Sermon for October 30, 2022 – 21st Sunday after Pentecost
Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4; Psalm 119:137-144; 2 Thessalonians 1:1-4; Luke 19:1-10
All I have to do is close my eyes and I am there once again. As the bus lumbered along the Jericho Road down from Jerusalem, all I could see out the window was the brown sand and stone that make up the Judean wilderness. What was once long ago a network of flowing rivers and streams is all but dried up and all that remains is the dirt, the rocks, and the few shrubs that have managed to find water. The road descended below sea-level as we made our way closer to the Dead Sea, and even passed one of those pull-offs for “Scenic Views” where a Bedouin offered rides for a few shekels on his camel named “Kojak,” named after the popular 1970’s TV show. As the road continues its descent to Jericho, you cannot help but stare in wonder and awe at the vast and empty physical landscape, that is, until you come to the outer edges of the Jericho. It is here that all that brown dirt and rocks slowly gives way to green, lush, date palm tress. Rows after rows of slowly ripening trees seemingly out in the middle of the desert, point to something happening just below the surface of this now small desert community…water. Because of the seven springs in the area, the city of Jericho has been inhabited by humans for millennia. It is considered the one of oldest “cities” in the world and certainly the oldest known city with a surrounding perimeter wall. And along the main road that runs through the heart of this ancient town there is a sycamore tree, and in pre-modern times, there would have been more sycamore trees just like it along the road.
And a long time ago, in a time mostly forgotten and lost in the depths of history, there was a man who was so desperate to see something, to catch even the briefest of glimpses, that he climbed one of those sycamore trees to see over the others who had also lined the street that day. He wanted to see a strange itinerant man with a rather odd following pass through town along that same dusty road, passing by those same trees. And as I stood by a sycamore tree in the heart of Jericho, touching the aged and gnarled bark, during my quest to walk in the footsteps of Christ, I could not help but think of Zacchaeus as he too tried to see Jesus.
Now, Zacchaeus is a peculiar little man. Even though he was a social outcast at the time, it is fun to think of Zacchaeus relaxing with the great saints and apostles of the early church. In a group photo, he would either be sitting in the front of the group, or better yet, still hanging out in a tree with a very big smile on his face. In ten short verses we learn a lot about this little man from Jericho. Not only is he rich; all tax collectors, by definition, were wealthy, but as the chief tax collector, he is particularly despised by his fellow Jews. Zacchaeus has been very successful especially because in the time of Jesus, Jericho was a big city where Herod had a grand palace and therefore a major center of money changing hands. It is not hard to imagine that Zaccheaus even had numerous underlings collecting taxes on his behalf, yet another opportunity for money to be made by middle-men all while they slowly bleed the poor dry. As we heard last week in our parable of the Tax Collector and the Pharisee, the tax collectors at all levels, especially chief collectors, were known for colluding with Rome and for taking advantage of others to line their own pockets.
If we were reading the Gospel of Luke from the beginning in one sitting, you would definitely not expect this story to end happily for Zacchaeus. Luke has quite a few harsh things to say about rich people before this story comes along. Early in the Gospel, Jesus blesses the poor but warns the rich, saying, “But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.” We heard not too long ago a story about a rich farmer who hoped to build bigger barns in which to store all his crops, only to be called to account by God that very night. We also heard a story about Lazarus in heaven and the rich man in hell. Just before today’s reading Luke tells us of a rich young ruler who walks always from Jesus sad that he must choose between pursuing wealth or pursuing God.
Jesus is passing through Jericho on the way to Jerusalem to face his death, when he encounters this man who we might rightly expect him to rebuke. Jesus is always welcoming the wrong people and confounding the good righteous people. If Zaccheaus had been like the Pharisee in our parable from last week, self-righteous and pompous, then Jesus probably would have walked right by him. However, this important and disliked community businessman did something extraordinary. He had obviously heard about this strange itinerant man and his odd following was coming through town and he wanted to get a look for himself, but those crowds of people got in the way. I guess he got tired of looking at the backs and bottoms of tunics, and put his pride aside to get a better view. So, he dashed ahead of Jesus and climbed a sycamore tree, whose low branches made it a good climbing tree for children and short men alike.
Just as Zacchaeus settled into his tree and thought, “Ah, now I can see him,” he is no doubt shocked for Jesus to stop and give him the honor of staying at his house that night. The social outcast responds to this with great joy! When the “good” people grumble that Jesus is staying with a sinner, Zacchaeus, who is played by Danny DeVito in the movie playing in my mind, stands up on his little feet, stretches up as tall as he can, and declares that he will give half his possessions to the poor. What is more, he will repay any fraud fourfold! This goes above and beyond what Jewish law demands for restitution. Furthermore, Zacchaeus makes this commitment not with a frown on his face, but with a light heart and I imagine a smile. Jesus confirms what we have already guessed when he declares that “salvation has come to this house,” because Zacchaeus is indeed a child of Abraham, and therefore a child of God, just like the grumblers.
The story of Zacchaeus tells us that the gospel is about serious commitment to God, as we have seen and heard over these past weeks, and it is also about joy. And we do not always do joy very well. Zacchaeus’ little stand and big smile convict us to do better. Communion is serious business and it is also a celebration where I serve as the celebrant. The word “Eucharist” means thanksgiving. As we share the elements with each other and say words like “bread of heaven” and “cup of salvation,” a good response is, “Thank be to God!” We respond to Jesus’ invitation to the table with joy because we are children of God, because we are all included in God’s family.
The story of Zacchaeus also tells us something about looking for Jesus, even as he is also looking for each one of us. It is comforting to remember the last words Jesus says in this story, “For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.” Our salvation is not contingent upon on our efforts, thanks be to God! This reassurance does not mean that we may remain totally passive, going about life without a thought on how we can take a step toward Jesus as he walked miles to find us time and again. It requires us to be active; active in loving God, active is seeking out and serving our neighbors, and active in seeking the presence of Jesus all around us.
The stories of how each of us looks for God are going to be more varied than the stories in the Bible, but we can take a few tips from Zacchaeus. He humbles himself by running and climbing a tree. Zaccheaus was not thinking of appearances. He was just thinking about Jesus. He was not trying to be anyone but himself. He just wanted to see Jesus.
As we try to follow Christ in worship, in our work lives, or in the marketplaces of our time, we can remember a happy saint of the church, Zacchaeus. We may not have to climb a tree to see Jesus above the crowd; Jesus will find us anyway. If, however, you are finding yourself tired of staring at the back of the crowd, look for your tree to climb. If graced with a memorable encounter with God, perhaps your response will be as joyous as Zacchaeus’s, and it will lead to your own kind of cheerful commitment to justice. “For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.” So let us rejoice that Jesus is seeking even you and me. Amen.
