A weird turn

Though Zacchaeus' story begins negatively it takes an extraordinary turn at verse 3. He wanted to see who Jesus was, but being a short man he could not, because of the crowd. We can understand the crowd not letting him have a good view. Place children at the front and in no way to let this unpopular man elbow his way through. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way. 

A traditional site in Jericho claims to be the tree. It's not a sycamore tree as we know it and many such traditional claims are less than likely. Yet they underline the reality that there really was a tree in Jericho that Zacchaeus climbed. There really was.

 

And that picture brings the story vividly and weirdly alive -  that a grown man, wealthy and entitled, climbs a tree to see Jesus. As a boy I enjoyed climbing trees and even as a teenager I climbed occasional lampposts until I realized it failed to impress someone I wanted to impress!  What is utterly bizarre is the way that this man, with all his wealth and status, is apparently willing to take the risk and embarrassment of climbing up.  Apparently the sycamore-fig tree has accessible branches and is heavily leafed so that someone could potentially avoid being very visible. So, perhaps he could be a spectator only.

I need to show you a second picture.....

Beginning negatively

To understand Zacchaeus involves giving a little background.  Publicani were a class of people in efficient Roman society, and it was ruthlessly efficient, that were public contractors responsible for a number of tasks, of which tax collecting was the most obvious. The right to collect taxes for a particular region would be auctioned every few years for a value that (in theory) approximated the tax available for collection in that region. Jericho was a wealthy area. Any excess (over their bid) in tax collected would be pure profit  That could be a big deal!  

Publicans were monied, powerful and detested. For Zacchaeus and others like him were Jews, who had defected to serve the hated Roman occupiers. Betraying their own people they now had authority to extract extra money, to rob their national family. We can imagine this job took a particular kind of person. They had to have some money in the first place, perhaps Zacchaeus' Dad was a tax collector so that bidding in the auction was a family thing.  But they needed personality hardened enough to withstand hatred and envy from their own people,  That’s why they were bracketed - publicans and sinners. 

They really had set themselves against God’s people and against God. And the chief tax collector was top of the pile of rich betrayers.  He didn’t mind being unpopular (we see that in the story), because you really can’t have enough money. You really had to be money-crazy to put up with being hated every day But money does that. It brings the worst out of people and when you’re in love with it enough there’s hardly any limit to which you will cut corners, cheat friends, trample on strangers. The background chant could be the Abba lyric: Money, money, money always sunny in the rich man's world,  Aha it's a rich man's world. Somebody had to do this job and just look at what it has given him in wealth and status.. 

As we meet Zacchaeus he doesn’t seem to have much going for him. A totally negative character. Not likely to become a friend!

An old man's chuckle

I'll get back to Zacchaeus but this week I chuckled over one of those surprises life throws up. One of our new church deacons asked me to accompany him to interview a couple seeking church membership. He emailed me the two forms outlining the areas to be covered in the interview, and the key responsibilities of church members. On the appointed afternoon, it was a delight to meet up since the new members are neighbours whom I already know well. They brewed coffee and with baked cakes made it a real occasion! 

As we started the deacon commented that he was glad I was there because I had done this before. And I had a flash back to the heady days of ministry in the 1970's when the Baptist Union produced leaflets to help churches in every aspect of their life called Baptist Basics.  Several different leaflets were packaged in an attractive envelope. I can picture the design.

And this was the flashback! Because (having not thought about it for 50 years) I wrote the leaflet entitled Visiting prospective church members. Did I really? That's another lifetime.  The Baptist Basics series has since been re-written by a younger generation of Baptist leaders. 

Of course, I didn't mention this at the time. This is just an old man's private chuckle about the dimming past that I can jot down in my blog. Yet, don't we feel pleasure when we are still involved in something 50 years later with another generation? I certainly do.  And what made it even more of a joy was this couple's story about how Carol's insistent invitation to come to our church led them eventually to trying it and now wanting to belong.  Now, that's encouragement!

Too small?

I was challenged about how my blog never engages with big issue world politics etc., especially when there is so much tumult as at present. Of course I have my views, but I believe that my only business in this blog (and I know it's so tiny and oddly personal in the big scheme of things) is to  reflect devotionally on happenings in my little world, which accounts for its often journal-like structure. It seems particularly small, however, to write that I have to engage with a man called Zacchaeus. But that's my immediate task and you are welcome to read along!

My pastor has designed a short sermon series in Lent focusing on some of the people Jesus encountered. These stories are one of my favourite parts of Scripture. Don't get me wrong, the story of Jesus is central, teaching is vital and learning great doctrines and history is important. But these stories about real people, all kinds of people, meeting Jesus face-to-face, bring Christian faith into human sized action. If we are willing to spend time entering each narrative, picturing the scene and sensing its emotions you can share in personal connection.  Zacchaeus is my story of encounter (Luke 19:1-10).  Vividly weird, this short man climbing a tree to see Jesus passing by, I have read and re-read these few verses attempting to visualize its eventfulness and sense what God is saying and doing to me.  That's important if I am to convey God's truth for today.

But I have had a tough time trying to get a read on this Zacchaeus' character. I have preached on him once before and remember how negative I was in my assessment. Much was to do with his wealth, or rather his manner of making money. As Jesus was entering Jericho he is introduced: A man was there by the name Zacchaeus. He was chief tax collector and was wealthy (Luke 19:1). That's enough to poison the mind. Dig into the background about how Romans extracted taxes as occupiers from inhabitants and you can easily see Zacchaeus as the most hated man in Jericho. A walking (waddling - was he fat as well as short?) contradiction of all that was fair and just in the world.

I think I need to justify that negative reaction with a little more detail........

Another Coda

Just to add a coda that really is musical.  Some time ago I mentioned that owing  to a stroke affecting my left hand I gave away my electric piano and stool to my neighbour. Please don't get the impression that my left hand was ever as efficient and accurate as my right hand. I began playing when I was nine, passing various grades and (in those simpler days) I found no greater pleasure than saving up my pocket money to add another music album to my collection. Before long I was being used at church and parties. Into my first room (on the second floor) as a student at Jesus College I lugged, with hefty friends, an out-of-tune piano. Painting it orange made a statement (!) and led to great music-making fun.  But lately my uncooperative hand brought my melody-making attempts to an end. 

However, all the music sheets that were packed into the music stool, plus heavier volumes of Beethoven sonatas and Bach preludes, still confronted me in the corner of my shed/study/studio. In a large carrier bag they lay stranded uselessly. I wondered how I could part with all of this stuff to a good home. One of the homes our church house groups meets in has a piano in the lounge with evidence of skilful use as music scores lie above an open keyboard.  When the musician came to our house last week I ambushed her with my stranded bag. I assured her there was no pressure for her to take any of it but she seemed genuinely delighted (I hope I didn't misread her) to forage through my sheet music, albums and volumes. And take it all home!  This is really a good ending. 

Good endings are so important. I look back on my piano playing days with happiness because they really did bring fulfilment. Sharing a gift is a privilege.  Now my electric piano and even my music store have gone to good homes I can rub my hands together with satisfaction at the good ending.  That's a splendid coda.

Coda

My brother's funeral was worthy and well attended with a colourful eulogy from his son that brought out so many positive aspects of Steve's life and ministry. We could all say that we celebrated his life.

One thing struck me in particular.  The first reading was Luke 23:32-34;39-43. I had never heard these verses at a funeral service, have you? 

Two other men, both criminals, were also led out with Jesus to be executed. When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified him along with the criminals - one on his right, the other on his left. Jesus said, 'Father, forgive them for they do not know what they are doing.' And they divided up his clothes by casting lots.  One of the criminals who hung there hurled indults at him: 'Aren't you the Christ? Save yourself and us!' But the other criminal rebuked him, 'Don't you fear God,' since you are under the same sentence' |We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But his man has done nothing wrong.' Then he said, 'Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom.'  Jesus answered him, 'I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.'

The vicar spoke powerfully about these verses, emphasizing how at this very last moment in the criminal's life there was such faith in Jesus that he could throw himself in mercy asking for Jesus' forgiveness and help. This simple act of trusting received the promise of living eternally with Jesus.  When you meet the real Jesus, for real, recognizing there is no one like him, no matter our circumstances, ask him for help and he responds with promises as big as this one - 'You will be with me in paradise.' 

I asked Brenda, his widow, about this choice. 'Oh,' she replied,' that's actually my favourite Bible passage. I just love the way that Jesus deals with this man, and can deal with us. I wanted it for Steve's service.' I hope I wasn't the only person who heard it and went in imagination to the cross, and heard the words for Steve too.  

Out-of-the-box thinking

Steve's funeral is tomorrow and as I have been giving thanks for him I remember his penchant for reading unusually solid books that pushed the envelope.  And I think he inherited this ability from my father. This came to mind in my devotional reading last night. In a section  'A time to Die' there was a prayer written by Teilhard de Chardin, a controversial French Jesuit priest who combined science, philosophy and theology in provocative ways.  One of his famous quotes runs: We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience.  As you might guess my father engaged with his writing and I remember as a teenager hearing him speak of a disastrous ministers' meeting when he tried to introduce some of de Chardin's ideas to the group. I don't think it did his reputation any good (not that he would have been bothered).  Anyway, the quote I read last night:

Now that I have found the joy of utilizing all forms of growth to make you, or let you, O God, grow in me, grant that I may willingly consent to this last phase of communion in the course of which I shall possess you by diminishing in you.....

When the signs of age begin to mark my body (and still more when they touch my mind); when the ill that is to diminish me or carry me off strikes from without or is born within me; when the painful moment comes in which I suddenly awaken to the fact that I am ill or growing old; and above all at that last moment when I feel I am losing hold of myself and am absolutely passive within the hands of the great unknown forces that have formed me; in all those dark moments, O God, grant that I may understand that it is you who are painfully parting the fibres of my being in order to penetrate to the very marrow of my substance and bear me away within yourself.

The more the future opens before me like some dizzy abyss or dark tunnel, the more confident I may be - if I venture forwards on the strength of your word - of losing myself and surrendering myself in you, of being assimilated by your body, Jesus. Teach me to treat my death as an act of communion. 

Not a superficial prayer.  I think my father and brother would have appreciated it!