Joel D. Kline
October 31, 2004
Highland Avenue Church of the Brethren
The Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost
In one of the Chicken Soup for the Soul books Dodie Gadient tells her story. A retired schoolteacher who set off across the country to see many of the sights she had been teaching about for years, Dodie was traveling alone in a truck along an urban interstate, her camper in tow. Suddenly the water pump blew. Tired, frustrated, and a little frightened, Dodie prayed for an angel, preferably one with mechanical experience, to help her. Within a few minutes a loud Harley, driven by an enormous man sporting long black hair, tattooed arms, and a Hell’s Angels leather jacket, pulled over. Barely glancing at Dodie, and with an air of confidence, the biker went to work on the truck, pausing just long enough to flag down a larger truck. Soon Dodie’s pickup was being towed off the freeway to a side street, where the biker resumed working on the water pump, quickly making the necessary repairs.
Dodie was rather speechless through the whole ordeal, but as the biker was completing the repairs, she managed to give voice to her appreciation, albeit a little uncomfortably. Sensing her unease, the biker smiled, reminded her not to judge a book by its cover, climbed back on his Harley, and took off.
The hands of a servant sometimes come our way at unexpected moments and through seemingly unlikely persons. A crowd had gathered on the day when Jesus entered the town of Jericho, and of the all the persons in that horde of folks, Jesus takes note of Zacchaeus. Zacchaeus is a chief tax collector who, hoping to catch a glimpse of this Jesus he had been hearing about, risks the crowd’s ridicule as he runs ahead and climbs a tree—both undignified actions for a man of his position in that culture.
In Luke’s Gospel the rich, such as Zacchaeus, generally don’t fare very well. Early on in the Gospel, as Jesus is preaching the Sermon on the Plain, he cries out, “Woe to you who are rich” (6:24). Jesus labels a rich farmer in one of the parables a fool, because the farmer can think of nothing other than his own gain. In the parable of the rich man and Lazarus the beggar, Lazarus is carried to the bosom of Abraham after death, while the rich man goes to Hades. And after watching the rich young ruler turn away, rejecting the tough demands of discipleship, Jesus observes, “How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of heaven!” (18:24).
Perhaps surprisingly, then, there are no harsh words of judgment, no ready condemnation, as Jesus takes the initiative to speak with Zacchaeus; there are only words of invitation. “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today” (19:5). It is an invitation that wins Jesus few points with the crowd; indeed, Luke tells us that “all who saw it began to grumble,” complaining, “Jesus has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner”(19:7). And the worst kind of sinner at that—one whose fortune came through a system of taxation that included abuse of the poor and that, rather understandably, created hostility.
Luke provides little detail of the encounter between Jesus and Zacchaeus, just enough to let us know that the unexpected and unmerited grace Zacchaeus receives at the hand of Jesus so touches Zacchaeus that he embraces a new direction for his life. Jesus does not badger Zacchaeus to adopt this new lifestyle, nor does he force Zacchaeus to embrace a new level of generosity. Instead, touched by the generous love of Jesus, Zacchaeus suddenly recognizes that there is so much more to life than the hoarding and the grasping, the clutching and the selfish stockpiling of more and more possessions.
Zacchaeus begins to recognize that what we have is not ours alone; indeed, all that we have, all that we are, comes as gift from God. Zacchaeus is transformed, and to demonstrate that he is no longer the same person Zacchaeus makes amends for his former greed, doing so lavishly. “Half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor,” Zacchaeus proclaims, “and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much” (19:8).
At the beginning of that day Zacchaeus would have been seen as an unlikely candidate to discover the heart and hands of a servant, but that is precisely what happens. Jesus puts it this way: “Today salvation has come to this house.” New life has come to Zacchaeus. Jim Wallis, editor of Sojourners magazine, in a book entitled The Call to Conversion, reminds us that the biblical notions of repentance and conversion involve far more than intellectual adherence to right doctrine. Rather, they involve a turning around, taking on a new direction in life, embracing the life of faith. Asserts Wallis,
Faith is turning to belief, hope, and trust…. Faith opens us to the future by restoring our sight, softening our hearts, bringing light into our darkness. We are converted to compassion, justice, and peace as we take our stand as citizens of Christ’s new order. We see, hear, and feel now as never before…. Heart, mind, and soul, being, thinking, and doing—all are remade in the grace of God’s redeeming love.
The story of Zacchaeus highlights several themes that run throughout Luke’s Gospel. The first is that materialism and riches, the pursuit of more and more, can blind us to the reality of God’s kingdom. At the same time, the story reminds us of the promise at the heart of the gospel, that Jesus reaches out to the broken, the hurting, the confused, the lost. And when we encounter the unexpected and unmerited grace of Jesus, when we embrace a life of faith and trust, something radically new opens before us. We become a part of the kingdom of God, placing our trust in God’s goodness and taking on the heart and the hands of a servant, even as Jesus “came to seek out and to save the lost” (19:10).
Dag Hammarskjold, Secretary General of the United Nations for eight and a half years until his untimely death in an airplane accident in 1961, kept a spiritual journal that openly acknowledged the dark night of the soul, every bit as much as times of calmer faith and hope. Reflecting on his life Dag confesses,
I do not know Who—or what—put the question, I don’t know when it was put. I don’t even remember answering. But at some moment I did answer Yes to Someone—or Something—and from that hour was certain that existence is meaningful and that, therefore, my life, in self-surrender, had a goal.
From that moment I have known what it means “not to look back,” and “To take no thought for the morrow.”
Some of us may be clear about the specific moment we responded affirmatively in faith; others of us may, like Hammarskjold, not remember when we first answered. But the very nature of faith is that we encounter the God of new beginnings who is worthy of our trust, One whose grace so touches us that, in self-surrender, we take on the heart and the hands of a servant.
On another occasion Hammarskjold wrote, “In our era, the road to holiness necessarily passes through the world of action.” The power of faith is experienced, is it not, when we dare to embrace light in the midst of darkness, joy in the face of brokenness and sadness, hope instead of fear, peace rather than suspicion and violence. Indeed, is this not the power of incarnation, that we come to embody the grace and peace, the compassion and self-giving love, of Jesus in our daily relationships with one another? We put “flesh” onto the faith we proclaim; the road to holiness passes through the world of action.
In recent weeks we have been focusing on a celebration of the gifts that give shape to our congregation’s life and ministry—gifts that include a commitment to be the hands and hearts that serve one another, and the world around us. It is a commitment we make as we place our trust in God.
The ethicist John Kavanaugh traveled to Calcutta, India, to work for three moths at Mother Teresa’s house of the dying. Kavanaugh was seeking clarity about how to spend the rest of his life, reasoning that surely in the presence of a saint like Mother Teresa, direction would come. On his first morning there he met Mother Teresa, and she asked him simply, “What can I do for you?” When Kavanaugh asked her to pray for him, she asked, “And what do you want me to pray for?”
John Kavanaugh talked of his journey from a comfortable home here in the United States to the streets of Calcutta, where so much poverty and degredation exist. “Pray that I may have clarity,” Kavanaugh requested.
“No, I will not do that,” Teresa responded firmly. When Kavanaugh asked why she replied, “Clarity is the last thing you are clinging to and must let go of.” But surely she has the kind of clarity he yearns for, Kavanaugh objects. Mother Teresa laughed and said, “I have never had clarity; what I have always had is trust. So I will pray that you trust God.”
We too are invited to place our trust in God, along the way investing our times of energy and resources in deepening faith, proclaiming peace, embracing community, welcoming others, and serving our neighbor, in the compassionate spirit of Jesus.
Holy God, Lord of our hearts, be the guiding vision of our lives. Grant us vision to walk in the ways of Jesus. Teach us to walk in self-giving love, taking on the basin and towel of servanthood, reaching out to the poor and the broken, welcoming the stranger, bearing the gospel of peace, putting aside all greed, sharing gifts with one another and with the world around us. Be our vision, O Lord of our hearts.
Forgive us, God, when we are tempted to choose the easier path of self-centered living. Forgive us when we allow fear and suspicion to gain the upper hand in our lives. Forgive us when our restless hearts resist finding their rest in you. Forgive us, O God of gracious love, and be the ruling vision of our hearts.
O God of compassion, hear us now as we pray for our nation and the upcoming elections. In the midst of division, we seek nevertheless to choose leaders well, to call our nation to exercise moral leadership, to take its place as one nation among many, caring for creation, seeking justice and peace for all.
Gracious God, we pray for those in special need of your healing presence. We hold in your light and your love …
O God of vision, may your realm, your way of living, come among us now. May swords be beaten into plowshares, may compassion and peace reign in our hearts, may we together celebrate the wondrous promise that you have inscribed each one of us on the palms of your hands. We pray these prayers in the name and Spirit of Jesus the Christ. Amen.