Sermon for Friends Congregational Church
Delivered by Reverend Dan De Leon
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Luke 19:1-10
For some of us this story about Zacchaeus, the vertically challenged tax collector, is as popular as David and Goliath. And, like the story of David and Goliath, we might look at it with a kind of childlike glee.
There was a guy at a Baptist church who was notorious for serving on pastor search committees. And when it came down to interviewing any pastoral candidates, this guy would always start with a question to kind of break the ice. He’d just ask, “Where in the Bible is the story of Zacchaeus?”
Not much of an icebreaker in my opinion. If the search committee of this church had asked me in our initial phone interview where the story of Zacchaeus was in the Bible, they might have heard the sound of pages turning rapidly before they would hear the answer: Luke 19:1-10.
But it is a valid question I suppose. The story of Zacchaeus appears only once in all four Gospels, so it’s kind of a diamond in the rough. Plus, it stands apart from most of those other stories in Luke’s gospel about rich people being in trouble with God. The Zacchaeus story ends on a high note for the guy with deep pockets.
I didn’t always appreciate that, though. When I was a little boy, I didn’t think much about the fact that Zacchaeus was a miserly tax collector.
At that time in my life, I colored pictures of the Zachaeus story in Sunday School. And the lesson I got out of that story was that Jesus loves all of us. I understood that Zachaeus was a short, lonely tax collector that nobody liked, and when Jesus came to his town, he had to climb up into a tree to see him. But Jesus said to this poor guy that everyone else had forgotten, “Hey, Zacchaeus, I see you up there! Come down here and let’s get something to eat together!”
As a child, I loved that story, because I was scared to death of being left alone—people forgetting me. Children have those kinds of fears. So, I related to Zacchaeus big time. But then I grew up and became part of the crowd.
The crowd in this story hates Zacchaeus. He is the lowest of the low. When you think of negative stereotypes in the Bible, you think of tax collectors, and Zacchaeus wasn’t just any tax collector; he was a chief tax collector. Do you know how bad a chief tax collector is? A chief tax collector is so vile, so gruesome, so corrupt that the term ‘chief tax collector’ only appears once throughout the entire Greek New Testament. And that one time it is dared to be uttered, ‘chief tax collector’ is ascribed to Zacchaeus.
Makes you wonder if Zacchaeus climbed into that sycamore-fig tree to see Jesus because he was too short to see him, or because he was afraid of getting too close to the crowd that hated him. But Jesus sees him—he sees him up there seeking Jesus—so Jesus calls out to him, and the crowd gets upset.
They hate this guy. They hate Zacchaeus, and they don’t want their Christ Jesus to have anything to do with him. It didn’t make sense to them that their Jesus that they followed, who championed the cause of the forgotten, the oppressed, the downtrodden, the abused—that this Jesus would extend an invitation to someone like Zacchaeus made the crowd go berserk.
It would be how the crowd might respond at a Toby Keith concert if Toby Keith invited Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks to come on stage and sing a duet with him about world peace. I grew up with the Zacchaeus story relating to the lonely tax collector, but now I am in the crowd—we all are. And this story might be one that is very hard for our crowd to hear this morning.
First, we need to picture someone we can’t stand, because Zacchaeus is the most hated person in his village. Who is the most hated person in our village? Who is your Zacchaeus? Is your Zacchaeus a political figure, a celebrity, a socialite, a radio personality; or is your Zacchaeus a little closer to home, like a bothersome co-worker or an annoying neighbor or a black sheep family member. Whoever it is, find your Zacchaeus.
We are the crowd. And that Zacchaeus that we have in our mind right now darkens the door of this sanctuary—that Zacchaeus waltzes into this village. Will we welcome him or her, or would we prefer to have them remain far off in their tree—out of sight and out of mind?
When we say that it is our vision to offer God’s extravagant welcome to all at Friends Congregational Church, we usually associate that welcome with the marginalized, the oppressed, the forgotten, the abused—you know, the ones Jesus spent his life speaking out for and including. But do we ever think to include in that extravagant welcome an invitation to the ones we resent, the ones we can’t stand, the ones who might be half the reason why we’re sitting exactly where we are sitting right now? That is perhaps what Jesus is asking our crowd in the Zacchaeus story today.
But it gets worse. Jesus calls out to your Zacchaeus at the back of this sanctuary. He calls him out and he invites him to come up front right here, he puts his arm around him and he says, “Today salvation has come to this house, and me and Zacchaeus here are going to get something to eat after the service.”
Do you want to follow the Christ that offers the same salvation to the Zacchaeus that you most resent in your life as he does to you? Well, hold on a second. Let’s look at salvation.
I looked at the Zacchaeus story in my adolescence, too. When I was a teenager, I thought of salvation as something that happens with your soul, and salvation was between you and Jesus. That’s it. But salvation is so much more than that.
If salvation is something that Jesus offers to your soul and it’s between you and your Jesus, then that means that Zacchaeus basically bought his salvation—he bought his way into being saved.
Zacchaeus comes down from that tree and is so inspired by Jesus going out of his way to include him in the midst of an angry crowd that he says, “Lord, here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I’ve cheated anybody out of anything, I’ll pay it back to them by four times the amount.” And Jesus pats him on the shoulder and says, “What a generous contribution to the campaign! Salvation be upon your house!” Right?
If that’s all there is to salvation, then we’re going to have one grand stewardship Sunday next week. Remember, ‘salvation,’ ‘to be saved,’ is translated throughout Luke’s gospel from Greek to mean ‘made well,’ ‘healing,’ and, ‘made whole.’ Zacchaeus, the rich, corrupt tax collector, says, “Right here and now, I repent. I give of all that has made me what I thought was important so that I can become all that is important in the eyes of God.” And right then and there, Jesus says, “Today, salvation has come to this house. Today, this house has been made well. Today, healing has come to this house. Today, this house is made whole.”
Salvation did not just come to Zacchaeus in that moment. Salvation came to the poor that Zacchaeus has previously oppressed—healing, wellness and wholeness came to them; and salvation came to the ones Zacchaeus had defrauded—healing, wellness, and wholeness came to them. Salvation came to that house—to that village.
Salvation comes to all of us when we repent and are healed and made well and made whole by our communion with God. And we come to communion with God by being purposefully in communion with each other. And did you ever consider that an extravagant welcome might yield salvation?
John Wesley, the great Methodist, preached these words in the 18th century: “With grief of heart I speak it, and not with joy, that scarce is the form of godliness seen among us. We are all indeed called to be saints, and the very name of Christ means no less; but who has so much as the appearance?”
We like to think that the Saints that we have shared and listed this morning in our bulletin have that appearance. Maybe they shared that appearance with us during our lives together. But they didn’t give that appearance all the time. That’s what made them human, and that’s why we love them.
But on this All Saint’s Sunday, we remember these Saints. So, we have to talk about something that we don’t usually talk about. We have to talk about eschatology. We have to talk about the realm of God where our Saints now reside. Let’s talk for a moment about heaven.
Our Saints are now part of the righteous crowd that is in communion with God. And God’s grace is great enough and abundant enough that all the Saints, regardless of their appearance in this time, can be in communion with God and in communion with each other.
As we focus on our Zacchaeus this morning, let us focus on the realm of God where Martin Luther King, Jr. breaks bread with Governor George Wallace, and Mother Teresa breaks bread with Enron CEO Kenneth Lay. And when our names are listed on a bulletin like this by the loved ones we leave behind, we will break bread with our Christ, with our Saints and with our Zacchaeus.
This very room is a glimpse of heaven; so, let salvation be brought to this household in these precious days we share. Amen.