Greed
He had always hated being so small. Eventually it had made him mean, bullish and unpleasant. When others had laughed at him, he had remembered and held it against them. Now he reminded them of his power and position as often as he could. He made them pay. He was despised, and he was feared. This was the best he could do. He would never be loved, but at least he was well known. When he went out into the street, children ran to warn their parents. He got a weird kick out of that.
His job meant he had to ‘cosy-up’ to the authorities alot. But he didn’t mind. His own people certainly didn’t accept him and the Romans were pretty fair employees, in fact, often pretty stupid. They turned a corporate blind eye to his money laundering. It was well- known that Zacchaeus collected more than he should and pocketed the spoils, but no-one bothered to stop him. He got the job done, didn’t he?
Desperately lonely and insecure, he sought disguise by wearing rich clothes, surrounding himself with fine possessions and constantly building new edifices onto his sizeable property at the edge of town. Always greedy for more, his addictive nature meant he was often physically sick through over-eating or drinking. This made him even more bad-tempered. He went through slaves like water. No-one lasted long in his household. He fired and hired almost every week, his mean, twisted features well-known at the slave auction in the Market square. He was always bartering and arguing the price down, his crooked ways beginning to make him appear even smaller as he sat hunched up with the dealers.
When he heard that Jesus was in town, he had no desire at all to see him. He thought immediately of using the opportunity to pay some visits to those who would be out. Leaving his calling card and some extortionate price increases nailed to their door would be a nice touch. He sneered to himself. He was good at this.
He got himself ready and filled his bag. Opening his door, he was surprised to find the road deserted. Not a soul. Only a few chickens scratching around. Not even the beggars. No-one. It felt eerie, and something, in what was left of his spirit, felt uncomfortable. Where was everyone?
He shut his door and bolted and locked its four locks. (He had anxieties about all the money he had yet to take into the office.) Turning left, he walked towards the Market. Nothing. No sound even. So he turned right and walked through town. He saw a large crowd ahead. It appeared to be moving. Curious and unable to help himself, his pace quickened. He felt compelled forward.
“What am I doing?” he questioned, “I don’t want to go where everyone else is!” But his feet would not turn around. He was almost running now. His big belly struggling under his tiny legs. He felt hot and sick. Too much wine the night before. Again. His bag was heavy on his shoulder. He had a sudden urge to throw it down, but checked himself immediately. “What is the matter with me?”
The crowd was dense and he could see nothing. The noise level was amazing too. Laughing, gesturing, gossip by those on the edges. Then he saw one of the lame beggars. He had bankrupted him years ago and made him lose everything. He ordered him to tell him what was going on. The man turned and looked at him, his stick thin legs wobbling a little unconvincingly with his weight. “I can walk!” Manasseh shouted, ignoring the question. “He just touched me … And I now I can run!” Zacchaeus halted. He felt suddenly afraid and was not sure why. More people began crowding Manasseh, laughing and clapping him on the back.
Zacchaeus stumbled on into the crowd as it swept and surged further through the narrow streets. He was sweating and shaking. He wanted to catch a glimpse of this miracle man, but not get too close, of course. But still he could see nothing. Then he had an idea. He could tell that the crowd were going towards the river. He darted through the side street, one he knew well. He had ‘clients’ there.
At the end of the turning, was a huge tree; a sycamore with low, bending branches. He climbed into it easily and sat in the shade of the leaves. Now, at last, he would be able to watch, unseen. He congratulated himself on his view and his cleverness and sat, getting his fat breath back.
He waited a long while. This Jesus man certainly took his time. Zacchaeus didn’t like that. He never allowed himself to be delayed by anyone or anything. But suddenly, Jesus was under the tree. He wasn’t anything remarkable to look at; his clothes were dirty, his beard uncombed. But there was something beautifully powerful and compellingly authoritative in his demeanour. Amazingly so. Zacchaeus was fascinated. He wanted some of that.
Jesus’ eyes looked deliberately up. “Oh no!” thought Zacchaeus, “I’m going to be spotted!” Then Jesus addressed him BY NAME. Was he dreaming? “Zaccheaus, there you are! Come down my friend…” Jesus smiled up at him, “I’m coming to your home today.”
Zacchaeus climbed down awkwardly, his little legs struggling with the branches. The crowd’s murmuring stopped. All was still and silent. Shock filled the air.
Why would Jesus want to be with Zacchaeus? Cries began all over the crowd. “Lord! There is plenty of food at my home. You would be more than welcome. Please don’t defile yourself by eating with the tax collector!” Unlike Jesus, they didn’t use his actual name. Another voice said, “Master, come to eat with us instead.”
Jesus held up his hand until they were silent. “I want to eat with Zacchaeus,” he said quietly and firmly. “We have alot to talk about.”
Zacchaeus wanted to run home to prepare and tell his servants to ready the house, but for some reason he couldn’t leave Jesus’ side. He sent word on ahead instead and walked with Jesus slowly, watching him talk and heal and speak to others, until they reached his home. Embarrassed by the four locks on his door, Zacchaeus opened up and welcomed Jesus into his courtyard, shutting the crowd outside. He could hear their cries of horror and amazement, “Why is Jesus bothering with HIM?”
“Not very popular round here are you?” Jesus suggested. Zacchaeus hung his head.
They sat in the coolness and shade of the tree-lined garden whilst servants waited on them. Zacchaeus was anxious to impress, but Jesus didn’t appear to notice what he was eating. They talked for hours. Zacchaeus felt overwhelmed by the attention, as an unfamiliar feeling began to creep into his heart. He recognized it as happiness.
Jesus left after five hours. Mesmerically wonderful hours, after which Zacchaeus would never be the same again. He flung open his front door and made an announcement to the bemused standers-by in the street. Word soon spread. No-one could quite believe it. He closed his door and went to his treasury box. He gathered all the bags of coins and got his copybook. Putting large lines through every name, he smiled to himself.
That’s when he remembered his bag. It was still hanging where he’d left it in the sycamore tree on the other side of town, along with his greed. He didn’t need either any more.