Reading Luke Together #40 – Overcompensation
I try to imagine what people who lived in ancient Jericho – in Jesus’ day! – thought about the really, really ancient Jericho, the ruins which loomed above their heads, dating back 2,000 years even then, the city the Israelites marched around and into when they seized the promised land. Did they have a song similar to “And the walls came a-tumblin’ down…”? Every day, they saw those historic ruins. Were they grateful? Hopeful? Or just heading to work like everybody else, not pondering the story behind a massive hill of ruins?
Children love the story of Zaccheus – probably because he, like them, was short of height. Kids sing “Zaccheus was a wee little man…” – great fun, but maybe missing the point of the story. Zaccheus, despised by the citizens of Jericho, a climber not just of trees but of the social and economic ladder: he may or may not have been wee, but he was one big dude.
Ironically, his name meant “the righteous one.” How incongruous! Did his parents, by giving him such a name, dream of him growing up to be righteous? Were they disappointed in him? Or secretly proud, since his wealth benefited them as well? Tax collecting was farmed out by the Romans to crackerjack operatives who knew how to strongarm the poor. They weren’t salaried. Their pay was whatever they could squeeze out of taxpayers over and above what the Romans required. Their power was unchecked. They could break your knees, beat up your kids, seize your sheep.
No wonder a guy like Zaccheus was hated, due to his methods, and then living in opulence, his wealth had literally been swiped from the pockets of his poor, if envious neighbors. Did he relish his high standing? Was he lonely? Trapped? Sometimes the privileges of the privileged fit like a straitjacket.
Zaccheus, the not-so-wee-little man, climbed into a sycamore tree to get a glimpse of Jesus. Was he short of stature? Had he arrived late, and needed to get up high to see him? Did he want to insure that everyone noticed that he was there? Pádraig Ó Tuama wonders: “It is as if the text is telling a story of overcompensation for an uneasy relationship with masculinity’s relationship with size. Size of body, and size of influence. Where Zaccheus saw his redemption through social ascension, Jesus calls him down to the level of generosity. That generosity began with a night of hospitality. So loneliness has a lovely son: confidence. And confidence has a loving brother: generosity.”
So typical: Jesus not only noticed him, but instead of condemning or punching him, he asked to dine and sleep in his ill-gotten, sumptuous home. You can see why the people turned on Jesus, and why he was condemned for not condemning such scoundrels. But Jesus came down to save poor and rich. “Salvation came to Zaccheus’s house” (Luke 19:9). We know, and Jesus knows, because Zaccheus gave half of his goods to the poor (perhaps realizing his goods had been seized from the poor!) – and then he added “If I have defrauded anyone of anything, I restore it fourfold.” Wow. Pay close attention: Zaccheus had not broken a single law or statute. All his gain was entirely legal. No one in the Roman world would have called it “defrauding.” But a deep understanding of Jesus revealed his gain for what it was.
Before we say, “Oh, how nice!” – the question arises: what profitable gains have we made on the backs or by using the efforts of others who are dirt poor? Would any of us dare to calculate how many dollars we have made, legally, off of others in the economic chain in our working, earning and investing lives? To answer, “It’s the American way,” or “That’s just capitalism,” we need not expect Jesus or Zaccheus to nod and say “Amen.”