Revealed

Luke 19:1-10

This is one of my favorite gospel stories. I love the comic element: I see Zacchaeus as a short little guy in an expensive suit, bobbing along behind the crowd, stretching his neck, trying to peer around and through, and finally giving up, rushing up a tree so that he can actually see this local celebrity coming into town. 

He just wants to get a glimpse of Jesus, the way many of us would with a celebrity. You don’t need a personal relationship, but it would be great to tell your grandkids you were there. You saw him. Maybe got an autograph.

Well, everybody in Jericho is out to see Jesus that day. Some of them probably want to touch him, to be healed, to become famous by association. The crowd is thick.

And now rich, short, Zacchaeus is up in a tree. Near the crowd but not really part of it.

You ever do that?
The center of the action isn’t for everyone. Sometimes you like to be just a little removed from the crowd; from the rough and tumble. You want to vote, but not knock on doors or go to rallies. Enjoy the music, but don’t need the crush and noise of a stadium concert. Love the worship; like your seat two-thirds of the way back; enjoy the sermon, but, you know… don’t want to demand attention up front, or get involved in how the sausage is made.

Anybody here ever feel like that?

I suspect Zacchaeus was feeling like that about seeing Jesus. He’s drawn to this wandering rabbi, this God-touched celebrity, but he’s just staying a bit apart. He’s got his observation post, up in the tree – not among the crowd, but able to enjoy it without getting too involved.

And then Jesus stops.
Looks up, straight at Zacchaeus.

“Hurry and get out of your tree, Zacchaeus. I’m coming to your place for dinner!”

Wait. What?!

I bet Zacchaeus’ heart stops for just a minute.

He wanted to see, but did he want to be seen?

Recognized?

I don’t know. There’s a good chance Zacchaeus didn’t know either.
Is this what he wants?

Well, he doesn’t have a choice now.
Jesus has just inserted himself into his life in a big and intimate and public way.

And now Zacchaeus is out of his tree, standing in front of Jesus, in the center of attention with everyone’s eyes on him. And nobody likes this.

Because Zacchaeus is a tax collector. He’s got one of those jobs that runs against the public good.  Think tobacco company marketer, slum landlord, telemarketing magnate, or subprime mortgage banker. He might be a nice guy, but he works for the bad guys. A little morally suspect if you don’t know him. And probably no one really knows him well.

Until Jesus bursts into his world, demands a personal relationship (how un-Episcopalian), and suddenly Zacchaeus is in the spotlight. And people are complaining that Jesus is going over to the dark side. Or he’s been duped into consorting with the Wrong People.

His reputation is at stake, and everyone’s cranky.

Now Zacchaeus’ character matters. And so – in public, in the presence of God – he confesses. He comes clean. But it’s not the confession anyone is expecting.

“Look,” he says, “I am giving away half of my wealth, and if anyone is injured by me, I pay it all back and more.”

The original Greek suggests that this is something Zacchaeus is in the habit of doing. Our translators see the powerful conversion moment, the encounter with Jesus, and translate it as a promise of new life, but it’s just as possible to read this as a revelation of the deep and long held character of Zacchaeus.

Something he doesn’t talk about, that people don’t know. The kind of care for others that prefers to remain anonymous, apart from the crowd, behind the scenes.

I mean, I want to keep my finances private. It’s between me and God, isn’t it?

But whether Zacchaeus is making a new commitment of life, or a revelation of the private, holy generosity he has practiced for years, it’s real and now it’s public.

It’s out there.

People know. (How un-Episcopalian.)

You know, I don’t talk about my giving habits either.

I bet you don’t, very often.

But here is Zacchaeus, one of my favorite biblical characters, thrust into the spotlight, yanked out of his tree, stuck in the center of attention and confessing his true character.

And maybe we should, too.

Maybe it’s time, after all these years, for me to come out as a tither. To talk about my quiet habit of giving ten percent of my gross annual income to the church, and of giving beyond that to other organizations that matter to me and help make God’s dreams for us real in this world.

And to tell you that I’m not doing this because I’m your priest. But because years and years ago,

someone else told me a story like this, and it moved into my heart and settled in.

It took time to take root; longer to grow. It wasn’t easy or immediate. It took years to build up to the goal, once I set it, of giving a full ten percent, and more.

And I never talked about it.

But on the way, I’ve discovered the truth of another thing Jesus is reported to have said: that “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

When we spend real money on something, when we invest, that cause or object or community gets bigger in our attention, in our perception of the world. It happens with our homes, cars, families, friends, hobbies… And let me tell you, investing a noticeable chunk of my income in the church has made me a lot happier, since that money pulls my attention and heart to the quietly life changing work that happens in classrooms and hospital rooms, meetings and study groups, over meals, and by prayer and worship. So the more I gave, the easier it got; and the more I gave, the more I saw God at work not only through the church, but beyond: in the community, in the world.

And I wonder if Zacchaeus found that out, too: that by investing in generosity, his heart and his attention are drawn more deeply to the presence of God in and among us, so that while it’s a shock to have Jesus at his dinner table, it’s not actually a new thing to find God so close to him.

It’s just new and shocking – and transformative for both him and his community – that he confesses his heart, revealing God already at work in unexpected ways, and instead of just seeing Jesus, becomes seen and known as an agent of salvation.

Maybe Zacchaeus’ story will be your story too.

Maybe it already is.

But if it hasn’t happened yet, I suspect it will. Someday Jesus is going to show up in your life, demand to eat at your house, and make your personal relationship with God public, whether you want it or not.

What character will you confess, then, when the spotlight shines suddenly on your relationship with God?

Will Jesus reveal your best self to the world?

What will your best self be?

And shouldn’t you be sharing that now?
Shouldn’t I be sharing that now?

I wonder what will happen if we all give up on the back of the crowd, expose our whole selves to the good and the holy that we are already attracted to, start sitting up front and meeting Jesus’ eyes, risk getting out of the tree and being seen, risk letting God burst in and take over and reveal our lives to ourselves and everyone else.

I don’t know what will happen, but I suspect there’s some glorious generosity hiding among us.

And maybe it’s time to find out. 

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