2022 Sun Oct 30

From the Bishop’s Blog

“You know the story. Zacchaeus, “chief tax collector and rich”, hears Jesus is coming to town. He goes to see if he can get a glimpse of him but the crowd is dense and he is short. He climbs a sycamore tree to see above the crowd. Jesus sees him, goes to the tree and tells Zacchaeus that he wants to have dinner with him. At dinner Zacchaeus appears to have a great conversion and promises to give half his wealth to the poor and if any are defrauded he will repay them back four times as much. But, and here’s the key, some linguists say the text should not be, “I will do this” but, “I already do this.” Zacchaeus is telling Jesus he already gives half his possessions to the poor. He already repays defrauded people four times what they are owed. In other words, he is a good man. But he is still unhappy. There is still something missing. There is an emptiness in the middle of his soul.

And that is true for all of us. We are built with an inner emptiness and we try to fill it in so many ways. Some of those ways might be self-destructive. Some of those ways might be good – like giving half of what we have to the poor. But nothing will ever fill that hole except a relationship with the Living God. That is why Jesus can say to Zacchaeus, “Today salvation has come to this house.” Now Zacchaeus is connected to the source of all life.

Theologians have expressed this in many ways through the years. St. Augustine wrote, “my heart is restless until it rests in You.

We are saved by relationship with the Living God. Forever. The emptiness is addressed when we find our sycamore tree, that place that allows us to see and meet God. For some of us that place might be our local church.

Who is Zacchaeus? His name is a form of Zechariah, which means righteous one. We find him only in Luke’s Gospel account, and then only in Luke 19. We are able to understand that he at least heard about Jesus, if he hadn’t already met him. He is a short man, and, because he cannot see Jesus passing by, he ran ahead of the disciples in order to climb a tree and thereby get a glimpse of Jesus over the heads of the crowd, as Jesus and his disciples passed by. One has to wonder what this is all about. It seems from the text that the Lord looked for him, because he says he must stay at his home overnight, as though he had a prior appointment with him.

In Luke 19:1 we are told that Jesus had entered and passed through Jericho. At this time (Luke 19:2) Luke introduces Zacchaeus to his readers. Zacchaeus is a chief tax-collector. We are not told in the narrative what it meant to be a chief tax-collector, but we are able to add meaning to Luke’s narrative by defining Zacchaeus’ office from history.

“Large-scale bankers included tax farmers (publicani) doing private business. Among their customers were government officials in the provinces who cashed government bills of exchange with them.” [James S. Jeffers: “The Greco-Roman World of the New Testament Era”; page 24]

“During the late Republic, when most of its provinces were added, Rome used private enterprise to handle tasks such as tax collection. Companies formed by the second rank of Rome’s aristocracy, the equestrian order (senators were forbidden to engage in this kind of enterprise), would bid for the right to collect taxes in a certain province. The highest bidder would then send out his agents, called publicans (publicani) or tax-farmers (so called because they raised tax revenue for Rome like a farmer raised crops), to make the collections. They were named for the Roman public treasury (publicum). They had to collect enough money to cover their bid before they could begin to make a profit, and Rome did not limit the amount they could collect over their bid. The Roman general, Pompey, after his conquest of Palestine used local officials as their tax collection agents.”

“…Zacchaeus, called a “chief tax collector”, may have been the contractor for the revenues of Jericho and may have supervised a number of collectors. At the least he supervised a collecting district. Most of the New Testament publicans, like Levi / Matthew (Matthew 9:9; Mark 2:14; Luke 5:27), were lesser officials. Levi, for example, may have been a local customs official, collecting taxes for a local treasury rather than for Rome. They might have their “place of toll” located where the residents could not easily avoid them: by city gates, on public roads or on bridges. Levi’s post at Capernaum probably was near the sea on the important trade route entering Galilee from Damascus.” [James S. Jeffers: “The Greco-Roman World of the New Testament Era”; page 144-146]

I believe that Jesus’ Parable of the Pounds (Minas in some translations) as told to us in Luke 19:11-27 is modeled after Zacchaeus’ office as a chief tax-collector. He may have had to go to Rome (the ‘far country’ alluded to in the parable) to bid on or formally receive the territory he wished to govern and collect its taxes for the Emperor. He would have had several publicans executing his office as tax collector, because such a responsibility couldn’t be accomplished by a single man. Publicans would need to have been stationed at key points like city gates and, in the case of Jericho, at the bridge or ferry across the Jordan River that connected Mesopotamia to the highway leading through Jericho to Egypt. Taxes, right-of-passage, currency exchanges and business and private loans were responsibilities of the chief tax-collector, who executed those duties through his publican servants.

“While writing Grateful: The Transformative Power of Giving Thanks, I reread Luke’s account of Zacchaeus. Like many Christians, I knew the story from Sunday school — the “wee little man” who climbed a tree to see Jesus. I thought of it as a charming tale that taught us to go to any length to catch a vision of God. But researching Grateful convinced me that gratitude was at the center of an important political tension in the Roman world regarding debts and obligation. The story of Zacchaeus transformed from a children’s story to a powerful encounter between Jesus and an unjust system of quid pro quo. Corrupted gratitude can snare us, or, as Jesus taught, a renewed vision of gratefulness can liberate us. The Zacchaeus story shows us how.

“Zacchaeus thought that gratitude was a political structure of benefactors and beneficiaries that he could manipulate for his own benefit. Then Jesus called him down from that tree and invited him to a table. “Stop climbing, Zacchaeus. Come and sit.” Whereas Rome practiced gratitude as a hierarchy of political and economic obligation, of debt and duty, Jesus envisioned gratitude as hospitality of mutuality and relationship, of gift and response. Jesus opened the door for Zacchaeus to “come down” from his old life, to stop participating in a corrupt system of gratitude that oppressed his own people. In a moment, Jesus turned his world upside down: Who was the guest and who was the host? The Roman structure of gratitude collapsed when assigned roles disappeared and the conventional gifts of hospitality could not be repaid. Instead, Jesus imagined a place where oppressed and oppressor leave their “stations” and meet as friends, where forgiveness is practiced and gratitude expresses itself not in debt payment but in passing on generous gifts to others.

“At the end of the story, Jesus explains that he did this because “the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10). Jesus came to deliver those ensnared in the punishment and privilege of gratitude and to set them free from quid pro quo patronage. In its place, he established a table of hospitality where all are guests and no one owes anything to anyone else. Around this table, gifts pass without regard to payback or debt. Everyone sits. Everyone eats. And, recognizing that everything is a gift, all are grateful. Tree or table? Climbing to get ahead or reclining with friends? Choose. What you choose results in either slavery or abundance.

“This is the ancient wisdom of gratitude, told in a Jewish political context by early Christian writers. But we can see beyond its unique religious frame to the story’s larger relevance for today. Who wants to be part of a system of gratitude based on hierarchy?

“To be obligated to repay every favor done? Who wants to perpetuate a system that rewards privilege and is held together by indebtedness? A structure where we are pretty sure that the people above us cheated us to get there? Think of how we depict Thanksgiving — people around a table eating a meal.

“In the United States, it is the romanticized image of our most primal gratitude myth: Europeans and Natives sharing around a table. Of course, it did not happen that way. But that is what myths are — stories that express something we desire, what we hope will be, and how we dream of happiness and peace. There is something in our hearts that longs to banish quid pro quo to the pages of dusty history books forever and instead create a common table where we pass gifts to one another without regard for station or status, where boundaries dissolve around plenty. That is the way of salvation. We know this, and, like Zacchaeus, many of us long for it. We just do not know how to come down from the tree.”

Diana Butler Bass is the author of eight books on American religion, including “Christianity After Religion,” “Christianity for the Rest of Us,” and “A People’s History of Christianity.” This is excerpted from “Grateful: The Transformative Power of Giving Thanks.” Copyright © 2018 by Diana Butler Bass. Published by HarperOne.

The End of October, Early Nov. – a summary

Halloween originated in Celtic cultures the day before Samhain, the beginning of the Celtic winter. It focused on death blending in the supernatural. The Catholic Church incorporated non-Christian traditions into its holidays to bring people to the church. It scheduled All Saints (Nov 1 ) and All Souls (Nov. 2) after Halloween. All Soul’s focused on those who had died without the supernatural. All Saints celebrated all who believed and were baptized The word saint originally meant “holy”. Later it became a feast day commemorating all martyrs.