Sitting around the table were a whole lot of really fat men. They weren’t large because of their metabolism, they were large because they spent lots of money on food and wine. And they spent lots of money because that’s how much all the food they ate cost them : they just ate and ate and ate.

They were the aristocrats of Jesus’ time. They enjoyed the pleasures inherited from Greek society. They lived the life that seemed to have no cares and worries. Waited on hand and foot by slaves : slaves weren’t people, they were property. And the masters were full of little anecdotes and stories about how weak the rest of the people were, how they had lorded their power over the masses and succeeded by crushing others underfoot.

But in spite of how jovial the meal looked, this group of men were lonely. They were a group of men who sure, they had a lot of power over people, but they also were classified as traitors. They were spurned by everyone they passed. But they also had special protection of the state which made them untouchable.

They lived in this middle zone between being despised by a society and tolerated by their superiors who tolerated them because they were useful. Whenever they went through the market they were jeered at. Whenever they went to their superiors they were belittled. Any smiles they got were from people after an exchange of money : you know, how a prostitute would smile at them, not because she respected them, because in reality she hated them as much as anyone, no, she smiled at them because she’d been paid good money and wanted them to come back : it was good customer service.

So you can’t blame them for being lonely, they were surrounded by fake smiles.

And when you’re lonely and have power what else do you do? You seek solace and comfort in the easily accessible quick fix stuff. You exert your power over people. You subdue a world that hates you. You live in the lap of luxury and despise those who despise you, except you wave your shallow opulence in their faces, you can rub salt into their wounds.

These men had power because they were employed by the Romans and here was the deal. The Romans approach someone and would say:

“We’re building roads and stadiums and temples. We need money. We have conquered your country and so you need to pay a percentage of what you earn to us so that we can improve your lifestyle. It’s quite fair don’t you think?”

When you are standing at the door of your house and there’s five burly men who have a license to kill standing behind a well dressed smooth talking aristocrat who knew how to click his fingers with devastating consequences, you have little choice to agree to whatever they say.

But quite apart from just wanting to get through the interview un-bruised, was one massive carrot dangling in front of you. “you can take as much money from the people, with our blessing even, but we just want our cut, you can have the rest.” And “to make this easier for you, here’s a couple of men who will help you if things start getting … a little out of hand…. Remember, take as much as you like, just make sure we get our cut. We want 20% of their income, you charge them 40% and keep the rest.”

Effectively you could be as crooked as you wanted, and get very rich very fast. You would be spurned by society, but you could have what ever you wanted. And many men did. And they would go further than that. They would get savvy and strike deals with people.

“how much do you earn?”

“40,000”

“Ok, I’ll take 35,000 in tax right now.”

“But, but, I don’t have that money right now.”

“Then tell you what, how much can you give me?”

“5000”

“OK, then give me the 5000, and I’ll loan you the rest at 55% interest.”

“But, that’s obscene! I’ll never be able to pay that off!”

“Brutus, chop off one of his fingers.”

“Wait, wait, wait” and the man would recoil in fear as Brutus would hulk up to him with his sword : half drawn and freshly stained with blood. And that man would then be in debt for the rest of his life and the tax collector would have a residual income and rights over the man’s property when he died.

It would take around six months for the average man to go from destitute poverty to reasonable wealth. From being a man of his community, to an outsider who was spurned.

So was the life of the tax collector.

And here we are witnessing a collection of these fat and lonely men. Gulping down the finest produce and having a good time of it too. It was a shallow existence, but it was too late for them now. Once a tax collector, always a tax collector. They were traitors. It was a one way street. And Zacchaeus knew that.

Zacchaeus hated his life but saw no options. He hated night time. He was always on edge. He tried to relax, but he was always on edge. He’d hired a couple of guards but he knew that as easily as he bought their loyalty, someone else could buy their disloyalty, so it was only a small comfort to him.

But it wasn’t so much the fact that so many people out there wanted to hurt him. He was too proud to dwell on that most of the time, because he was actually more powerful than them and he had that Roman protection over his life. If anyone harmed him, instant death. The reason he hated night time was because that’s when he was alone. That’s when he felt the cold hard reality of his choices that isolated him from his community. Pillows feel cold to those who feel unloved.

Underneath a hard shell that was tough and even fun-loving—he felt hollow inside. He was enthusiastic, but all he could enthuse himself about now was external things : how to accumulate. He did it unconsciously, he wanted things around him. Oh, I really need to have this or that, I could throw this kind of party or that kind. I could dress in this kind of style, I can have this type of house and then, then I will feel happier.

It’s not that he expected that all these things would make him happy as such, but they certainly helped him not hurt so much. Some of the things were just things to do.

But now he was fed up. There was a crack in his shell. He had heard a story the other day that really disturbed him even though it was fiction and untrue, it still smacked of Truth with a capital T. it resonated with him, it gave some hope to his internal angst.

“There were two men,” the story went, “a Pharisee and a Tax Collector.” Pharisees were really really holy. Tax collectors were really really unholy. The opening line smarted when he heard it because it set him up as being the bad guy.

“One day these two men went into the holy place to offer prayer to God. The Holy Pharisee stood on his own and prayed. “God, I thank you that I’m not like other people: those who steal, those who beat and manipulate people, those who sleep with other people’s wives and fracture families, or even like this tax collector over here. No, I do my quiet times and I give my time and money to your kingdom. I thank you that I am holy.”

The story continued. “But the tax collector, could barely step into the building and could hardly get his words out. He was so afraid to pray that he wouldn’t look anywhere except down at his feet. And he prayed ‘God be merciful to me! God be merciful to me : for I am a sinner, I am someone who has turned my back on your laws of life.’”

But the story ended with this : “The second man, the tax collector, was made right with God. The other man, the holy man, was not. For if you make yourself out to be great, you will come crashing down. If you acknowledge your weaknesses, you are recognised by God. God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.”

And the story had stuck in Zacchaeus’ mind. Is this true? Is it possible that the tax collector was made right with God over and above the religious one? Is there a catch? The story echoed inside his cavernous ego. All the pain of being alone, all the scars left behind as he had pushed compassion aside in favour of getting his way in the world. All the pleading that he had ignored had hardened his exterior. He no longer saw these as his people, but as financial units. A crying child was just a liability for parents and not his or the Empire’s concern. Why would they breed into this screwed up world anyway? Poverty isn’t his fault. Etc, etc.

He didn’t like who he was. And he knew. He knew if he let himself go down that track that he was totally a sinner. He knew not just that he had done bad things—that doesn’t necessarily mean acknowledging sin. He knew he had done things that were against God’s wishes for living life. He knew too much about God and the law of ‘love’—whatever that was—to be able to escape from the awful truth : he was a sinner and there was no hope.

But he thought that this was his lot in life. That there was nothing more. You see that story had been told by a movie-of-the-week-preacher slash miracle worker called Jesus. But it was pretty powerful nonetheless.

He looked around the room full of all his ‘friends’ who pretended to like him. He knew that they would ditch them the moment they sniffed poverty on him. He knew that they only wanted shallowness too. He knew that they knew they were just glossing over the pain and living for the moment. They would feign depth by doing philosophy but they were stuck when it came to application of some of it.

A lot of their philosophy was actually about justifying the meaninglessness of their existence and trying to put meaning into their pleasure. And Zacchaeus looked at them all with this story in mind and for a fraction of a moment he winced inside, but the exotic dancer for the night had just entered the room and that was actually quite an interesting distraction for him. He poured himself another drink and proceeded to be merry for tomorrow he might die : thank God.

But there was another story that he heard the next day that really unsettled him because this one was true. And if the other story gave him the seeds of hope, this one filled him with terror.

It actually happened to an old friend of his who had since fallen out with him since Zacchaeus became a tax collector. One day his friend had gone to see Jesus. You see Jesus had been talking about eternal life. He had been talking about life to the full. And his friend had asked Jesus what must he do so that he could inherit eternal life.

Zacchaeus paused and thought that the question is ironic. Inheritance isn’t brought about by what you do, but by your relationship to someone. What an interesting question.

Anyway that was the question. What must I do to inherit eternal life? And Jesus had answered with listing some of the commandments: don’t sleep with other people’s wives, don’t steal, don’t lie, don’t kill people, respect your mum and dad.” Zacchaeus knew his friend well. He was pretty holy.

This guy genuinely prayed for two hours every morning. He genuinely had amazing morals and terrific respect for people. He was a really nice guy who wouldn’t hurt a flea. If actions could ever characterise someone’s relationship to God, then this guy was exemplary. He was a great example of religious piety. He was holy.

Zacchaeus paused again, if he was so holy, why did he ask the question in the first place? Why was he uncertain about eternal life? . . . and then he realised why. Because the emptiness that Zacchaeus felt, was also felt by this other guy. They were both filthy rich and unfortunately, that made life quite easily distracted.

This isn’t enough, I need more. More and more and more. I need more text messages. I need more friends. I need more ringtones. I need more music. I need more clothes. I need more technology. I need more power in my car, more lifestyle accessories in my kitchen, a more expensive bike. I need more books, more knowledge, higher wages, more power in my position, more status. We don’t want more money, we want more things, and if we want more money it’s so we can get more things. But it’s the same old message isn’t it. blah blah blah, the preacher goes.

I know because when all is said and done, I don’t know what to do about it. Well I know what to do, but I don’t want to know what to do, and so I just put it in the too hard basket. There’s no change if we keep questioning something. There’s no need to change if we keep something in the ‘still thinking about it’ tray.

But Jesus didn’t let Zacchaeus’ friend off that lightly. Instead he cut to the heart of the matter and embarrassed him in front of a whole lot of people. Jesus had said: “oh, so you’re holy. Good. There’s just one more thing. Sell all you have and give it to poor people, then come and follow me.”

His friend didn’t like hearing that at all and went away feeling very sad. Jesus had finished off by saying : “this is truth with a capital T. It’s easier for a camel to go through the tiny hole in the end of a needle, than for a wealthy person to get into heaven.”

That’s what scared Zacchaeus. He was rich. He had more than enough. Actually he had more than more than enough. And he liked it a lot, because that’s what showed him what he was worth to this world. That’s what made a mark with people, that’s what set him apart from so many others. It wasn’t that he was the richest in the world, but that he was richer than others. He had more stuff and he had more power over others. People whether they like him or not, did what he asked or they wouldn’t get paid and he like that feeling.

And that phrase “sell all you have” is what was so difficult for him. Is this the cost? Is this really what must happen if I am to have life and life to the full? Is this really what is supposed to happen for me to get to heaven?

It’s not just stuff. It’s his life. Give up his life? Give up his life? This is madness! Give up his lifestyle to gain life?

Looking from the outside it’s a no brainer. Give up the stuff that reinforces your hollowness, for the sake of gaining a meaningful life. But when we’re stuck in that situation the cost is enormous.

“lord have mercy on me a sinner.” The story that gave him hope. “Sell all you have” filled him with terror.

Zacchaeus wrestled with these stories at night when he hadn’t drunk too much to be silly. The more he thought about this the more he was persuaded. The hollowness of his being came about because of the totally self-absorbed life he was living. he needed more than this. He needed a radical change. And this Jesus fellow seemed to have some kind of idea about what this might entail. He heard Jesus was about to pass through town and resolved within himself to be there when he walked past.

The day that Jesus came into town the sky was overcast. Zacchaeus had got up early and gone down to the main drag. He stood there looking toward the city gate and waited. He didn’t want to miss him. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to look at Jesus. maybe it was because he needed to see whether or not Jesus was a fake, maybe he thought he would be able to see something in Jesus’ person that could give him confidence. Maybe he wanted to be unconvinced by Jesus’ stature, and be able to walk away from the stories and write them off as being embellished. he also wondered about the followers of Jesus.

He had heard that one of them called Matthew was a tax collector, or used to be. It had given Jesus a bit of a bad reputation at first, but people seem to have gotten over that. He wondered how Matthew would be different, what it was that would let people respect him again.

But to be honest, Zacchaeus was simply on the surface curious, but deep inside, fretfully hopeful. Zacchaeus was desperate for some kind of redemption, some kind of change, some kind of renewal of his person, some kind of restoration of who he was. He was nearly at his wits end.

A crowd started coming down the road : headed by a man who was jumping around saying “wicked! God is absolutely wicked phat people! I was blind and now I see! Look there’s a tree! Look there’s a house! Look there’s a lady! Look there’s a donkey! God is great! God is just freakin amazing! And Jesus is wonderful! Jesus set me free from my darkness!” It was a crazy sight watching this man who Zacchaeus had seen many times begging at the gate for money because he was blind. And this man was dancing around like a mad man seeing everything for the first time. This man was praising Jesus. this man was pointing by his very healing to the power of the person who was coming behind him. This man was testifying to the power of Jesus.

But Zacchaeus couldn’t see Jesus. all he saw was a crowd. And the crowd came closer, and Zacchaeus started to jump to catch a glimpse but he was a short and plump man. He couldn’t see anything. He tried to force himself through the crowd but people were everywhere and not letting him through. In fact he felt numerous punches in his sides from people taking cheap shots from within the anonymous mob. Some people spat on him.

And he never made it to Jesus. Someone even said to him “Jesus is not for you traitor.”

And he was repeatedly pushed to the edge of the crowd. He wanted to see Jesus. this experience inside the mob his rubbing shoulders with a seething, angry and hateful community just made his loneliness more. It was just too similar to what happens all the time. He was rejected by his community and pushed to the outskirts and ignored.

He saw a tree. He just wanted a glimpse so he ran to the tree and climbed it. it wasn’t the easiest climb in the world, he was plump, short, unfit, wrongly dressed and to be honest, just awkward in general. But he managed to climb this tree ahead of the crowd and saw in the middle of it this man Jesus.

And what did Jesus look like? What do you think he saw?

He saw a man. A normal everyday kind of man who had some people following him. Normal clothes (though not flashy either). Normal hair. Normal, normal, normal. He wasn’t glitzy or glamorous. He wasn’t muscley though he wasn’t unmuscley either. He wasn’t particular good looking, though he did have a genuine smile. Actually as far as personal ads go, he wasn’t spectacular. Jesus was uninspiringly normal to look at. Yet he was changing the world.

Zacchaeus was a little disappointed actually. He didn’t know what he expected but he didn’t expect this.

Some in the crowd noticed him as they began to pass underneath. They looked up and sneered at him, made faces — and you can’t blame them really, he’d made their lives miserable. Not a word was said, but so much hate was spoken. Zacchaeus felt ashamed. Some of this kids laughed because they could see up his clothes. He felt shame because people had seen him so scared and vulnerable. They’d seen him come down from his pedestal and actually go lower than they would by climbing a tree just to see Jesus. the crowd felt quietly triumphant. And as the heads looked up at Zacchaeus and then looked down as they passed under him, a little ripple of recognition, Jesus caught Zacchaeus’ eye and stopped.

“Zacchaeus”, he called out. Zacchaeus froze, he knows my name. “Zacchaeus, come down from that tree right now, because I must stay at your house today!” he said it with a smile so big that Zacchaeus melted. He nearly vomited his hollowness up, because those words were the most incredible words he had ever heard.

Someone who was not after his money had invited himself, eagerly invited himself around to his house for a meal. How come?

He didn’t deserve this. And he looked at Jesus puzzled and perplexed and he eased himself down the trunk of the tree and made his way through the crowd up to Jesus. And he said to Jesus, “why? Why me?”

And Jesus said, “because I was looking for you. You were lost, but now you’ve been found. That which you are deeply seeking is right here to be had. Come. Let’s eat.”

The crowd were mightily unimpressed that Jesus should choose this man who had caused them so much misery over them. “He goes to the house of sinners.” They said in the same way we might say “he went and had lunch with those drunken engineering students who had been picking fights after their orgy last week.”

But Zacchaeus looked at Jesus and the most staggering thing happened. He remembered the two stories.

And like Jesus on the cross, like what we remember when we have communion. In the first part we can see that Jesus’ body was broken—he said so as he broke the bread. He was battered and bruised because he loved us so much that it hurt. And Zacchaeus was broken, he was battered and bruised for he was crushed by the love of Jesus. A love that stripped him down to his core and left him bare. That hacked through his hardened shell to expose the disgusting remains of his self esteem. The love of Jesus, so all-embracing, so unconditional, so unlike what we are capable of. Don’t judge the love of Jesus on how people love you, look deeper. When you come across the love of Jesus it reduces you, but safely. If we open ourselves up to the love of Jesus, it will tear us in two. The light will expose the darkness and leave us trembling as we encounter God’s holiness. But we will be safe. And we will say : “Lord have mercy on me a sinner. Lord have mercy on me a sinner.”

And it will hurt, but it will be safe. Let us eat the bread.

“Lord Jesus have mercy on me a sinner.” It will hurt, because we will be afraid of the next part. Because a response to Jesus has two parts to it.

The next part is when the life flowed from him. The blood that was poured out for us at the last supper, representing the real, life-giving blood that oozed out of his wounds on the cross. His life drained away as the blood drained from him. Weaker and weaker until finally, his life was over. Zacchaeus, seeing that this prayer asking for mercy brought around a response in him. He had to let go. He had to let go of all that was sustaining him in his pride. He had to let it go. And he made the commitment to sell half of what he had and give it to the poor and repay people from what was left, four times what he had taken from them—living out the command in the second story. He actually let go of the stuff that sustained him in his life, that disconnected from the heart of God and embraced wholeness without his things. he let his self-serving life drain away and be replaced by a new life of love.

Let us drink the wine.

And Jesus proclaimed that Zacchaeus had changed and there was great celebration for the one that was lost but now found. It’s a wonderful story, but it’s effects are far reaching. What must we do? What must we do?

Remember the words of Jesus:

If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.

Luke 9:24 For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it. 25 What does it profit them if they gain the whole world, but lose or forfeit themselves? 26 Those who are ashamed of me and of my words, of them I will be ashamed when I come in glory and the glory of the Father and of the holy angels.

Lord have mercy on me a sinner. Lord what must we do?