Curiosity and probably the need to protect himself from the scoffing and angry shoves of the local people, propel Zacchaeus into the broad branches of a sycamore tree. He is too short, the crowd too large, and he wants to see Jesus. Sensing that he is being watched, sensing Zacchaeus’ desire to see him, Jesus looks up and calls Zacchaeus down to himself and tells him most emphatically, “I must stay at your house.” This is not a casual request for an evening get-together. It is something far more sacred and provocative. In any event, Zacchaeus is thrilled.
Jesus is well-aware of the shock value of his action. Zacchaeus is chief tax collector; tax collectors were among the most despised members of Jewish society, as sleazy as prostitutes. True, prostitutes sold their favors to Roman soldiers, but tax collectors were worse; they were in cahoots with the Romans, collecting taxes for them and taking an enormous cut for themselves. That was how the system worked. They were smarmy low-life, living in luxury at the expense of the poor whom they had bilked. Befriending Zacchaeus is provocative indeed – he of all people, the short man, short of stature, short on virtue, a fabulously wealthy swindler, despised by his countrymen. Jesus knows exactly what he’s doing. He keeps hanging around with the wrong kind of kind of people. And it’s going get him in a lot of trouble, but Jesus can do no less. He is the Mercy of the Father enfleshed. This is why he has come – to gather the lost and call sinners to change of heart.
So Jesus invites himself in. “I must stay at your house,” he says to Zacchaeus. Perhaps it’s ridiculous, but this makes me a bit uncomfortable, seems a bit intrusive. And I remember many years ago when my mom was in the hospital, my father announced that he and I would be having our supper at Aunty Jenny and Uncle Charlie’s house that night. “Oh, did they invite us?” “No,” says my Dad. “That’s my brother, I told we were coming over for supper.” Even as a kid I knew a social taboo had been violated. You don’t do that kind of thing. Or do you? Jesus doesn’t seem to have any qualms. He must stay with Zacchaeus because it’s what Mercy does, it abides, it stays. Mercy is always magnetized by our pain and sin and need of any kind. Mercy intrudes.
And so as Zacchaeus receives the Lord with joy - two desperations meet, Jesus’ desperate passion to share God’s Self and Zacchaeus’ desperate need for the healing and mercy that only God in Christ can give. He may be wealthy but this is the one thing he now realizes he desperately wants and does not have and probably believes he does not deserve. Jesus restores Zacchaeus’ lost honor by staying at his house for supper and evening’s rest. Mercy in Christ has come and wants to remain with us.
Zacchaeus’ face-to-face encounter with Christ Jesus causes a radical reorientation. And amidst the din of all the grumbling against him, Zaccheaus stands his ground and confesses to Jesus. Looked upon with love by the Lord, Zacchaeus is converted, he literally makes a complete turn-around; he is released from the inertia of his past. In the light of Christ’s kind regard, bitter self-knowledge has overtaken him, he can see who he has become. And if Zacchaeus has been extravagant in exploiting his fellow Jews, he now promises extravagant remuneration to the many he has cheated. A swindler has been transformed. How? Through the joy of the encounter, a fascination with the person of Christ in his Goodness and Beauty and Truth. Today Salvation has come to Zacchaeus’ house. A spark of desire and curiosity to see the Lord has ended here: Zacchaeus allows himself to feel deep within his heart the embarrassment of who he has become. As Jesus stays with him, he can see a new future.
And so this story is a kind of parable about what happens each day when we enter this sacred space. Here Jesus invites us to come down, to lower ourselves, and invites himself in. Awed by the mystery of this divine intrusion, we instinctively call to mind our sins and beg forgiveness. And this morning as every morning Jesus will sit at table and share a meal with notorious sinners. Zacchaeus’ story is our story. The ringing of the bells day in day out, hour after hour is our reminder to come down, for we too have nothing to boast of but our need for him. And so each morning a great reversal is enacted. Jesus is honored guest but best of all he himself is the banquet of Mercy for us sick sinners who desperately need a Physician. And, praise God, he does not require perfection before he approaches. Just the opposite. It is not because we’re worthy. It is our weakness which is our best credential for graced encounter with him. All it takes is a sigh, says St. Mechtilde. A sigh, a mere whiff of desire to see and be near him. Even the faintest desire will draw him, and the subsequent encounter with God most high brought low in Christ will bring transformation, for when Jesus meets us, something unexpected might happen.
Jesus will praise the tax collectors and prostitutes because of their openness to his message, their readiness to change their minds and hearts. They’re broken enough, they know themselves as outcasts and sinners. They have no illusions about themselves and so cannot refuse such a great offer, his invitation to change and reform- literally to be made beautiful again through their relationship with him. They know they’re a mess, they know it all too well. They’ve got nothing to lose; they’ve lost it all already. What about us? What have we got to lose? Perhaps only the heavy burden of having to pretend we’re good.
