A midweek sermon on Zacchaeus--for a change
SERMON WEDS. WEEK OF PROPER 29-LAST PENTECOST YEAR 2 11.26.08
I am sure most of us know the children's song that goes with this Gospel. I will not sing it! But it has always made me happy---at least until I really unpack it.
To unpack it, I have to remember another time someone came to my house. When my husband and I bought Pine Gables, where we live now, our eldest two boys were 8 and 11. Their main attraction to the small ranch house was the creek down below. You might imagine what fodder that provided for our washer and dryer. One early Fall Saturday, I had just had it. I told them the whole family was going to get this laundry done by staying on top of it all day. Their rooms were at one end of the house and the laundry closet at the other, outside of our room. I told them to do the big sort and to line up the piles of laundry across the library (our front room.) I think there were at least ten small mountains in various shadings. Since I would not let them go outside until the laundry was finished, the back room became Lego-land, with a bright carpet of tiny colored blocks on every conceivable surface. I felt empowered and virtuous. We had a rare unscheduled day and we were going to get this done.
At about 10:00 the doorbell rang. I thought it might be one of the neighbors or perhaps a Jehovah's Witness team. I cheerfully flung open the door. We have no foyer, the front door opens right into the library. Standing on the stoop with one of her best friends was my incomparable mother in law. I know my teeth hit the steps. "Hello dear. We just happened to be in Berea," [FROM FRANKFORT? MY MIND DID NOT COMPUTE THIS] "and Ann wanted to see your new house!" [DO I EVEN KNOW ANN? I THINK WE HAVE MET TWICE?? SHE WANTS TO SEE IT TODAY?? THIS HOUSE?? WITHOUT CALLING??]
There was no help for it but to let them in of course and stammer an explanation about the process of the day. I think we tried to find a coffee cup and pretend hospitality and tried to tour the house around the laundry and the Legos. I am sure my mother-in-law was even more mortified than I was. She has never carried a cell phone and it was before they were really prevalent at any rate. I am sure she simply did not stop to think that two working parents and two busy middle school boys might not be ready for visitors- she is endlessly kind and helpful to all of us, and beyond thoughtful. I think she just wanted to share in the joy of our house and her connection to us. I have always worried that I let HER down by not being more company ready. I have always been ashamed that I could not use my rich sense of humor to be hospitable and sweep a couch free and make them feel truly welcome. They stayed a bare 15 minutes before exiting in great relief. We have rarely spoken of it since. {AFTERNOTE- SHE READ THE SERMON AND LOVED IT BUT DOES NOT REMEMBER THE MESS AT ALL!}
So when I become Zaccheus in the tree, I have to stop and think: If Jesus told me he was coming to my house today, what would he find?
I mean of course, my spiritual house. I am afraid there is little hope for the physical house. Fast forwarding fifteen years still finds us with overflowing laundry and on-going battles of little men in the front room and back. Shannon and Graff are both still joyous in their hobbies, and I would not have it any other way. . . .
Mostly.
But what is my spiritual house like on this eve of Advent? Am I ready to go into a time that should be based in alert and quiet wakefulness? Do I wait for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning?
What does THAT mean in Psalm 130-- to watch for the morning? In this case I think it is not hitting the snooze on the alarm clock 16 times (brought to you by the woman whose first words almost every morning are "make it stop" --if there are even words!!) and I think it also is not the kind of fearful "It is 1:42—I have to get up in 5 hours" kind of waiting. This is a real hope-based vigil—like in the old movies and the new hospital rooms when the doctor says, "we will know more when morning comes. If we get through the night, it is a good sign."
THAT kind of vigil is hushed. It is expectant. It is incredibly alert for every possible nuance that signals change. It takes energy, dedication and focus. It takes hope.
As we stand poised at the brink of Advent, the last of these ordinary days pass away. With them, let us drop our fevered activity and our falsely important frenzy. Let us drop all of our pretenses that we actually are in control and that we can actually make things happen as we choose. Let us shed all of our amnesia about the coming of God into this world.
The current state of our house may not really matter. That does not mean that we should not attempt to make it ready, it is just a realistic assessment of human inabilities.
AND--Jesus knows it –and us--anyway; it is why we need for him to come.
Jesus came to the house of a known sinner.
We are that known sinner.
So let us instead really be like Zacchaeus. Luke tells us that he made haste and came down and welcomed him joyfully. Furthermore, he was transformed by the visit and gave freely to the poor, and made restitution to those he had harmed, leading Jesus to proclaim that Salvation had come to his house. That is the preparation that we can make—we can be ready to be joyful and be ready to come down from our trees in order to welcome Salvation in. We can be hopeful for the arrival and ready to spring when asked. We can be vigilant about opening our hearts in joy to the Christ Child who comes as an infant and the Risen Christ who comes to save. We can dedicate ourselves to actually living as Paul says, as those marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit.
"Come down! I am coming to your house today!"
"Lord, you are joyfully welcome!"
Amen.
I am sure most of us know the children's song that goes with this Gospel. I will not sing it! But it has always made me happy---at least until I really unpack it.
To unpack it, I have to remember another time someone came to my house. When my husband and I bought Pine Gables, where we live now, our eldest two boys were 8 and 11. Their main attraction to the small ranch house was the creek down below. You might imagine what fodder that provided for our washer and dryer. One early Fall Saturday, I had just had it. I told them the whole family was going to get this laundry done by staying on top of it all day. Their rooms were at one end of the house and the laundry closet at the other, outside of our room. I told them to do the big sort and to line up the piles of laundry across the library (our front room.) I think there were at least ten small mountains in various shadings. Since I would not let them go outside until the laundry was finished, the back room became Lego-land, with a bright carpet of tiny colored blocks on every conceivable surface. I felt empowered and virtuous. We had a rare unscheduled day and we were going to get this done.
At about 10:00 the doorbell rang. I thought it might be one of the neighbors or perhaps a Jehovah's Witness team. I cheerfully flung open the door. We have no foyer, the front door opens right into the library. Standing on the stoop with one of her best friends was my incomparable mother in law. I know my teeth hit the steps. "Hello dear. We just happened to be in Berea," [FROM FRANKFORT? MY MIND DID NOT COMPUTE THIS] "and Ann wanted to see your new house!" [DO I EVEN KNOW ANN? I THINK WE HAVE MET TWICE?? SHE WANTS TO SEE IT TODAY?? THIS HOUSE?? WITHOUT CALLING??]
There was no help for it but to let them in of course and stammer an explanation about the process of the day. I think we tried to find a coffee cup and pretend hospitality and tried to tour the house around the laundry and the Legos. I am sure my mother-in-law was even more mortified than I was. She has never carried a cell phone and it was before they were really prevalent at any rate. I am sure she simply did not stop to think that two working parents and two busy middle school boys might not be ready for visitors- she is endlessly kind and helpful to all of us, and beyond thoughtful. I think she just wanted to share in the joy of our house and her connection to us. I have always worried that I let HER down by not being more company ready. I have always been ashamed that I could not use my rich sense of humor to be hospitable and sweep a couch free and make them feel truly welcome. They stayed a bare 15 minutes before exiting in great relief. We have rarely spoken of it since. {AFTERNOTE- SHE READ THE SERMON AND LOVED IT BUT DOES NOT REMEMBER THE MESS AT ALL!}
So when I become Zaccheus in the tree, I have to stop and think: If Jesus told me he was coming to my house today, what would he find?
I mean of course, my spiritual house. I am afraid there is little hope for the physical house. Fast forwarding fifteen years still finds us with overflowing laundry and on-going battles of little men in the front room and back. Shannon and Graff are both still joyous in their hobbies, and I would not have it any other way. . . .
Mostly.
But what is my spiritual house like on this eve of Advent? Am I ready to go into a time that should be based in alert and quiet wakefulness? Do I wait for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning?
What does THAT mean in Psalm 130-- to watch for the morning? In this case I think it is not hitting the snooze on the alarm clock 16 times (brought to you by the woman whose first words almost every morning are "make it stop" --if there are even words!!) and I think it also is not the kind of fearful "It is 1:42—I have to get up in 5 hours" kind of waiting. This is a real hope-based vigil—like in the old movies and the new hospital rooms when the doctor says, "we will know more when morning comes. If we get through the night, it is a good sign."
THAT kind of vigil is hushed. It is expectant. It is incredibly alert for every possible nuance that signals change. It takes energy, dedication and focus. It takes hope.
As we stand poised at the brink of Advent, the last of these ordinary days pass away. With them, let us drop our fevered activity and our falsely important frenzy. Let us drop all of our pretenses that we actually are in control and that we can actually make things happen as we choose. Let us shed all of our amnesia about the coming of God into this world.
The current state of our house may not really matter. That does not mean that we should not attempt to make it ready, it is just a realistic assessment of human inabilities.
AND--Jesus knows it –and us--anyway; it is why we need for him to come.
Jesus came to the house of a known sinner.
We are that known sinner.
So let us instead really be like Zacchaeus. Luke tells us that he made haste and came down and welcomed him joyfully. Furthermore, he was transformed by the visit and gave freely to the poor, and made restitution to those he had harmed, leading Jesus to proclaim that Salvation had come to his house. That is the preparation that we can make—we can be ready to be joyful and be ready to come down from our trees in order to welcome Salvation in. We can be hopeful for the arrival and ready to spring when asked. We can be vigilant about opening our hearts in joy to the Christ Child who comes as an infant and the Risen Christ who comes to save. We can dedicate ourselves to actually living as Paul says, as those marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit.
"Come down! I am coming to your house today!"
"Lord, you are joyfully welcome!"
Amen.
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