Please read Luke 19: 1-10. Jesus and Zacchaeus
Zacchaeus is a fairly obscure biblical character—he’s only mentioned in one chapter of one Gospel. He’s very familiar, though, because of the song so many of us learned as children—the one with the hand motions that is probably running through your head as you read this. Zacchaeus was a wee little man, a wee little man was he; he climbed up in a sycamore tree for the Lord he wanted to see…
If it wasn’t already running through your head, you can thank me that now it is!
I know there was more to the song, but what I took from it was just that Zacchaeus was short. So short, in fact, that he climbed a tree to see Jesus. It was much later that I learned there’s so much more to the story, and to Zacchaeus. The takeaway should be the last line of the song, after Zacchaeus had come down from the tree and hosted Jesus: A better man was he, yes, a better man was he! We are changed for the better when we accept Jesus’ invitation into relationship with him.
Zacchaeus, the tax collector—the chief tax collector, Luke says—would have been despised by his own people. Tax collectors are not popular today, but tax collectors in first-century Palestine were seen as in cahoots with Roman oppressors. They got to keep a percentage of whatever they collected, and what they forwarded on to Rome financed the brutal treatment of their own people—and God’s chosen ones. A short man, he would have been looked down upon in more ways than one.
Zacchaeus was unloved and probably saw himself as unlovable; he was searching for something else, something more, something that his riches could not give him when he climbed that sycamore tree. Zacchaeus wouldn’t have predicted that Jesus would want to have a relationship with the likes of him. Jesus’ loving and gracious invitation transformed Zacchaeus instantly. Immediately, he gave half of his riches away.
My dad really liked the story of Zacchaeus. He once (probably more than once) used the story as the basis of a devotional for a United Methodist Men meeting. Dad suggested that we, like Zacchaeus, might like to climb a tree to see Jesus and his disciples. We admire Jesus and what he and the disciples do; healing people, feeding multitudes, casting out demons—it’s all good stuff. But we want to watch—from a distance. Dad suggested that, contrary to the way Zacchaeus hurried down from his perch at Jesus’ invitation, we might be more apt to cling to the tree where we can observe in safety without the risks associated with committed, participatory discipleship. Dad ended the time of devotion by inviting his audience to examine their fingernails for sycamore bark.
We might ask ourselves: What is our sycamore tree? What is it that we cling to for comfort and safety? What separates us from active, hands-on discipleship?
What about Zacchaeus? Zacchaeus was a tax collector—the chief tax collector. He was very rich. He may have completely let go of the tree, but he held on to half his riches. As a planned giving fundraiser, I would like to have been invited to that meal with Jesus and Zacchaeus. I would have talked to Zacchaeus about the other half.
Jeff Taylor
