Speaking with Miriam this morning I realised that my natural instinct is to draw or write about imagined scenes as an observer, looking in from the outside. I wonder if that’s the case for most people? Miriam encouraged me to try something different - to go back to the story of Zacchaeus and put myself in his shoes; to see the world from his point of view. In our conversation this morning I also realised I tend to trust my feelings or gut instincts. Miriam encouraged me to reflect on what Zacchaeus felt.
I decided to write an imagined conversation between Jesus and Zacchaeus, after they had finished eating a meal together on the evening that they had met. In the conversation, Zacchaeus explains to Jesus why he climbed the tree.
I felt I needed to try and learn a bit more about Zacchaeus before writing the conversation. Google helped! I discovered that his name means “pure” in Hebrew and that he was a descendant of Abraham. Jericho, where Zacchaeus was a chief tax collector, was a busy trading city and a gateway to the Roman Empire; a city of palm trees. Nearby, at Al-Maghtas, is where John the Baptist baptised Jesus. Many goods would have passed through the city gates. One of the most expensive products created in the local area would have been balsam, which was highly prized by the Romans and used for medicinal purposes. Balsam was grown in the plantations around the city. Harvested slowly, the liquid changes colour as it drips out of the rind of the plants.
Zacchaeus would probably have had to bid for the right to be a tax collector, paying money to the Censor. As a chief tax collector he is likely to have had people working for him. He would have been able to ask people to open their boxes and cases to inspect the contents and to request tax on the goods. The rates of tax were open to interpretation which led to accusations (and incidents) of extortion. Tax collectors were hated by fellow Jews; despised as collaborators. Neither Zacchaeus or those working beneath him would have had recourse to alms from the synagogue if they fell on hard times. It sounds a bit like a vicious cycle.
In the conversation that I imagined between Zacchaeus and Jesus, Jesus doesn’t say much - just seven words (a question - which he repeats!) Zacchaeus does most of the talking :-
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Zacchaeus, why did you climb the tree?
Truly Lord, I do not know. Perhaps there are many reasons?
For as long as I remember I have felt even smaller inside than the three cubits that stand before you. I have always yearned for growth. Today I learned that this growth comes from the seed of my spirit, planted deep inside, long ago - perhaps a seed even older than me? This grain has always been there - sometimes growing - very slowly up until today - as slow as the drips of balsam weeping from the rind; with each passing day its colour intensifying in my heart. I wanted to see greater things than my body will allow. When I saw your love for me, the colours of my spirit were mixed with those of the earth; in an instant every part of my being was enriched by a new spectrum of life.
I climbed the tree because I felt a deep yearning to come face to face with this man, this teacher, this miracle worker who was baptised near here. To see if he could work his miracles on me. Scrabbling up the bark and along the age-worn boughs of the ancient fig, I felt energised - my limbs and body in harmony with my germinating spirit. Driven, perhaps, by an eternal connection to you - a common ancestor of Abraham - from whom it is written that Kings will follow. In that instant my true spirit was unleashed - overcome by purpose, to see the one whom they say is the King of Kings - the son of the God of Abraham. But the doubt remained. I too am of this line but I do not live up to my name. I am not “pure” Zacchaeus. I have riches but I am poor.
As I climbed more quickly, I ripped off my lavish garments, coins from far and wide falling to the floor, each a storybook - the thud of their dead weight on the earth fuelling my ascent.
You see, I have been a servant of a Lord - but not a lord of goodness or beauty or holiness. I thought my position would give me the stature I longed for - but to my brothers I am an affront to the Law. A collaborator - and worse - I perpetuate sin, enslaving those beneath me as I too am enslaved. Trapped. Now with no recourse to alms, we must all continue our work, in order to secure a future for ourselves and our families. But what security is this?! What life?! No way out to get back in. If I was ever on the inside that is? Belonging feels dead to me, if it ever lived; a wound cauterized long ago. Despised, distrusted, hated? Yes! I was but a mirror, reflecting my own likeness.
Your eyes gave my spirit sight; showed that mirror to be clear glass. But the pointing and sneering crowds are now gathered outside, jealously looking in. They do not see clearly yet, though the same seed dwells within.
I have sinned a thousand times against them - more than the number of leaves on that fig tree; but your love for me is even greater than that. I gave you my fig leaf and you gave back my heart. I will give half of all my belongings to the poor and repay anyone I have defrauded four times as much - not through guilt or fear of punishment or retribution, but through love. The seed has germinated. The grain has begun to grow.
In the moment you held me in your gaze I was unshackled. I became at one with my self and the world - the past, the present and the future; reconciled, accepted, full of joy, hope and belonging. Full of love.
Zacchaeus, why did you climb the tree?
You called and I answered.
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