University Presbyterian Church - Chapel Hill, NC

CONVERSION AND GENEROSITY

Luke 19:1-10

A Sermon by Robert E. Dunham

University Presbyterian Church

Chapel Hill, North Carolina

October 21, 2007

            Some years ago I told you about the day when they leveled the old regional IRS building in Atlanta to make room for a new one.  The demolition was one of those engineered internal explosions to cause the building to collapse in on itself... always an interesting sight to see, though fairly common in cities these days.  But when they announced that the IRS building was to be demolished, thousands of people showed up to watch... and cheer!  And the demolition crew even allowed a man who had had a long-standing feud with the IRS over his tax liability to push the plunger on the explosives.[1]

            Rightly or wrongly, there's something about taxes, and thus about tax-collectors, that makes people mad, that presses folks beyond irritation.  Apparently, such animus was no different in ancient Palestine than it is today in America.  Witness the well-worn story of Zacchaeus from this morning's gospel reading.  Many folks today grew up in church singing “Zacchaeus was a Wee Little Man,” and think of ol' Zack as a rather endearing caricature of a character, one whom the language correctors might describe today as a vertically-challenged person of size, a Danny DeVito kind of guy.[2]   But to most of the people of Jericho in the time of Jesus this diminutive tax-agent was anything but endearing; he may have been a Danny DeVito character, but more like Danny DeVito playing Darth Vader.  He was a villain in their eyes, one who preyed on the poor, and the fact that Jesus would single him out for attention, and dine at his house, caused quite a stir.  “He eats,” they grumbled about Jesus, “with tax collectors and sinners.”

            They were skeptical, too, I'm sure, when, at the end of the dinner, Zacchaeus announced his change of heart after Jesus' visit.  After all, how much credibility did this tax collector have anyway?  Why should they believe his pious promises?  Besides, what would keep him from reneging on his promise as soon as Jesus had left town?  Their skepticism was understandable, but the Bible leaves us less room for such skepticism, for we know the stories of so many others who, once touched by the authority and grace of Jesus, changed their lives.

            In Zacchaeus' case, conversion and change meant reconnecting with the larger community of which he was a part.  All of us have those we believe we can live without.  Zacchaeus thought he could live without the poor.  The people of Jericho were sure they could get by just fine without tax collectors and sinners.  But conversion, in part, means becoming part of a family of faith, part of a whole community of saints and sinners not of our own choosing.[3]  Jesus reconnected Zacchaeus to the community, and reconnected the community to Zacchaeus. 

            And nowhere did that reconnection show up more dramatically than in Zacchaeus' subsequent decisions about his wealth.  “Look, Lord,” he says to Jesus, “half of my possessions I give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I pay back four times as much.”(19:8)  Of course, such a commitment didn't change Zacchaeus' status as a rich man; half a bundle is still a bundle, after all.  But Zacchaeus surely did more than most any of us have been willing to do... giving so much of what he had for the sake of the community.

            For all of Luke’s disparaging of those with wealth, this story seems to offer a word of hope and redemption for people of means.  Here a rich man defies the camel-in-the-eye-of-a-needle odds and finds a word of welcome into God’s reign.  Paul Duke suggests that the whole Gospel seems to unfold within this one story: “Pure and playful grace calls a crooked life down into nothing but free relationship.”[4]

Jesus points to a scoundrel who one minute comes down from his tree by faith and the next minute stands up for the works of justice, and Jesus calls him “a son of Abraham.” To use an image that [the great African-American preacher] Howard Thurman once used, this word of Jesus sets a crown over Zacchaeus that he will spend the rest of his life gladly growing tall enough to wear.[5]

            Luke's Gospel, friends, is particularly clear on one point: that conversion prompts generosity and a desire to see justice done... that if you are going to follow Jesus, you will have to make a decision about your money.  Now, I know, that's not very comfortable talk.   And over the years in the church we have had a great reticence about discussing such matters openly.  But Jesus had no such qualms, and neither does the Bible.  Jesus spoke quite clearly and quite often of wealth and material possessions.  He said our hearts follow our checkbooks, not the other way around -- well, not exactly that; what he said was: “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”(12:34) But our checkbooks and our investment statements reveal so well where our treasure lies today, and how willing we are to share it.  Knowing the human heart, Jesus said our hearts follow our treasure, not the other way around.  He spoke of the foolishness of storing up earthly possessions at the expense of one's soul.   And he spoke of sharing and stewardship and generosity, not so much as matters of obligation for his followers, but as matters of fact.  One who lives under the grace and goodness of God, he said, will simply want to share generously of the abundance God has given.

            Of course, he’s right.  But on those days when we find ourselves a bit short of gratitude, then the story of Zacchaeus reminds us that stewardship is sometimes prompted only by reminders of our discipleship, of our fidelity to Christ.  Sometimes, you know, when joy and gratitude fail to prompt us to faithfulness, we may need to be stirred by the call of duty and responsibility.

            That is why I often suggest that we never let the offering plate pass us by without putting something in it.  Even if we pay our pledge with a once-a-year gift of appreciated stock or a quarterly check… even if we only put in a dollar or pocket change… the discipline of putting something in the plate is a subtle, but clear way of reminding us to lead with our treasure, so that our hearts will follow.  We need reminders that our discipleship entails regular stewardship of our lives and resources… reminders that we have duties and responsibilities as Christians, duties that motivate us when joy fails to prompt, duties that tie us to a larger community of need.

            A pastor friend of mine tells of a particularly poignant encounter in the life of his congregation between two elders.  One of them, a middle-aged man, had been a very active elder during his term on the Session, but after his last Session meeting a couple of years earlier, he simply stopped coming to church.  There was no apparent discontent or unhappiness; he simply stopped coming.  My friend went to see him several times, and the conversations were pleasant, but invitations to him to return went unanswered.  After several months my friend asked another elder, a woman who had worked well with the man, to go and see him.  When she stopped by the church office later to report on her visit, she was shaking her head.  “How did it go?” my friend asked.

            “Probably not too good,” said the woman.

            “Why not?” my friend asked.

            “I think I made him mad,” she said.

            “Oh, I bet you didn't,” my friend answered, seeking to reassure her.

            “I told him he was letting us all down,” she said.

            “You did?”

            “I know, I know,” she said, “but... he's an elder in this church.  He's the best Sunday School teacher I've ever had.  How can he just take a God-given talent like that and say, not now, please?”  And then she continued, “I hope I didn't make him mad.  But he needs to know that whatever has made him leave this church has affected us, too.  We ordained him as an elder because this church needed him.  He's not serving [on the Session] now, but we still need him.  I can't help it; I just think he's letting us down.  I just don't think we walk away from the church.  And I told him so.”

            My friend said, “I wish I could tell you that [her] visit worked.  [The truth is] all I can be sure of is that it has worked on me.  We don't know how to have expectations of one another.  But there is something to what [she] said.  I don't think Scripture ever communicates that people are saved for their own benefit.  Salvation comes to the house of Zacchaeus, not merely because Zacchaeus needs salvation, but because the poor need justice, and the followers of Jesus need a new vision of the church.  Our salvation is not merely for us; it is for a hurting world and for a faith community that is struggling to keep up with the redemptive work of God.”[6]  And we have a responsibility to that community... a responsibility to share of our time and energy and resources... a responsibility to be generous stewards of God's gifts.

            “Look, Lord, half of my possessions I give to the poor,” says Zacchaeus.  He offers not just his fair share, but a full share of gratitude.  Generous, uncalculating, free... it was what he wanted to do, prompted by joy.  But it was also a concrete way of fleshing out his new-found responsibility as a follower of Christ.

            And what he surely discovered was that when he followed a gift of grace with an expression of gratitude, he began the cycle of grace and gratitude all over again.  Grace prompts gratitude; gratitude opens the door to conversion; conversion yields generosity; generosity is grace.  And the end-result is … community.

            “Today,” Jesus says, reflecting on this cycle of grace and grateful response... “Today salvation has come to this house.”  He doesn't say, “Today you have done a good thing.”  He doesn't say, “Today you have fulfilled your responsibility.”  He says, “Today salvation has come to this house.”  He says, in effect, “By leading with your treasure, you have found your heart.  Salvation has come to this house!” And so it has indeed.

            Well, wouldn’t it be wonderful if he were to say the same of our house?  He might, you know.  He might say the same of this house.  I pray that he will.