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This is one of the 24 stories
included in Bible Wonderings.
You may print it out, read it,
enjoy it, and discuss it.
Please do not copy it beyond
personal use. If you really like
it, you can buy the book for
only $14.95.
I post a new story every so
often, so come back.
included in Bible Wonderings.
You may print it out, read it,
enjoy it, and discuss it.
Please do not copy it beyond
personal use. If you really like
it, you can buy the book for
only $14.95.
I post a new story every so
often, so come back.
Crowd Conversion
(Zacchaeus)
Scripture reference: Luke 19:1-10
(Gospel reading in the Revised Common Lectionary
for November 4, 2007. You have one-time permission
to reprint this story for worship or study. And, of
course, feel free to read it aloud in worship or other
settings.)
As a child, the story of the tax collector, Zacchaeus always
intrigued me. Perhaps part of it was the image of this short
person climbing up a tree to see Jesus – I think children
can relate to that part. There was also the moral we were
readily given at the end of it, that a “bad” person became
“good” after meeting Jesus.
But is that what the story is really about? The Greek
text can be read differently. The word “if” in verse 8
suggests that perhaps Zacchaeus wasn’t the bad guy that
everyone thought he was. Maybe the people who get
converted in this story are the people who have their
perceptions challenged…
You likely already know who I am – my reputation always
seems to precede me, and that’s generally not been a good
thing. People used to say I needed a big name like
Zacchaeus to make up for being so short. I used to laugh
along with them over that. But over time, people stopped
saying much directly to me.
It seems the only times I heard my name spoken, it was
in someone else’s conversation with some unprintable
adjective placed in front of it. Occasionally someone spat it
out to me directly, again usually in the midst of a string of
insults.
Most of the time, though, people who saw me in the
streets or in the marketplace didn’t quite know what to do
with me. It seems they could never quite look me in the eye.
Instead, they’d give me a weary, pitiful glance and a tepid,
half smile, as if to say “Hello, Zacchaeus. So sorry you’re
who you are. Wish things were different. Can’t really be
seen talking to you. Hope you’re okay.” And then they’d
avert their eyes, praying that no one had actually seen
them looking at this sorry excuse for a human being.
If anyone did talk to me, it was short, business-like, to
the point. Never any conversation. Oh how I longed for
someone to simply ask me how I was doing! Even some
banal small talk – how wonderful it would be just to have
someone say “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” or “Do you think the
grain harvest will be good this year?”
But it never happened.
Not even my family wanted to admit that they knew me.
You have to understand, it wasn’t always like this. I
started out well liked; I used to be a people pleaser. My
sister used to say that it was on account of being so short
that I tried so hard to please others, to get them to notice
me. Perhaps she’s right. Only it never really worked for very
long.
As a teenager I got a job running errands for the
Roman government – a few coins to carry messages
around town, that sort of thing. The other kids would take
their time, but I always hurried. It’s not that I liked the
Romans, you understand, I simply loved to get praise for
doing a good job.
Some years later an opening came up in the tax
department and – if you’ll pardon the joke – I leapt at the
opportunity. You see, tax collectors were paid by
commission, and could charge as much overhead as they
wanted. It was a great way to make a living. But on the other
hand, people despised tax collectors – called them dirt. And
I wanted to be liked.
So an idea came to me: become a tax collected, and be
fair. That would be a switch.
I would pay the Romans the percentage they
demanded, but I wouldn’t charge as much commission as
the others, and that way everybody would like me.
Fat chance.
Oh the Romans liked me, all right. Because my rates
were lower, people always paid me on time, and so I turned
in a nice hefty bundle to the administrator every month. But
all of my fellow Jews hated me assuming I was as corrupt as
all the others.
Cheat. Traitor. Snake.
Those were some of the nicer things they called me.
Just when I was ready to pack it in, I got promoted to
chief tax collector for the whole district. More prestige with
the Romans, I thought, but more contempt from my own
people. Was it worth it?
One day, there was a big commotion in town. Seems
this Jesus fellow, from Nazareth, was coming. I’d heard
about him, he had quite a following. Apparently he talked
about justice and fairness, and reclaiming our heritage as
God’s chosen people. He also talked about tolerance and
acceptance, which interested me. I thought he might be
worth checking out.
It was hot, dusty, and heavy in town that day. The
crowd started gathering early and by the time Jesus arrived
you couldn’t get anywhere near the road. Wanting to at
least catch a glimpse of him, I climbed up the nearest tree.
I was rather disappointed, to be honest: Jesus looked
quite, well, normal.
People were crowding around him, waving, grasping at
his clothes. He smiled and held first one hand, then another.
And then he noticed me up in the tree. I waved – didn’t
know what else to do, really – and he looked straight at me.
“You’re Zacchaeus, aren’t you? I’ve heard about you.”
If I could have melted away I would have, but you can’t
really do that when you’re up in a tree and there’s a huge
crowd around. So I decided to climb down and speak my
piece. If Jesus wanted to dress me down in front of all these
people, it was time to set the record straight.
“I don’t care what you’ve heard,” I said, “it’s nothing but
a pack of lies.”
The crowd went silent.
“I’ve always charged less commission than the other tax
collectors, and always given one half of my earning to the
synagogue for the poor.”
Jesus didn’t say a word so I just kept right on talking.
“What’s more, on the rare occasions when I have
accidentally cheated somebody, I’ve paid them back, four
times over. But does anybody care about that? Nooo! They
say that because I work for the Romans I’m a cheat, and a
good-for-nothing, and if you’ve come here to tell me the
same thing, you can save your breath – I’ve heard it all
before.”
Jesus smiled a gentle, little smile, reached out, and
took my hand. It was shaking.
“Zacchaeus,” Jesus said, “I know how kind and fair you
are. I’ve also heard that you make a wonderful fish stew,
and I’m very hungry. Could you give my friends and me a
little lunch and a place to sit down? We could use a rest.”
I blushed, and tried to get shocked face to cooperate
for a smile.
“And as for your reputation,” Jesus continued, his voice
getting louder, so that every could hear. “All I know is that
you are a child of Abraham who tries to live a good life. I’d
be proud to call you my friend.”
Now, I would never brag about my fish stew, but I will tell
you that Jesus and his crew finished all I could make. And
they ate my bread and cheese, and drank my wine, and we
all had a few laughs. That evening in the market square a
crowd gathered to hear Jesus tell stories. It was the most
wonderful night of my life.
From that day on, people treated me with a new
respect. “That’s Zacchaeus,” they’d say, “you know, the one
that Jesus visited.”
I even managed to convince a couple of others who
worked for the Romans to plan strategy with me so we could
do our jobs and satisfy the government without ripping
people off; it’s amazing how you easy it is sometimes to be
just and fair if you only put your mind to it.
I’ve come to realize what people mean when they say
that they’re saved. It’s that sense of knowing that you
belong, that God loves you and accepts you, and cares
about you. Despite what other people might think.
Salvation came to me, that day, in the person of Jesus
of Nazareth. It came in the form of friendship.
Questions for discussion or reflection:
(Note: the study guide in the book gives more suggestions.)
Published by www.iUniverse.com. (c) 2006 Donald Schmidt.
(Zacchaeus)
Scripture reference: Luke 19:1-10
(Gospel reading in the Revised Common Lectionary
for November 4, 2007. You have one-time permission
to reprint this story for worship or study. And, of
course, feel free to read it aloud in worship or other
settings.)
As a child, the story of the tax collector, Zacchaeus always
intrigued me. Perhaps part of it was the image of this short
person climbing up a tree to see Jesus – I think children
can relate to that part. There was also the moral we were
readily given at the end of it, that a “bad” person became
“good” after meeting Jesus.
But is that what the story is really about? The Greek
text can be read differently. The word “if” in verse 8
suggests that perhaps Zacchaeus wasn’t the bad guy that
everyone thought he was. Maybe the people who get
converted in this story are the people who have their
perceptions challenged…
You likely already know who I am – my reputation always
seems to precede me, and that’s generally not been a good
thing. People used to say I needed a big name like
Zacchaeus to make up for being so short. I used to laugh
along with them over that. But over time, people stopped
saying much directly to me.
It seems the only times I heard my name spoken, it was
in someone else’s conversation with some unprintable
adjective placed in front of it. Occasionally someone spat it
out to me directly, again usually in the midst of a string of
insults.
Most of the time, though, people who saw me in the
streets or in the marketplace didn’t quite know what to do
with me. It seems they could never quite look me in the eye.
Instead, they’d give me a weary, pitiful glance and a tepid,
half smile, as if to say “Hello, Zacchaeus. So sorry you’re
who you are. Wish things were different. Can’t really be
seen talking to you. Hope you’re okay.” And then they’d
avert their eyes, praying that no one had actually seen
them looking at this sorry excuse for a human being.
If anyone did talk to me, it was short, business-like, to
the point. Never any conversation. Oh how I longed for
someone to simply ask me how I was doing! Even some
banal small talk – how wonderful it would be just to have
someone say “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” or “Do you think the
grain harvest will be good this year?”
But it never happened.
Not even my family wanted to admit that they knew me.
You have to understand, it wasn’t always like this. I
started out well liked; I used to be a people pleaser. My
sister used to say that it was on account of being so short
that I tried so hard to please others, to get them to notice
me. Perhaps she’s right. Only it never really worked for very
long.
As a teenager I got a job running errands for the
Roman government – a few coins to carry messages
around town, that sort of thing. The other kids would take
their time, but I always hurried. It’s not that I liked the
Romans, you understand, I simply loved to get praise for
doing a good job.
Some years later an opening came up in the tax
department and – if you’ll pardon the joke – I leapt at the
opportunity. You see, tax collectors were paid by
commission, and could charge as much overhead as they
wanted. It was a great way to make a living. But on the other
hand, people despised tax collectors – called them dirt. And
I wanted to be liked.
So an idea came to me: become a tax collected, and be
fair. That would be a switch.
I would pay the Romans the percentage they
demanded, but I wouldn’t charge as much commission as
the others, and that way everybody would like me.
Fat chance.
Oh the Romans liked me, all right. Because my rates
were lower, people always paid me on time, and so I turned
in a nice hefty bundle to the administrator every month. But
all of my fellow Jews hated me assuming I was as corrupt as
all the others.
Cheat. Traitor. Snake.
Those were some of the nicer things they called me.
Just when I was ready to pack it in, I got promoted to
chief tax collector for the whole district. More prestige with
the Romans, I thought, but more contempt from my own
people. Was it worth it?
One day, there was a big commotion in town. Seems
this Jesus fellow, from Nazareth, was coming. I’d heard
about him, he had quite a following. Apparently he talked
about justice and fairness, and reclaiming our heritage as
God’s chosen people. He also talked about tolerance and
acceptance, which interested me. I thought he might be
worth checking out.
It was hot, dusty, and heavy in town that day. The
crowd started gathering early and by the time Jesus arrived
you couldn’t get anywhere near the road. Wanting to at
least catch a glimpse of him, I climbed up the nearest tree.
I was rather disappointed, to be honest: Jesus looked
quite, well, normal.
People were crowding around him, waving, grasping at
his clothes. He smiled and held first one hand, then another.
And then he noticed me up in the tree. I waved – didn’t
know what else to do, really – and he looked straight at me.
“You’re Zacchaeus, aren’t you? I’ve heard about you.”
If I could have melted away I would have, but you can’t
really do that when you’re up in a tree and there’s a huge
crowd around. So I decided to climb down and speak my
piece. If Jesus wanted to dress me down in front of all these
people, it was time to set the record straight.
“I don’t care what you’ve heard,” I said, “it’s nothing but
a pack of lies.”
The crowd went silent.
“I’ve always charged less commission than the other tax
collectors, and always given one half of my earning to the
synagogue for the poor.”
Jesus didn’t say a word so I just kept right on talking.
“What’s more, on the rare occasions when I have
accidentally cheated somebody, I’ve paid them back, four
times over. But does anybody care about that? Nooo! They
say that because I work for the Romans I’m a cheat, and a
good-for-nothing, and if you’ve come here to tell me the
same thing, you can save your breath – I’ve heard it all
before.”
Jesus smiled a gentle, little smile, reached out, and
took my hand. It was shaking.
“Zacchaeus,” Jesus said, “I know how kind and fair you
are. I’ve also heard that you make a wonderful fish stew,
and I’m very hungry. Could you give my friends and me a
little lunch and a place to sit down? We could use a rest.”
I blushed, and tried to get shocked face to cooperate
for a smile.
“And as for your reputation,” Jesus continued, his voice
getting louder, so that every could hear. “All I know is that
you are a child of Abraham who tries to live a good life. I’d
be proud to call you my friend.”
Now, I would never brag about my fish stew, but I will tell
you that Jesus and his crew finished all I could make. And
they ate my bread and cheese, and drank my wine, and we
all had a few laughs. That evening in the market square a
crowd gathered to hear Jesus tell stories. It was the most
wonderful night of my life.
From that day on, people treated me with a new
respect. “That’s Zacchaeus,” they’d say, “you know, the one
that Jesus visited.”
I even managed to convince a couple of others who
worked for the Romans to plan strategy with me so we could
do our jobs and satisfy the government without ripping
people off; it’s amazing how you easy it is sometimes to be
just and fair if you only put your mind to it.
I’ve come to realize what people mean when they say
that they’re saved. It’s that sense of knowing that you
belong, that God loves you and accepts you, and cares
about you. Despite what other people might think.
Salvation came to me, that day, in the person of Jesus
of Nazareth. It came in the form of friendship.
Questions for discussion or reflection:
(Note: the study guide in the book gives more suggestions.)
- When have you been judged wrongly by others,
when you knew you didn’t deserve it? What did that
feel like? - When have you felt forced to compromise principles?
What did you do? - When have felt challenged by God to change your
view of others? What was the process? What
changed in you because of that? - If you were telling this story, what would you
emphasize? Why?
Published by www.iUniverse.com. (c) 2006 Donald Schmidt.