Luke 19:1-10

Zachaeus was a wee little man; a wee little man was he. Now you too will have that VBS song rattling around in your head for the next few days. Not only was he a “wee little guy”, but in climbing up that tree to get a glimpse of Jesus he also appears to be a spiritual tourist – a voyeur! It takes one to know one. Ours is culture of voyeurism! We belong to a “crowd” that gets its “reality” from television, the newspapers, magazines, and, yes, even books. More than we may care to admit we climb up into our armchairs as spectators to observe life from the sidelines, to live our lives vicariously through characters we deem to have “real” power, eloquence and beauty. It’s enough to cause one to wonder what is real – or who is real!

Is Zachaeus really a spiritual tourist, a voyeur who simply wants to get a glimpse of Jesus from up in tree, or is he on a quest? Why is he so curious about Jesus? How much do we really know about Zachaeus? How well do we ever really know another person? How well do we even know ourselves for that matter? It’s easy enough for me to imagine what Zachaeus was about, but that kind of speculation tells us more about ourselves than Zachaeus. We make each other over in our own image all the time, or, worse, we size one another up to make ourselves feel better, more secure, and we are not always charitable in our assessments.

The truth of the matter is that the text doesn’t tell us much about Zachaeus except that he was “a chief tax collector and was rich”. What more do we need to know? We know what tax collectors and rich people are like don’t we? We are not told anything about Zachaeus’ social life or emotional state, but I am guessing that as a tax collector he lived a lonely life. Although he lived at the other end of the socio-economic spectrum from beggars, widows, and children, he nonetheless shared with them the indignity that comes from living on the margins of society, the disgrace of not being part of the “crowd”. Shame is no respecter of persons.

We can only surmise that Zachaeus was seeking to see Jesus, that he climbed up above the crowd into that sycamore tree because he knew the one thing about Jesus that everyone who knew anything knew, namely that Jesus “eats and drinks with tax collectors and sinners”. That’s the one rumor about Jesus that seems to have stuck, and it’s a rumor that appears to be true. What Zachaeus didn’t know is that not only was he seeking Jesus, but that Jesus was seeking him! “Zachaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.” It is certainly not surprising that Zachaeus hurries down out of that tree to welcome Jesus. Neither is it surprising that the “crowd” grumbles that Jesus is once again hanging out with the “wrong sort of people”. Folks are always ever trying to get Jesus to do what they want him to do, to enlist him to champion their own ideas about the way things should be. But Jesus always resists! He consistently thwarts our assumptions about who he is and what he is about, and challenges the manifold ways we label and pigeonhole our fellow human beings. That is precisely what he does in this encounter with Zachaeus!

What is surprising, indeed shocking, about this encounter is what we discover about Zachaeus. “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I give (not will give) to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I pay back four times as much.” The NRSV gets it wrong. The verbs are present tense, not future. There is no mention of repentance, as in so many of the scenarios in Luke, because this is not a story of conversion. Zachaeus is describing his practice of generosity toward the poor, not telling Jesus how he is going to change his ways. One of the most startling things we learn is just how generous he was, giving half his possessions to those in need. That was way beyond what was expected of anyone. Perhaps Zachaeus empathized with the poor because he shared in their shame. Who knows? What do we really know about each other? Even our own motives are sometimes obscured from us.

What we can be confident of is that by virtue of his practice of almsgiving Zachaeus is an exemplar in Luke’s Gospel of what Jesus teaches about the nature of the kingdom. That someone like this tax collector should be a child of the Most High because, like the Holy One, he is merciful in doing good and giving to those in need expecting nothing in return is contrary to every expectation! A few years ago when I was on sabbatical I decided, after years of critiquing the market economy, that it was time for me to learn about it from first-hand experience. So I began to trade currency. I learned how to read charts and do technical analysis from discussion boards and resources on the internet, and I got up at 2:00 AM three to four times a week to trade the London market. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how much I learned about markets and how they work, and especially how much I learned about myself. One of the most basic tidbits of wisdom I learned is that what drives markets up and down is fear and greed. Much to my chagrin I also learned that I can be just as afraid and greedy as the next person.

But I digress. My only reason in revealing this surprising part of my history to you is to tell you about the person who became my trading mentor. His name is Clay. My greatest anxiety about learning to trade was that I knew I would have to depend on and interact with people who dwelled in the contaminated domain of markets where everyone is infected by “filthy lucre”. For all practical purposes I was like the self-righteous Pharisee in the previous chapter of Luke thanking God that I was not like these other traders. What I discovered, much to my amazement, was an international community of gracious people who were helping one another to become better traders. Clay was a very successful trader who took me under his wing and tried to teach me everything he knew about trading, and never once expected anything in return! I have been in the church my whole life, and I can tell you without reservation that he is the most generous person I have ever known.

According to Luke’s criterion, Clay, like Zachaeus, is a “son of Abraham” by virtue of his posture and his practice. We had many a conversation about faith and theology, and as it turns out he is a deeply spiritual and indeed righteous person who is still reacting to a fundamentalist upbringing. So while Clay might not think of himself as a “son of Abraham”, Luke’s story of Jesus has emphasized from John the Baptist to Zachaeus that the “real” children of Abraham are those who bear fruit, who live out of a Divine fullness that comes from trusting and sharing, from being compassionate and merciful. Any one can claim to be a child of Abraham, but the proof of the pudding is in the eating! In fact, not to put too fine a point on it, but the difference between the “real” children of Abraham and those who simply claim to be is the difference between those who live with a closed fist and those who live with an open hand, giving and receiving not only what they have but who they are.

We tend to read these exchanges between Jesus and the characters in Luke’s Gospel in isolation. But when I read the story of Zachaeus, I can’t help but think of the nameless woman in Luke 7 who in wetting Jesus’ feet with her tears and wiping them with her hair is an example of what it means to love deeply, of the woman who was healed from the flow of blood, of the Samaritan who embodied the mercy of God, of the crippled woman whom Jesus healed on the Sabbath, of the householder who invited the poor and the maimed and blind and lame to his banquet, of the compassionate father in the parable of the prodigal, and of all the widows, and children and even centurions - all of whom embody in some way the extravagant generosity and mercy of the Holy One. Together they provide a most surprising glimpse of the presence of the new age, and it is not what we expected.

In a few moments we will be invited to yet another meal hosted by Jesus. He is here in our house, or is it his house, and he invites us to a meal where there is always enough, but where no one gets too much. It is a meal where the gifts of charity and compassion flow freely in the hope that it will be shared not only with all the sisters and brothers, but especially with all those who have not yet experienced what it means to be the daughters and sons of Abraham and children of the Most High.