“No Pain, No Gain”
Luke 19:1-10
Karl Barth defined a Christian witness as someone willing to do
something foolish in a world of serious purposes. According the secular calendar today is
Halloween: All Halloo’s Eve – the day before All Saints Day. For most of our culture this day is reserved
for Trick or Treating, for dressing up our children in silly, fanciful, or
scary costumes and sending them out to collect candy. It has little or no significance as the eve
of one of the Church’s high, holy days. If
it celebrates any religion at all it is that of the ancient Druids: of witches,
warlocks and other practitioners of dark and unholy arts; the night when such
folks believe that Satan himself comes out to consort with those who worship
him.
But
in the midst of all this secular and pagan nonsense, we have gathered to
celebrate something quite different.
This is not only the eve of All Saints Day, in itself a holy day. For Lutherans, Presbyterians, and other
Protestants it is a significant day for other reasons. Today is Reformation Sunday, the Sunday when
we celebrate Martin Luther’s nailing of his ninety-five theses to the Wittenburg
Door. According to the conventional
wisdom of his day, Luther was indeed doing something foolish. He was daring to take on the Roman Catholic
Church. He was pitting his faith and
understanding of Scripture against the most socially entrenched, politically
connected, wealthy, and powerful institution of his day, an institution considered
by itself and the world to be the arbiter of all serious purposes.
From
a so-called rational perspective, what Luther, Calvin, and the other Reformers
dared to do went beyond foolishness, silliness, or irrationality. What they did was insanely dangerous in the
eyes of the world. In a world almost
totally controlled by the papacy, they risked excommunication. To be kicked out of the established church
was to essentially be cut off from much of society. They also risked financial ruin,
imprisonment, torture, and death. Daring
to air the Bishop of Rome’s dirty laundry was foolish indeed. The world of so-called serious purposes has
never suffered lightly those who dare to stand up and be counted as fools for
Christ.
In
today’s reading from Luke the Pharisees and other definers of serious purposes
got their noses bent out of joint by the supposed foolishness of Jesus and
Zacchaeus. Zacchaeus was a fool for
doing what he did. Not only was it silly
for a grown man, even a little man such as he, to climb a tree, it was insanely
dangerous for him to be anywhere near the crowd gathered to see Jesus. He was a tax collector, a stooge of the
despised Roman Empire and a traitor to
So
why’d he do it? What impelled him to
such foolishness? Faith. He knew that his was really a smallness of
the spirit. His soul was dying. He was miserable and lonely. He was sick of what he had become. At the end of his rope, his only hope was
Jesus, so he risked what he risked in order to meet the only One who could save
him.
As
for Jesus, he was always doing supposedly foolish things like eating, drinking,
and otherwise consorting with sinners. Once
more he shocked the respectable sensibilities of his culture by going off to
spend the night in Zacchaeus’ house.
Seeking and saving the lost wasn’t the politically correct thing to do. But Jesus did it anyway. He was, after all, Emmanuel. He was God with and for us. As such he was doing what his Father had
called him to do. God’s foolishness
always trumps this world’s serious purposes.
Back
to Zacchaeus. His saving encounter with
Jesus had turned his life inside out and upside down. The first thing he proposed to do was give
away half of his accumulated wealth to the poor. Then he intended to pay back those whom he
had extorted at a rate four times greater than the law required. Climbing trees and trusting Jesus were
foolish enough in the eyes of the world, but understandable in an eccentric
sort of way. Risking his life to meet
Jesus was stupid, but folks had to give him high marks for courage. But giving away money, now that took the
cake. It was stupid. It was insane. It was ridiculous. Smart people are supposed to be more
judicious in the use of their wealth.
They don’t waste it on foolish things like charity and churches. How dare Zacchaeus spend his money on such frivolous
things?
How
dare he not? He had met Jesus. This encounter had changed him. He had become a different person altogether. He had become what Paul would later call a
fool for Christ. And it showed. Not only was he willing to take absurd risks
for Jesus, he was also willing to make major sacrifices for Jesus. He literally put his money where his mouth
was. Foolish? Maybe.
Faithful? Definitely.
This
morning we are numbered among a foolishly faithful shrinking minority in our
society: Christians. We are keeping the
Lord’s Day holy. Some of us might do
that secular Halloween thing tonight, but this morning we’re here to praise and
worship God. We might as well spit in
the Devil’s eye. We’re definitely
stepping on the toes of our materialist culture. We’re not working, shopping, sleeping, or
otherwise taking care of worldly business this morning. We are keeping the Lord’s Day holy. In a world that is increasingly unholy we’re
probably viewed as, if not crazy, then at least a bit odd: faithful fools in a
world of serious purposes.
Faithful
fools who follow Jesus. Faithful fools
who celebrate the foolishness of Luther and Calvin. Faithful fools who give a portion of our
time, energy, and money to a church instead of spending it all on
ourselves. Faithful fools who rejoice in
the folly of the cross. Faithful fools
who believe in the resurrection.
Faithful fools who oppose much of what the world blesses. Faithful fools who are willing to sacrifice
everything, including our lives, for the sake of the Gospel. Faithful fools who hold ourselves to high standards
of behavior and don’t believe that everything’s relative.
For
such audacity we sometimes pay a price.
As was said earlier, this world of so-called serious purposes does not
suffer fools for Christ lightly. Our
secular, pagan, and materialistic culture is put off by our Christianity, faithfulness
to one God, and unabashed spirituality. Keepers
of an ancient faith, we are an anachronism in a world that slavishly chases
every new thing. The same sort of people
who laughed at Zacchaeus often laugh at us, for like him, we appear silly in
their eyes.
Seeking
Jesus is silly, I suppose. Believing him
may be foolish. Following him can be
dangerous. Trusting his promises is a
sometimes risky proposition. Pain and
sacrifice are always possibilities. Like
Zacchaeus we may end up giving away our earthly treasure in the cause of
Christ. But no pain, no gain. Before he met Jesus, Zacchaeus was wealthy
but miserable. Afterwards he was
significantly less wealthy but a whole lot happier. He gave away his money. He gave away himself. But in the process he found abundant life. The gain was worth much more than the pain. In terms of eternity, the folly of the cross
is of much more value than are all of this earth’s serious purposes. Amen.