Lent 4: Keeping ‘Bad’ Company

“When we don’t examine the deeper assumptions behind why we gather, we end up skipping too quickly to replicating old, staid formats of gathering.”
― Priya Parker, The Art of Gathering: How We Meet and Why It Matters

Scripture: Luke 19, Jesus and Zacchaeus
He entered Jericho and was passing through it. A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax-collector and was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way. When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, ‘Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.’ So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. All who saw it began to grumble and said, ‘He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.’ Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, ‘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.’ Then Jesus said to him, ‘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.’

Reflection: 
I love this scripture, not only because it’s a rare acknowledgment of the vertically  challenged, but because it’s the one place where Jesus announces “today salvation has come to this house.’ I grew up hearing from fundamentalists all about the need to be saved, some folks were in and some folks were out and if you were a part of this culture, even accidentally or adjacently, you too might have been encouraged to go save people with a pamphlet and a prayer oh and of course matching t-shirts.

So it’s this passage of scripture that shows us what Salvation looks like. And you may notice, Jesus does not require a prayer to invite himself into Zacchaeus’ heart or a five step pamphlet or a drawing of a cross over something resembling a very crude grand canyon that connects you with God. No none of this even exists or matters. Jesus spends time with Zacchaeus, they connect and feast and it changes Zacchaeus. He emerges from the party and nothing is the same. He will change how he lives. He gives half of his wealth away to the folks who need it and he repatriates or returns with interest all the money he took from folks.  The root of salvation is healing, think of your grandma’s salve. He is healing the harm he has created working with the Roman empire and he is letting go of the wealth that he thought would keep him and his family safe in favor of a safety net for everyone. And considering how rare that kind of healing happens, I think it is really one of the best miracle stories. It’s no wonder Jesus says, “today salvation has come to this house.”

Zacchaeus isn’t the first tax collector Jesus parties with or rather tasks with hosting a party, possibly at the last moment. Which makes me think they are somehow rather like my Mom, who can make a feast almost instantly from her freezer and pantry. 

So here they are, partying—and this isn’t Jesus’ first party with a tax collector.And folks start in with the side-eye and a not so quiet whisper campaign…Jesus is spending time with sinners.  

Earlier in the Gospel of Luke, Jesus parties with a tax collector named Levi. He also shares a meal with Levi in the Gospel of Mark. But in the Gospel of Matthew, the tax collector is named…well…Matthew. Maybe Levi is his middle name? I don’t know. But what we do know is this: Jesus is hanging out with tax collectors all the time. And it’s not an accident. And it’s not easy.

To be a tax collector in that time meant living in a space of collusion with a powerful empire—an empire that did not have the well-being of your neighbors, your kin, your family, or your friends in mind.

The Roman tax system was structured to disadvantage people, especially those working in agriculture in occupied nations, like Israel. Taxes were due at exactly the wrong time; before crops had come in. As Obery Hendricks outlines in The Politics of Jesus, this system pushes people into cycles of debt and this is a tool of oppression. 

So if you are a farmer, you would borrow money to pay your taxes and maybe plant your field. And then you wait, probably with a massive ulcer, to see if the crops come in and you have enough money to pay your debt. What if the weather is bad or the locusts are a plague or the market tanked or someone’s donkey got loose and when wild stomping thought your field? What if the crops failed? Suddenly, you’re facing debt servitude—or impossible decisions about who in your family might be forced into service, enslavement, to survive.

It’s no wonder people didn’t want to spend time with tax collectors. There weren’t many ways to resist this system. One of the only tools people had was social pressure—shame, exclusion, distance. When folks say ‘sinners’ in Jesus’ context it's because they are not practicing the guidance of the Torah (at least as they understand it) and they are violating the covenant not only with God but with their neighbor. 

So Jesus is constantly threading this complicated needle and navigating complex social tensions.And it’s not just with tax collectors—it’s with all kinds of people.

He shares a meal with Simon the leper in Bethany…which, as you may have heard, was absolutely not something you were supposed to do. And at that meal, in the Gospels of Mark and Matthew, a woman comes in and anoints Jesus. That’s two strikes, Jesus.

People who were considered unwell or unclean were expected to announce themselves in advance. This included those with skin diseases and others dealing with physical or social conditions, like the hemorrhaging woman who reaches for Jesus’ cloak and is healed.

These are people pushed to the margins. And yet, Jesus keeps them close.

In the Gospel of Mark, similar to Luke and Matthew, the calling of Levi/Matthew follows a healing story.

A man who cannot move is brought by his friends. The crowd is too large to get through, so they lower him through the roof into the house. They make a way for his healing. It is a moment of profound love and determination, worthy of a stained glass window or mosaic installation.

Jesus tells him that his sins are forgiven, reflecting a worldview in which physical and spiritual conditions are deeply connected. The religious leaders become concerned. They accuse Jesus of blasphemy…‘who does he think he is offering forgiveness on behalf of the Divine.’

But Jesus reframes what is happening. He presents it not as a violation, but as restoration and reconnection. Then comes a striking moment. Jesus tells the man to take the mat he was carried in on, go to the temple, and make the required offering for his healing. He tells him to say nothing, yet still to go and show what has happened.

It is a bold and unusual instruction. In our minds the farcical is often the how of the healing, that’s not the technology we understand. But this moment reminds us the miracle is about access. 

In the ancient world, healing was expected to happen in a temple setting. This was true not only in the Jewish tradition but in others as well (Jerusalem to Athens, Rome to Egypt). If you visit Athens and spend even a few moments in the museums you will see little statues and carvings left at the temple, carvings of elbows and arms, ears and eyes. Healing happened in temples and we may not understand how but we certainly can understand that folks felt better, so much so they made little monuments to celebrate. 

What Levi and everyone else hearing these stories understands, is Jesus makes healing accessible. No special access is required. No credentials. You don’t even need your insurance card.

So Jesus sends the man to bear witness.

After this, the crowd is energized, confused, and curious, one translation may be “we have seen strange things today.” And the next moment in Luke 3:27 Jesus sees Levi in his tax office and says, “Follow me.”

Levi responds immediately. He leaves his office and he throws a party, inviting his friends, many of whom are also tax collectors. Once again, the question emerges. Who is Jesus spending time with? Why is he with Sinners?

It raises questions for us as well.

We often fall into patterns in how we gather. We invite the same people in the same ways, repeating habits whether or not they still serve a purpose. In The Art of Gathering, Priya Parker encourages us to think carefully about why we gather and what purpose our gatherings are meant to serve. Sometimes the familiar guest list no longer meets the needs of the moment. Sometimes the strategies we rely on do not lead to the outcomes we actually seek.

Jesus makes it clear that his gatherings serve a different purpose. They bring new people, and renewed people, into community and connection, especially those who have been excluded. And he invites us to do the same.

In these stories, when Jesus calls Levi, there is always a response.

When the scribes question why the disciples are eating and drinking instead of fasting, Jesus answers, “Do people fast when the bridegroom is present?” It’s a party. It’s a gift to be together. 

There is a reason to gather. A reason to eat, to drink, to celebrate, and to connect. A reason to reconsider our purpose and our invitations. A reason to be intentional about who is welcomed in. That’s what saves us, that’s what heals us and that’s what this faith asks us to be about. 

May we have the courage to try it ourselves.

May it be so.

Amen.

Journal: Who do you think Jesus would be parting with today? Who do you want to be with at a party? How do you get to know folks beyond your immediate circle? How can you show up and learn, listen and connect with folks working for inclusion in our community? What makes you excited and what makes you nervous?

Action: How can you center vulnerable populations and invite more folks to the party? Consider attending an immigrant solidarity event or reaching out to your federal representative to ask for comprehensive immigration reform.