Sermon on Sunday, October 31, 2010
Jericho. Our story from Luke’s gospel takes place in the city of Jericho. But before we get to Zacchaeus climbing a tree to see Jesus, you should know something about Jericho. You see, in New Testament times, there were just two major highways in all of Israel, and one of them ran right through Jericho. This alone made Jericho a strategic city at the time, but there’s more.
To understand Jericho’s location in Jesus’ day, let’s picture ourselves traveling from Madison to Milwaukee. Obviously it makes sense to take I-94 straight across. Only in this case, the people living along the interstate are hostile enemies. Oconomowoc, Delafield, Waukesha—all full of people who are likely to mug us on our way.
So instead of traveling straight east, we’re going to dip south, almost to the Illinois border, then move east through Lake Geneva, and push on, all the way to Kenosha before heading back north along the lake. Inevitably, we’re going to come through Racine on our way to Milwaukee. But now here’s the rub—in order to travel through Racine, we’ve got to pay a toll. Racine is the customs station between Madison and Milwaukee. Are you riding a camel? There’s a fee for that. Got any cows? Any goats? There are fees for those too. Oxen pulling a cart? How many axles? There’s a fee for that.
This was Jericho during Jesus’ day. And folks didn’t have a choice. Coming to Jerusalem during the Passover, they didn’t want to travel through Samaria, for fear of what might happen to them, so they took the long way around—on a highway that took them straight through Jericho. During the Passover, Jerusalem swelled with at least several hundred thousand out-of-towners, so Jericho itself became a bit like Racine on a Fourth of July weekend—packed with people. And every single one of them had to pay.
Now where did all those tax dollars go? Jericho schools? The Jericho senior center? New recycling bins? No, the travel tax went to Rome. Keep in mind that the Roman Empire had control over Israel at this time in history. Caesar looked at Jericho and all those Jewish families passing through, year after year, and said to himself, I believe we can make some serious money off of this! So the taxes didn’t stay in Jericho—they went straight to Rome. Except…
Except that someone had to collect the tax, right? Someone had to be the one to make sure everybody paid—to make sure that every calf, ram, sheep, goat, donkey, and ox was charged on its way through town. After all, you can’t have taxes without a tax collector, right? This was Zacchaeus. Zacchaeus was the chief tax collector in all of Jericho, the most lucrative city for tax collectors in all of Israel. And here’s what Rome said to tax collectors like Zacchaeus: “We don’t care what you charge—just so long as we get our cut.” And so guys like Zacchaeus charged people though the nose, sent a portion to Rome, and pocketed the rest. Zacchaeus, the chief tax collector of Jericho, was filthy rich. Which is really quite ironic—the name, “Zacchaeus” means “clean” or “innocent.”
Jesus came to Jericho, and by this time he had true celebrity status. He’d raised the dead, healed the sick, restored sight to the blind… Already we had tens of thousands flocking through Jericho to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover. Once word got out that Jesus was among them, they all strained to catch a glimpse—to hear Jesus speak, to watch him heal, or to be healed themselves. Now this really was like Racine on the Fourth of July—a parade crowd waiting for Jesus to come by! And Zacchaeus couldn’t find a seat.
Luke says that Zacchaeus was short, and so that’s why he had to climb a sycamore tree to see Jesus. But I wonder if there wasn’t more to it than that. I wonder if Zacchaeus had any friends—anyone to sit with along the parade route while they waited for Jesus—anyone who’d make room for him on their blanket, maybe share a cheese sandwich and a drink. Anyone? No. You don’t make too many friends by gouging money from them, so Zacchaeus’ best seat was alone, up the tree.
It must have come as quite a shock when Jesus stopped by that tree and looked up. Clearly he was staring right at Zacchaeus. And you know what I think? I think that the crowd gathered around saw Jesus look up that tree, and they thought to themselves, “Oh this is going to be good. Zacchaeus, the “pure” and “innocent” one is going to get his now—and we get to watch!” Every vindictive bone in every single body there was twitching—ready to watch Jesus give Zacchaeus what he had coming: judgment for every dime he squeezed out of the people, judgment for lining his pockets and living the high life in a poor city, judgment for turning his back on Israel for the sake of Rome.
Jesus said, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.” And two things happened. One, the people went ballistic. “What?!? Are you kidding, Jesus? Obviously you have no idea who this guy is! He’s a sinner! The worst of the worst!” Someone might have yelled out, “Hey, Jesus—I thought you said, ‘Blessed are the meek.’” And in fact, I bet there were some who gave up on Jesus right then and there—“Well, forget it. No friend of Zacchaeus is a friend of mine”—and they walked away.
The second thing that happened was this: Zacchaeus got out of the tree. Luke says that Zacchaeus “hurried down and was happy to welcome Jesus,” but I picture him scrambling down out of that tree as fast as he possibly could. And you know what? Zacchaeus might have been thinking the same thing the people were: “What? Are you kidding, Jesus? Obviously you have no idea who I am. I’m a sinner. The worst of the worst.”
Jesus followed Zacchaeus to his home, and the two men went in. And what we have next in Luke’s gospel is a private conversation. We don’t know how it went. We don’t know what Jesus said or how Zacchaeus took it. What we do know is that when all was said and done, Zacchaeus was ready to give half his stuff to the poor and to pay four times back to anyone he’d ever cheated.
But what happened in Zacchaeus’ house? What went on in there? We’ll never know, except to say that a radical transformation occurred.
Now few of us here would easily identify ourselves with Zacchaeus. His extreme wealth, coupled with his extreme social isolation make him one with whom you might not have much in common. I do wonder, however, if there aren’t two moments in Zacchaeus’ story that might help us think about our faith lives.
The first is a private conversation with Jesus. A turn-off-the-cell-phone, sit-down-and-get-serious private conversation with Jesus. Sure, you go to church, you sing in the choir, you teach Sunday school, you read up on theology and read the Bible from time to time. Sure, you show up at church most Sundays, you hang out with church friends… you even act like a Christian most of the time! You help out at the food pantry, you volunteer at the shelter, you look for ways that you can “live out your faith.” All of that is great—just great! But sooner or later, and then hopefully often, you need to have a private conversation with Jesus.
No one else needs to know about it at that point. The whole city of Jericho might be loitering outside, but inside, it’s just you and Jesus. When’s the last time you had that private conversation? The one where you let Jesus in, skip the chit-chat, and get down to what’s real. This is the private conversation where you let Jesus have his say—the one where he says to you, “Zacchaeus, there’s a reason why I’m here in your life. I want you. Not just a part of you. I want all of you. Not just your Sunday best, or you on your best behavior—I want you. Follow me.”
Jesus says, “I know about the parts of you that you try to hide. The insecure you. The me-first you. The part of you that you keep hidden from your family and friends—the selfish you, the cruel you.” Keep in mind that Zacchaeus was selfish and cruel in a city where it paid handsomely to be selfish and cruel. Jesus says, “This isn’t about what you’ve done—it’s about what you’re going to do. And I want in.”
The second moment in the Zacchaeus story that can help us think about our own lives of faith is that moment when Zacchaeus goes public. We’re not sure how this went down. Maybe he said it just to Jesus, but I picture Zacchaeus running out onto the front porch of his house and announcing, “Hey world! I’m giving away half of everything! And to the people I’ve cheated: I’m paying you back times four!”
Faith, and the conversations we have with Jesus, are private, but at some point and in some way, we need to go public.
I recently stumbled across a website called “privatefaith.com.” Here’s what it says on their homepage: “Here there are no rules except those that you create for yourself with God. All people are accepted as you are. Please consider joining this new religion if you think it is right for you.” You can join the “church” at privatefaith.com by just telling them you’re “in.” And as its title would suggest, your presence there is completely private.
Now while I can appreciate and honor someone’s desire for privacy when it comes to his or her relationship with God, the simple truth of the matter is that Christianity is not a private religion! At some point we need to go public with our faith. The private commitments we make in our private conversations with Jesus must have public ramifications.
Jesus said, “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house.” (Matthew 5:14-15)
How will you “go public” today? This week? In what way will you allow Christ’s lordship in your life move you to act? Will it be an act of compassion? Will it be a radical act of commitment? Will you give away half of your wealth? Will you give anything away? You don’t have to answer yet. Have that private conversation with Jesus first. And listen to what he wants you to do. Amen.
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