Fourth Presbyterian Church: A Light in the City

Sunday, October 30, 2022 | 10:00 a.m.

Our Assumptions

Shannon Kershner
Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Habakkuk 1:1–4; 2:1–4
Luke 19:1–10

Guess what? We really don’t know who was short. In our story today — the Zacchaeus story — we really do not know if Luke was telling us that Zacchaeus was short or if Luke was telling us that Jesus was short. Verse 3: “He [Zacchaeus] was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he [Zacchaeus] could not, because he [?] was short in stature.” When we look at this story in the Greek, we realize that by the time we get to the third “he” of that sentence, we do not know just which “he” was the short one (Roberta Bondi, “The Short One,” Christian Century, 19 October 2004, p. 23)! I know that it sounds like such a minor thing, wondering which one of the two men was the short one. However, we do have to admit it does shoot a few holes through some of our assumptions.

“Zacchaeus was a wee little man, and a wee little man was he.” Maybe, maybe not. So what other assumption do we hold about Zacchaeus? First, though, let’s situate ourselves in the text, since we spent time with Ezra in last week’s sermon. This story comes as the last incident of Luke’s travel narrative, which is Luke’s depiction of Jesus’ final journey to Jerusalem. It is the central portion of Luke’s Gospel. This travel narrative begins with Jesus going to Samaria at the very end of chapter 9 and continues through this final story of Jesus encountering Zacchaeus in Jericho at the beginning of chapter 19. Ten whole chapters are dedicated to walking with Jesus on the way to Jerusalem.

So even if we only take the viewpoint of literary criticism into account, we know the events contained in this travel narrative are paramount to Luke’s message about Jesus. They are literally the centerpiece to Luke’s understanding about who Jesus was and what he was about. And this encounter with Zacchaeus is the last recorded leg of that journey. Therefore, we trust that Luke was holding up this particular story for us to see and to hear for a reason.

Actually, Luke starts to set up this story back in chapter 18, with the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector praying in the temple. If you are familiar with that story, do you remember the Pharisee’s prayer? “Lord, thank you that I am not like all these people — especially this tax collector.” Tax collectors were considered “those people” — people who were not just immoral, but people who were traitors to the nation.

As one commentator writes, “Zacchaeus is not misunderstood. He is not the victim of circumstance. . . . He has chosen to work for the Romans, to bilk his own people. So successful is he at this job that he has risen in the ranks to become a chief tax collector. The people don’t despise him because they are [necessarily] close-minded and judgmental. They despise him because they [experience him] as a good-for-nothing thief. And he knows it” (Michael Card, quoted by Alyce M. McKenzie in Feasting on the Word, pp. 166–167). Strike 1 against Zacchaeus.

Yet not only was Zacchaeus the chief tax collector, Luke also tells us he was rich. Now we might assume that being rich would be a good thing, but it is not in the Gospel of Luke. People who have wealth do not fare well in this particular Gospel. In chapter 6 Jesus pronounces a series of woes on the rich. In chapter 12, God calls the rich farmer a fool and requires his soul. In chapter 16, as we heard last month, the nameless rich man inside his secure gate goes to Hades while the impoverished Lazarus is taken to the bosom of Abraham.

And finally, right before this week’s Zacchaeus encounter, Jesus has a conversation with the rich ruler who ended up being too attached to his possessions to be able to give them up and become a disciple. Jesus responds by observing how hard it is for a rich person to enter into the kingdom of God. Suffice it to say, in the Gospel of Luke being rich is not a good thing or, at the very least, being rich can be a major impediment to following Jesus and becoming a disciple. And Zacchaeus was very rich. Luke makes sure we know that. Strike number 2 for Zacchaeus.

Thus, unlike the assumption Zacchaeus was short, the knowledge that he was the chief tax collector and the truth that he was rich are well grounded in what we read. Luke clearly wants us to see and know just who this Zacchaeus was. Furthermore, by describing Zacchaeus this way — by being so explicit about what he did and what he had — Luke is also setting us up to not like Zacchaeus one bit. We are being led to conclude what that crowd concluded: that Zacchaeus is a good-for-nothing thief and he knows it.

As we heard earlier, that is how the entire crowd watching Jesus’ parade would have felt that day. That is also how all of Luke’s original listeners would have felt in their hearts. Rich Chief Tax Collector. How contemptible. With his description of Zacchaeus, Luke leads us to assume that Zacchaeus was nothing more than a deplorable outsider to the faith. And this is why when Jesus stops at that tree and calls out Zacchaeus by name, we are rightly taken aback. Why on earth, out of everyone else there, does Jesus seek out Zacchaeus?

Rich chief tax collector. How contemptible. “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down,” Jesus calls. Jesus stops the whole parade for this man, this good-for-nothing thief. He stops and steps off his way to Jerusalem. He stops and actively seeks out Zacchaeus, calling him by his name. A name, by the way, that had become a joke on the lips of the townspeople, for Zacchaeus means “pure” in Hebrew. His parents sure made some bad assumptions on how he would turn out when they named him that, didn’t they! And yet “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down,” Jesus calls.

I don’t know how you feel, but I feel Jesus is coming awfully close to stepping on some of my assumptions about that man. OK, so he may or may not have been short, but he was a rich chief tax collector. That means we are to stand with that crowd and despise him, right? That’s what we’ve been taught. Given what we know, that is how we’ve always assumed we ought to react. Jesus is coming awfully close to stepping on some of our assumptions, don’t you think?

And yet Jesus is not done yet. Jesus does not simply stop by calling Zacchaeus by name. He tells that good-for-nothing, rich chief tax collector to hurry on down because he is bringing the party to Zacchaeus’s house that very day. And then Zacchaeus actually has the nerve to tumble down out of that tree completely rejoicing because Jesus called his name and is coming to his house. But that does not make any sense. That kind of completely grateful, joyful, excited response is not how we would assume Zacchaeus would react to such a thing.

So now not only is Jesus stepping on our carefully groomed and well-informed assumptions, but Zacchaeus is doing it too! He is not supposed to care about Jesus. He is not supposed to respond to Jesus’ call. He is not supposed to be so joyful that Jesus is coming to his house. And yet he has the nerve to fall out of that tree and lead Jesus and the party to his house. Can you imagine it? The crook and the Christ walking side by side off to the table for the feast. Who would have ever thought that could happen?

And then, right there in front of God and everyone (literally), Zacchaeus stands and makes a solemn vow, speaking of his future actions with such determination that he uses the present tense of the verbs. Zacchaeus says to his Lord, “Look, half of my possessions I give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I pay back four times as much.” That is practically unheard of! It goes way beyond anything we would assume Zacchaeus would do. It is far more generous than what even the religious law stipulated regarding restitution in cases like this one. We never would have assumed that someone like Zacchaeus would respond so completely and fully to Jesus’ unassuming grace.

In response to Jesus’ calling of his name; in response to Jesus’ declaration that the party was coming to his house that day; in response to Jesus taking the time to see him — really see him, rather than just assume Jesus knew who Zacchaeus was based on what he did for a living or on what he had as possessions or for whom he voted or because of the neighborhood in which he lived — in response to truly being seen by Jesus, Zacchaeus immediately changes directions. He immediately chooses a different path for his life. He immediately begins the journey of becoming a different kind of person. Some of us might not even respond that fully and completely to the call of Jesus. But Zacchaeus does, even though his actions do not fit with our categories or with our expectations.

However, I am beginning to wonder if Zacchaeus’s response is exactly what Jesus assumed he would do, because right after Jesus proclaims that salvation and wholeness have come to Zacchaeus’s entire household on that day, Jesus then looks again at the rich chief tax collector, good-for-nothing thief and reminds him who and whose he is. “He too is a son of Abraham,” Jesus states out loud for all who would hear. And it is that statement of Jesus’ claiming of contemptible Zacchaeus that truly blows whatever paltry assumptions we thought we had left right out of the water. He, too, is a son of Abraham. Rich chief tax collector: true. Son of Abraham and Sarah, part of the covenant, child of God, claimed by Jesus: even truer.

I can promise you that no one, including Zacchaeus, would have ever assumed that about him. No one, including Zacchaeus, would have ever assumed he was part of God’s family. No one, including Zacchaeus, would have ever assumed he would be swept up in the grace of salvation. No one, including Zacchaeus, would have ever assumed he would be given an invitation to the feast. Well, no one, but Jesus.

And as I thought about how Jesus so thoroughly messed with all of our assumptions and categories through this one act of claiming, it immediately brought to mind all of the myriad of ways in which we are continuing to make assumptions about each other in our own day. And some of those assumptions, especially ones driven by conspiracy theories like QAnon or Pizzagate, are not only incorrect but dangerous.

And the more radical right does not have total ownership on all this. Perhaps you remember when I preached that, according to polling done by the Pew Research Forum, at least half of each political party doesn’t see members of the other party as just political opposition, but as enemies. Enemies. And that poll was done a few years ago.

Given all that we are currently experiencing in this midterm election cycle, I dare say it is unlikely that statistic has decreased. The political vitriol that is being spoken aloud at rallies, as well as propagated online, is harming us, sometimes literally. And as people who try to follow in the way of Jesus, we cannot participate in it. We cannot return evil for evil.

We can strongly and vehemently disagree with each other, and we should vote on those disagreements, but we cannot give into the temptation to demonize each other, to assume the other is somehow less a child of God than we are. We cannot become numb to all the hate speech, to all the anti-Semitism, to all the demeaning ways any politician, or any of us, speaks of someone else. As Christians, it is our call, our responsibility, to stop ourselves when we find we are giving in to that temptation and to practice instead the kind of vision that Jesus practiced that day with Zacchaeus.

Because guess what: Jesus does not care one whit about any assumptions we carry about anyone else. And it is his vision, his grace, his call to responsibility and justice, his long-armed embrace we are called to emulate. Rich chief tax collector: true. Child of the covenant, child of God, claimed by Jesus: even truer. Let us be who we have been called to be, for our own wholeness, our own ability to live out our salvation, might just be at stake.

So now we are going to put our money and our commitments where our mouths are. If you want to be a part of this congregation trying to live out the way of Jesus in our day and in our time, today offers the opportunity for you to invest in this work. It is pledge dedication Sunday. In just a moment, when the hymn begins, all of you who are present in this space are invited to come forward if you are physically able to do so and place a pledge card in a basket on the Lord’s table. If you forgot your pledge card, we have extras in the pew racks.

If you have already made a pledge, take one of the “I Pledged” cards from the pew racks and bring it forward as an act of commitment and place that card in a basket. And if you are unable to come forward for whatever reason, you are invited to place your pledge card — or the notification that you have already pledged — in the offering plate when we pass those around later in the service.

If you are worshiping with us online, as we sing this hymn, you will see underneath the video a link that will take you to the pledge form online, as well as a QR code. We do not want to stand in the way of anyone’s generosity and commitment to this work. So I invite you to rise in body and/or spirit, as we sing and dedicate these promises for God’s work together. Let the joyful chaos of commitment begin. Amen.