Readings: Wis 11:22-12:2; Ps 3; Lk 19:1-10
When I was growing up in suburban New
York we had a wonderful tree in our front yard. A Japanese maple, maybe 30 feet
high, it was the best climbing tree in the neighborhood. It had lots of
branches, closely spaced so it was easy to climb. And about 15 feet up several
branches formed a natural couch where I could stretch out comfortably and
safely. In the spring and summer, I used to climb up there with a book, sit
back, and read. Remarkably, even many of the local birds came to accept me and
would often land on a branch just a foot or two away. I felt a bit like St.
Francis perched up there. And because of the thick foliage that time of year I
was virtually invisible, even though I could see and hear most that went on in
the neighborhood.
My perch was my own personal hideout, my little neighborhood spy station. I was easily overlooked up there. That would’ve been neat if anything ever happened in our neighborhood, but of course nothing did. And whenever I read this Gospel passage from Luke, I remember sitting in that tree so many years ago.
Like me in the tree, poor Zacchaeus got
no respect. He was short, but also a hated tax collector. Although a Jew, a son of
Abraham, he worked for the Romans and made himself wealthy through extortion. In
the eyes of his world, Zacchaeus had three strikes against him: he was short,
he was rich, and probably a crook. They despised him.
But driven by the Spirit he just had to see Jesus. Thwarted by the crowd, he climbed a big sycamore, a fig tree, and gave himself a birds-eye view. He could have stayed on the ground and simply listened, hoping to catch a word or two as Jesus passed by. But there's something about seeing, about being up close and personal that connects you to the event, that makes you more than a face on the fringes. The crowd had failed to keep this public sinner away from Jesus, always an impossible task; for Jesus goes out of His way to attract sinners and the rest of humanity’s rejects.
But, of course, we’re all sinners, and Jesus
still calls us all. He finds a way to help us find Him, just as He called
Zacchaeus. How
does Luke describe it?
“Zacchaeus…was seeking to see who Jesus was…” [Lk 19:3]
…asking the question Jesus later posed
to the apostles, “Who do you say that I am?” [Mt 16:15]
This wasn’t mere curiosity.
Zacchaeus climbed that tree, urged by the Holy Spirit, driven by a spiritual
hunger to see Jesus, to see who He was, to know Him, to reach out to Him. And in those branches, hanging on for the Good News, he not
only sees, but he is seen.
"Zacchaeus, come down quickly, for today I must stay at your house" [Lk 19:5].
Overwhelmed, Zacchaeus finds he is seen, known, and
understood. Conversion has begun. For Jesus sees
within each of us the glimmer of the divine, God’s mage and likeness, imprinted
at creation, by a loving God. And that, brothers and sisters, is what this
Gospel passage is all about. That’s what the entire Gospel, the Good News, is all
about. It’s all about God’s call to conversion. Jesus calls out to us all:
“Repent and believe in the Gospel” [Mk 1:15].
And He loves to tease us, doesn’t He – even
to scandalize us. He calls the most unlikely people: tax collectors, lepers, prostitutes,
Roman soldiers, Pharisees like Nicodemus, pagans, Samaritans, the blind, the
deaf, the halt, the lame, the deformed…a unlikely collection who will go on to become
His disciples. Later, He even calls His sworn enemy to conversion, a man who persecuted
those disciples, a Pharisee named Saul. Jesus overlooks no one. Unlike you and
I, who love to pick and choose among those with whom we’ll associate or even
tolerate, Jesus calls everyone.
Zacchaeus
finds himself in the gaze of his Savior and realizes that his life so far has
been a sham, far too small to hold all that Jesus has to offer. For Jesus
brought and promised a priceless gift:
“Today salvation has come to this house…” [Lk 19:9]
Coming
to see Jesus, to receive Him, is an experience that changes our whole way of
seeing. How blessed we are to be able to see and receive right here in the
Eucharist.
Climb
the tree of life, brothers and sisters, where you will discover, that all along,
you have been seen and known and understood and loved beyond all measure.
So,
for us salvation sometimes means climbing a tree. After all, that’s exactly
what Jesus does for us on the Cross.
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