Zacchaeus Come Down

Thirty First Sunday in Ordinary Time Year C

Recent surveys have shown that Islam has overtaken Catholicism as the religion with the largest number of adherents on the face of the earth. A sobering thought for us and indeed a wake-up call for all Catholics that we should not be contented with our present ranking in third place and instead we should double our efforts to witness and share the gospel with others. But perhaps what isn’t listed in this survey findings are the ideologies and personal philosophies that govern our world view and shape our values. Religion is certainly one large component but there are other more influential factors. I have no statistics to back up my claim, but given the massive popularity of social media and reality shows, I can safely conjecture that the most popular “religion”, if one could term it as such, is the cult of self or “narcissism.” The increase in the use of social media and the growing popularity of reality TV shows and talent competitions are indicative of the relentless rise of narcissism in our culture. As some social commentators have noted, narcissism has reached epidemic levels. We’re on constant display.

The term ‘narcissism’ comes from the Greek myth of Narcissus, a handsome Greek youth who rejected the desperate advances of the nymph Echo. These advances eventually led Narcissus to be cursed, by being made to fall in love with his own reflexion in a pool of water. Unable to consummate his love, Narcissus lay gazing enraptured into the pool, hour after hour, and finally changed into a flower that bears his name, the narcissus. A poignant lesson to be learnt - despite its alluring promises, the truth is that narcissism kills.

Narcissism distorts our vision of humanity. We have been made in the image and likeness of God in order that we may come to know Him, love Him, serve Him and be with Him in beatific union for eternity. Yet, narcissism has caused us to fall in love with our own image, a false idol.   Wrapping ourselves in a cocoon of inwardness, we feel cosy in our own personal cult of self-worship. Ultimately, we suffer from an addiction to ourselves. 

A good analogy for our present narcissistic culture is the purpose of mountain-climbing. In the past, someone would climb a mountain in order to see the world. But now, people would climb the mountain in order for the world to see them – literally screaming for attention: ‘Look at me!’ Today, we are presented not with a story of a man climbing a mountain but a story of one who climbs a sycamore tree. Perched in its branches we find our man, Zacchaeus. So why was Zacchaeus up the tree? You can say that Zacchaeus was old school. He was not up the tree as a sort of personal announcement to the large crowds gathered there (an ancient form of social media, I guess), ‘Look at me!’ He was there because he was curious. Curiosity had drawn him to the crowd and ultimately led him to climb that tree. Our Lord was passing through Jericho that day, and many people were crowded around Him as he walked through the city.

The curiosity of Zacchaeus, his thirst and desire to see Jesus reveals a powerful truth - God cannot be found by looking within yourself, your heart, your feelings and your experiences.  His Word is not the same as some inner voice.  His presence is not some warm fuzzy feeling in the depths of your heart or the fluttering of butterflies in your belly.  Our God is a God who hides Himself where He may be found with certainty.  He hides Himself in the mystery of the Incarnation – in the person of Jesus Christ. So, the lesson of this story really isn’t about Zacchaeus nearly as much as it is about Jesus. And one finds Jesus not by climbing a sycamore tree but by climbing a different one, the tree of the cross. That tree, the tree of the cross, is where Our Lord came to save a sinner. It is from that tree that our Lord offers the hospitality of salvation in exchange for Zacchaeus’ meagre hospitality of repentance.

We too are invited to climb that tree of the cross if we wish to see Jesus, for the cross is the tree of life. And it is at every Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, that we encounter once again our Lord who climbed the tree of the cross for our sake. As the cross is the means of our salvation, our liturgy too saves us from ourselves – Good liturgy puts the brakes on narcissism. Notice that we are bombarded throughout the week with secular ‘liturgies’ (social media, rituals of affirmation we receive at home, at work or in school) that guide our loves and desires towards ‘me, me, me’, rather than God. It’s a self-focused kingdom: a kingdom that loves me and only me. But liturgy protects us from simply making worship into a self-pleasing act. Church then, is meant to be the place away from it all. The home away from self-display. It’s meant to be the place where the liturgy guides us towards a desire to worship God and not ourselves. And that is why applauding during the mass should be discouraged. It’s not because I’m a fuddy-duddy grumpy old priest who frowns on laughter and fun. It is because our applause takes away our focus from what is most significant. Pope Benedict XVI said: “Wherever applause breaks out in the liturgy because of some human achievement, it is a sure sign that the essence of liturgy has totally disappeared and been replaced by a kind of religious entertainment.”

We must be taught again that the Mass is not a human rite which can and should be manipulated, so as to express human desires or to promote human goods. The Mass is not another tool to serve a ‘function.’  Rather, the Mass is the prayer of self-offering of Jesus Christ to His Father for the remission of sins. Our usual complaints often betray our misconceived idea of the liturgy – music must be louder and more ‘happening’, seating and kneelers must be softer, church must be cooler, homilies must be funnier, and services must be shorter. The perduring idea that the liturgy should correspond to my likes and dislikes perpetuates individualism within the liturgy.

But here’s the truth: the liturgy is not meant to feed the addiction to self and be another outlet for narcissistic expressions. The liturgy is not meant to please the crowd and be another avenue of entertainment. The liturgy is the Source and Summit of our lives – it is the Father's gift of Himself in Christ to us and, through Christ, our offering of Christ and, with Him, of ourselves – our minds and hearts, our daily lives – to the Father.

St Augustine tells us, “Climb the tree on which Jesus hung for you, and you will see Jesus.” Today, we are invited to ascend the ‘Tree’, not the sycamore tree that Zacchaeus climbed – the sycamore tree is just a reminder of something far more important. The sycamore tree reminds us of  the Tree of Life, once denied to Adam and Eve when they fell into sin of self-idolatry, narcissism in its most ancient form; the very Tree which now awaits us in the gardens of Paradise. It is the Tree on which our Saviour hung, the Cross, once barren and wintry but now burgeoning with new life, announcing a new springtime of the resurrection. Our Lord climbed this tree, to open to us the way to return to the Father. The cross reveals that we are not so much called to look at ourselves but to look at Jesus, as to see all things in Him, with Him and through Him. He is the light of the world, and in His light we see light.

So climb the tree, see Jesus in the light of faith, and begin to see how the world is not the empty impersonal echo of blind forces, but a place of encounter between lovers, a place where I can truly see the Lord in all His radiant glory and splendorous love, and where we discover that all along, we have been seen and known and loved beyond measure.