Abstract
It is often asserted that the one certainty in life is death. That there is a second certainty in life—taxes—has been asserted by many people, Benjamin Franklin apparently, amongst others. Those people who operate this second certainty in earthly life, the tax-collectors, have never been popular, either now or in ancient times. Yet in this Sunday’s gospel we read of Jesus meeting Zacchaeus, who was not just a simple tax collector but a chief tax-collector.
In colonial Roman society, tax-collecting was a privatized business. Zacchaeus, described here in the gospel not only as a chief tax-collector, but also as being rich. We might stereotypically assume Zacchaeus to have been a person adept at extracting substantial sums of cash from resentful and evasive clients. He presumably also managed a group of more junior tax-collectors, and assumed some responsibility for their financial extractions, as well as enjoying some of the profits they made.
His Jewish compatriots in Jericho treated Zacchaeus as a very public sinner, as a collaborator with the occupying Roman powers, and as someone who sought principally to line his own pockets with cash. So when Zacchaeus wants to see Jesus, they quite deliberately get in the way. The text notes that Zacchaeus was a small man, but also hints that there was more to the situation. The crowd, we might infer, wanted to exclude Zacchaeus completely from the throng of curious people, all eager to see Jesus and evaluate his message. After all, they, the crowd, are the good people, the pious people, and they want to see this prophet, this supposed Messiah. He has arrived in their city, Jericho, on his way uphill to Jerusalem, the holy city, to celebrate Passover. What would a true prophet have to do with public sinners like Zacchaeus and his kind?
Well, Jesus does indeed want to have everything to do with public sinners. Throughout his public ministry Jesus is accused by his detractors as being a friend of prostitutes and tax-collectors, sinners and those very much on the margins (at best) of conventional Jewish society. So Jesus invites himself round to Zacchaeus’ for dinner. Previously Jesus had met a rich young man, who had gone away dejected, as, ultimately, he trusted in his own integrity and wealth. This rich tax-collector knows he needs more than his wealth, he needs God’s grace. With an almost child-like eagerness, and risking being completely ridiculed by the crowd, he climbs a tree in order to see Jesus, the bringer of reconciliation.
The detractors won’t give up. They carry on grumbling. Jesus as a holy man should be able to tell people’s character and chose to go elsewhere for dinner, not be entertained by this nouveau riche collaborator. Zacchaeus is no fool either, he knows what people are thinking. He stands up in public repentance. Half his goods he gives to the poor. If he has defrauded anyone, he will repay them restitution four times over. There is an extravagance to this repentance; Jewish custom probably dictated twofold restitution as being sufficiently generous. We might suspect that there will not be large numbers of disgruntled clients able to take advantage to this offer. Zacchaeus may have been much more honest than the crowd of detractors had stereotypically assumed. Harsh he may have been; working for the enemy—certainly, if that is your political understanding; outright swindler, well perhaps not proven.
Listening to Zacchaeus’ outburst of generosity, remembering his child-like eagerness to encounter Jesus, Jesus exclaims, “Today, salvation has come to this house, because he [Zacchaeus] too is a son of Abraham”. Zacchaeus is reintegrated into the community of God’s people, restored to his true wealth, his inheritance as a son of Abraham. It is reminiscent of the story of the prodigal son, who repents and returns to his father’s love. God is a God of mercy, he welcomes people back to the fullness of his love, responding with generosity to their first small but definite acts of choosing love and healing.
Jesus leaves Zacchaeus and Jericho, and, a few days later dying on the cross promises the repentant thief, “Today you will be with me in paradise”. Jesus promises salvation to a dying thief and to the household of a chief tax-collector. Death, that great certainty of life catches up with Jesus. Yet on the third day Jesus rises from the dead, triumphant over death and evil. Salvation is possible.
In this year of mercy, do we join Jesus who sought out and saved the lost? Do we rejoice with some characters with shady backgrounds, knowing our own frailty and past sins? Or do we trust in our own integrity like the rich young man and depart downhearted?