“Zacchaeus made his appearance: he was one of the senior tax collectors and a wealthy man […] but he was [..] short.” This was a concise introduction of today’s gospel’s main character. A bit further down the line, St Luke indicated how Zacchaeus had been seen by his local community, when “they all complained [about Jesus] that He had gone to stay at a sinner’s house.” When we got our new Prime Minister last week, it looked like Zacchaeus’ story was mirrored: the previously held position of the Chancellor of the Exchequer effectively made Rishi Sunak the arch-tax collector, his personal wealth is common knowledge, and at 5ft 6 inches he’s “5cm shorter than the average man in the United Kingdom (according to the Office of National Statistics).” A significant section of the British population expresses a negative sentiment towards him – not dissimilar to that of Zacchaeus – because of Mr Sunak’s wealth and his political affiliation. Please, be assured, I’m not going to campaign for or against the new Prime Minister in my sermon. I have mentioned it because I found similarities between the gospel reading and the recent political developments rather fascinating.
As we probably know well, in Jesus’ time tax collectors had a bad name for a number of reasons. Firstly, they collected taxes on behalf of the Roman Empire, considered by many contemporary Jews as the oppressive and hostile overlord. So, they were collaborators. Secondly, the taxation system was designed in such a way that put significant pressure on the taxmen, pushing them to be very demanding, even harsh towards taxpayers. Thirdly, many of them were all too happy to exploit every loophole and every opportunity or to abuse their position to make unofficial personal gains – easily done with little supervision, or with higher officials turning a blind eye or even getting their share of the illicit profit. Similar systems are at work these days too – we know them by the collective name “corruption”. As in modern countries blighted by such a scourge where everyone knows about it, Jesus’ contemporaries were fully aware of such abuses and exploitation. They couldn’t do much about it, so the only tools at their disposal were scorn, disdain, contempt and social rejection. Although such attitudes were well justified, there was one problem with that: unjust, hurtful generalisation.
I walk my dog every day (that’s the reason I got him in the first place). Because he’s now very old, the long-distance walks or hillwalking of the past are off the menu. Instead, we walk the same route. Every now and again we stumble upon dirty deposits left by other dogs and not picked up by their owners; sometimes on the pavement in front of someone’s front door. It’s unhygienic, it’s disgusting, and it gives a bad name to all dog owners. That’s unjust because – judging by the amount of poo bags in designated bins – most dog owners diligently clean up after their pets. Frequently we apply similar generalisations to groups of people based on their profession, ethnicity, nationality, culture and so on. It happens because of a personal negative experience with representatives of such groups, or a perception perpetuated by a great number of people. Such an attitude is particularly strange these days when everybody wants to be treated as an individual and appraised on their merits, rather than on factors beyond their control. I’d like to earn your respect and approval because of my personal qualities – admittedly in short supply – rather than for being a priest. At the same time, I’d hope that you do not despise me because of the number of criminals in cassocks.
This is the kind of individual assessment we can find in the story of Zacchaeus. A figure of public hate – nobody in the crowd moved to let him see Jesus – unintentionally caused outrage when Jesus, having spotted him in the tree, invited himself to Zacchaeus’s house. Despite public disapproval, he welcomed Jesus to his place. Please note that a very intriguing exchange occurred between them inside the house, in private. Zacchaeus rewarded Jesus’ willingness to meet him despite his bad reputation with a promise: “Look, sir, I am going to give half my property to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody, I will pay him back four times the amount.” The second part of this announcement is particularly interesting. It’s conditional – “if I have exploited anybody” (this is a more literal translation) and offers extraordinarily high recompense if the condition is met: “I will pay him back four times the amount.” Zacchaeus could have offered such a generous reparation because he knew that he had never knowingly and willingly abused his position. We can say that it was a safe bet for him. However, it wasn’t a cynical empty promise to gain brownie points from Jesus. It was his honest willingness to redress any errors made by honest mistakes. Jesus’ response to Zacchaeus’ announcement was quite intriguing: “Today salvation has come to this house because this man too is a son of Abraham; for the Son of Man has come to seek out and save what was lost.” We tend to think about salvation as a theological idea regarding the afterlife – which is true but not exclusively. In the Bible, it’s used in a theological as well as a practical sense, such as saving from current, earthly dangers. When Simon Peter was drowning, he cried to Jesus: “Save me, Lord! Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him” (Matthew 14:30-31) instead of assuring him that he would go straight to heaven. What Jesus said about Zacchaeus “this man too is a son of Abraham” implies that he had been decent and honest in carrying out his duties. So, what did Jesus mean when he said: “Today salvation has come to this house because this man too is a son of Abraham; for the Son of Man has come to seek out and save what was lost”? I think that Zacchaeus’ salvation referred to something more immediate than a mansion in heaven. The brevity of this story quite likely conceals a longer conversation between Jesus and his host. Zacchaeus was reconciled to the idea of being a member of the local community and it resulted in his declaration of significant financial aid to the poorest within it; something he had been unwilling to do because of their detestation of him. Now, with Jesus’ personal advice and public endorsement, Zacchaeus found purpose in life and thus was saved.
This story can teach two things. The first lesson is about how we approach others; whether we quickly label them in our mind, based on generalisation or prejudice or rather try to get to know them as individuals with their own capabilities and limitations. The second lesson is about being honest and decent in our dealings with people and obligations even if we are not immediately awarded or praised for that by others. It’s nice when it happens, but the most important appraisal comes from Jesus. He knows you as well as he knew Zacchaeus – that’s why he chose him over everyone else in the crowd. You too are His chosen one.
Image by Steve Buissinne from Pixabay