The poor tax collector stood in the back not to be hidden, but because he was fully exposed to the God who made him. Because of this, he could not even raise his eyes. There, in the gaze of the God of the Universe, he was laid bare and begged for mercy. He knew who he was, but more importantly, he knew who he wasn't: he was not God.
I have to admit... I would never in a million years have thought to do that when I was 11 years old. Rosaries were prayed by the old people in church and when someone died. I figured I would probably grow up and pray the rosary, but not "now." Right?
Sibling rivalry. It's a thing. There might be some families where the siblings don't struggle to get along, but I'm pretty sure they live in a faraway land called "Nowhere."