Neill Morgan
Sermon Delivered November 4, 2007
He entered Jericho and was passing through it. 2A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. 3He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. 4So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way. 5When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.” 6So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. 7All who saw it began to grumble and said, “He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.” 8Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” 9Then Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. 10For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”
You’re Soaking In It
If you are my age or older, and you attended Vacation Bible School, chances are there’s a song going through your head right now.
Zacchaeus was a wee little man,
And a wee little man was he,
He climbed up in a Sycamore tree,
For the Lord he wanted to see.
And Jesus said,
“Zacchaeus, you come down!
For I’m coming to your house today,
I’m coming to your house today.”
For those of us who grew up in the church, we know this guy Zacchaeus. In VBS and Sunday School, we learned he was a wee little man, and a little later on, we learned how significant it was that he was a tax collector, nay, a CHIEF tax collector who had done his job well enough to become rich. A tax collector in that time and place was despised by the Jews in Jericho because, one, he had sold out to the occupying Romans to run a team of tax collectors to shake down the people for taxes that would pay to equip the occupying army, the very force that oppressed them; and, two, the way the system worked, it was full of incentives for abuse – the more the tax collectors collected, the more they got to keep. It was a commission structure that rewarded dishonesty.
So Zacchaeus was not just a cute little comic figure. He was hated and despised, loathed and detested, abhorred and reviled. He was not like the rich man back in the previous chapter, looking to inherit eternal life, who had kept all the commandments since his youth. Zacchaeus was, by his profession, a known sinner. And Luke, in his telling of the story, strips away any dignity Zacchaeus may have had by not only having him run ahead of the crowd (grown men in the middle east do not run in public, they do not do anything that would cause them to have to lift their robes and reveal their ankles) but then, Luke says, Zacchaeus climbed a tree. He acts child-like.
Whoever wrote the Vacation Bible School songs back then got something right, I think. In presenting Zacchaeus as a comic figure, the “wee little man” was not only small in stature, but a small man in the worst, most insulting sense of the word.
So, when Jesus announces that he will stay at Zacchaeus’ house, which would have included sitting down and sharing table fellowship with him, the crowd is shocked, as shocked as when Jesus laid hands on a leper, healed on the sabbath in the synagogue, or allowed the sinful woman of the city to wash his feat with her tears and dry them with her hair.
So, the people grumble. They know who this guy is, and they know a leopard cannot change its spots. Why is Jesus going to his house, of all people?
It is at this point in the story that I wish Luke had given us more clarity. I had always thought that Zacchaeus responded to Jesus’ visit with a conversion announcement: “I will give have my goods to the poor, I will pay back four times as much to anyone I may have defrauded.”
And, that’s the way the New Revised Standard Version translates those verbs, in the future tense.
But, this time studying the passage, I noticed something. In Luke’s Greek, the verbs Zacchaeus uses are present tense. “I give half my goods to the poor;” “I pay back four times the amount if ever I find I have defrauded someone.” It is possible that Zacchaeus is not announcing a change, but clarifying to Jesus and the people around him, “This is who I am. I am not who you thought I was because of my position as Chief Tax Collector. You only thought you knew who I was. Actually, I have been very good at giving away wealth to the poor in a quiet way, just as Jesus recommends, and I’ve been so scrupulously honest that if I even think one of my employees has made an error in collecting too much tax from one of you, I require that you be paid back times four, not the original plus twenty percent as the law requires.”
If we take the present tense verbs at their word, Jesus’ presence brings a revelation to the people, a revelation that the man they thought they knew as an oppressor has actually been a secret benefactor of the poor. The call to conversion in this story is to the people who have been grumbling about Zacchaeus, making assumptions about him.
Do you remember that old commercial for Palmolive dishwashing liquid? The woman goes to Madge, her manicurist, complaining of the damage washing dishes does to her hands. As Madge has her soak her hands in a bowl, she tells her about Palmolive dishwashing liquid that softens hands as you do the dishes. The woman is incredulous, “Really?”
“Sure,” Madge says, and then delivers her punch line: “You’re soaking in it.”
“No!” the woman says, and snatches her hand out of the bowl.
I thought of that because that’s what Luke does with this story of Zacchaeus. The grace the people of Jericho wished for in a tax collector? A rich man who knew what it means to give generously? A Chief tax collector with scrupulous ethics who required restitution in the case of fraud or error? That’s the kind of grace you want? Guess what? You’re soaking in it.
A couple of weeks ago, I looked up in the balcony and thought I saw a child I had never seen here on a Sunday morning, only on Wednesday evenings. From his behavior during Wednesday worship, I could tell that he was not used to being in church. He’s a handful. He’s a handful of energy, a handful of attention-seeking insecurity, and occasionally, a handful of anger. Our college students who volunteer on Wednesday evenings do a great job shepherding the children through recreation, worship, supper, and Bible study. I have noticed that they often have to double team this child in order to keep order.
One time, as two of the college students were leading him down the hall, one in front, one in back, I heard the one in back mutter as she went by, “Child of God, Child of God. Have to remember, he’s a child of God.”
So, it was a surprise a few weeks ago when I saw him at worship on Sunday morning. I was standing at the East door after worship and he came bounding down the steps from the balcony and almost knocked me over. He didn’t though, and I put my arm around him, called him by name and said, “I’m so glad to see you here!”
He stopped and blinked and said, “This is the only place I go where anybody is glad to see me.”
That moment was so full of grace for me for any number of reasons. For one thing, if I ever have a moment wondering whether or not we in the church are doing anything that matters, here it is, a kid that doesn’t feel welcome anywhere else, home, school, or on the streets of his neighborhood, but he has a taste of God’s grace in the church. He knows it’s not because he deserves it, not because he’s earned it, not because he’s being rewarded. It just is. He’s a child of God and that means he’s loved unconditionally.
Secondly, that story points me clearly to the way God works through people, such as the college students and other volunteers who have stuck with this young man even when he has used the sanctuary pews as a trampoline or cussed like a sailor in front of the younger kids. “He’s a child of God,” they keep reminding themselves and each other, and that, too, their ability to remember it, is grace.
Yes, I know, God’s grace has been there all along, we’ve been soaking in it, but sometimes it just rears up and grabs our heart just to let us know. God’s grace is changing the world, one heart at a time. Mine, yours, and those who experience it through us, God’s grace is a gift to all.
If ever I wonder whether all we are investing of ourselves, our time, our energy, our tithes, whether it is worth it, whether it is doing any good, all I have to do is open my eyes to the grace God is giving us and giving through us, and I realize: We are soaking in it.
Thanks be to God. Amen.