Come Down and See Who I Really Am!

The Gospel reading today is the story of Zacchaeus and Jesus. Zacchaeus who is short in stature wants to know who this man Jesus really is and climbs a tree to get a good look at him as he comes by. Perhaps Zacchaeus had heard some fascinating stories about Jesus; perhaps he had seen him heal, teach, or preach, and wanted another good look at him. Maybe he was just a bit intrigued and curious, but it is more likely given his choice to climb a tree that he was in touch with his heart enough to know that in this man was an answer he had longed for his whole life; I believe Zacchaeus sensed that Jesus could address needs Zacchaeus' relative wealth and status just couldn't address. We don't know the details of his situation --- as we often don't with Bible stories --- But this makes it possible for us to can read ourselves right into the text and find ourselves in that tree overlooking Jesus' route waiting for him to come by.

Or would we be too embarrassed to find ourselves up a tree looking for some relatively grungy Galilean with his rag tag following --- even when this man might be God's Chosen One? After all, what Zacchaeus did in climbing a tree was akin to the Father in the parable of the Prodigals (both Sons and the Father are prodigal in their own ways) when he runs (runs!!) to meet his lost younger Son. No oriental man would have compromised his dignity and standing in such a way, any more than they would have climbed a tree to see a status-less itinerant Jewish preacher! Such an act would have been shameful and in a culture where honor was the currency that made everyday living meaningful, it would have been incredibly costly for Zacchaeus. I know today some folks shame others by calling them "fanatics" or "Jesus Freaks" (no, this term has not gone away!), or with their questions and comments. "Why do you pray that much?" "He is a failure in life so he turned to religion." "Why do you come early to Mass?" or "Why do you put your confidence in such fairy tales as the life, death and resurrection of a man called Jesus?" Our culture may not turn on honor and shame but we are not unaware of its influence!

So Zacchaeus the tax collector humbles himself (he was short in stature and was certainly disliked, but he also stood relatively tall in terms of wealth and power) in order to ask the question, "Who is this One called Jesus?" And the results are astounding! Jesus comes past, sees him, calls him by name, requires he come down from his perch, and invites himself into Zacchaeus' home for dinner that very night (a definite reversal of the normal "modus operandi" in this honor/shame society where invitations to dinner give honor and cannot merely be self-conferred!). The answer to Zacchaeus' implicit question is looking like it is way bigger and more challenging than Zacchaeus might ever have imagined! He wanted to know more about who this man was. Jesus shows us he is One who knows that the need for this revelation is immediate and makes clear the best context is an intimate meal setting.

The story is incredibly rich and, like Jesus' own parables, can take us in many directions. A few of these strike me: do we pay attention to our own hearts as Zacchaeus apparently did? Are we willing to act on the needs and desires we discover when we attend to our hearts and minds even if we look foolish in some peoples' eyes in doing so? Are we willing to let go of status or to humble ourselves so that God might be welcomed and embraced? Are we open to having Jesus call us by name and invite himself into our lives and homes or do we merely want to look on him from a remote vantage point? Do we want to know him and be known by him or is he just a curious historical figure we are satisfied knowing a little about about? Do we even know for sure that such a truly personal way of knowing and being known by the Risen Christ is possible? Will we open our homes to him whenever he calls or do we like to keep him in Church where encounters are more predictable and less likely to carry us outside liturgical recognizable (finite) boundaries?

 I suspect few of us would have immediately recognized, much less named Zacchaeus as a model of humility or profound wisdom but that is what he is in today's Gospel lection. For me Zacchaeus is a reminder to pay attention to all the movements of my heart and mind, and to open myself to the Christ who comes in the midst of ordinary life; he reminds me to take whatever steps I need to see, know, and be known by Christ a little better whether those around me understand their importance or not. And he reminds me that even my slightest efforts in this regard will be matched by God in Christ's love and attention. In fact, these will always outstrip my own ability to imagine what is possible. Jesus knows me and allows himself to be known by me in ways I could never have envisioned and even less expected! At the same time this part of Zacchaeus' story reminds me I must come down from any relatively remote perch I can sometimes occupy -- a perspective largely provided by personal woundedness and academic theology ---  and also allow Jesus, the One who truly knows my name (self) and desires to be truly known by me, to come home and dine with me this day and every day. Empowered by Jesus' invitation, I just have to come down to know who Jesus really is.

Empty Houses are Vulnerable Houses

The pericope of the house exorcised of a single demon from yesterday's Gospel passage by Luke provides some real spiritual wisdom. It also serves to illustrate Paul's own concern in what he is is writing to the Church in Galatia and is especially meaningful when read within the context provided by Paul's letter to the Galatians. Remember, the passage from Luke speaks of clearing a single demon from a house; the demon then wanders around arid spaces looking for a place to inhabit. Eventually it returns to the original dwelling and finds it all swept clean and in order, but yet uninhabited. The demon thus  goes out to find seven more demons and they all move into the now clean and orderly but empty house.

The first part of the context for hearing this Gospel passage is provided by Paul's own theology and is summarized by the first lection: namely, the Law, a Divine gift,  functions as a curse apart from Christ. It provides rules on the way we are required to be and persist in being but it cannot empower us to do what it requires. The law instructs us regarding what is truly human, it can convict us of sin and point clearly to the demons which occupy our own divided hearts  but it cannot actually bring about Communion with God. The Law is important, especially as a schoolmaster preparing us for adult life in faith, but it cannot be thought to replace faith.

The second part of the context is provided by Luke's theology itself. A major theme of the Gospel is hospitality. Luke is concerned not only with our call to provide hospitality to strangers of whom we make neighbors, but with providing hospitality for God in our world, and further, with becoming ourselves God's own guests dwelling within the Kingdom of God's own sovereignty. In  the stories we heard this week from Luke's Gospel hospitality figures largely, and so does law to some extent. On Monday we heard the story of Mary and Martha, both offering hospitality to Jesus. Martha adopts a kind of legal maximization and busies herself going beyond the strict requirements of the Law (to provide a single dish for the guest) and  in the process, avoids actually providing the guest what he most desires --- her own hearkening (obedient) company. Mary, on the other hand, sits down at Jesus' feet and "hearkens" to him. What Martha seems to do is something Paul associates with the "curse of the law,"  namely she assumes that if x is required, 5 times x will be even better.

On Wednesday we heard the Lord's Prayer, which itself is about being taught to pray and thus 1) coming to allow God a place where he may be powerfully present in our world, and 2) becoming participants in the Kingdom of Divine Sovereignty where all dwell in communion with God and one another. What the pericope makes clear is that Law has NOT taught the disciples how to pray. Only Jesus (God's own empowering presence) can do this. On Thursday, there was the story of the importuning guest banging on his neighbor's door for bread to feed an unexpected guest. It is unclear whether or not all in this story eventually act as the Law requires them to act (the entire village is responsible for hospitality) but one can hardly praise the attitude of heart or spirit of hospitality demonstrated by (or lacking in!) the man who was sought out to supply the bread, for instance! And yesterday we heard the story of Jewish leaders who are concerned with the Law and presumably keep it faithfully as God's gift, but refuse to receive Jesus as God's own presence in their lives and world. They even accuse Jesus of acting by the power of Beelzebul to cast out demons. Jesus confronts them with their inconsistency by asking what power it is by which they themselves exorcise demons; he then tells today's parable of the demon exorcised from the house with the house then being left uninhabited and vulnerable.

Probably very few of us are legalists in the strict sense, but how many of us tidy up our own hearts in a kind of spiritual housekeeping and fail to give those same hearts over to God to fully occupy? How many of us are intrigued by techniques and tools, workshops, etc, but resist actual prayer, that is, the giving of our lives over to God? I suspect this is a far more common problem in Christian living than legalism per se. Law of all sorts assists us in dealing with the demons which inhabit our own hearts: those of covetousness, greed, dishonor, dishonesty, anger, and so forth, but we have to go further and allow God to be powerfully present in whatever way he wishes. We have to allow our hearts to truly become Temples of the Holy Spirit. After all we are not called merely to be respectable (neat, clean, orderly, well looked after, with the right structure, facade, and all the right appointments), but to be Holy --- a new Creation, in fact. That means not merely being occupied WITH God or the concerns of his Law, but being occupied BY God in a way which transforms our hearts into God's own home.


Despite the humor involved in Luke's image of the returning demons, the image is serious. We have all seen houses that were abandoned, and especially we have seen houses owners fixed up but left unoccupied; they become  dens for animals, nests for squatters of all sorts, dump sites for lazy neighbors, sources for scavengers and thieves  drug houses, and so forth. In short, they are made unfit for human (or Divine) habitation. So too with our own hearts. Law helps us clean them of all those things mentioned above, and more. But Luke's Gospel also reminds us that God in Christ stands at the door and knocks. If we don't REALLY allow him to make himself fully at home, if we allow our hearts to be less than wholly hospitable to a God who desires an exhaustive Communion with us, then other and worse demons will replace the demons already exorcised: those of ingratitude, self-righteousness, complacency, fear, works-righteousness, pride, and so forth. Houses are made to be inhabited and so is the human heart; an empty house is dangerous and vulnerable and so is an empty human heart ---no matter how orderly and respectable. Law helps us ready our hearts for Communion with God, but at some point we really do have to allow God to move in as fully as He desires and take complete "ownership".

Humanity as Covenant reality: "If you See me, you see the Father who sent me"

In today's first reading from the "letter" (it is more a homily) to the Hebrews, as a piece of extolling the fullness of the revelation of God in Christ, the author contrasts this with the "partial" revelations associated with the prophets, with Israel more generally (and even, some commentators suggest, with other religious traditions).

Now revelation is a tricky word. It has a number of meanings including some of progressive depth, extension, and intensity. For instance, it can mean to show or make manifest, to divulge, or lay bare, and is often limited to the idea of telling us about something or someone. A magician may reveal the secret of a signature trick. The last few pages of a mystery novel may (and we hope does!) reveal the killer of the Lord of the Manor. A Catholic catechism may reveal truths about God that some religions simply don't reflect and so, in this sense, be a "fuller revelation" of God than those other traditions. As important as this sense of revelation is (and it is genuinely important!), it is relatively superficial, partial and fragmentary. Discipleship therefore includes this kind of knowing and revelation but is not limited to it.

Another (and related) meaning of the word revelation is to make known. Thus, a child who is loved deeply and effectively by her parents will make that love known in many ways throughout her life. In such a situation we can know about the parents’ love without ever really knowing the parents except as the author of Hebrews describes as partially and in fragmentary ways. A person of faith will make known the effects of God's mercy and grace in her life, and so forth. Revelation in this sense is a matter of witnessing to something WE KNOW, something that is real for us in more than an intellectual or notional sense. It goes beyond divulging information or laying bare secrets, and it goes beyond simply sharing things (like the identity of the murderer in the novel, or even the idea that God is Triune, for instance), but it remains a partial or even fragmentary revelation, and once again, Christian discipleship includes but is not limited to this sense of revelation.

But in the New Testament revelation has another meaning as well, a meaning which includes, but also deepens, and intensifies both of these other senses of the word while going beyond or transcending them. It is this sense especially that refers to the Christ Event and revelation in its fullness. For revelation in the NT also means to make something (in this case, GOD) real in space and time. By analogy, at some point, for instance, a bud will spring forth as the realization or making real of something which was only potential before. A human being who is deeply loved or known by another will become someone she only had the potential to become apart from this being loved, and will, to some extent, actually become an image of the one who has loved her so. This is similar to revelation in the example of a child loved by parents above, but it goes beyond it as well. What the author of the letter to the Hebrews is concerned with is a spectrum of meanings, but especially this last sense. This form of revelation, this making real, is not merely about knowing God, therefore, but about being known by him in that uniquely intimate Biblical sense of the term "to know", and then living out that reality, that BEING KNOWN so exhaustively that God himself is met in the one so known.

According to the author of the "letter" to the Hebrews, the prophets were revelatory and spoke God's Word into their own situations with power, but this revelation was partial or fragmentary. Sometimes it was merely about God, often it witnessed TO God, and in ways it was God's own word as well, but never was it more than partial. God was not incarnate here, he was not allowed to actually live amongst us fully, nor were the prophets known fully BY God. The Scriptures themselves tell us this about the prophets by making the Word they spoke foreign to them and often spoken in spite of themselves. Similarly the covenant they and their people celebrated was still somewhat external to the Israelites; it was not exhaustively embodied by them, their humanity itself was not a matter of BEING covenant (though it clearly pointed to this and called for it as its own completion and perfection). Again, it was a more partial or fragmentary revelation of God’s presence and power.

Jesus, on the other hand, concerned himself with making God real among us in a way God willed to be, but could not be apart from another's cooperation. Jesus gave his entire life and his entire self to this. He was attentive and responsive to (that is, through the power of the Holy Spirit he ALLOWED HIMSELF TO BE ADDRESSED AND KNOWN BY) the Word of God in a way which put God first and gave him unhampered access to us and to our world. Jesus was human in a way which defined a new and authentic humanity in terms of complete transparency to God and this meant in terms of covenant or communion with God; likewise it defined God similarly --- as Communal or relational, dialogical, and covenantal. He was human, that is, he was one who was KNOWN BY GOD in a way which allowed God to be Emmanuel, someone he had not been before. In the process this BEING KNOWN by God made of Christ a new Creation, the new and everlasting covenant, a new and exhaustively human being which makes God real amongst us in a fresh, authentic, and definitive way.

Jesus' life, death, resurrection, and ascension is the "event" where God is allowed to assume a human face, speak with a TRULY human voice, love and heal and support those he loves with human hands, provide a hearing for those needing it with human ears and a human heart. More, he is implicated into the realm of human sin and death, places he could never go himself (by definition these are literally godless places apart from Christ); he is made real as God-With-Us even there and transforms and defeats them with his presence. It is the place where human and divine destinies are inextricably wed and made one. And all because Jesus, in the power of the Holy Spirit, was exhaustively responsive to the Word of God and embodied or becomes the COMMUNION which is true humanity and (the sacrament of) true divinity all at one time.

In today’s Gospel this fullness of revelation with its call to discipleship, this call to become "fishers of men," is a call to this kind of humanity: a humanity constituted as covenant life where the very nature of both humanity and divinity, different as they are from one another, are revealed as Communion with one another, not as some form of solitary splendor or autonomy; humanity here is defined in terms therefore of knowing and BEING KNOWN BY GOD, not as an activity we engage in (as, for instance, might be true of a prayer period during our day), but as someone we ARE. To be human and to become fishers of men in this sense is not merely to let others know about God, or to bring others to a new religion with doctrines they have never heard; more, it is to bring them to a new humanity, a humanity which is defined as communion with God, and means embodying the Word of God as exhaustively as we are capable of in the power of the Spirit.

It is an immense challenge and vocation, one we share with Christ and only achieve in Him and his unique incarnation of the God who would be God-with-us. This is a humanity where God in Christ will be allowed to walk where he could not walk otherwise, where he is made real where otherwise he would and could not be (the Greek notion of omnipresence notwithstanding!). It is a humanity which itself is a sacramental reality and where --- if, and to the extent, we live out this vocation fully by becoming disciples in THIS sense --- God in Christ turns a human face to the world and that face is our very own.