. “Whatever do you mean?”
The Publican is indulging in self pity. “I know how he feels. They always pick on us Publicans, too. Take me for instance. I only have one line lousy line in this story, and nobody lets me say it.”
The Pharisee looks at him. “Yes, but you deserve to be picked on. You are a crooked tax collector.” He turns to the announcer. “Whenever you need a villain, you trot out the Scribes and the Pharisees. We're always the bad guys.”
“Well, yes but…”
The Pharisee is losing his temper. “But me no buts! Who was it who kept the Israelites on the true path when the Temple was destroyed by Nebuchadnezzar? The Scribes and the Pharisees, that's who! When it came time to return to Jerusalem, to rebuild the Temple, who was the leader? Wasn't it the scribe, Ezra? Who kept the Law from oblivion when the Greeks tried to destroy Judaism? The scribes and the Pharisees.”
“Well, that may be true…”
“And what about such Pharisees as Nicodemus and Joseph of Aramathea?”
The Publican is off in the corner, sitting singing sadly to himself. “Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, think I'll go eat some worms. Big ones, long ones, juicy ones, ooh, yuck! I hate the taste of worms!”
The Pharisee looks at him snootily. “Really.” He turns indignantly to the Announcer. “What can you have to complain about? Look at my prayer!”
“O.K., let's do just that.”
“I thank God I am not like other men. See there, I give Him the credit for that. I don't lie, cheat, or commit adultery. I give my tithes. I keep the Law. The whole Law. All 613 of Moses' Laws! Where could I have gone wrong!”
“It is precisely because, your sins are less blatant than those of most others that you fail to spot and acknowledge them. Yes, you keep the whole Law. And what is the main result of that? Pride. Pride in your accomplishments. And because you feel you have nothing to forgive, that you never seek forgiveness for your sins, few though they are. If you never seek forgiveness, they cannot be forgiven. Yes, the Publican was up all night soaking up the booze, and performing all kinds of riotous behavior at the wild party. No one denies that. But it was the massive hangover the morning after which caused him to see the evil of his ways. The bloodshot eyes, rumbling stomach, dizziness and headache led him to see that sin may be fun for a season, but in the end it is death. Thus he came humbly to God, having learned his lesson, and seeking forgiveness. That is why he will be forgiven. And this lack of repentance on your part, fewer though your sins may be, is exactly why they are more deadly than his. For he has come to repentance, and you have not. Now, would you do me a favor?
The Pharisee crosses his arms sullenly. “What?”
“Wake him up. It's time for his line.”
The Pharisee taps him on the shoulder.
“What? Now? Oh, God have mercy upon me, a sinner.”
The Announcer goes back into his story mode. “I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other; for everyone who exalts himself shall be humbled, but he who humbles himself shall be exalted. The end. Now kiddies, aren't you glad your not like that nasty old Pharisee?”
The Pharisee screams and points at the Announcer. “AHA!!”
The Publican crawls off in fear. “Eek! “
The Announcer realizes his mistake too late. “Oops!”
The Pharisee dances with delight. “See! See! You're just as bad as I am, you snobby, stuck-up, self righteous, two faced, hypocritical Announcer, you!
“But... but... But…”
