Scholar and activist, Loretta J. Ross, starts her 2021 TED Talk with a purposely shocking declaration that she is present at the Monterey, CA TED conference because (and I quote), “Most black women don’t go to Ku Klux Klan rallies on purpose,” which is the work she does that caught the attention of the organization. From there she goes on to talk about how her part in the the human rights movement has been to help people leave hate groups. She came into this work after being mentored by the Rev. C. T. Vivian, an aide to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who once told her that when you ask people to give up hate, you need to be there for them when they do. Ross says that once she got to know those who might otherwise be thought of as her enemies, she couldn’t hate them anymore – – and that confused her! So instead she chose to shift her internal compass from hate to love.
From there she goes on to talk about the shift she has made in some of her advocacy and education. Using the terminology coined by Vietnamese writer Ngoc Loan Tran, Ross frames some of her work in the human rights space as calling-in as opposed to the more familiar calling-out. Most of us are probably familiar with calling-out. It’s what happens when someone is publicly corrected for a mistake they have made or an offense they have perpetrated. It’s what we see when a picture of politician in blackface hits the news cycle or a public figure makes a harmful statement or gesture about people who are disabled. It sometimes happens in ways that can bring an Easter brunch to a screeching halt when a family member says something hurtful about your cousin’s new boyfriend who is a recent immigrant and someone else at the table speaks up to intervene.
Ross doesn’t dismiss the efficacy and necessity of calling out in some situations, particularly when there is an imbalance of power. She sees some use for this particular tactic in the teachable moment when a person with more power needs to be confronted by someone with less power. However, Ross explains in her TED Talk, when what we desire is to stay in relationship with the person we are trying to teach, calling in is a better way to address the situation.
“A call-in is a call-out done with love,” Ross says. A call-in is an invitation to growth; it’s an expression of hope that a person might learn and from that learning change. Calling in leads with love instead of anger, and it affirms the inner empathy and compassion of the person doing the calling. It gives them the opportunity to grow as well.
Ross tells her own story of a holiday meal with her family during which her uncle makes a hurtful, racist comment against Mexican immigrants. Instead of calling him out, Ross chose instead to express to him that the words he just said didn’t align with what she knew of him as a loving, compassionate person. She gave him the opportunity to hear how his words had hit his audience and invited him to reconsider his own position in light of who he wanted to be in the world. She called him into self-examination, growth, and newness.
In the 19th chapter of Luke’s gospel, Jesus is on the final leg of his final journey to Jerusalem. In his last recent private conversation with his disciples before they entered Jericho, he had told them, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written about the Son of Man by the prophets will be accomplished. For he will be handed over to the Gentiles; and he will be mocked and insulted and spat upon. After they have flogged him, they will kill him, and on the third day he will rise again.” Luke makes sure to point out that the twelve had no clue what he was talking about, even though this was the third time he had tried to tell them about his coming death and resurrection. And so they continue toward Jericho, and ultimately to Jerusalem, but not before encountering first a beggar who was blind who desired to see and Zacchaeus, who has his sight, but also can’t see.
Zacchaeus’ vision problem has nothing to do with his physical eyesight, but instead relates to his height. The crowd that has gathered along the road to watch Jesus pass through town is so large and, apparently, so disproportionately tall compared to Zacchaeus there simple can’t get a line of sight to the action on the road. At first glance this sounds like a simple geometry problem. But I think it’s also a community problem – a broken community problem.
Think about how things go at a parade or an event with standing room only. Even when the crowds are eager to be close to the front, to see the action up close and personal, most of us, when presented with the opportunity will allow someone who is shorter than us move forward in the crowd to have a clearer view. We do it without thinking even. We shift our weight to the left so that they might slide around us to our right, or even take a step back, allowing the person to slip by for a better chance at seeing what is ahead.
In the telling of this story, though, it sounds like not one person in the whole crowd lining the streets of Jericho was willing to do this for Zacchaeus. He couldn’t find one break in the townspeople who stood shoulder to shoulder, intentionally it seems, blocking him out from the chance to see Jesus.
Luke gives us the clues why. I mean, they may not be clues that make us very comfortable, but they at least explain the situation in 1st century Judea. Zacchaeus, Luke writes directly, is a chief tax collector and he is rich. Tax collectors are like silent movie villains to 1st century readers. Whenever they come on the scene, you can imagine the listeners booing and hissing at their mere mention.
They are, as we explored last week, traitors to the community, especially a chief tax collector who is a Jewish resident in this territory occupied by Rome who had chosen loyalty to the empire over loyalty to his community. He is the middle man between the local tax collectors and the emperor’s representatives, passing the money collected from the people on to the Roman officials, taking a sizable cut for himself before doing so. Of course he can’t short change the empire, so he makes his own living up-charging the people below him. Zacchaeus has been very successful at this scheme, amassing wealth for himself off the backs of his neighbors to the point where he is well known as rich.
“Rich” as an identifier is another clue for understanding both the treatment Zacchaeus gets along the side of the road and the grumbling that is heard when Jesus eventually calls him down from the sycamore tree. In Luke’s gospel in particular, Jesus is seen making a deliberate effort to reach out to and include the poor. For example in Luke’s version of the Beatitudes, the very first blessing is for “you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God,” compared to Matthew’s version where Jesus says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” And taking these same blessings further, Luke includes some “woes,” some warnings. One of these? “But woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort.”
Luke’s depiction of Jesus is one of a savior who has a particular heart for those who have less, those who suffer, those who are not included in the wealth and power of the empire. So pointing out that Zacchaeus is rich – it might bring up some feelings for an audience that is similarly identifying with the poor. And even bigger feelings, grumbling even, bubble up when out of all the people trying to see Jesus passing by, he chooses this one, Zacchaues, the rich chief tax collector, to stay with for the day.
Everyone grumbles. All who saw it. Even his disciples! Everyone. There isn’t one person there who thinks Jesus is going home with the right person that day, when he has precious little time left with any of them. They are personifying the convicting wisdom once written by Rachel Held Evans who said, “God has a really bad habit of using people we don’t approve of. What makes the gospel offensive is not who it keeps out, but who it lets in.”
Why do we do that? Why do we let ourselves get so worked up or disgruntled when Jesus has the audacity to show grace and mercy – the same grace and mercy we claim we enjoy and we say we strive to share – Why do we let ourselves grumble when we see it shared with those we have decided don’t deserve it?
Jesus’ witness stands in stark contrast to our own tendencies to try to set limits on his grace, on his mercy, on his welcome and radical inclusion. Jesus’ calling in of Zacchaeus is a dramatic example of making space for someone to grow, for seeing their potential, for understanding that an invitation to remain in relationship will go a lot further than cutting someone down with harsh words and self-righteous indignation. Jesus calls Zacchaeus into his presence; he calls him by name! He treats this one with care and tenderness and dignity, this one who has been so cut off from the community that despite his ironic relative height on the power and wealth ladders, he has no shame running undignified through the crowds, gathering up his robes, and climbing a tree for a view of Jesus.
Before they even get to Zacchaeus’ house, he responds to this invitation into community and relationship with what we might describe as repentance. He changes the direction of his way. Half of his possessions, he promises, he will give to the poor. If he has defrauded any, he commits, he will return to them four times as much. Some might dismiss it outright, unable to believe Zacchaeus has it in him to change. Some might be crying as they hear their well-being about to improve. Some in the crowd might be snickering, “Sure you will. If I see it, then I’ll believe it.”
Gosh, it’s hard for us to believe redemption is possible. But what do we gain for refusing to believe a new beginning is possible? With Jesus, there is no “if-then.”
Today, he says. Today salvation has come to this house. Not because he made promises he may or may not keep. Not because he followed through instanteously. But simply because he, too, is a son of Abraham. Zacchaeus, too, is a member of the household and family of God, and for that reason alone he is worthy Jesus’ time and attention and grace. He is worthy of being called in and given the opportunity to grow into newness of life.
Jesus calls us in, too. Jesus calls us into relationship where we find salvation and restoration to the family of God. We see it and we practice it especially on days like today when we will gather around his table, where he is the host, where despite our indignity, despite the ways we break with community, despite the ways we cheat others or turn our backs on them or ignore their needs while amassing comfort for ourselves, despite the things we do and the things we leave undone that pain God to see, we are called in by Jesus’ mercy. We are saved. We are given newness of life. We are made whole through the broken bread and the poured out cup and the blessing of a community with which to share it. Thanks be to God.
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Due to a technical issue we were not able to get a complete livestream for the 11:00am Worship Service.
