Tuesday of the Thirty-third Week in Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 498

“I know your works;
I know that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either cold or hot.
So, because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my outh.
For you say, ‘I am rich and affluent and have no need of anything,’
and yet do not realize that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked.

Today's gospel recalls Zacchaeus, despised by many as a government agent, but goodhearted, given to spontaneity, and affluent. He would be one of those who, during an annual fund drive to support the Temple, flouts their wealth with ostentatious donations. 

He can afford to laugh off his detractors as life and luck have not been so good to them. He can suppose that, if that's the way it is, that's the way God intended it in the first place. What good would come of his abandoning his career and connections to join his contemporaries in their poverty? He would gain only their discontent and resentment. If they hate him they admire his wealth and good fortune. Were he to walk away from that, they would hate him all the more for that insane and pointless gesture. 

Does he perhaps suspect that his Jewish piety is lukewarm, or that he is actually "wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked?" Yes, perhaps he does, but he thinks little about it since he sees no alternative. His contemporaries, including the wealthier and the poorer -- up and down the social scale -- are no happier, and no less happy, than himself. His world is flat and no one stands above the crowd. 

Not even Jesus, apparently, because Zacchaeus must climb a tree to get a better look at him. But when they come face to face, the tax collector does see something amazing, fascinating, and eminently desirable. He sees a happy man who laughs with everyone else in the crowd at the fool in the tree, but also calls him by name and wants to dine with him. Joining in the fun, Zacchaeus declares himself an admirer and friend of the Lord. And then, in an astonishing and reckless moment, disavows his wealth and position for discipleship to the Messiah. 

Scholars suggest that we remember his name because he kept his pledge. He remained in the Church throughout the Lord's ordeal and subsequent victory in Jerusalem. His natural glee was affirmed and empowered by the Spirit of Pentecost. Jesus spoke with many people and healed many more, but we remember only a few names. They might not be listed in the Book of Life. Zacchaeus is. 

A hundred years from now, or a thousand, we might wonder if anyone remembers the spectacular wealth, power, security, and accomplishments of the United States. Will it be a fond memory of a grand experiment in democracy, or a disastrous failure? 

The Lord's descriptive words -- wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked -- certainly match the experience of missionaries from impoverished nations, who come to support our Catholic faith. They are astonished by our overstuffed storage lockers, unhappy children, and desperate yearning for security. Why do these people suffer chronic depression, obsessive compulsions, and suicidal impulses? Why are their stadiums full and their churches empty? What happened to the land of the free and the home of the brave?  

Zacchaeus and his new friend invite us to come to our senses and return to our roots in faith. It is too late for many; they are lost. There is still time for us.