Homily for the Feast of the Dedication of the Abbey Church, 2005
Most of us first learned about Jericho
from the biblical story of its walls tumbling down
after Israel crosses the Jordan into the Promised Land.
Jericho is a famous biblical town,
a prominent city on the east-west trade route in Israel.
It was probably a customs checkpoint.
So tax collection must have been a thriving business
and our lead character Zacchaeus was doing quite well.
The Gospel tells us that he is short of stature,
and that he wants to see Jesus.
In my mind I imagine a character like Danny DeVito.
But I would be mistaken if I think of him as just a comic figure.
He is every bit as serious about seeing Jesus
as is the rich young man who comes to Jesus
in the previous chapter of Luke's Gospel.
No one will let him to the front of the pack of people.
He is trying to move through the crowd
and they just close ranks — "not this way, bucko!"
But Zacchaeus wants to see Jesus
so he has to get out in front of the crowd
and climbs a sycamore tree.
That is where Jesus sees him.
As a tax collector,
Zacchaeus bid to Rome for the right to collect tolls,
not personally but through agents.
When Rome accepts his bid,
Zacchaeus pays them the toll for his region in full, up front.
Rome does not wait for its money.
Then it is up to Zacchaeus to recover this payment
by collecting the taxes and trying to make a profit if possible.
He doesn't do this personally but
relies on agents to do that work.
Despite urgings of scholars that Zacchaeus is a righteous man,
he is a rich man because his agents do what they have to, to collect taxes.
You can be sure that like the IRS, they "seize and squeeze."
We reveal ourselves when we invite others into our homes.
There our tastes and our choices are on display.
When we offer hospitality,
we invite another into our world, into our lives.
We shift our attention from our own cares and concerns
to the needs of the other.
Through hospitality we transform strangers into friends and intimates.
Jesus not only accepts the hospitality of Zacchaeus;
he boldly invites himself into the man's home.
In a sense, he becomes the host in the house of Zacchaeus,
inviting Zacchaeus into his life,
into the intimacy of his friendship.
In doing so, he transforms Zacchaeus into a man who repents
and changes his life.
You can be sure that Jesus talked to Zacchaeus
about how those taxes were collected
and his own understanding of how his agents operated.
Although the home belongs to Zacchaeus,
the real home into which Jesus invites him
is the reign of God,
and there Jesus is always the host.
Zacchaeus gives half his possessions to the poor.
Whereas the Torah requires only a 20% penalty
for restitution in the case of cheating
Zacchaeus holds to the strict Roman standard
of a four-fold restitution.
The Pharisees who complain in knee-jerk fashion
are in that class of people whose only exercise is jumping to conclusions.
As a wealthy man, Zacchaeus stands in contrast to the rich young man who wanted to follow Jesus
but when challenged by Jesus, left in sadness.
Here the hospitality of Jesus dissolves all constraints.
To so many Zacchaeus is an outsider
but through his hospitality Jesus changes him into an insider.
Because this church is home for us,
because it is a place where we come
so many times to pray,
because it is a place to which we welcome so many different people,
we may forget that Jesus Christ is always the real host here.
"I must come to your house today!"
In that act of hospitality
Jesus makes us not only children of Abraham
but children of his Father.
There is another meaning here —
we want Jesus to come to the house
that is in our hearts, in us, to dwell in us always.
May we always have the eagerness of Zacchaeus
to have Jesus come to and be in the house of our hearts.
Abbot John Klassen, OSB
October 24, 2005
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