Zacchaeus got me wondering this
week: if Jesus were alive and walking around today, whose house would he stay
at? It certainly wouldn’t be the pastor, nor would it be any of you who
frequent the church; it wouldn’t be the well-liked people in town or the people
who work respectable jobs. If Jesus sticks to the formula of finding a tax
collector or other sinner he would come into town and find the person who was defrauding
the most from others in the community; he would find the person that nobody
likes; the person universally despised, and that is where Jesus would
stay.
Now,
do you understand why people thought this was crazy? We’re not going to name
names here, but you probably all have an image in your head of a kind of person
(or even a specific person) in town. It’s almost
impossible to imagine Jesus seeking out that person to stay with him or her. Further,
Zacchaeus seems like he got off with a relatively light sentence here. I
mean, earlier in Luke a rich man comes to Jesus and Jesus tells him he must go and
sell everything. But here is Zacchaeus apparently acquiring salvation for the
small price of half of what he owns and four times what he has defrauded. Last
I checked half and all are very different amounts.
Has
Luke forgotten the story he just told?
But
then I got to thinking, which is what these stories inevitably do to us—they
get us to think. Maybe my problem is that I’m still trying to do the math. I’m
still trying to make salvation into an equation. Do this, give this much away;
how much is necessary? This is how we think about money—we think in terms of
how much—and so our natural question for Jesus is: How much do I need to give?
Is it 10%? Half? All? The fact that Jesus seems to give different answers in
different circumstances should tell us that this is exactly the wrong question.
One thing I cannot imagine Jesus doing is bringing out a chart of necessary
giving in order to achieve salvation; that is not how this works. Why
does salvation come to the house of Zacchaeus? This isn’t rocket science.
Because Jesus came to the house of Zacchaeus! Salvation comes with
Jesus.
OK,
that was a good Sunday School lesson for you. Who gives us salvation? Jesus!!
Now, let’s take it up a notch—we’ll call this Salvation 202. What is salvation?
Well, for Zacchaeus it came after giving away what he had earned unfairly. So,
giving away might be part of it, but giving away does tend to lead us back to
the arithmetic question of how much. It seems more likely that, since the
arithmetic changes depending on the circumstance, it’s not about how much;
rather, it’s about the freedom of the gift. And that makes sense, because salvation
is about free gifts—freely given and freely received. The more we feel worthy
of salvation, the more it remains elusive. So when the rich man came to Jesus
earlier in the Gospel of Luke his problem wasn’t just that he wasn’t giving
enough; he also had a problem in feeling deserving of the gift he could have
received for free.
I tend to have a problem with how most Christians
talk about salvation. There is this widespread idea that salvation is about removing
ourselves from this world and all its troubles, so that we may have a place
saved for us in the great realm of heaven that awaits us after this life. To
most Christians salvation is a way of talking about heaven. And, yes, salvation has quite a lot to
do with the afterlife, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. To be saved is to
be in right relationship with God and
our neighbors. Are you in right relationship with God and your neighbors? I’m
guessing no. I’m guessing you still have problems. I’m guessing you sometimes
get frustrated with God and I’m guessing you sometimes want to kick your
neighbor in the shins. Our relationships are not quite right. This is the reason
that Christians have pushed the idea of salvation out into the eschaton (the period after the end of the world).
This
is well-meaning but problematic because it means that Christians have stopped
trying to fix relationships today. It has led
to Christians who believe they are justified in going to war with other religions;
it has led to Christians who believe that they are entitled to nice things; it
has led to Christians who despise the world in which we live. Why should we care about habitat loss for
endangered species when degradation of this planet will only bring us closer to
the eternal salvation? they wonder.
But
remember Zacchaeus. Salvation came to his house—not a metaphysical house or a
place in the heavens—but a house here on this earth. Salvation came here, just
as salvation comes to each of us in unexpected blessings, and lest you think
salvation is only something that happened once with Jesus, think again, because
every time that anybody lives out of the joy of giving selflessly for the sake
of another, or mending the relationships that are not right in their lives,
they are living out salvation. Here. Now.
Salvation
is a both/and, an already and a not yet. That’s a very Lutheran thing to say
and Lutherans are famous for things that sound really wise but also completely
obscure, so let me say this in a way that matters for your life today and tomorrow
and the rest of your days on this planet: Each and every one of us will experience
moments in this life where salvation comes to us. It happens when relationships
are repaired, when psychological burdens are shed and when we let go of our
need to be right. Remember Zacchaeus: it wasn’t about the money; it was about
the restoration of right relationship with his neighbors. Salvation is out
there, and it’s here with us. Salvation is those times in our lives of the most
unexpected joy, which are a glimpse of life beyond the veil.You
might worry I am cheapening eternal salvation by suggesting it happens in this
life, but let’s try—just for fun—to hold two ideas in our mind. I believe
that salvation in the present requires eternal salvation—and vice versa.
Without
eternal salvation we should all be Buddhists, working toward the dissolution of
the self. With eternal salvation, the restoration of relationships with our
friends, family and neighbors makes us healthy and whole—in short, it brings
salvation into our lives. Some relationships are broken forever—that is a
reality of our lives. Note that Jesus didn’t bring in every person that
Zacchaeus defrauded for a heart-to-heart; sometimes restoration comes without
the other side even realizing it. The person in need of restoring the
relationship is the person who has done wrong and not the one who has been
wronged. Zacchaeus was a little man—literally and figuratively—a tax collector
and a cheat, and so he had a great deal of room for salvation to do its thing.
That’s why Jesus came to him—the lost—just as he comes to us.
So,
if you’re looking for salvation, or concerned about being saved, understand
this: salvation came to Zacchaeus because Jesus came to Zacchaeus, and he’s
doing the same thing with you. Your response matters; not because it is going
to determine whether you are going to go to heaven or hell or anything as banal
as that—your salvation is assured because of Jesus’ gift, not because you
accepted—but it does matter how you respond because if you refuse to act out
that salvation your life will never be whole. Salvation came to Zacchaeus’
house because Jesus came to Zacchaeus’ house, but even more than that: that
salvation was lived out in Zacchaeus’ response. He was assured of eternity and
so he lived out salvation in the earthly life he was living. That is a great challenge for us. Lutherans are great on the grace thing and we’re awfully careful
not to make salvation a work, but in doing so we have to remind ourselves that
there is a fitting response that will not make an iota of a difference for our
eternal salvation but will make a helluva difference for our lives down here.
Live out of that grace.
Jesus
came to Zacchaeus, bringing salvation, for him, for you, for me. Tomorrow and
also today.
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