The Kind of Man He Was

 

 

Luke 19:1-10

When Pat and I moved to Fort Worth back in 1970 neither boy had been born.  So our household consisted of Pat, me, and Jo.  Jo was short for Josephine, although he was male—he was named for a character in Little Women.  When some of our new neighbors first saw Jo they thought we had somehow found a pet that was the mix of a small dog of indeterminable breed and a fox.  Our neighbors had never seen a Welsh corgi.

Jo was a gift to Pat, given by the students she directed in a high school musical.  They knew she had lost her beagle and felt the pup would be a better gift than a bunch of roses.  I had heard about corgis but had never seen one.  We quickly fell in love with Jo and have had a corgi or a corgi-mix most of our married life.

Regrettably, they have become popular.  Maybe it’s because we’ve become fascinated with the “royals” and corgis are Queen Elizabeth’s favorite breed.  Today, Pat would have probably been given the roses since a corgi puppy sells for well over a thousand dollars.

Indulge me as I tell you just a little more about them.  The corgi is intelligent, determined, and almost fearless.  Yet, they are so short.  “Corgi” means “dwarf dog.”  The ranchers who first saw Jo didn’t believe me when I told them corgis were cattle dogs.  They’ve been called “big dogs in a small body.”  We realized something was different about Jo when, still a pup, he challenged a St Bernard twice his size and had the St Bernard cowering.   Maybe the man who takes care of the queen’s dogs put it best when he said the corgi displays “the wee man syndrome.”  Smaller than many other dogs, they’re born determined to prove themselves.

I thought of that as I began thinking of Zacchaeus.  Remember how the Sunday school song goes.

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.

 

It’s a shame to be remembered just because all your life people looked down on you.  Still, that’s the way it was with Zacchaeus

Just who was Zacchaeus?  Luke makes a most important biographical comment when he offers a note on his occupation.  Zacchaeus was a “chief tax-collector.”

In fact, he was the chief tax-collector in Jericho, a resort city.  It was a wealthy city and a man could make lots of money as a tax-collector in such a place.  The Romans didn’t care if tax-collectors gouged people as long as the Empire got its cut.   Many tax-collectors lived by J. R. Ewing’s formula for success:  “Once you give up integrity, the rest is a piece of cake.”  Integrity wasn’t a big deal with men like Zacchaeus.

Still, working for the Romans was seen as selling out his own people.  Why would he do such a thing?  Certainly, it fed his greed.

Then, too, could he have desired some type of retaliation?  We can imagine the kids laughing at him, saying things like, “Zacchaeus is so short his name is bigger than he is.”  It’s not too hard to imagine the little tax man wanting an opportunity to have the last laugh.  When he came to collect taxes you can be pretty sure no one laughed at his height.  They probably addressed him as “Sir.”

But do these motives really explain a man like Zacchaeus?  As powerful as these motives may be, I don’t think they do.

I think that somehow Zacchaeus just wanted to walk a little taller.  Not just physically.  No, I think his inner man wanted to walk just a little taller.  He wanted to be a big man, no matter what the cost.  He wanted to matter.

Maybe that’s why he was so interested in Jesus.  Had he heard that this man Jesus had something to say to men like him?

Certainly the priests who lived in Jericho didn’t have a good word for the likes of Zacchaeus.  The priests may not have been able to keep tax-collectors out of their purses but they could keep them out of their temples.  From their point of view, God had turned his back on them.   Tax-collectors weren’t allowed in the inner court of the temple or to participate in Jewish worship.  Their money wasn’t even welcome in the offerings.

But with Jesus it might be different.  Jesus, the Pharisees constantly complained, was a friend of sinners and tax-collectors.  So, a spark of hope glowed in Zacchaeus’ heart.

That’s why when Zacchaeus heard that Jesus was passing through town; he just had to see him.  And that was easier said than done.  The crowd was so large and so tightly packed that he couldn’t see a thing.  And, trust me, no one was about to give way to a man as despised as Zacchaeus.

If only he could stand on something, climb onto something.  But, wait a minute.   There were trees down the road, sycamore trees.  All he would have to do is climb one of those trees and he could get a good look at Jesus.  That was the game plan.

It’s tough enough for a tall person to climb a tree, but a short man like Zacchaeus is a sight to see.  Remember, the bark of those sycamore trees could be pretty slick.  Zacchaeus probably didn’t make it the first time.    Maybe not the second time.  Then, too, I suppose I don’t have to remind you that dignity is one of the first casualties when you try to climb a tree in a tunic.  Can you imagine that on Judea’s Funniest Home Videos?  Anyway, with scraped knees and rumpled clothing a breathless Zacchaeus finally made it up into the tree.

Zacchaeus may have been surprised at Jesus.  At first glance the man from Galilee looked so ordinary.  He was dressed like a peasant, not like a man whose fame had been parlayed into wealth.  Still, there was a confidence in his walk, he walked tall.  There was a light about his face.  Zacchaeus realized this ordinary-looking man was far from ordinary.

As Jesus approached what was soon to be the most famous sycamore tree in history he stopped.  Zacchaeus looked around to see what had captured the teacher’s attention.  Was there a well-known priest in the crowd?  Did Jesus see someone who had a need, a paralyzed person, a blind person?  Zacchaeus couldn’t spot where Jesus was looking.

Then, he realized those eyes were not looking into the crowd at all; they were looking upward, looking into the tree, his tree.  Jesus was staring at him!  Zacchaeus was uneasy, especially when he realized Jesus was walking over to the tree.  Jesus was obviously going to say something to him.

“Oh no,” Zacchaeus thought, “I had to put myself up here in plain sight.  Now this Jesus is going to let me have it.  He’s going to use me as a sermon illustration.  He’s going to remind the crowd of the dangers of sin—by pointing at me.”

Zacchaeus steeled himself as Jesus began to speak.  “Zacchaeus,” Jesus said, ‘get down her right now.  We’re going to party.”  Zacchaeus blinked and Jesus repeated the strange invitation—even in those days you didn’t invite yourself to someone’s house.   Still, what Jesus had said was clear.  He wanted to dine with Zacchaeus.

When a man has a reason, he can get out of a tree pretty fast.  Zacchaeus had a reason.

As he led Jesus toward his house—the house built by extortion—the taller man matched strides with him.  Zacchaeus usually had to hurry to keep up with most people but this man seemed content to walk at Zacchaeus’ pace.  As they walked, we wonder if he heard the crowds murmur, “That Jesus is going to eat with a sinner.  Some holy man he is.”

The crowds following Jesus were often like that—fickle.  They were thrilled to see Jesus when they thought he might say something profound or do a great miracle, but when he chose to be gracious to the ‘wrong’ person, they were outraged.  Whatever joy they had died when Jesus showed kindness to someone they considered a traitor and an apostate.  Of course, had Jesus invited himself into their homes, it would have been perfectly proper.

But back to Zacchaeus and the rest of the story. 

For all its honest and forthright treatment of sin, the Bible still surprises us with its respect for privacy.

What did these two talk about during that meal?  What questions did Jesus ask his host?  What secrets did Zacchaeus reveal about himself, how did he venture to explain the life-choices he had made?  Perhaps what was said was too personal, too intimate, to be recorded for all subsequent history.  But, if we’re not allowed to know the content of their conversation, we are allowed to see the consequences.

Zacchaeus stood up—maybe a little taller than usual—and made a daring declaration:  “Look, Lord, here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor.”  (Note that a heart filled with greed was replaced by a heart filled with generosity.  By the way, the poor, like the tax-collectors, were sometimes considered to have been abandoned by God.)

Then Zacchaeus continues, “If I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.”  (In that pledge we see not only a promise of restitution; we see a new respect for his countrymen.)

Jesus met that testimony with a word of affirmation and recognition:  “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham.” 

This was a great moment.   Zacchaeus, who had long lived with rejection and censure, needed those words which confirmed his new spiritual condition.  But the words had other implications. 

On the one hand, they remind us of the reality of salvation.   Zacchaeus means “pure,” but he had lived anything but a pure life.  He had taken advantage of his neighbors and built his wealth on avarice.  Jesus had changed him.

Then, too, the words are a gentle reminder that although salvation comes by faith, it is confirmed by works.  Zacchaeus did not receive salvation because he promised to make restitution; he promised to make restitution because he had received salvation.

Just as relevant to the story, Jesus was declaring that, in contrast with to the self-righteous persons who had rejected the diminutive tax-man, Zacchaeus was a real descendent of Abraham.

According to tradition, Zacchaeus lived a long time after his first encounter with Jesus.  His life changed.  It’s even reported he became a leader in the young church, a pastor.  Zacchaeus, who had been so hurtful, became a blessing.  You might imagine that, as this little man ministered lovingly and generously, everyone looked up to him.  Because of his encounter with Jesus, that’s the kind of man he became.

And Jesus?  Well, Jesus said it so clearly that day at the party:  “The Son of Man has come to seek and to save the lost.”

Not long after this, Jesus would fulfill his destiny; he would take the road to Jerusalem and then to the cross.  Palm Sunday, Good Friday, and Easter would take their places on our calendars.  Jesus would continue the ministry he was carrying out that day in Jericho as he changed the life of a “wee little man.”

Jesus would go on seeking and saving the lost.  Just as he did when he walked among us, he continues to search out those who are rejected by polite society, hated because of their mistakes and failures.  He still delights in surprising cynical onlookers by transforming those considered beyond God’s help and love. 

Jesus continues to rescue the “lost” because that’s the kind of Man he is.

Throughout the history of the church, those whose lives have been changed by Jesus have joined him in that work.  They seek the lost so they might know the saving power of Jesus.

Conclusion

Keep that in mind on this St. Patrick’s Day.  I don’t mention Patrick because I want you to begin thinking of green beer, corned beef and cabbage, and shamrocks.  I want to remind you that Patrick—the real Patrick—was a missionary.

Never mind the story of banishing the snakes or the shamrock becoming an illustration of the Trinity, Patrick was driven by a desire to bring the love of God to the Irish. 

Patrick was raised on the west coast of what would become England; he was the son of a prosperous Christian deacon.  In 406, when he was about sixteen, Patrick was kidnapped by Irish pirates and sold as a slave.  Laboring as a shepherd, his devotion to God grew deeper; then after six years God seemed to direct him to flee to a port town where a ship waited to take him back to Britain. 

Soon after his homecoming, instead of harboring bitterness toward those who had enslaved him, Patrick felt called to return to Ireland to preach to the people there.  He trained as a priest and went back to Ireland as a bishop.  In time, he had preached throughout the island and left behind churches wherever he went.  After his death, Ireland became a center of Christianity and the base of missionary operations throughout much of northern Europe.

He was joining Jesus in the same work he was doing in Jericho.  It was the kind of man he had become.

You and I aren’t likely to have a day named after us.  There won’t be any parades honoring us.  But we can continue to join with Jesus in the work of seeking those who need to know God’s love and point them to the One who can change their lives.

Will we be that kind of people?