Guess Who's Dropping In!

In yesterday’s posting, I played with the story of Zacchaeus  and Jesus calling him down from the tree he climbed on to get a better view than his short legs would give him.  I gave him a casual name, Zeke, in the hope of bringing the story into the present, making it easier for us to put ourselves into the story.  I want us to be able to enter the story because it is basic theo-logy, the meaning of God to us.   I called Zacchaeus “Zeke” to make him more like a common person, more like you and me.  Zeke was a “what’s in it for me” kind of guy.  

When I was working in Student Life at University of Detroit Mercy  I was always looking for ways to get us in the media, to let folks see how good we were.  On the Monday of Halloween week one year, I had the brainstorm of calling a local DJ who was a UDM alumnus for help.  On Friday nights, he was “Count Scary,” the ghoulishly costumed host of a horror movie show on local TV.  His character was just kitschy enough to make him popular, especially around Halloween.  I called him and asked him if as an alumnus he would make an appearance
at a student Halloween party on campus.  I told him the students would really get a bang out of it, that it would really be good for his alma mater.  After I made my cheerful pitch to him, I heard silence, and then something like “I see that this would be good for you, but I don’t see how it would benefit me.” I muttered some senseless reply which really meant “never mind, I thought you’d understand” and hung up.  I’d assumed that he would want to do something good for his school.   I was shocked by his response, his “what’s in it for me.” 

Jesus had better luck with Zeke when he called him out of his tree.  Jesus called him by name, called him down, and told him he wanted to come to his house for the night.  My friend Dave is one of the guys who come to our Tuesday morning men’s group looking at the Gospel coming up the next Sunday.  He likened Zeke’s climbing that tree to get a look at Jesus to his grandson’s going to a rock concert, trying to get close to the stage to see the performers.  This got me imagining . . . please join me . . . .  Two years ago candidate Barack Obama and his wife Michelle had “Rock Star” status, and they came to Detroit twice as part of his presidential campaign.  Kathy worked hard on his campaign, and encouraged us to go to his appearances.  The first time we were too late to see more than the back of the stage from a distant corner of Hart Plaza.  So when we heard they’d be coming again, Kathy saw that we got a very early start, and sure enough, we were no more than twenty feet from the stage where they’d appear.  After hours in the hot sun, the Obamas and Bidens emerged from the Detroit Public Library and walked out onto the stage.  And after their stirring speeches, they walked down to the street and reached out across chest-high bunting-covered barricades to shake our hands, to look into our faces.  As they came closer to us, we had tears in our eyes and stretched out our hands for a handshake, for a touch, for eyes that would look back into ours.

Imagine yourself in this situation with the person you might come to see, Pope or heroine or saint or rock star.  I’ll stick with Barack Obama and imagine him not just reaching for our hands and looking into our eyes, but shouting “Hey, Kathy and John Daniels!  Michelle and I are coming to your house after this rally.”   I’m no tax collector, but I can really identify with Zeke.  You see, I hadn’t done squat for the campaign.  I’d feel . . . unworthy. 

And that’s where Zeke was.  Somehow, Jesus made it personal.  He knew Zeke.  And he was coming to his house.  Holy cripe!  Are you with me?  Would your house be presentable?  Come on, be honest.  Wouldn’t you be thinking “Geez, can you give me some time to straighten things up a bit before you come?”  Would you, as I, begin looking at those parts of you that are like Zeke and like my scary alumnus, hiding some “what’s in it for me” motivation?  And so Zeke considers his messy house and starts straightening it up – not his house, but himself.

Please join me in imagining yourself in this story.  Leave it as the Gospel setting 2000 years ago or put it into modern times.  Tomorrow I’ll come back and consider my own reflections, and I’ll watch for yours in the comments below.