Summary
Comparing
Jesus' parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector in Luke 18:9-14 opens with a striking thanksgiving prayer: "God, I thank you that I am not like other people." On its surface this looks like gratitude, but it is really self-congratulation, a recitation of the Pharisee's own attributes set against thieves, rogues, adulterers, and especially "this tax collector" standing nearby. It is a thank-you note with a twist—prayer turned inward, comparison turned poisonous.
The common diagnosis is that comparing ourselves with others is the sin. But Scripture itself does not forbid comparison. Jesus compares the rich givers with the poor widow in Luke 21:1-4, and Mary with Martha in Luke 10:38-42. The writer of Hebrews 6:12 calls us to imitate those who through faith and patience inherit the promises, and Paul says in 1 Corinthians 11:1, "Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ." You cannot imitate without comparing. The real problem with the Pharisee, then, is not comparison itself but a pride-infected comparison, as Comparing: "Thanksgiving Twist" 11-17-24 makes clear.
The tax collector shows the opposite posture. Standing far off, unwilling even to lift his eyes, he beats his breast and prays, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner." That gesture of beating the breast appears only one other time in Scripture—at the cross, in Luke 23:48, as the crowds witness Jesus' crucifixion. It is the body's confession that sin and evil come from the heart. And the word he uses for "merciful" is the same word Hebrews 2:17 attaches to Christ, who became like His brothers and sisters in every respect to be a merciful and faithful high priest, "to make a sacrifice of atonement for the sins of the people." The tax collector is not asking for general kindness; he is pleading for atonement—for another to pay the debt of his sin. That is exactly what Christ accomplished on the cross, bearing the sin of the tax collector, and of every sinner who has ever lived or ever will. And so Jesus declares this man went home justified—declared righteous as if he had never sinned.
This reframes comparison entirely. Once the gospel has humbled us and lifted us up in Christ, comparison can become a form of thanksgiving. We are each uniquely gifted; God threw away the mold when He made us. Looking at a neighbor's gifts no longer threatens us, because we are not scrambling to puff ourselves up. Instead, we can rejoice that God has equipped that person for the calling and stage—large or small, broad or narrow—on which His providence has placed them. The same God has placed us, with our own gifts, on our own stage, for His glory.
Godly comparison also reshapes how we respond to others' struggles. In place of the smugness that whispers, "What a mess they have made of things," we see an opportunity to encourage and to serve. And when we compare ourselves to Christ Himself, comparison drives us to repentance and to gratitude—gratitude that the Lord is at work through Word and Sacrament to chisel us into His image, and that more mature believers around us can become models of the faith we long to grow into. We will not arrive this side of heaven, but we can give thanks every step of the way.
So the heart of the matter is not whether we compare, but what possesses the comparison. Pride turns thanksgiving into self-worship; the gospel turns comparison into adoration of God and servanthood toward neighbor. That is the Thanksgiving twist—a life lived as a thank-you note to the God who justifies the humble.
Video citations
- Comparing: "Thanksgiving Twist" 11-17-24 — Would you open your Bibles please with me to Luke the 18th chapter for our study today? If you're using a Pew edition of Holy Scripture you're going to find that page 70 in the New Testament the…