Seek and Save, Luke 19:1-10
Plymouth First United Methodist, November 3, 2019
Pastor Toni Carmer
People in the crowd can see what’s going to happen. They begin to smile in anticipation. Some of the folks in the crowd gently elbow the people on their right and left and whisper, “Wait till you see this!”
The rabbi from Nazareth, the traveling preacher, is coming through town on his way to Jerusalem. This rabbi, unlike most of the others, never swallows the truth in order to be polite. He says what’s on his mind. He tells people straight up what God has told him to say. Doesn’t seem to care a whole lot about who takes offense at what he says.
The rabbi has an especially tough and challenging message for religious types. And the other group he’s tough on? The rich. The crowds packing the streets of Jericho know about Jesus. They know of his teaching. “Blessed are those who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God” (Luke 6:20). “But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation” (v. 24).
Jesus told the story of a poor man named Lazarus, and a rich man who was so into himself that he didn’t even notice Lazarus going hungry at his doorstep. Remember when we talked about that a few weeks ago? (Luke 16) Then, there was the rich young ruler who came to Jesus asking what he might do to inherit eternal life. He said he’d followed the commandments his whole life. Jesus responded, “there’s one thing more: sell all you have and give the proceeds to the poor.” But the man couldn’t do it. He walked away, as Jesus said, “It’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the Kingdom of God” (18:25).
So the people in the crowd begin to smile as they see Zacchaeus scrambling through town trying to find a place where he can look through the crowd to see Jesus. They elbow one another, “watch this,” because they knew Jesus is going to “unload” the truth of God on Zacchaeus. This traveling teacher from Nazareth is going to let Zacchaeus have it because he’s rich…and he’s gotten his money in one of the dirtiest ways imaginable: squeezing it out of his own people to fuel the budget of the Roman Empire. Taking the hard-earned money of his friends and family and neighbors and using it to support the Roman army of occupation!
Luke, you’ll notice, makes a point of telling us what everyone in Jericho already knows: Zacchaeus is the chief tax collector. That means he’s good at what he does. He is particularly creative in finding new ways to take money out of the pockets of his fellow Jews. He pursues his mission of funneling money to Roman authorities with a passion. In fact, Zacchaeus is so good at what he does that the Romans have made him responsible for collecting the money owed them from the residents of the wealthy district of Jericho.
So people in the area hate Zacchaeus. He is a Jew betraying his own people. He has a reputation for being particularly thorough in collecting every possible dollar, no matter what kind of hardship this creates on families and villages and businesses.
And to add some irony to the story: his name, Zacchaeus means “pure.” I imagine the people of Jericho saying his name with contempt, making it clear, as they icily pronounce each syllable that it is a perfectly inappropriate name for the chief tax collector of Jericho.
The people in the streets of Jericho see Zacchaeus scrambling through town trying to get a glimpse of Jesus. He has left the door of his brand new, Porsche 911 GT2 RS wide-open, engine running, in a desperate attempt not to miss the traveling teacher. His custom-made silk suit flaps behind him as he races down the street. His $500 Italian shoes are left at the foot of an evergreen tree as he scrambles up into its branches. His Samsung Galaxy S10+ clatters from his pocket and falls into the street.
“Watch this,” people whisper to their neighbors with a smile. “Watch what Jesus is going to do to him, because this guy is a perfect example of what is wrong with the world/with Israel!”
There are times in life when we see someone get what’s coming to them and we feel pretty good about it. Poetic justice. This looks like it’s going to be one of those times.
The whole scene in Luke 19, with the crowd and Zacchaeus and Jesus has a sense of urgency to it. Jesus is moving through town. The crowd is racing to catch him. Zacchaeus is running because he has a sense that this day is the day and if he misses this moment to see Jesus it will never happen again. The tax collector has heard Jesus is heading toward Jerusalem, and Zacchaeus may have heard that the powers-that-be up in the capital are setting a trap for the Nazarene.
There is an almost frantic pace to the scene when Jesus comes face-to-face with Zacchaeus. Jesus is walking along, surrounded by his followers and the curious and the needy. It’s a strange parade, really. As Luke describes the moment it seems that Jesus barely breaks stride as his eyes catch sight of Zacchaeus clinging to the limb of the Sycamore tree.
Without so much as a word of introduction or a greeting being exchanged, Jesus says, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.” According to the Message, “Zacchaeus scrambled down out of the tree, hardly believing his good luck, delighted to take Jesus home with him” (v. 6).
I’m guessing the crowd got really quiet as they watch Jesus throw his arms around the shoulders of Zacchaeus and head down the street toward the home of the chief tax collector. I imagine everyone stunned into silence, hardly believing what they’re seeing.
Because, you see, the people in the streets of Jericho understand exactly what Jesus is saying when—as a first century Jew—he loudly announces that he’s going to the home of Zacchaeus. He’s going to stay with this man that everyone in Jericho works so hard to shut out… isolate…punish with the weapon of icy politeness. These people have done everything they can to shut Zacchaeus out of their lives, to remind him that they no longer consider him a neighbor or friend, and now, as Jesus goes off to his home, he’s actually honoring him. Letting everyone in the city know that while he may be the chief tax collector, and guilty of all kinds of mistakes and sins, Zacchaeus is still their brother…still their neighbor…still a part of the community. He’s someone with whom they should be breaking bread…sharing a table…including in their life. There is more to him, Jesus is saying, than his sin. Don’t let the sin you see in him, the wrong-turns he has made, keep you from seeing he is your brother! Jesus throws his arm around Zacchaeus as one way of saying, “There may be more to this man than you have seen. There may be another kind of life ahead for this man…”
Brennan Manning, in his book, The Ragamuffin Gospel, points out that when a Jew welcomes you into his home, to break bread with him, it is his way of saying “This man is my friend.” When Jesus invites himself to the home of Zacchaeus, it is the Messiah’s way of saying, “This man you have written off is my friend.”
His friend? Zacchaeus is Jesus’ friend?
A veteran pastor, a stern and serious gentleman, once lectured younger clergy about proper behavior in his small southern town. He told about a time in his ministry when a weeping wife had begged him to go into the next county to fetch her alcoholic husband from a popular bar. She was terrified he’d kill himself driving home. The pastor, who belonged to a temperance church, who preached against drinking, and who had “never darkened the door of a bar,” went out late at night, drove to the next county, and entered the “smoky den of iniquity.” He found the parishioner dead drunk, got him to his feet, and headed out to his own car.
It was a good story that warmed the hearts of the pastors who listened. It was a loving outreach…pastoral care…an example of Jesus reaching out and being a friend. The listeners expected the story would end with a proverb of some sort, but instead it went in another direction. The pastor continued, “As I staggered to the car with this drunken man, I saw one of my church leaders drive by in a car. She saw me and gave me such grief the next week I never did anything like that again. I tell you,” he told these younger pastors. “Stay out of those places, no matter what, if you know what’s good for your reputation!”
You gotta be careful who you hang out with. Who you’re friendly with. Someone might misunderstand! And heaven-forbid, someone might grumble! But you can’t help but wonder what might have happened to this man and his family if that older pastor would not have only taken him home and dumped him off that night, but if he would have gone back and talked to him later. Asked him about his life…about what he might do to help…if he’d become a friend.
The people of Jericho weren’t thrilled at all when Jesus treats Zacchaeus as a friend; Scripture says (The Message), “Everyone who saw the incident was indignant and grumped, “What business does he have getting cozy with this crook?”
Grumbling comes naturally to us when we see the grace of God at work in people’s lives. Because grace, quite honestly, is an outrageous concept for us to grasp hold of!
We’re not convinced that the thief on the cross next to Jesus ought be in heaven alongside those folks who lived good and honest lives every single day that they live!
Deathbed conversions? Something about that just doesn’t seem right.
We sing about “Amazing Grace,” but honestly, we’re shocked by the grace of God. Outraged that God would put God’s arms around the wrong kinds of people. Angered that God doesn’t respect the boxes into which we place people.
If we were honest we might change the words of the hymn to reflect how we really feel when we see God breaking bread, loving up people who we think would be best kept an arm’s length away—like this pesky CHIEF tax collector.
Outrageous grace, how sour the sound that saved a wretch like him.
He once was lost, but now is found, was blind but now he sees.
“Twas grace that taught his heart to fear, and grace his fears relieved;
How unwelcome did that grace appear, the hour he first believed.
So, what do we do? Who will we be? Will we be a people who welcome God’s outrageous grace or will we be a people who grumble at grace? Will we be grateful that God enters our world and puts his arms around people who we think are lost, or will we pull back in shock?
Here’s the thing: the grace of God, the unmerited love of God in Jesus Christ, changes us. We live in a world where people seem to think that once a life is “set up”—sort of like concrete—then it isn’t going to change. But when you begin following Jesus around, you begin to see that the love of God in Jesus changes things. The love of God in Jesus changes people.
Notice that something powerful and extraordinary and unexpected happens to and in Zacchaeus even before he and Jesus head off to his home. Zacchaeus announces that he is committed to a new kind of life. He will immediately give half of everything he has away. He will pay back anyone whose money he has taken unfairly by giving them four times what he owes them. This is far beyond the stand of restitution recommended by the rabbis in first century Judaism. If you confessed your sin, they said, you didn’t have to pay a penalty to those you defrauded or cheated. But Zacchaeus, in those moments, promises to pay back anyone he has cheated with four times the money he has taken. It seems that this new life Zacchaeus is going to live is going to be a life that goes way beyond the minimum…that goes beyond the expected.
The unmerited love of God changes people. It finds us where we are and change us.
Here’s what I’d like us to take home from today’s story: Jesus reaches out to Zacchaeus, puts him arm around the chief tax collector and goes to his home. We might call it “evangelism by hospitality.” “Evangelism by breaking bread.” “Sharing the Good News by sharing a meal together.” Hmm. (Does it sound a little familiar?)
We’re about to share a meal together, at a table of grace… It’s meant for you and for me and for all people… When my family gathers around the table at home, we miss those who aren’t with us. We can’t always be in the same place at the same time, that’s the way life is, and yet…I can’t imagine hosting a meal without inviting everyone. That’s what Jesus does, in a much bigger way. He invites everyone, and part of our job is to make sure the invitation goes out, so all know they’re invited. Saints and sinners alike, because that’s what we are, all rolled up into one.
Let’s do our best to invite all people to this table of grace…
