"So he ran on ahead and climbed up into a Sycamore tree to see him."

Last Sunday the gospel tax collector had no name. Today the featured tax collector is named Zacchaeus.  And Zacchaeus, we're told, "sought to see who Jesus was." This suggests he's not just caught up in the crowd's enthusiasm, but he's interested in Jesus. Perhaps he's heard of Jesus' teaching or reports of Jesus' miracles.

But he's short and so runs ahead and climbs a sycamore tree in order to get a better view. The Sycamore tree is mentioned only this once in the New Testament, so we ought to pay attention to its meaning. Sycamores appear in the stories of ancient gods and goddesses. They symbolize growth, the pursuit of truth, bounty, protection and redemption. To understand the wisdom of the gods, the sycamore must be climbed mystically. And so here is Zacchaeus climbing the Sycamore to see Jesus. 

We can imagine that Zaccaheus took a ribbing from others because he was short. But that doesn't stop him from running and climbing the tree. I'd say the evangelist Luke intends that we find the scene funny: this little rich guy, running in cumbersome robes, balancing himself on a branch hanging over the road and peering out through the leaves. Kind of silly: "Zacchaeus, you're ridiculous." Zacchaeus, you look like a fool." "Zacchaeus, you're pathetic."

Jesus knows he's up in the tree. He also knows what's on the the tax collector's mind. And instead of rolling his eyes and laughing at him, Jesus calls him to come down and invites himself to dinner. In the Middle-Eastern world, dinner was an occasion of great intimacy and friendship. Jesus seems to reward Zacchaeus for taking the risk of looking ridiculous for his sake. 

Matthew Kelty was a Trappist monk of the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky. At one point in his monastic life he was given permission to try an experimental community of six monks living in the greatest simplicity in the woods of Piedmont, North Carolina. Seven miles from town, the monks set out to create an environment of deep, prayerful serenity. They maintained the meatless diet of Trappists as a witness to non-violence and otherwise grew their own food. They learned weaving to make a living and welcomed numerous guests despite the rugged, no-frills lifestyle of the place. Needless to say, there were more than a few people who thought the monks were ridiculous, giving up the securities that come with living in a large, established monastic house.

Here's a section from Matthew Kelty's book Flute Solo, in which he describes a new depth of a Zacchaeus-like foolishness for a greater good or truth:

During our years in the Piedmont there was a great deal of anguish in the country over the war in Vietnam. Our concern was both with the lack of strong protest from the Catholic Church and the need to stress the monk as man identified with peace. We felt that many monks were insensitive to the moral implications of genuine patriotism. A lot of discussion led to a small decision; to have the phone removed. We had learned that the phone tax was a specific war tax, and perhaps the only one. Though we could have refused to pay it, we decided to go a step further and dispense with the phone altogether. Doing so turned out to be a blessing. It was sometimes an inconvenience, but we had peace. A six-foot wall around the place would not have assured us more privacy.

What creative monks - like Zaccaheus! But every Christian can do something ridiculous so to pursue wisdom, truth, goodness, redemption (which is not the same as going to heaven). Any ideas?

The Pharisee and the Tax Collector ~ Names Matter

Here is a fresco depicting last Sunday's Gospel: the parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector. The Pharisee has the bible scrolls right at hand while reminding God of his spiritual success. A great fish in the lower right corner opens its mouth wide to swallow him up for his presumption. 

Behind him, the Tax Collector has just stumbled in with his money bag hanging off his belt. He carries a weapon into God's house: not cool. Above them both the painter has added his own detail - an angel weeping, so grieved by the Pharisee's pious show. Here's the text of  Jesus' Gospel Parable, followed by some homily thoughts.

Jesus told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and despised others: "Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, 'God, I thank thee that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week, I give tithes of all that I get.'
   "But the tax collector, standing far off, wold not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying 'God, be merciful to me a sinner!'
   "I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted."  Luke 18:9-14

Good teacher that he is, Jesus is the master of stories that tell us how it is with God and God's rule. The stories usually employ things from everyday life with which people would be familiar: seed, sheep, coins, different kinds of ground, pearls and treasure. Jesus' stories also reveal that he had keen insights into what makes human beings tick. And so this parable is simply about two men. We don't have to figure out the meaning of the story; we're told at the end: "...for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles humbles himself will be exalted."

But I'd suggest there is something to this story that is even more fundamental. The guy up front doesn't even know the fellow in the back. Maybe he's seen him at the tax office, but in his pious prayer he refers to the man as "this" - "this tax collector." 

This reference with no name lays out that there is a great human divide. And this attitude of division trips off his tongue. It's acceptable to him: "This one," "That one," "Them." 

Some months ago there was a picture from Syria of a five year old boy, shell shocked, bleeding and covered with dust, after his home was bombed. We see him stunned and sitting in the back of the ambulance. And as attention getting as the picture was already, when the news media revealed some days later that the boy's name is Omran Dagneesh, the photo became even more upsetting, more urgent,  troubling and personal.

Omran Dagneesh

When I was a young priest I was told by parishioners there was a man living in the woods under some boards and branches. When I asked the pastor if we could house him for the winter in our empty convent of twenty bedrooms, he said, "No, there are insurance issues."

I don't doubt there were insurance issues, but we should have sought out the man anyway, and at least learned his name and heard his story to see what we might do for him, if not house him. Emphasis on learn his name.

I'm thinking of a twenty year old young man who when he re-located to his college-town started going to daily Mass each morning in the nearby cathedral. After a year he told me, "No one ever came near me to say hello or to ask for my name." But we might well imagine a group on the church steps afterwards talking about "that boy who comes to Mass everyday."

At the heart of our religion is name. God says, "I have called you by name; you are mine." Isaiah 43:1 And in another place: "God knows the number of the stars and calls each one by name." Isaiah 40:26 And if God can name each of the stars, how much more surely God knows my name; your name.

David is a flight steward who says that even though he wears a name tag no ever uses his name - indeed, the folks boarding don't even return his greeting. Using someone's name suggests we know we're all on common ground.

We'll likely all be in a store or restaurant this week and the cashier or server will be wearing a name tag. Maybe we could surprise that person by using his/her name at some point. There is a Gospel precedent you know: "Zacchaeus, come down out of that tree; I mean to have dinner at your house tonight." Luke 19:5

Intercessions ~ Thirty First Sunday in Ordinary Time

Aleksey Stemmer ~ First Frost

These last days of the Jubilee Year of Mercy/ we pray for Pope Francis,/ asking for him/ the continued blessings of safety and strength./ And that we would understand the breadth of God's kind-mercy,/ and live it./ We pray to the Lord.

With the approach of colder weather/ we pray perhaps to live more interior lives,/ resisting consumerism/ and the holiday's hectic pace/ which can leave us tired and un-reflective./ We pray to the Lord.

We offer prayers for people who have lost home or job,/ For the children who are waiting to be adopted./ For those who have made themselves sick with worry./ For the elderly who are alone./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for Christians who spend little time with Christ./ For anyone who feels trapped./ For families in crisis./ For those who are forgotten or rejected./ We pray to the Lord.

Election Day approaches./ We ask forgiveness for any divisiveness,/ arrogance or offense that has gotten inside of us these long months./ We ask for the nation/ a new spirit of healing and reconciliation./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for our planet,/ often spoiled by hard-heartedness,/ greed and even willful ignorance./ Give us new hearts/ to safeguard the world's people,/ the plants,/ the animals,/ the air,/ the water and ground./ We pray to the Lord.

Grant us what we need for our own salvation,/ and for all who have died this week:/ that endless life where everything is made clear./ We pray to the Lord.