Zacchaeus was a wee little man,
A wee little man was he.
He climbed up in the sycamore tree,
The Savior for to see.

And when the Savior passed that way,
He looked up in the tree,
And He said,

"Zacchaeus, you come down;
For I'm going to your house today,
for I'm going to your house today."

And so Zacchaeus came right down
As blessed as he could be; he said,
"I'll give my money to the poor.
What a better man I'll be.
What a better man I'll be."

Complete with movement, it's a compact little drama. I loved "climbing the tree" and pointing up as we proclaimed "Zacchaeus, you come down!" What a charming little story.

We sang the Zacchaeus song a lot, because I think we were supposed to identify with "wee little" Zacchaeus. Kids are small, this guy is small; it's a natural fit.

Problem is, the song doesn't really teach us anything, other than it's good to give money to the poor. And most traditional commentaries I've looked at on this passage tend to emphasize Zacchaeus as either a challenging model for stewardship or a dramatic example of on-the-spot conversion. But I've got another take on this story.

Jesus is passing through Jericho on his way to Jerusalem, where he knows that he is going to be betrayed, crucified, and then three days later raised from the dead. Jesus told the disciples this was going to happen just ten verses earlier or so in Luke's gospel. So it's not just any day for him. He knows his time on Earth is short.

And Zacchaeus isn't just some pint-sized person. Luke makes a point of telling us that he was the chief tax collector-he was loaded. Now, being a tax collector for the hated Roman occupiers was bad enough, but being the chief tax collector meant that you were the worst of the bunch. In those days, tax collectors were less like I.R.S. agents than like those mobsters in the movies who collect "protection" money. They were shakedown artists-they'd collect your tax bill for the Romans, then take a little extra for their trouble. Tax collectors were low-down, stinking, rotten collaborators, known extortionists-in short, just plain sinners. And to be the chief tax collector meant that you were probably getting a cut of the other tax collectors' cuts as well. Undoubtedly, Zacchaeus was hated even by the tax collectors who worked under him.

Jesus sees wee little Zacchaeus in the sycamore tree, and surprises everyone by calling him by name, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today." How Jesus knew his name is a mystery, but he was a perceptive guy. I can imagine him overhearing one of the townsfolk saying, "Get a load of that thieving tax collector, Zacchaeus, hanging out in that sycamore tree. I sure wish he were hanging from that sycamore tree instead!" And Jesus, on his way to be hanged on another tree, makes a split-second decision: here is an opportunity to show these folks what I'm all about. So he calls Zacchaeus.

Zacchaeus, for his part, is delighted that Jesus should honor him by inviting himself to be his houseguest. Zacchaeus is probably one of the least popular people in town-in fact, if the Romans weren't around to protect him, I'm sure he'd be the first collaborator a Jericho lynch mob would string up-but Zacchaeus sees Jesus' call to him as his chance to put on airs.

You see, I just don't believe Zacchaeus when he says that he'll give half his money to the poor and make restitution above and beyond the call of duty. Instead, I imagine that as soon as Zacchaeus shimmies down that tree trunk, the townsfolk begin grumbling. They say to each other, quite audibly, "Jesus is going to be the guest of a sinner?!" In other words, "Hey, what's the deal? This guy doesn't deserve to be honored." Zacchaeus is more than aware of the crowd's ill-will, even hatred, and so he tries to justify himself, saying in effect, "Hey, Jesus, don't believe this riff-raff. I'm not that bad. In fact, I'm ready right here and now to give half of everything I have to the poor. And if anyone here can prove that I've bilked him, I'll repay him four times as much."

You see what Zacchaeus is doing? Far from having a dramatic conversion experience, he's getting defensive, throwing around his importance and money, and daring anyone to call him a liar. But Jesus isn't fooled, either by the crowd or by this tiny taxman-and his response makes this clear to them. Note that Jesus says three things here, each one crucial to understanding this passage:

One: Today salvation has come to this house.
Two: Because he too is a son of Abraham.
Three: For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.

Let's look briefly at what Jesus means by each of these assertions.

First, he starts off by proclaiming, "Today salvation has come to this house…" This sounds good to Zacchaeus, and may lead him to think he's getting a badly needed P.R. boost, but not so, as we shall see. This statement is also likely to tick off the townsfolk even more. ("What? This guy doesn't deserve salvation, let alone a house call from a holy man. I don't get it…")

Second, Jesus makes it clear that Zacchaeus' salvation isn't based on his fancy promises to give away his ill-gotten gain, for when Jesus says, "…because he too is a son of Abraham," he's essentially saying that this guy is no better or worse than any other guy. I can imagine Zacchaeus would be a little disappointed by this statement; he's not hoping for equality, after all. He wants superiority over the crowd. He's been playing Rodney Dangerfield all these years ("I don't get no respect"), and here, it looks like Jesus isn't going to give him what he most wants. Who wants "salvation" when it doesn't come with power, after all? For the crowd's part, I can see them getting even more irritated at Jesus. "Wait a minute here, fella. Don't you be telling me that some collaborator is just as good as I am-I'm an honest, hardworking mother," (or shopkeeper, or scribe). In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if a few of the more honest, hardworking members of the crowd began to look around for stones to throw at Jesus and Zacchaeus. Not so "charming" of a story any more, is it?

Third, Jesus takes away any ground of personal merit on which to stand, for both Zacchaeus and the crowd, when he concludes, "For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost." In other words, to the tiny taxman, he says, "Zacchaeus, get off your high horse. You're no great shakes just because you're promising to give back stolen goods. So what if you make restitution. Promises, promises. Stop pretending you're not lost when you are." And to the crowd, he says, "You think you're not in need of salvation just because you don't happen to be the town scapegoat? Any of you could just as easily in the position Zacchaeus is in now." In fact, Jesus is about to be in the same position as Zacchaeus when he gets to Jerusalem-hated by the crowd, just as soon killed as looked at.

In the end, salvation comes to Zacchaeus not because he's a generous guy, or because he's had a change of heart, but because salvation comes to him freely, without merit, as a gracious gift from God. And Jesus says to the crowd that Zacchaeus deserves salvation as much as any other son of Abraham, which is another way of saying that on our own, none of us deserves salvation, but we're offered it anyway.

You see, Jesus doesn't single out the "sinners" just so that they can join those who've labeled them "sinners." Rather, he singles out the ones whom we all single out to point out that we are just like they are. There aren't as many differences between "us" and "them" as we would like to think. When we look at the bottom line, we are all sinful, all in need of grace and salvation, all as likely to be the lost ones. In fact, until we stop playing the role of the angry crowd or the proud tax collector, we'll remain lost.

That is the true point of this Gospel: not that Jesus raised Zacchaeus up for his generosity or his apparent change of heart, but that he raised him up for the same simple reason that he worked any of his miracles-to demonstrate the powerful love of God, the power to seek and to save the lost. Those of us gathered here this morning can know that power, too. But first, we need to put down the rocks with which we would stone our own Zacchaeuses, or else we need come down out of our own sycamore trees, whatever they may be, and take Jesus into our homes.