People of the Book- Zaccheus
Luke 19: 1-10 recounts the tale of a unique encounter between Jesus and a diminutive tax collector named Zaccheus. We know from extra-biblical sources like Josephus and Pliny that Jericho was an ancient city whose economy was driven largely by production and export of balsam, an aromatic spice known also as the Balm of Gilead (an epithet Christians would later employ to describe Christ’s mission of spiritual healing). Thus the chief publican (archelitones), the only figure in the Bible so named, was probably especially hated by the Jewish townsfolk for gouging them to produce wealth for himself and the Empire at their expense. These state employees were notorious for extorting more than the Romans demanded from their fellow countrymen, a traitorous profession if ever there was one.
Luke highlights in the pericope the recurring theme of ethical reflections on wealth, poverty and marginalization which are integral to his Gospel as a whole. Zaccheus, described as short in stature in a probable allusion to Luke’s repeated demand for adults to become like little children in spirit, has here climbed the low-lying branches of a sycamore tree to see over the crowd for a better glimpse of the spectacle of this Jewish preacher about whom the region continues to gossip.
Jesus spots him and instructs him (and thus us) to lower himself from the lofty position where he has entrenched himself and to come humbly to associate with the Lord, “Come down quickly, for tonight I must stay with you.”
Zaccheus responds with faith and acceptance, and quite unbidden in the text, offers to give half of his possessions to the poor and to repay fourfold the riches he has achieved through duplicitous means.
The account tells us much about both figures in the tale. We see Jesus’ indiscriminate offer of fellowship and intimacy, proffered here to one of the lowliest and least respected people in Israel. We also come to grasp anew his uncanny ability to know well the contours of the human heart. His inclusivity is somewhat startling and not received well by the crowds, who mutter, grumble or murmur (in the original text, diagogguzo, the onomatopoeic Greek term signifying the constant cooing of pigeons or buzzing of bees). This is reminiscent of the Hebrew account of the complaints against Moses in the wilderness. Obviously, Christ’s commands can often both cause and quiet the murmuring of our hearts, for his call to holiness can sometimes stretch or transcend their finite boundaries.
We also learn much about Zaccheus, the man whose name (not unintentionally) is derived from the Hebrew word for pure or cleansed. Jesus tells the crowds that “this one too is a Son of Abraham.” He is to be included in the wide net of forgiveness and healing that the Incarnation has cast, for “the Son of Man came to seek and save the lost.” His response to Christ’s call is immediate, transformative and — we gather — permanent. He not only agrees to host the Lord, but “welcomed him gladly.”
A number of divergent traditions came to rise up about the subsequent life of Zaccheus, a protagonist mentioned rather briefly only in this particular passage. St. Clement of Alexandria identified him as the disciple chosen to replace Judas among the Twelve; however, this is somewhat unlikely since the description of this figure in the Acts of the Apostles (a text also written within the Lucan community) uses a completely distinct name for this 13th apostle, Matthias. A second account claims he married the woman Christians call St. Veronica, whose compassionate washing of the Lord’s face is celebrated in the Sixth Station of the Cross, a figure not included in any of the biblical writings. The French especially proposed this theory, coming to call Zaccheus by the name St. Amadour. In this legend, Zaccheus/Amadour and Veronica escaped religious persecution and lived in a hermitage on a mountain in the French countryside. From the 12th century, Rocamadour (the mountain of Amadour) was a major center of pilgrimage for travelers on their way to the more famous Santiago de Compostela.
Michael M. Canaris of Collingswood is an administrator at Fairfield University’s Center for Faith and Public Life and is on the faculty for the Department of Philosophy, Theology, and Religious Studies at Sacred Heart University.