Sunday, October 30, 2022

Seen, and Loved: Sermon for Proper 26C



This weekend’s gospel passage includes the well known story about Zacchaeus encountering Jesus on the road to Jericho. It’s a staple of probably every children's Sunday school curricula you've ever encountered. And then there's the song, which, if you are like me, you have a compulsion to sing the minute you see Zacchaeus’s name. It has been an earworm for my entire week. We have heard it and we have sung it countless times. But that also means that we may need to shake off our familiarity with this story and really pay attention to what is said—and not said—in this familiar tale.

I wonder if one of the reasons why this story is so popular with children is that it is deliberately silly-- intentionally so. A grown man, probably used to being catered to due to his wealth, hauling himself up high into a tree while wearing what to American eyes is a dress. The comedic potential is undeniable.

But I also wonder if children don't love the story because at its base there is a beautiful, welcoming truth: that Jesus looks upon all of us, no matter who we are, how big we are, or how much other people think we might need correcting, and truly sees us, knows us by name, and wishes to spend time with us. No matter how old we get, experiencing that kind of not just acceptance but treasuring fulfills our deepest human longings. someone who will never give up on us.

The story of Zacchaeus expands upon the theme we heard in last week’s gospel. Jesus once again encounters someone who is considered an outsider from decent society by virtue of their collaboration with the occupying Roman empire. In both last week’s parable and this week’s encounter we see Jesus talking about or with tax collectors. We see here in this story with the promises of this tax collector what we hope was initiated by the tax collector we met in last week’s parable: not just acknowledging one’s sins before God, but promising restitution and just dealing where before there was exploitation and corruption.

This setting this time is in Jericho rather than the temple. I remember hearing about Jericho in my Sunday school days, when Joshua lengthy newly arrived armies of Israel around its walls, blowing a trumpet repeatedly, until the walls came down and the Israelites were able to take the town and make it there. By the time of Jesus’s lifetime, Jericho was a wealthy city, where King Herod had a palace, which means it was also the city in which the apparatus of taxation was particularly powerful. Zacchaeus is described as a “chief tax collector,” so he is well placed within that system, possibly notorious even among the townspeople.

All the markers are there to assume that Zacchaeus is corrupt to the bone—and yet there he is down mixing among the crowd that is gathered to see this wandering holy man, and he even behaves in the most undignified manner, running ahead of the crowd and eventually climbing the tree in order to merely get a glimpse of Jesus. Once again, the tale is more gently humorous than mean-spirited. Could it be that the crowd is the one wrong about Zacchaeus?


There are lots of details in this story that are surprising. Even with the crowd all around him, Jesus looks up and sees Zacchaeus perched precariously in his tree. Jesus then invites himself into Zacchaeus’s home. Then and now, that was a pretty significant breach of etiquette. Furthermore, by doing this, Jesus shows that he does not care about one of the Pharisees’ main complaints, first mentioned in Luke 5, that he consorted with known sinners and tax collectors.

Yet even the mere idea that Jesus would seek fellowship with him moves Zacchaeus, whose name means “pure in heart” in Hebrew, to publicly proclaim a scrupulous concern for living compassionately among his neighbors. That way of living involves being righteous toward the weak and powerless and seeking reconciliation with those whom you have harmed. Zacchaeus is, as we were first reminded, a very powerful man, regardless of his physical height. He is a man of public prominence. If he embraces Jesus’s insistence of walking the path of mercy and demand for restorative justice for love of those on the margins of society, who knows how many other people we will be affected by his example? If that isn’t what salvation is, I don’t know how else you can define it.

Yet—look closely. Neither Jesus nor Zacchaeus make any mention of sin. At the very end, Jesus says that salvation has come Zacchaeus’s house, because the Human One has come to those who are “lost.” Zacchaeus defends himself against the murmuring of the crowd calling him a sinner by promising publicly to give half of his goods to the poor, and to recompense anyone he may have cheated fourfold. But he uses the PRESENT tense in the original Greek. He says he GIVES half his goods to the poor, and that he compensates those he may have harmed four times over.

The crowds see Zacchaeus one way. Jesus sees Zacchaeus in another way—as a beloved brother (as evidenced by the language calling him a “son of Abraham”). Perhaps Zacchaeus has been “lost” because he has been discounted and abandoned by the assumptions of the community. Once again we are reminded that God’s sense of justice and ours are different, because God sees clearly where we see only “through a glass darkly,” in the words of Paul in the 1st letter to the church in Corinth. As we are reminded over and over again, God is especially concerned about those who are “lost”—whether through their actions or the actions of those around them. And some of those who are lost are not lost through any actions of their own-- but by others denying them as being worthy of remaining in the flock. It's not OUR job to judge this-- it's far beyond our pay grade.

How does this apply to our world? 
Good grief, how does it not? 

Our society is filled with self-righteous people casting out all kinds of people based on their assumptions about them being unworthy, or calling them sinners. Our society is mired right now in casting all kinds of slurs at people who are different than us, or who disagree with us—and ironically, at the same time, excusing all sorts of bad behavior on behalf of those whom they perceive as being “like them.” We see people who are differently abled mocked. We see it when people with accents are mocked or thought of as stupid when they speak. Parents at school board meetings screaming at teachers and administrators. We hear it in attempts to shame people, even children, who do not conform to rigid expectations about their identities or clothing styles or hairstyles or body art. None of which has anything to do with the person anyone is inside—in the place where God sees us and loves us most clearly.

I heard off a pastor asking the kids in his youth group how they thought God saw them—and the overwhelming answer was that they thought God was disappointed in them or angry with them for their imperfections, much less failures. And I remember feeling the same way in those fire-and-brimstone churches I attended as a child. Our kids already have a hard enough time growing up—and many of us have a hard enough time getting through the days in which we do not hear a kind word. And we see the bitter fruit such hate and division has as drug-abuse and suicide rates skyrocket, as school shootings proliferate—even among our children! And this week, we had a school shooting right here in St. Louis, which is why I am wearing this orange gun violence stole. We celebrate and encourage violence and hatred and bullying far too much. And often in doing so, we push others out-- beyond the margins of who is in and who is out.

There is a reason why Jesus constantly reaches out to the margins—and encourages us to do the same as his followers. And it is simply because the judging of others has never won anyone’s heart to God—not really.

Our world is too filled with cruelty and name calling toward other people based on no other evidence than how they identify themselves. There is no doubt that one of the greatest plagues of our modern time is refusing to really see each other- to see each other, to honor the divine spark in each other without questioning who is worthy and who is not. Just like that lawyer who asked Jesus "Who is my neighbor?", we want to know what the limits of the people we have to acknowledge as our neighbors are. But what this world needs is radical acceptance and radical empathy. We are called to lend our strong backs to those bent over from bearing burdens we have no idea that they are carrying..

Too many of us—and it seems to be growing!-- are far too comfortable with failing to honor each and every person as fellow human beings. Too many of us are far too inured to each other’s pain and suffering. Some even take pleasure in the suffering of others, especially those different from them, and see that suffering as justice, and I am not just talking about the criminal justice system.

Embedded within this story is a call to action to us—to examine our own minimization of others. To examine our failure to truly see each other—especially those who are far outside our familiar circles. And even more, to examine our silence in the face of others being minimized. We are not called to simply "like" Jesus-- we are called to BE like Jesus. We are the face of Jesus in the world.


I invite you to think back to the last time you experienced such a feeling of companionship, comfort, peace, and contentment. We live such hectic lives now, it can be easy to forget to make time for each other and to spend time with each other, sharing companionship and enjoying the presence of those we love and giving people the benefit of the doubt. And as we've been talking about prayer the last few weeks, to think of how to apply that same intentionality and loving kindness in our time spent intentionally in communion and prayer with God.

As always, our lives as disciples don't come with an instruction manual-- other than our commitment to follow in the example of Jesus. So this week, I hope you get find the chance to slow down, look up, look around, and share the love of Jesus with those you see. It is the best and only way to be disciples of Jesus in word and deed.


Preached at the 505 on October 29 and at the 10:30 Eucharist on October 30 at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO.


Readings:
Habakkuk 1:1-4; 2:1-4
Psalm 119:137-144
2 Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12
Luke 19:1-10

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