a homily for Proper 26C
Text: Luke 19:1-10

It so often feels that gospels about money are tricky during Stewardship Season like this. We already hate to talk about money. Bringing up economics in a homily is a tricky enough proposition during the rest of the year. It sometimes feels as if the preacher is trying to thread a gospel the size of a camel through the eye of a needle, not just the wealth.

This year, our gospel stories have been tough. All of them have dealt with money. All have pit Jesus against the wealthy. Often with the wealthy people juxtaposed against the poor, the sick, or the outcast.

This gospel introduces us to a man named Zacchaeus who is an outcast and a wealthy man. If we recall, Rome would recruit locals to collect taxes for them. They knew the locals and the locales. They would go throughout the region collecting taxes from their own people. They did Rome’s dirty work for them and were treated like Roman lackeys. For this work, the tax collectors would not receive a wage; instead they were told what they owed Rome. The tax collector was free to collect more than what was owed and the system encouraged it, for that is their only source of income. To survive, they had to charge people more than Rome wanted. They had to live off of their own people.

Paul was a tax collector, like Zacchaeus. They were doing what they were invited to do. Maybe justified in doing. But the people despised the tax collectors. They were taken for traitors and scoundrels. Even though they were within their rights under Roman authority and encouraged to make money this way, it certainly didn’t match with Scripture—particularly the economic laws laid out in the Torah.

So what then, do we do with Zacchaeus? If we are honest to last week’s gospel, we shouldn’t condemn him. Especially as he has this dramatic change of heart.

Perhaps we see in him, instead, that generous spirit. The one that needs to see Jesus, but has trouble. He tries to see over people’s heads, but can’t, so he climbs a tree. He is moved to be a different man. He is changed. Yet another person transformed by the Spirit.

This sudden interest in Jesus, and total change of heart is certainly much bigger than his stature. The visual is again really important. Here is this short man trying to see Jesus. Jumping up and down, stretching as high as he can, looking like a complete fool. Still he can’t see Him. So Zacchaeus climbs a tree. And when Jesus picks him out, the people grumble—perfect word. They grumble that Jesus has picked that guy: the traitor in the tree.

How easy it is for us to grumble. Grumble about who gets picked and what we do. Grumble that the wealthy don’t give enough or that the same people show up to all our functions. We can grumble. There certainly seem like plenty of reasons to.

Or we can instead try to see Jesus. We can jump up and down and stretch our small or big frames to see Him. To see what He’s up to. We can climb a tree if we have to. Our job is to keep up with Jesus. He doesn’t sit still; He’s on the move and we have to move to see Him—to keep track of Him.

When we do, we’re invited to respond. Respond from the wealth we’ve gotten off of others. Wealth built because someone else does work. Wealth that each of us have made because someone else struggles. Our wealth built from other people. Our whole system is built on our making money from other people’s work.

Our own struggles and challenges, whether they be smaller or greater than our neighbors’ challenges are not ours alone. We share responsibility for those, too.

This gospel isn’t just about money and neither is our stewardship to St. Paul’s. It’s about seeing Jesus and being found up a tree—about putting ourselves where Jesus can find us. Not just passively sitting in these pews on Sunday, but found in sharing GOD’s love with others throughout the week.

And its about responding to being found. Giving to GOD our gifts: our money, talent, and work; our hearts, minds, and souls.

Don’t just climb a tree; climb the rocks, structures, cars, whatever we come across, whatever gets us higher up—wave out windows and sunroofs—and let’s make holy fools of ourselves because we want to be found, don’t we? We want Jesus to find us, over and over again. And we want to give of ourselves for having been found, for hosting Jesus at our house, feeding, serving, loving. Hosting Jesus however He comes to us—even the poor and wealthy wretches we come across.