Wherever the Gospel story takes him, Jesus always seems to attract a crowd. And loudly from that crowd more often than not arises the clatter of grumbling. This morning, nattering and griping erupt over Jesus’s self-invitation to the home of Zacchaeus, the diminutive guest star of our Scripure lesson from the Gospel of Luke.
As a reviled tax collector, Zacchaeus extorts money from his neighbors in collusion with the ruling Roman Empire, using his position to oppress his own people and line his own pockets. Jesus would be in perfect character to call out such oppression, injustice, and outright theft. And yet, the Son of God and man offers mercy. Which in turn begets even-more mercy as Zacchaeus, unprompted, offers to rebate what he took – and then some. Perhaps within this cocky, arrogant, wee-little man shines a ray or two of new possibility!
Zacchaeus’s name derives from the Hebrew word for “fidelity” – faithfulness, and from the Hebrew word for “righteousness” – living in right relationship. But this Zacchaeus fella sure checks all the boxes of a scoundrel who is neither. With good reason, his community deems Zacchaeus a sinner, because he takes treasure from the Jewish people and sends their hard-earned shekels to Rome – minus a little off the top for his time and trouble as a stooge for the emperor. Zacchaeus is nothing short of deplorable, dastardly, and despicable.
So, it particularly galls the restless crowd that, of everyone clamoring for blessed attention that day in Jericho, the Lord chooses to stay with Zacchaeus. The good teacher Jesus wants to abide in the home of someone whose unrepentant swamp and cesspool are well-overdue for draining. At the get-go, Zacchaeus surely sees no need to repent. Before Jesus invites himself over, the vertically challenged Zacchaeus does nothing but climb a tree to get a better view, again setting himself above and apart. Zacchaeus admits no wrongdoing, resigns not his political position, nor confesses his sin. Still, Jesus says, “Let me abide with you.”
Jesus never calls out Zacchaeus with loud shaming or public humiliation. Instead the Lord rather seems to lean in gently. Facing heaven’s tender warmth, Zacchaeus climbs down, rejoins his community, and immediately pledges restitution and reparation – a two-pronged act of reconciliation with both God and neighbor.
Confirmation of this remarkable turnabout comes in Jesus’s grand announcement: “Today salvation has come to this house.” Listen to the Word that God has spoken, even if you don’t understand.
Zacchaeus so captures your heart and inspires your mind, so as to tempt your hearing this story as absolution of one man’s individual sin. That’s not a bad thing, but Jesus says “to this house.” Salvation has come not to “this man” but to “this house” – a hint of broader and wider deliverance, a suggestion not of mere cleansing but also renewed wholeness. In the communal culture of Jesus’s day, salvation means wholeness resulting from belonging. By repenting, Zacchaeus had been delivered from broken relationship with his people back into the mended wholeness of community.
We obviously can’t know Zacchaeus’s response had Jesus tried loud condemnation and chest-poking. But it’s a safe bet, then as now, that shouting and finger-pointing get no one anywhere. What surprisingly seems quite muscular though – at least that day in Jericho, anyway – is winsome grace, gentle mercy, and a love so attentive, so amazing, so divine – and so offensive – that it healed a broken people and their fractured relationships. Righteousness, as it turns out, demands your soul, your life, and your all!
Some faith communities overemphasize a misunderstood righteousness, steadfastly and indignantly pursuing without nuance what they believe pure, holy, and “right” in the eyes of God. Other faith communities overemphasize mercy, advocating for compassion regardless of action or inaction, which surely feels like an affront to fairness. And in between are the rest of us, stuck in the loop of arguing about who is truly righteous, who should be “called out” or “canceled,” and who deserves mercy.
Those same deep divides and passionate arguments bubble to the surface in the tale of Zacchaeus, who outwardly carries labels of judgment that easily make him persona non grata. So let’s extend some mercy to the angry throng whose pockets Zacchaeus has picked – and whose sensibilities are offended by Jesus’s desire to overnight with Zacchaeus. Letting bygones be bygones is a heavy lift. But though mercy speaks softly, it carries a bigger stick with which to leverage the burdensome load of reconciliation.
Thus, as Zacchaeus scrambles to see Jesus, Jesus meets the tax collector’s gaze with seeking, with invitation, with mercy. And something changes: Zacchaeus gladly welcomes Jesus, promptly announces actions rooted in righteousness. And Jesus pronounces mercy and salvation not to one but to all. Perhaps no one practices righteousness in isolation, because righteousness hinges on the mercy of “right relationship.” And perhaps God’s overflowing mercy should always surprise and disorient, even unto pursuing righteousness and mercy with those with whom we disagree. That’s where real, lasting transformation begins. And thus we pray –
Loving God, week after week we return to this space, because we long to see you. Like Zacchaeus who climbed a tree to get a peek at you as you walked by, we come to this sanctuary hoping to get a peek of your goodness, of your joy, of your light. So speak to us through these ancient words. Let us get a peek of the love that abides here: A love so attentive – and so offensive – that it heals.
Maybe that’s why so many grumble, whenever the Lord draws near. The Gospel’s offensive is not who it keeps out, but who it lets in. That might not seem fair, but that’s indeed what makes grace so amazing.
Listen to the Word that God has spoken.
Pastor Grant M. VanderVelden shared this message during worship on the Fifth Sunday in Lent, April 6, 2025, at First Presbyterian Church in Waukon, Iowa, USA. Scholarship, commentary, and reflection by Jeff Chu, Lisle Gwynn Garrity, Amy-Jill Levine, Lauren Wright Pittman, and Ben Witherington III inform the message. It is part of Pastor Grant’s Lenten series, “Everything in Between: Meeting God in the Midst of Extremes.” The video clip is from Lumo’s Gospel of Luke.