Don't Judge a Book by Looking at the Cover

This sermon was heard at St. Paul Presbyterian Church in Carthage, Texas on Sunday March 24, 2013, Palm Sunday.

Isaiah 50:4-9a

Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29

Philippians 2:5-11

Luke 19:28-40

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.  Amen.

On Palm Sunday there were so many things happening in Jerusalem. It’s not anything like our Palm Sunday celebrations. The only thing that comes close in our society is the day before Ash Wednesday, the day when we are supposed to get all of the animal fat out of the home in preparation for Lent. Some call it Shrove Tuesday, others Fat Tuesday; we know it more as Mardi Gras. Imagine the festivities being at that high of a fever pitch and you have the idea of what’s happening on that first Palm Sunday.

Because it was the beginning of the Passover, a spectacle was in effect. Our reading tells us the Messiah was surrounded by disciples. Often in the gospels when we read “disciples” it means more than the original twelve, so there were dozens and were more likely hundreds or even thousands of people along the path. Strangely for Palm Sunday, there is no mention of palms being laid out in Luke’s gospel. These disciples laid their cloaks along the road. They came from all around to be a part of the scene. This part of the city was in turmoil, the entry of this one man stirred the pot of Jerusalem. Everything was being shaken up by Jesus’ entry into the city of David.

This part of Jerusalem is shaken to its core by the entry of he who comes fulfilling the word of the Lord. Considering the number of visitors who were in Jerusalem for the Passover, the height of the religious tourism season, this shouldn’t be unexpected. While most of the 40,000 locals probably knew who Jesus was, many of the 200,000 visitors may never have heard of him until this moment.[i]

But then again, this Messianic entry may not have been completely unexpected; Jerusalem has a history of parading kings.

The people of Jerusalem had long expected the coming of the Messiah, the Christ, the anointed. They expected the coming of the one who would save Israel from its oppression. Egyptian, Babylonian, and now Roman, the people anxiously waited for the one who would save them from their enemies.

They waited for the new David who would ride triumphantly, a warrior king who would come on a great war horse to save the people from their oppressors. They were waiting for someone like Moses who took them from Egypt to the Promised Land.  They were waiting for a political leader to restore the nation to its proper place in the land.

The history of the Jews is steeped with parades of Kings entering Jerusalem. In Ancient Israel before David was king, the Philistines had captured the presence of God, the Ark of the Covenant.  After David became king, after the Ark was regained by the Israelites, the king danced at the front of the procession leading its return to Jerusalem. A parade of 30,000 men accompanied the Ark on its return to Jerusalem.

After a false start, the parade started and once it did, it stopped every six steps so that David could make an offering of an ox and fatted calf. David led the procession of men and the Ark wearing a linen ephod and dancing with all his might.[ii]  

While Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem wasn’t as spectacular as David’s, it was a spectacle. The triumphant entry had people throwing their clothes everywhere.

Yet Jesus does not come dancing in his like David with the Ark. Jesus doesn’t lead a procession of 30,000 men. Who the people received in Luke’s gospel was the vision of another ancient leader, one who rode a donkey because they had better footing on the rocks and hills of ancient Israel than a war horse. Today’s procession features the one who rides a colt, a symbol of humility. Then again, Jesus wasn’t bringing the Ark of the Covenant back to Jerusalem. He was bringing himself, the New Covenant, into Jerusalem.

The Messiah who comes to town was no conquering hero; he was the ancient image of the humble leader. He is the leader who would die for his people, not one who would send millions to die in his stead.

Our reading is different from the words of the ancient prophets, priests, and kings. Instead of the Ark of the Covenant holding the presence of God; Jesus, the true presence of God, Emmanuel, comes to Jerusalem. Fully human and fully divine, God comes to town as the person of Jesus Christ. In David’s time, God is returning to Jerusalem as the glorious center of the pageant. In our reading, Jesus, the Son of God, the Son of Man, God in flesh on earth, comes to Jerusalem humbly for the Passover.

Two biblical scholars, Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crosson provide another side to this story; one not found in scripture; the story from the other side of town. They imagine that while Jesus and all the crowds are celebrating his triumphal entry; on the opposite side of town the Roman Governor of Palestine, Pontius Pilate, is himself entering town.[iii]

Pilate, like every other political leader, never travels without his entourage, and this time his party is large and well-armed. The Passover was traditionally a time of political uprising in Palestine. This year there was talk of a new prophet in the hills north of Jerusalem. A man named Jesus from Nazareth. If he came to town there could be trouble and like any good Roman Governor, Pilate would be ready for trouble.

So Borg and Crosson write that as Jesus comes to town, Pilate comes loaded for bear. Pilate would be ready for the nearly quarter-million residents and visitors and any rabble they carried in their wake. There would be more than enough soldiers, there would be more than enough arms, and Pilate rode at the head on his war steed to show that he meant business.

You’ll never find this story in the bible because it’s based on extra-biblical sources, histories written outside of the church.  It’s not in any church history or anything else I’ve ever read, but according to other writings and the results shown in biblical history, this probably happened exactly how they propose.

To add ceremony to substance, the Roman garrison was probably engaging in some sort of maneuvers daily. I imagine that in Jerusalem and in every other town that held Roman troops, there would be some sort of daily military procession. Not that this is a Roman thing, this is how conquering armies behave in occupied lands. They’re the boss and they continually show who the boss is, and the parade is one very good way.

So while there would be the daily parade, on this day, right before the Passover, in front of a quarter million Jews, the Romans come to town to show just who’s in charge. They come in armor, they carry state of the art arms, they even march their provisions along with the rest of the parade to show that they’re in it for the long haul and they mean business. And again, Pilate rode at the head on his war steed.

So there we are. Jesus has lit the fuse as he rides into Jerusalem on the colt and the donkey. The crowds on this side of Jerusalem praise him laying their cloaks before him crying “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!”

In the meantime, on the other side of town, Pilate and the power of Rome come into Jerusalem in their own parade. They come into town to keep the peace, whether by right or by might, they will keep the peace. It doesn’t matter how many are killed, they will keep the peace. If they have to kill thousands they will keep the peace. If they have to kill just one man, they will keep the peace.

Among the people who know what’s happening on both sides of town are the Pharisees. The church leadership is the first line to keep the people in line and in order. If they are unable to keep order, there are a bunch of Roman troops who have just finished their parade who would be more than happy to try out their weapons for real.

This is why the Pharisees confront the Lord. This is why they beg “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” Of course Jesus knows trying to thwart the march of prophecy is futile. He knows that he will not be able to silence the people, and even if the people went still the stones would shout out to the Lord in heaven and on earth.

The people rejoiced. They witnessed the triumphant entry and scared the dickens out of the Pharisees without really knowing what they were seeing.

People who know me well know my love for old music. Today’s sermon title is an homage to song by Willie Dixon and recorded by Bo Diddley called “You Can’t Judge a Book by the Cover.” While age is a relative thing, at the age of 50, this song is old by most people’s standards. The first verse goes like this:

You can't judge an apple by looking at a tree,

You can't judge honey by looking at the bee,

You can't judge a daughter by looking at the mother,

You can't judge a book by looking at the cover.

Oh can't you see,

Oh you misjudge me,

I look like a farmer,

But I’m a lover,

You can't judge a book by looking at the cover. [iv]

The people expected a big ruler who would take care of their big needs. They were excited when Jesus came into town because they thought that the new king would come into Jerusalem and make their dreams of freedom come true. They were partially right; the new king came to town. What they didn’t realize is that Jesus was more than just a king; he was the King of Kings. That’s what happens when you judge a book by looking at the cover. Paul’s epistle helps us see beyond the cover and into the man who is fully human and the God who is fully divine.

Paul reminds us first that Jesus the Christ is equal to God, and that Jesus did not regard his equality as something to be exploited. Without discarding them, Jesus emptied himself of his rightful fully divine trappings to be the fully human Jesus of Nazareth for the world.

This humility did not remove Jesus from his relationship with his Father, nor did it prevent him from exercising his Lordly authority, when cleansing the temple for example.  Rather, what Jesus emptied himself of was any wanting to exploit his godliness for his own glory. People often ask why Jesus doesn’t just come down now and make right all that is wrong with the world.  Why doesn’t he just come with his power and take care of business? Perhaps it is so that he may exalt the entire Godhead, the whole Trinity, not just himself. 

To show how far he is willing to go to empty himself, he was obedient to his father, even to the point of his own death on the cross.

Paul continues; because Jesus emptied himself, because Jesus became a slave to God and to all God created, because Jesus humbled himself to the point that he poured out his life like a drink offering emptied from its vessel; because of this, God also highly exalts him and gave him the name that is above every name. For this, every knee will bend, in heaven and on earth, and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

He was God. He is God. He has always been God. He will always be God. But Jesus of Nazareth emptied himself of title and status to do God’s work on earth; despite the fact that he was judged by his cover.

Because we can now see beyond the cover, we are called to look beyond the cover. We are to look beyond the covers worn by Jesus and by his disciples. Because we enjoy the benefits of life in Christ, we are called to respond to the grace of God by sharing the life of Christ with the world. It is up to us to seek our Lord, God in Three Persons, and find our spots to share the gospel. For if we don’t, well, we see the example of those who don’t on Good Friday. When we don’t respond to the word of God in word and deed we are no better than those who reject Jesus on the way to the cross.

Let us scream, let us rejoice, let us take all of the fun away from the stones. Let us cry out “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!”

---

[i] Rollefson, John, “Feasting on the Word, Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary.” David L. Bartlet and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010, page 154

[ii] 2Samuel 6

[iii] Ibid. Rollefson, page 153.

[iv] Dixon, Willie, “You Can’t Judge a Book by the Cover.” 1962

Starting Small

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Marshall Texas on Reformation Sunday October 31, 2010, the 31st Sunday in Ordinary Time.

Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4
Psalm 119:137-144
2Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12
Luke 19:1-10

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

Scripture is filled with wondrous messages and warnings about children and the little ones. In Luke 17 we read, “Jesus said to his disciples: ‘Things that cause people to sin are bound to come, but woe to that person through whom they come. It would be better for him to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around his neck than for him to cause one of these little ones to sin.’”

Luke 18 tells us, “People were also bringing babies to Jesus to have him touch them. When the disciples saw this, they rebuked them. But Jesus called the children to him and said, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth; anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.’”

What is fascinating is that Jesus spoke of these categories of people separately; the little ones and the children. They are not the same.[1] When Luke’s gospel spoke of the little children in chapter 18 he truly meant the little children, but the references in chapter 17 did not. In the chapters before the presentation of the little children, Jesus was speaking with adults about adults; there were no children in these passages. This is a little confusing, and certainly is different from what I had thought all my life, but when Jesus was talking about “little ones,” he was not talking about children.

We need to ask ourselves what did Jesus mean when talking about “the little ones?” but we’ll get back to that. First though, I want us to look at something that everyone wants to joyfully consider on a sunny Sunday morning, what it meant to be a tax collector in ancient Jericho.

Now of course, public services are a necessary part of life and they have to be paid for and we pay for them through taxes. On Thursday, Marie and I got tags and paid the registration for our car. Part of the privilege of this was paying the Title Application Fee, the Texas Mobility Fund Fee, the TERP Fee, the Sales Tax Fee, the Windshield Sticker Fee, the Registration Fee with DPS, the Reflectorization Fee (this fee is so new that Microsoft Word doesn’t even consider “reflectorization” a word), the County Road Bridge Fee, and the Automation Fee for a Large City. What caused me to raise an eyebrow about these fees is that we didn’t either buy or sell a vehicle and we paid $90 in sales tax, so they’re going to hear from me tomorrow morning.

So given my question and the way they’re “going to hear from me tomorrow morning;” maybe, just maybe, the only thing worse than paying taxes is collecting them. I believe anyone working in the county assessor’s office would agree with this.

It just can’t be a joy to collect taxes. The very words “Tax Collector” cause even the most honest and diligent to shudder. But at least we don’t pay our taxes to some middle manager who runs a private state sanctioned tax collection service. This is how taxes were collected in the hinterlands of first century Rome.

Imagine how this would work on the local level today… Imagine local businesses being told to pony up the expected taxes for November today, the last day on October. In this system the collector begins by having to figure out the assessment. You have to begin with the expected revenue, and of course the collector is going to estimate high while the businesses will estimate low. Then the sales tax rates begin with 6.25% for the great state of Texas, then here in Marshall there’s another 2% split between the city, the county, transit taxes, and any Special Purpose Districts. Don’t feel bad though, if each of these special assessments were maxed out, we would be paying an extra 6.50% instead of just 2%. Imagine; there could be some places in Texas where special taxes can cost even more than the state’s 6.25% sales tax collection, but back to what we do have to pay.

So here in Marshall a business owner would need to fork over 8.25% of the tax collector’s expected revenue before one dollar of real revenue was raised or risk having the doors closed. While my little example begins with sales taxes, this isn’t the only tax assessed against local businesses that would be collected on the spot. If the business sells gasoline or alcohol there are taxes on those products that come out on top of regular sales taxes. Add the assessments against payroll; Medicare, Medicaid, and the Social Security Administration as they come in for their share of the pie. Then comes an assessment on real property, including land, building, inventory and so on. Then if you deal in tires, car batteries and hazardous materials; don’t forget the disposal fees that will need to be collected. I’ve failed to mention the collection of Federal Income Taxes, but at least Texas doesn’t have a state income tax or that would be collected too.

So now imagine you’re the person whose job it is to collect all of the taxes and see that it goes off to the proper bureaucrats at the seats of government. In ancient Rome, these taxes had to be paid by the collector in advance, so in my example, you can’t collect the taxes the day before they’re due because they have to get to Rome by the first of the month; postmarked by the 15^th isn’t good enough, oh no. So if you are the tax collector, you had better collect the all of the taxes early and often. Then you should even collect a bit more as a cushion because if they don’t get paid, it’s coming out of your pocket. The good news for the tax collector is that in the months where collections exceeded the estimate, the surplus is profit. That profit is salary.

As a first century assessor, collector, and clerk, Zacchaeus was in charge of gathering the taxes for Rome. As the head tax collector he was responsible for paying the estimated taxes to Rome in advance, and then collecting the taxes.[2] Of course, this becomes a losing proposition for a collector when people don’t pay their taxes because you can’t tell that to Rome. Rome says pay up and the head tax collector pays up, in advance.

This is why first century tax collectors would gouge the people who actually paid their taxes. They knew there would be some fat times and some lean times, so they made sure there was more than enough fat to cover the lean.[3]

It almost gives you a grain of pity for the hard work faced by the first century tax collector. Almost. Then again, it almost sounds like a protection racket. Almost.

Zacchaeus was a man. He was a head tax collector and he was short and he was rich and he was reviled by his people. And like every other tax collector, he overcharged the taxes he collected because he knew what could happen if he didn’t. But as a head tax collector, he had junior collectors who did the dirty work with the people while he did the work with the big boys in Rome. And through this, he became rich. And as a Jew, a son of Abraham, he was truly reviled by his people who made him rich doing Rome’s dirty work.

He was a collaborator. He was not a patriot.

As for our reading today, Zacchaeus was a wee little man and a wee little man was he. The glorious children’s song[4] tells us this and that’s what our gospel reading tells us, though in far less subtle terms. Our reading from the New International Version says without any subtlety that Zacchaeus was a short man. What’s interesting, at least to me, is that the New Revised Standard version says that he was short in stature and the New American Standard Bible says he was small in stature.

As I said earlier, “small” didn’t mean “young” or “child.” It meant small in a descriptive way, or as a noun it would be rendered “little ones” like in Luke 17. What did it mean to be little? Who were the little ones?

Well, Zacchaeus was pushed around by the crowds, so he could well have been physically tiny. The Greek word in the original transcript doesn’t exclude this definition, and it is surely the most common. So maybe Zacchaeus was the “Before” picture in the Charles Atlas ads. For those of you who don’t know Charles Atlas, that would be a PX-90 ad.

But being small could also mean being less, pitiable even. Jesus used the same word to describe the Rabbis, and surely they would not been confused with the seven dwarves as a group. Jesus used this word to describe their theology and polity as immature. They were small men trapped into a small world view making small decisions in a world that demanded more. The word had an edge of weakness to it, meaning that the entire being of a man was small and wretched; not just his stature.

So in a wonderful way, Luke might have been describing Zacchaeus as a physically short man, but also as a man who was small in more ways than just his height. The kind of man, the kind of Roman collaborator that could be shoved around and nobody would even want to come to his aid. Nobody would even care.

Yet attached to this word is a wonderful hope, a leaning toward a secret, concealed inner or future dignity.[5] Being small does not mean being small forever. Being small can be like a tiny acorn which can grow into the mighty oak, and Zacchaeus demonstrated this growth with his Lord.

So what made Zacchaeus right with God?

We read on and we read that Zacchaeus was overjoyed. Despite the snarky comments made by the people around him, those who call this tax collector a sinner; knowing the contempt they held for him in their heart, he gladly welcomed Jesus to his home. And Jesus followed.

Then, along the way, even before they reached the tax collector’s home, Zacchaeus stopped and announced his repentance, turning from taking taxes in excess. He cried out, “Half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” Then Jesus declared, “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.”

So now we have the formula, give stuff to the poor, make reparations to those you injure, and salvation will come to your house. This is how we get right with God!

Not so fast.

This leap is easy to make, people often think you have to be “good enough” to get into heaven, or even be “good enough” before going to church. People often think you have to make up for your sins before Jesus can save you, but this is not so. In Ephesians, Paul writes, “For it is by grace you have been saved through faith.” We are not saved by our actions; we are saved by the actions of God in Christ. Through what Jesus did, his life, his death, his resurrection, by his work and Word are we saved.

So what of Zacchaeus’ response? So what of his repentance? Oswald Chambers says it well in this entry from his devotional work, “My Utmost for His Highest”:

“It is not repentance that saves me—repentance is only the sign that I realize what God has done through Christ Jesus. The danger here is putting the emphasis on the effect, instead of on the cause. Is it my obedience, consecration, and dedication that make me right with God? It is never that! I am made right with God because, prior to all of that, Christ died. When I turn to God and by belief accept what God reveals, the miraculous atonement by the Cross of Christ instantly places me into a right relationship with God.”[6]

So it wasn’t what Zacchaeus did, it was what Jesus did and continues to do. Zacchaeus responded, and he responded well giving to the poor and making reparations to those he injured.

On this Reformation Sunday, this is one of the great truths we learn. We can do nothing to earn our salvation. It is by grace through faith that we are saved. Jesus saves not despite who we are, but because of who we are. For Zacchaeus it is because he is a son of Abraham, for us it is because we are God’s people.

Yet if we stopped there, we would be taking that grace, that salvation, and handling it as cheaply as fallen leaves. Not only do we need salvation, we need to respond to our salvation. We need to add our obedience, our consecration, and our dedication for a full relationship with God.

One of the ways we do that is by following Christ’s lead. As Christ before us, we need to seek out and find those who are small, the little ones, because as we know from Luke 17, it is “better for him to be thrown into the sea with a millstone tied around his neck than for him to cause one of these little ones to sin.”

We need to start small. We need to find those who have been shoved to the margins of polite society. While the small are commonly poor and distressed, they may be rich and distressed like Zacchaeus. We need to greet them and meet them as Jesus did. We need to reach out to the small ones because there is hope that as we respond to our salvation, we can help others respond to theirs. This works both ways too; there is hope that as we help others respond to their salvation, we may respond to ours.

---

[1] Kittel, Gerhard, The Theological Dictionary of the New Testament.” Vol. iv. Geoffrey W. Gromiley, Translator and Editor. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, page 659.

[2] Bamberger, B. J., “Tax Collector,” in “The Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible.” George Arthur Buttrick, Dictionary Editor. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1962, 21st Printing 1992, electronic version 2004.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Reference to the Zacchaeus song can be found at http://www.ebibleteacher.com/children/songs.htm#Zacchaeus. Videos of the performance of Zacchaeus can be found at http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=zacchaeus+song&aq=3. Both retrieved October 27, 2010.

[5] Kittel, page 652

[6] Chambers, Oswald, “My Utmost for His Highest, An Updated Edition in Today’s Language.” James Reinmann, Editor. Grand Rapids, MI: RBC Ministries for the Oswald Chambers Publications Association, Ltd., October 28 entry.

Spiritual Disciplines-Giving

This sermon was delivered at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday November 4, 2007, the 31st Sunday of Ordinary time.

Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4
Psalm 119:137-144
2Thessalonians 1:1-4, 11-12
Luke 19:1-10

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

Public services are a necessary part of our lives and they have to be paid for and we pay for them by taxes. And maybe, just maybe, the only thing worse than paying taxes is collecting them. I believe the county assessor’s office would confirm this.

In August of this year, Eureka Springs’ tax collections were just shy of $110,000. This was 22% under projections and 10.5% under the approximate $124,000 collected in August of last year. According to the council, there was good news though; figures indicated that September’s projection of $144,000 appeared to have been met. And there was great rejoicing on the west side of the King’s River.

To quote the newspaper, “Eureka Springs City Commissioner Hahn noted that a number of shops are closed, which likely affects collections.” I guess that whole you can’t get blood from a turnip thing applies here.

Later in the meeting, Commissioner Alvin Byrd asked for a copy of letters sent to delinquent businesses, saying that he had received complaints about their harshness. City Advertising and Promotions Commission Executive Director Jim Williams said the 30-day notice simply asks if the person had forgotten to pay their taxes, and the 60-day notice is more “matter of fact,” than harsh.[1]

It just can’t be a joy to collect taxes. Even so, the very words “Tax Collector” cause even the most honest and diligent to shudder. But at least we don’t pay our taxes to some middle manager who runs a private state sanctioned tax collection service. This is how taxes were collected in the hinterlands of first century Rome.

As a first century assessor and clerk, Zacchaeus was in charge of collecting taxes for Rome. As the head tax collector he was responsible for paying the estimated taxes to Rome in advance, and then collecting the taxes.[2] This becomes a losing proposition for a collector when people don’t pay their taxes. But you can’t tell that to Rome. Rome says pay up and the head tax collector pays up, in advance.

Imagine how this would work in our case from Eureka Springs…imagine the city Alderpersons being told to pony up the difference between the estimated and collected taxes for August. This would have come to more than $30,000 split between the six of them. That’s over $5,000 apiece. So if it’s your job to collect the taxes, you had better collect the taxes because if they don’t get paid by the merchants, it’s coming out of your pocket. The good news for the commissioners though was in months where collections exceeded the estimate, the surplus is profit. That profit would be the commissioners’ salary.

This is why first century tax collectors would gouge the people who paid their taxes. They knew there would be some fat times and some lean times, so they made sure there was more than enough fat to cover the lean.[3]

It almost gives you a grain of pity for the hard work faced by the first century tax collector. Almost.

Zacchaeus was a man. He was a head tax collector and he was short and he was rich and he was reviled by his people. And like every other tax collector, he overcharged on the taxes he collected because he knew what would happen if he didn’t. But as a head tax collector, he had junior collectors who did the dirty work with the people while he did the work with the big boys in Rome. And through this, he became rich. And as a son of Abraham, he was truly reviled by his people, the Jews, who made him rich doing Rome’s dirty work.

He was a collaborator. He was not a patriot.

Just being seen with Zacchaeus would make you guilty by association.

But this doesn’t stop Jesus.

Jesus calls to Zacchaeus, “Hurry and come down, for I must stay at your house today.”

Zacchaeus was so happy that Jesus, the Lord, would come to his house that he says, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord. I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything I will pay back four times as much.”

Here’s a man who has changed, a man who has repented, just because he broke bread with Jesus.

What do the people say? What do they grumble? “Jesus has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.”

In changing, in repenting, in turning, Zacchaeus takes his earthly wealth and first dedicates it to the Lord by helping the poor and then by making restitution to those whom he has wronged.

There was never a better result on “The People’s Court.”

Zacchaeus responds to the call of the Lord by giving. He gives to the poor and rights the wrongs he has committed. Jesus affirms his repentance saying, “Today salvation has come to this house.”

Jesus found the lost and the lost found Jesus.

That’s the way it was meant to be.

It’s still the way it was meant to be.

And in response to the meal we eat with the Lord, the meal he invited us to share, the meal he gave to us, we are called to give.

Zacchaeus sacrificed much of his fortune when he gave his wealth in response to the presence of the Lord. He gave half, and probably more than half of what he had in the name of Jesus.

In Genesis, we receive the concept of tithing when Abram gives one-tenth of his wealth to Melchizedek, the King of Jerusalem, after they share a meal of bread and wine.[4] Zacchaeus’ response to Jesus’ meal leaves that one in the dust.

But giving is not a competition, it’s a spiritual discipline.

Last week I talked about praying as a spiritual discipline. Prayer is not only how we communicate with God, but it is how God communicates with us. As the old saying goes, communication is a two way street, we have to listen as well as talk to communicate.

This week, I want us to consider stewardship, specifically giving, as a spiritual discipline. I have talked about Zacchaeus’ sacrificial gift of his personal treasure. But there is more to sacrificial giving than this.

Zacchaeus gave much, but Jesus gave more. Jesus sacrificed the social structure of the community by eating with a fellow Jew who was also a Roman collaborator.

Jesus sacrificed his personal status as a man of authority by being seen with this lost soul.

Jesus sacrificed his rabbinical authority by acknowledging the short man as a child of Abraham.

Jesus sacrificed his standing with the masses by seeking the lost.

Jesus sacrificed his power by saving the lost.

It makes writing a check seem somehow lacking by comparison.

Jesus as we know would give so much more. He identified with us joining the community of faith when he was baptized by John. He instituted this meal we share today, a meal which was foreshadowed when Abram was fed by Melchizedek and when Abram fed the three men by the Oaks of Mamre.[5] A meal the Lord shared with Zacchaeus on an ordinary day, a day not unlike this one.

And Jesus gave even more.

As you know, recently Marie has been suffering not only with the effects and side effects of Crohn’s Disease; she has also been suffering from challenges faced with treating the disease. In particular, she needs intravenous medications and her veins are as straight as a road map of Arkansas. There are some strait roads on the main routes, but for the most part it’s a twisty-turny mess in there. As you also know, she got a port that allows a single regular site to receive the IV medications, but it acted up too. She was very upset and the only person more frustrated about her veins than her was the nurse at the hospital who couldn’t get a vein on her to save his life.

Just a note before going on, all is well with the port. On Friday it worked like a dream. Praise God!

Anyway, I started quoting a line out of a song when she would go in for blood tests and medication, “Give blood/But you may find that blood is enough.”[6] Anemia is a side effect of the Crohn’s but I got to tell you, Marie has been giving so much blood over the past few months that there’s no wonder her anemia has reached epic status.

“Give blood/And there are some who'll say it's not enough.”

Jesus gave blood, and sweat, and toil, and tears, that we may approach the throne of glory. Jesus gave himself, he emptied himself of his Godly life that he may come and share life with us. He emptied himself of his intimate relationship as a part of the triune God that he may experience life in intimate relationship with us.

Giving is a spiritual discipline. And sure enough, you’ve heard and you will continue to hear you’ll hear televangelists, General Assembly moderators, Presbyterian fundraisers, pastors, and church treasurers say give. This message is heard so often that we begin to think to ourselves “give blood and there are some who’ll say it’s not enough.”

Just being seen with Zacchaeus would make you guilty by association. Being with us Jesus became guilt for us. He gave all that he was. He gave himself for us. He gave himself to seek out and save us.

Without despair let us remember, that as much as we give, it can never surpass what has been given to us. Jesus gave blood, and it was exactly what needed to be given. Can we give anything in return that would begin to match what we have been given? No, we can’t. Still, Jesus is our model of giving as a spiritual discipline. And we are called to respond to him through our giving.

[1] Long, E. Allen, “CAPC recommends ‘Ree’ Slane for vacancy; tax collections hit target in September,” Carroll County News, October 5, 2007, http://carrollconews.com/articles/2007/10/05/news/we2.txt, accessed November 3, 2007
[2] Bamberger, B. J., “Tax Collector,” in “The Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible.” George Arthur Buttrick, Dictionary Editor. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1962, 21st Printing 1992, electronic version 2004.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Genesis 14:17-24
[5] Genesis 18:1-8
[6] Townshend, Pete, “Give Blood,” from “White City: A Novel” Atco Records, 1985.

All the Best Cowboys...

Isaiah 50:4-9a
Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29
Philippians 2:5-11
Luke 19:28-40

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.

As a congregation, we have been together for nearly two years. In that time I am sure you have noticed that I tend to look at life a little differently. When I was a kid, I used to thumb through the encyclopedia. When I had my first apartment I didn’t keep magazines in the bathroom, I kept an almanac. I never had the time to read an entire article in the bathroom, so I would just scope out some facts. Today I still cruise an online encyclopedia to find new little mental diversions.

This has never been particularly useful, but it does add spice to conversation. Once, my older sister and I were heading to Downtown Kansas City from her house north of the river. We were crossing the Armor-Swift-and-Burlington bridge, the ASB as it’s known in KC, and she pointed over to an old rail bridge and asked me, “Do you believe they are putting a piece of that in the Smithsonian?” “Sure,” I replied, “After all it is the oldest swing type rail drawbridge in America.” This is my sister, she’s known me all my life, she knows me well, and she was dumbstruck. “How in the world do you know that?” I was a little embarrassed to tell her, “Well, it’s in the almanac.”[1]

So you won’t be too amazed that when reading today’s gospel, I was reminded of the name of a 1982 record album by Pete Townshend, the lead guitar player for a British Invasion rock band called “The Who.”

Reading the gospel, I just get this image of Jesus riding into town on a colt that hadn’t been broken. If you have ever tried to ride or even seen someone try to ride an unbroken colt, you would know that nothing will throw you faster, especially bareback. Throw in the spectacle of people shouting and throwing their cloaks in their path and the degree of difficulty and danger increases drastically. Yet scripture tells us Jesus is placed on the colt and it’s calm, cool, and collected. Together they ride into town.

Anyway, I remember hearing an interview with Pete Townshend on the radio in the early 1980’s.[2] When asked about the title of his new album, he says in his British accent, “When you watch these old Western pictures, you see John Wayne (now imagine if you will a man with a British accent going into a John Wayne imitation), and he’s riding out on the range, and he looks like a bloke, just like any other man. Well, it figured that if you spent all this time out on the range looking off into the sunset like the Western heroes do, you’d spend a lot of time squinting, so I always thought (and here’s the name of the album) ‘All the Best Cowboys Have Chinese Eyes’.”

So here’s Jesus, riding into town, on the back of a colt that had never been ridden. He’s working it like all the best cowboys. He has spent a lot of time on the roads between villages, spending time in the fields and plains with the people, and he doesn’t have a big Stetson hat, or Oakley sunglasses, so, for some unknown reason, I sort of wonder if Jesus has “Chinese Eyes,” you know, just like all the best cowboys. Or is it just me?

The striking thing about this text is that it is so simple yet so lush. There is so very little written here, but it is so full of detail and imagery. Listen to the word of the Lord…verse 31 reads, “If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying this colt?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it’.” This is so simple. The Lord needs it. Is there any more subtle piece of scripture?

With a simplicity and richness Jesus brings to the event, he rides into town on the back of a colt. The people are expecting a king. They want a king. They cry, “Blessed is the king!” Putting cloaks in his path is one way kings are greeted,[3] but Jesus does not enter like the political or military king the people wanted to end Roman oppression. He does not enter Jerusalem on the back of a war horse leading an army and bringing the conquered and vanquished enemy to his capital. He does not come in a chariot like the Egyptian Pharaohs, Assyrian Kings, and Roman Caesars of Israel’s past and present. He comes on a colt. The colt is nimble. The colt is sturdy. These qualities make the colt the preferred mount of the Jewish kings since it could move through the hill country far better than a war horse or a chariot could.[4]

So this simple gesture reveals Jesus comes humbly. He is a Jew come to his people during their most important celebration, not a conquering hero. He comes as one who serves, not one who is served. He comes with humility, but he also comes with knowledge. He comes knowing his place in the past, the present, and the future.

Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” The Pharisees knew if the crowd did not, there would be consequences. The Romans want order in the territories, and this would not do. Jesus knew better. He knew “if the people were silent, the stones would shout out.” Nothing was going to stop Jesus. Nothing was going to stop his triumphant entry into Jerusalem. Nothing was going to stop the Word of the Lord, his Word, from being shouted out to a world desperately needing to hear it.

The Swiss theologian Karl Barth once said, “The Word became flesh—and then through theologians it became words again.”[5] It’s all right to laugh. This may not be very funny, but it’s pretty funny. After more than three years of seminary, nearly two years of sermons, and countless reports to various Presbytery groups and agencies, I can say with no reservation that I am able to make the Word become flesh become word again. After looking at the Book of Confessions and reading such truly wonderful statements as, “I ought properly to acknowledge the only true God, trust in him alone, in humility and patience expect all good from him only, and love, fear and honor him with my whole heart.”[6] And as wonderful and glorious as this is, next to “The Lord needs it,” and “the stones would shout out,” it just seems so very wordy.

Jesus comes simply. He comes knowing who he is and what he has come to do. He comes with integrity, something sorely lacking in our world today. There has been a lot of talk about the circumstances surrounding former pro football player and Army Ranger Pat Tillman’s death in Afghanistan; and how the government has chosen to handle what happened to him on that fateful day. Former Arizona State University head football coach Bruce Snyder was Tillman’s coach from 1994 to 1997. Coach Snyder summed up the government's handling of Tillman’s death perfectly. In a recent interview, he said that things like war and religion are complicated, but accountability is not. He was very upset with the way the military and the government have handled things and thought Tillman would be too.[7]

Integrity forces us to tell the truth. Integrity allows us to say war is hell and horrible things happen in war and in war time. Integrity makes us face the fact that this is especially true in wars that need to be fought. Integrity does not let us cover up the harsh parts of reality with a glossy sheen that looks pretty but hides flaws. With this same integrity, we are called to know who we are and find our place in the world. We are called to tell the truth. We are called to tell the truth in business. We are called to tell the truth at home. And we are called to tell the truth to the world.

Jesus comes on a colt as the Lord and Messiah. He is more than a victorious military leader. He is more than a skilled politician. He is the anointed one who comes in power, and in authority, and in humility. He comes to lead us and all of creation into Jerusalem. But humanity can be just as unruly as a colt that has never been ridden. But the Lord does not lead by force or coercion. He calls us with a whisper we hear at a level we don’t understand from a place we cannot deny. The colt can give us insight to these whispers. This description comes from the movie The Horse Whisperer:[8]

“A million years before man, [horses] grazed the vast and empty plains, living by voices only they could hear. They first came to know man as the hunted knows the hunter, for long before he used horses for his labors, he killed them for meat. The alliance with man would forever be fragile, for the fear he’d struck into their hearts…was too deep to be dislodged. Since that Neolithic moment, when a horse was first haltered, there were those among men who understood this. They could see into the creature’s soul…and soothe the wounds they found there. The secrets uttered softly into troubled ears. These men were known as the whisperers.”

Jesus will not be deterred. What he does he does for one of us and for all of us. His disciples cry out “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” Yet, even if they were not able to cry out, the stones would cry out in their stead. Today we celebrate the triumphant entry of the King of the Jews into Jerusalem. Today we celebrate His triumphant entry into a kingship the people did not understand. We are called to cry "Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven.” We are called to do this because the Lord sees into our souls and soothes the wounds he finds. We are called to do this because the Lord needs it.

[1] The World Almanac and Book of Facts, I believe I am referring to the 1987 edition.
[2] I believe this was from Redbeard’s radio show probably from 1982.
[3] http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/printer_friendly_installment.asp?installment_id=3237, accessed March 26, 2007, and see 2 Kings 9:6-16, the inauguration of Jehu
[4] Ibid.
[5] http://homileticsonline.com/subscriber/printer_friendly_installment.asp?installment_id=93000055, accessed March 26, 2006.
[6] Office of the General Assembly, The Constitution of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), Part I, The Book of Confessions. The Heidelberg Catechism, Question 94. Louisville, KY: Geneva Press, 1996, page 30.
[7] http://www.jimrome.com/home/jungle/interview.html, Bruce Snyder Interview, accessed March 28, 2007.
[8] Touchstone Pictures presents, The Horse Whisperer. Written by Eric Roth based on the novel by Nick Evans. 1998.