Here Comes the Judge – sermon on October 30, 2016

Luke 19: 1-10                   Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through it.  A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way.

When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.”  So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him.  All who saw it began to grumble and said, “He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.”  Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I give to the poor; and if I defrauded anyone of anything, I pay back four times as much.”  Then Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham.  For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”

 

Sermon: Here Comes the Judge             by Rev. Doreen Oughton                                       

      Jesus and his disciples are on their way to Jerusalem for the Passover Festival. It is about a five-day walking journey, and they are on the last leg, within 6 hours of the holy city. We can expect that pilgrims from all over Israel are also on their way to the Temple for the holy days. So as Jesus passes through Jericho, there is a crowd with him – I imagine his own disciples as well as those who have encountered him on the road and been moved to stay with him. Zacchaeus, one of Jericho’s chief tax collectors, sees the crowd and wonders what is going on. He can’t see over the crowd, though he seems to know there is a special person at the center of it. So he scoots ahead of the crowd and climbs a tree to watch who is coming. I wonder what he sees. I wonder if he recognizes Jesus. Would he know him by sight, or by reputation? Or can he just see from his vantage point above that this is a special, holy man.

      And Jesus, looking ahead, spies Zacchaeus up in the tree, and Jesus knows exactly who he is. As he approaches the tree, he calls up to him: “Hurry and and come down, for I must stay with you today!” And so Zacchaeus hurries down. He is pleased to host Jesus. What do you think – would you be pleased to host Jesus if you are Zacchaeus? The crowd is grumbling about it. Now Jesus often draws the grumblings of Pharisees for his penchant for table fellowship with unsavory sinner, but we are not hearing about any Pharisees here. No, it is the grumbling of the crowd following Jesus; maybe even some of the disciples. Even they despise the tax collectors, even more so a chief tax collector! In response to the grumbling, Zacchaeus makes a case for himself, saying that he give half of all he has to help the poor, and if there a fraud is brought to his attention, he pays back fourfold, double what is required by Jewish law. Now some say that Zacchaeus is saying this is what he will do, and see this as an example of the power of Jesus to bring about metanoia, a changed heart, a turning towards God and Godly ways. Simply by calling out to Zacchaeus and declaring him worthy of his attention, Zacchaeus, Zacchie is a changed man. And Jesus’ final words seem to affirm this, as he declares that salvation has come to this house, and that the Son of Man came to save the lost.

      Yet all the biblical scholars are in agreement that the words of Zacchaeus about charity and restitution are in the present tense. This is what I do, now. And from that, the conclusion I reach is that the crowd has got Zacchie all wrong. They have judged him unfairly, based on his profession and his wealth, and maybe on his short stature as well. Perhaps his salvation comes not from his change of heart, but in being seen more truly and deeply, in being accepted and even valued as a brother to those grumbling. Jesus reminds them that Zacchaeus too is a son of Abraham.

      It isn’t hard for me to identify with this crowd. I judge all. the. time. We all do. It helps us make meaning of our world. It helps us clarify our values. Sometimes it is obvious to us that we are making a judgment, but so often, we don’t see it. We are convinced that we are making an observation, that we are simply declaring what is instead of declaring what we think about it. What is the judgment in the scripture passage? Is it that Zach is a tax man? A wealthy man (maybe)? No, it is that he is a sinner. There is an assumption that he is breaking the commandments. And maybe the story is not about a man who shocks us by repenting, but about a crowd that demonizes a person it dislikes with all kinds of false assumptions.

      In the word for all ages we had some examples of observation statements versus judgment statements. But those were just the smallest sample of the ways in which we judge. Interfaith minister Judith Johnson describes the difference between observation and judgment as such: “We observe something when we become aware of it. We acknowledge ‘this is so.’ We judge when we form an opinion, as in ‘I think this about that.’ Observation is a neutral act of taking in information upon which we base our responses. Judgment involves rendering an opinion about the relative merit or value of that which we observe.” Judgments are opinions. So your thoughts about who or what is beautiful or ugly, polite or rude, nervous or calm, smart or stupid, smooth or clumsy, good or bad are opinions, not observations. And when we miss that, when we believe our judgments are observations, we make the assumption that everyone, including God, shares them, or ought to share them if they had any sense at all. Does anyone (else) here share the fantasy that the world would be a better place for everyone if only everyone, including God, saw things the way that you do, and did things the way you think they should be done? But really, if you think about that for awhile, you might quickly move through and out of that fantasy.

      Our West Side book group has been discussing the book The Shack, a fictional account of a man who has an amazing weekend away with the Trinity. In one chapter the protagonist Mack is invited by Sophia, God’s wisdom, to judgment. Mack is very distraught, wondering if it is fair that he will be judged before he even dies. After all, he could still repent, change his heart and his ways. But she clarifies – he is not there to be judged, but to judge. He is invited to judge God and the whole human race. He is relieved at first, but then says he’d rather not, saying he has no ability to judge. She calls him out on that, pointing out the many ways he has judged the actions, the appearance, the smells, the history and relationships and even motivations of others – all throughout his life. And when she asks by what criteria he makes his judgments, it finally dawns on him that it was always self-centered criteria – what made him, personally, comfortable or uncomfortable, happy or frustrated. She points out that judging requires that the person judging consider him or herself superior to the one being judged. It’s true, isn’t it. Even when we are making a judgment that someone or something is good, beautiful, polite, etc., we are setting ourselves as the one who has the right to judge, who has the clarity of thought and the insight to make these determinations.

      Now I’m not saying that it is wrong to have opinions, and to make decisions about our responses and our actions based on those opinions. If someone’s behavior or language consistently perturbs me, I can pay attention to that. I might choose to tell them how I’m affected and ask for a change. I might choose to avoid them. But it is important to recognize that the disturbance is in me. My upset is based on my opinion and belief about what the other is doing or saying. It is an inside job. And that is true even when it comes to judging ourselves. Because we do that all the time also. We take both positions there – the superior part of ourselves condemning another part as we call ourselves stupid, clumsy, lazy, worthless.

      I like to think of this encounter between Jesus and Zacchaeus as a reminder that our judgments are no match for the love of God as shown through Jesus Christ. It is a reminder that whenever I set myself up as a judge over another, Jesus is there beside that person, affirming that person’s worth in God’s eyes, reminding me that this is a brother or sister, another child of Abraham, of God’s that I am judging. And what a time for us to be reminded of that as we get so close to the election day. When we want to judge Secretary Clinton or Mr. Trump, or any of their supporters, there is Jesus, standing beside them, inviting us to see a beloved child of God. Now we still have a responsibility as citizens to form an opinion and cast our vote, but perhaps we can do so without the absolute certainty that the way we see things is the clear true path for our country. Perhaps we can surrender the illusion that we have an insider’s knowledge about what is going on in the hearts and minds of the candidates and even other voters.  Perhaps we can accept that we truly do not know and accept our own opinions as just that – opinions – no more or less worthy than anyone else’s.

      The story of Jesus and Zacchaeus is also a wonderful comfort to those who feel they have been unfairly judged, or judged at all. Jesus is there beside you, whether you are judging yourself or being judged by others. There is another book I read, a non-fictional account by a woman who had a near-death experience. Betty Eadie tells how, on the other side, she met with a council of men who invited her to experience a review of her life so far, indicating it was important for her to do so. She re-experienced her own emotions all through her life, as well as the emotions of those around her. She gained insight into the impact she had on others, how she contributed to their suffering, and the ripple effects of their suffering. With this domino effect, she realized that she had hurt far more people than she had ever realized before, and her pain was terrible. And at that moment of intense pain, Jesus stepped toward her. There had been a glow beside her as she started, and she understood this as the love of Jesus, but now, he was there ore fully, intervening, helping her see that she was being too harsh with herself. And all along she realized that the council was not judging her, just watching with her with understanding and mercy. She was the one judging, and when she gave herself over to the love of Christ, she saw the ripple effects of her kindnesses, how all the positive things she did created a chain of joy far beyond what she had realized. And through this review her whole perspective of herself and others shifted, becoming more multi-dimensional, more merciful, more appreciative.

      I believe that on this side, we will continue to be like the crowd, making judgments and mistaking them for facts. But the kindom has come and is coming. Jesus stands beside those we would judge, and beside us when we are being judged. We can happily welcome him, as Zacchaeus did. We can change our hearts and minds to be more loving and more generous at any time. Betty was asked to come back to this world to fulfill a mission and she ends her book by saying, “I’ve wondered from time to time what my mission would entail, but no answers have come. I have simply been impressed to live within the light of Jesus Christ and to continue to accept his love in my life. By doing this, I suppose, I will be able to do all that he may want of me. We are to love one another. I know that. We are to be kind, to be tolerant, to give generous service. I know that greater joy will come to us through love than in any other way.”

      Greater joy comes through love, even love of the tax man. So let’s not let our opinions get in the way. Mother Teresa says, “If you judge people, you have no time to love them.” How will we spend our time – judging, or loving? I say we leave the judging to the one who knows the number of hairs on our heads, the one who weaves a tapestry of beauty and purpose that we can barely glimpse. Let’s join in the loving instead. May it be so.