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?