What If Jesus Didn’t Stop?

We all know the story of Zacchaeus, don’t we?  Most of us learned it well as children.  We may remember illustrations from children’s versions of the story.  Here’s how I always remember it:  Jesus is walking through the town where Zacchaeus lives and there are great crowds of people lining up along the road to see him.  Zacchaeus, a short little man, wants to see Jesus too so he climbs up in the sycamore tree to get a better view.  As Jesus is passing by he stops, looks straight at Zacchaeus, and says, “Zacchaeus, you come down, for I’m going to your house today!” 

So Zacchaeus scampers down and leads Jesus to his home.  During their time there, Jesus teaches him, and Zacchaeus is converted.  Before Jesus leaves, Zacchaeus promises that from now on he will give half his possessions to the poor and make amends to anyone whom he has cheated.  Jesus essentially says, “Good man, Zacchaeus,” and off he goes.

So, my recollection is not entirely accurate.  Here is the Common English Bible translation.

Luke 19:1-10      Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through town.  A man there named Zacchaeus, a ruler among tax collectors, was rich.  He was trying to see who Jesus was, but, being a short man, he couldn’t because of the crowd.  So he ran ahead and climbed up a sycamore tree so he could see Jesus, who was about to pass that way.  When Jesus came to that spot, he looked up and said, “Zacchaeus, come down at once. I must stay in your home today.” So Zacchaeus came down at once, happy to welcome Jesus.

Everyone who saw this grumbled, saying, “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.”

Zacchaeus stopped and said to the Lord, “Look, Lord, I give half of my possessions to the poor. And if I have cheated anyone, I repay them four times as much.”

Jesus said to him, “Today, salvation has come to this household because he too is a son of Abraham.  The Human One came to seek and save the lost.”

When the sermon roundtable meets each Monday afternoon, each one has already read some translation of the texts for the day.  While we are together, we look at the NRSV and the CEB.  One of our members brings a copy of the RSV.  Some read their personal copies of the NIV, or other translations.  Every now and then we find a discrepancy between the translations that is worth talking about. 

This past week we noticed one.  It’s a matter of verb tense.  If you were reading along with one of our row Bibles, you may have noticed that the NIV has Zacchaeus telling Jesus that he intends to immediately change his ways.  He will begin giving half his possessions to the poor and repay any whom he has defrauded.  The NRSV agrees with this interpretation, but some other translations do not agree.  For example, in the version I read just now, we hear Zacchaeus saying that this is something he does already.  The older RSV says the same.  One thing, and only one thing, seems clear at this point: the original Greek text leaves this open to interpretation, and thereby leaves the story open to interpretation. 

For us at the roundtable, it opened up a discussion about judging people based on certain external factors.  Zacchaeus was a member of a hated class – a tax collector – and that was enough, for many people, to judge him without knowing anything about his life or his heart.  Well, we do that too, don’t we?  Sometime we figure it just saves time.  Why spend time getting to know someone you already know you’re not going to like (said with tongue firmly in cheek)?

But perhaps Zacchaeus, this outcast of Jewish society, was actually doing his best to live a life of obedience to God.  It reminds me of the parable we looked at last week, about the Pharisee and the tax collector.  In the parable, the Pharisee did this very same thing: he made harsh judgments about the tax collector based on nothing other than the fact that he was a tax collector.  We know what Jesus thought about that, because he told us – chapter 18, verse 14.

And here in the very next chapter we have a real life example of the same thing.  The crowds around Jesus in Jericho are quick to label Zacchaeus and dismiss him as unworthy.  They judge Jesus, for the sin of associating with him.  And so these two stories, the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector and the story of Zacchaeus, raise a question for us: will we condemn others because they fall into certain stereotypes, or will we keep our hearts and minds open?  Who among us will look at the stranger with hearts open to learn about him and who he is, his hopes and dreams and fears?  Who among us will be ready to love him as he is?

In the words of country western songwriter Lyle Lovett -

God does

But I don't

God will

But I won't

And that’s the difference between God and me.

Is there a chance that we watch Jesus in action and think, “Go Jesus!  That’s just the way God would want you to do it.”  Never once considering that God wants the same from you and me?

We don’t really know what kind of man Zacchaeus was before he met Jesus.  He may or may not have been trying to live righteously – we will probably never know because the jury is out on the finer points of this text.  But the important question has less to do with how Zacchaeus acted than with how Jesus acted.  The question I really want to ask is this: what if Jesus had never stopped that day?  What if Jesus had walked on by Zacchaeus and never met him?  What if nothing changed in the life of Zacchaeus?  That is, indeed, a tragic thing.  But let’s take it further.  Let’s bring it home.

What if Jesus lived in Huber Heights and never stopped to notice the outcasts in our midst – the homeless ones, the ones who act a little crazy, the ones who don’t dress well enough, wash frequently enough, or speak clearly enough?  What if Jesus were here amongst us and didn’t bother to spend time with the ones who had nothing to give him in return?  What if Jesus focused his attention, his love, his grace strictly on getting a return on his investment?

Think about it.  There was nothing Jesus was going to gain by spending time with Zacchaeus.  It wasn’t going to increase his status or get him any favors.  If anything, it would lower his esteem in the eyes of the powerful and respected ones.  Yet Jesus would risk a loss of status for the sake of one who would otherwise be lost. 

Zacchaeus was a lost man.  He had some of the things we hold in high esteem – riches!  Power! Yet he was seeking, longing and searching for something of true and lasting value.  Zacchaeus was a lost man.  So he hoisted up his fine robes and climbed up in a tree –  to see what?  To see the hope of his salvation.

And there he crouched among the branches, hidden from the judging eyes of others, quietly watching as Jesus approached. How badly Zacchaeus must have wanted to see Jesus.  What was he thinking?  What was he hoping?

And what if, at that moment, Jesus walked right on past?  What if he didn’t stop?  What if he did not call Zacchaeus by name and say, “I’m coming to you today?” 

What if salvation did not come to Zacchaeus’ house that day?  I’ll tell you what.  Zacchaeus would still be a lost man.

And what of all the lost in Huber Heights?  The ones who live on the margins, the ones who are ashamed and try to hide the failures of their lives?  What of the ones who muster up the courage to come in here, even though they fear being judged by us for so many reasons? 

Listen: this matters, because these people matter.  It’s a simple truth:  Jesus teaches us in his words and his actions that the ones whom we judge are as much loved by God as we are.  And when we fail to love them as we should we are in our own way condemning them to remain lost.  When we fail to see them, really see them, we are confirming for them what they might have already thought – that they don’t matter in our eyes. 

Whenever we make a decision not to invest in people who can’t help us meet our bottom line; whenever we don’t open our eyes and see the world as God sees the world, we are letting Jesus down.

Brothers and sisters, that is not who we are.  We are the hands and feet and hearts of Jesus Christ – we are the body of Christ in the world.  We are his instruments of love and forgiveness and grace.  And if we are not acting this way, we are not being true to our identity.

We can do better, especially when we do it together.  What seems really scary when we think about going out and doing it all alone becomes much less burdensome when we join hands and commit to doing it as one.  There is no reason that we cannot, as a church, stretch ourselves to become more loving, more open, more gracious, more light to the city of Huber Heights! 

What if we committed to being a church that opens its doors to the least, the last, and the lost?  What if we welcomed them in our sanctuary – every one of them – and also in our parlor, inviting them to sit at our table?  What if we made it our collective mission to learn more about these ones who come into our space, to let them know that they do matter in our eyes? 

What if we try to be like Jesus?