View from the Tree

Green Lake Church Gazette article for January, 2015

Sometimes, it's good to climb a tree and get a different view. Somethings that are obvious from high in a tree are invisible from the ground.

In the words of the children's song, Zacchaeus was a wee little man. He was also rich, having made his money the old fashioned way, mining a government contract for personal wealth. Along the way he had managed to earn the scorn and hostility of large segments of the population. The famous rabbi, Jesus, was coming to town and Zacchaeus wanted to see him. However, the density of the crowd coupled with Zacchaeus' short stature and low social standing made direct access to Jesus impossible.

The tax contractor scurried ahead of the crowd, found a tree and climbed up. Sure enough, Jesus came along, and Zacchaeus got his chance to see.

As Christians we freely use the gospel stories of Jesus' interaction with people as windows into the purposes and wishes of God. We understand Jesus' invitation of himself to Zacchaeus' house for lunch as a parable of the divine desire for communion with us. We imagine God calling out to us, “Come, let's do lunch together at your place.”

Because of the story of Zacchaeus, we imagine God wishing to enjoy a leisurely hour or two sitting at our table eating soup and crackers or a sandwich and potato chips. God wants our company. God is captivated by our stories of triumphs and dreams as well as by our tales of tragedy and heartbreak.

But this Gospel story has an important complication. Yes, Jesus invited himself to Zacchaeus' house for lunch, making explicit his wish to fraternize with the tax collector. And yes, the pleasure was mutual. Zacchaeus was thrilled to entertain his famous guest. Thus far the story is sweet and uncomplicated. But as soon as the camera zooms out to take in the reactions of the crowd, things get messy. The Gospel reports, “All the people saw this and began to mutter, 'He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.'”

Not a few people. Not some people. Not most of the people. The negative reaction is so pervasive, the Gospel reports that “everyone” began to mutter. Nobody was happy except Zacchaeus and Jesus.

Have you ever felt like Zacchaeus? Ever been on the outside of the divine circle of approval? Have you ever wished for an encounter with God, but were intimidated by a wall of people between you and divine approval? Occasionally, I hear stories of people who grew up in church, but never quite fit the mold. They asked too many questions. They could not manage being conventional. Impulse control was not their strong suite. Alcohol or marijuana or some other drug was seductive beyond their ability to resist. They had the wrong line of work. They were ugly. They were too pretty. They were poor. They were too successful. Whatever it was that set them off as different, when they imagined coming to Jesus, they always faced an intimidating wall of human disapproval.

If you have ever found yourself attracted to God exemplified in the stories of Jesus but repulsed by a wall of less-than-welcoming people, try climbing a metaphorical tree. The story of Zacchaeus gives us permission to find an unconventional viewpoint, to bypass approved channels, to disregard the official guardians of orthodoxy and find our own vision of the smile of God. And you can count on it, when you climb that metaphorical tree, when you get a glimpse of the divine face, you will find a welcoming smile.

Some of my friends think this is too rosy a picture. They fret that I'm putting into the story a meaning that isn't really there. It's an understandable concern. However, my interpretation of the Zacchaeus story is reinforced by its context in Luke's Gospel. Immediately preceding the story of Zacchaeus are other stories: the persistent widow who has to force action from a reluctant judge (she pushes through a wall of social/legal inertia), the story of the disciples (a wall of people again) turning away mothers and children, the tax collector who sneaks into the temple to pray (braving the wall of righteous scorn), an attempt by the crowd (the wall, again) to shush a blind beggar's cries for help. In every case, there are hurdles and beyond the hurdles a divine welcome. The story of Zacchaeus is followed by the parable of the talents. The horror in the parable is tragic misreading of the character of the king (God).

In this series of stories Luke presents a coherent, compelling vision of God's character. If we are part of the crowd—the company of people publicly associated with Jesus—these stories all raise the question: will we applaud Jesus' extravagant grace or will we mutter about the sinners Jesus shares lunch with? Will we seek to protect Jesus' reputation and the purity of the church or will we act in concert with Jesus to welcome sinners and mothers and kids and other needy people? Will we celebrate the generosity of grace or protest its wastefulness?

In the Zacchaeus story Jesus does not wait for the crowd to approve before he welcomes himself to Zacchaeus' house. If we see ourselves as Zacchaeus in the story, if we are hungry for the face of God, then this story assures us God's face is turned our direction with a smile. When God spots us hiding in a tree, peering through the leaves wondering if, perhaps, at the heart of the crowd is a personage magnetic enough to explain the enthusiasm of the crowd, God will smile in response.

Yes, he has drawn a crowd and is pleased they have come. And now, looking at you, alone in the tree, God says, “Yes, you, too. Come, let's do lunch.”