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Zacchaeus was a wee little man
And a wee little man was he
He climbed up in a sycamore tree
For the Lord he wanted to see
And as the Savior passed that way
He looked up in that tree
And He said, “Zacchaeus, you come down!
For I’m going to your house today
For I’m going to your house today.”

THE CALLING OF ZACCHAEUS – CALLING TO THE LOST
A STORY OF FORGIVENESS AND HOPE

by Mary Katherine May

This children’s song has been taught and well loved by the very young for a long time.   It is one of those sing-song tunes that really goes nowhere, while the words tell the Bible story almost verbatim to the events.

We actually may surmise quite a bit about Zaccheus from the short telling of his story in the Bible.  The song leaves out that he was a “government” man, but then how many preschoolers would know what a tax collector is anyhow?

Zacchaeus was an adult, short and probably also small in build.  Boys being boys throughout history, he might have been bullied by others along the way, and may have felt he had something to prove.  He was not only a tax collector, but the chief of the tax collectors, the boss. 

Tax collectors had a code of ethics that the payers-of-taxes felt left something to be desired.  In fact, collectors were pretty much a hated bunch of guys.  The ethic was to charge more than they were required to collect and keep it for themselves—after all, everybody else was doing it, right?

Having the roll of chief tax collector, Zacchaeus would have been good with numbers, if not just plain smart.  There were no calculators or pads of ledger paper when he lived, and he would have done a lot of the figuring in his head—so his memory must have been pretty good, too.

People who have something to prove, such as short men who have been teased just for what they have no control over—like their height, are often very aware of their surroundings and who is doing what to whom so that they will always be able to stay one notch above the rest, and Zacchaeus would have kept close tabs on the collector pecking order.

Zacchaeus lived in Jericho, an important trade area in Palestine.  Here is where Herod built his largest palace.  Our little man, Zacchaeus, would have collected plenty of tax money from its residents, and as the chief maybe the other collectors also paid him some kind of fee or percentage as a commission.  The Bible tells us that he was very rich.  His clothing would have been the type that our wealthy people of today buy, made of the finest cloth, sewn with the neatest stitches, the very best.

We don’t know anything about his family or household—wife or wives, children, servants for sure, and maybe slaves.  Whatever Zacchaeus needed or wanted, with just the snap of his fingers someone surely would have been there in an instant to get it for him.

By the time we encounter Zacchaeus in the Bible, Luke 19 to be specific, Jesus had already been traveling and teaching to huge crowds of people.  News was spreading throughout the region.  If our little man had not been told directly of Jesus he may have overheard others talking about Him in conversation.  Like everyone else he would have wondered about Jesus’ claim of being the Messiah–after all, he was teaching and healing, and coming up with bread and fish from out of nowhere. 

When Jesus reached Jericho on that day, Zacchaeus had already been introduced by word-of-mouth to the possibility that what was being said was true.  The seed had already been planted in his mind that Jesus could be the Messiah, and it was germinating.

By the city gates and trade routes where tax collectors would have positioned themselves the news was spreading like wildfire that someone had just been healed.  A blind man could now see.  It was an amazing story.  Zacchaeus’ ears sure perked up when he heard of the miraculous event.  If he could, he wanted to see Him—Jesus himself up close.  He wanted to know for himself if it was true.

Why was it so important for Zacchaeus to know?  Why did he have this insatiable desire to see Him, find out what in the world was going on?  Here is my answer, and it is one question for which people are still seeking an answer today.

Something was missing in Zacchaeus’ life.  What, he didn’t know.  There was an emptiness inside of him, a hollow hole in his chest that couldn’t be filled.  The money—there was never enough though he could have anything at all anytime that he wanted.  He still felt small, even smaller than he was as a wee little man.  Pleasures only lasted for a moment.  The high would come—Ah! It felt so good! –and then in an instant it was gone.

And so, Zacchaeus had to know.   Could this man Jesus who healed another’s eyes making him whole again?  Could He make Zacchaeus whole too?  His beautiful, expensive clothes, the dirt and bugs, didn’t matter at that moment.  Up into the sycamore tree he climbed.  Nothing was going to keep him from getting a glimpse of Jesus.

As he sat in the tree waiting he new that Jesus must be coming or else somebody important because as he looked down from high the number of people walking by increased.  The noise and commotion was growing louder. 

“Wait—is it, — no.  Oh!  I can’t tell!” he thought.  “Move, please move… I can’t see who is in the middle of all those people!” he said to no one.  Closer and closer they came.  It was like a cloud of bees, buzzing and swarming toward the tree where Zacchaeus waited impatiently.

Then immediately below him, the crowd stopped.  Zacchaeus held his breath and shivered.  Looking up from below, Jesus’ eyes met his and locked out all else from view.  They were the most beautiful and compassionate eyes he had ever seen.  Zacchaeus watched his whole life flash by and he knew that Jesus understood the immense sorrow over what he saw.  It was as if arms of comfort and care were lifting his burden of shame.

Jesus, spoke.  “Zacchaeus,” he said.  (“How does He know my name?” Zacchaeus thought.)   “It is time to come down, Zacchaeus.  I am going to come and see you today at your home.” 

“Yes! Jesus!  I am coming!  Nothing will stop me!”  “Did I actually say that out loud or did I think it?” Zacchaeus wondered.

“Yes, Lord!”  he attempted to reply again, but in his excitement it came out so fast and there were so many people milling about no one heard it.  But he could see that Jesus knew by His smile. 

How long the encounter lasted—who knows?  Maybe a minute?  Thirty seconds?  For Zacchaeus it was a lifetime.  Though he was  considered dishonest—and most likely was because that’s the way the tax collectors were—Jesus knew that in his heart was a true desire to be fulfilled and to be clean, to be pure and white as snow just as the meaning of his name Zacchaeus implied.

That day Zacchaeus was blessed by our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, when he saw God in human form and began his life as a new person– pure in his heart, giving his life and all he possessed.  This little man considered what he gave up loose change compared to being fulfilled.  Zacchaeus knew that he would never consider himself small again.

And…. so will you begin a new life when you turn your life over to Jesus.   It may not all happen right away.  But, by being faithful you will have a peace and wholeness more precious than anything this world of ours holds—going right out into eternity.

Amen.  Amen and Amen.

There has never been anyone in my life like my Bunia.  From the time as a young child when I first spoke this name, until the time that she passed away at the age of 99 years and 2 months, I never called her anything else. 

The story related to my brother and myself, was that she wanted to be called Babusia, a diminuntive of Baba, the Ukrainian name given to grandmothers.  It seems, though, that the two of us at our young ages couldn’t get her name right–in fact, it came out quite in a way that would not be appropriately used in public.  So, Bunia it was.

Pauline Rychly Koshuba Haydak, my Bunia, truly enjoyed the role she played as grandmother to her eight grandchildren.  How special I felt when she would tell me how rich she was–her millions, for she considered each of her children and grandchildren worth a million dollars.  Now I, too, am growing in wealth, with our three children married and having children of their own.

While growing up and well into adulthood I thought Bunia was truly rich.  In truth, however, she never was.  I thought my Bunia to be a gourmet cook of the highest ability.  In truth, however, she never was that either.

Pauline was a petite woman, maybe five-feet at her tallest.  By the time Bunia died, I doubt that  she stood more than four-and-a-half feet tall, or weighed more than 80 pounds soaking wet.  What this diminutive woman lacked in size, she made up for in pride.  Firm in her beliefs, she called herself persistant rather than stubborn.   

I know many thought her too proud, and that’s okay.  I didn’t look at it that way.  You see, whatever my Bunia did, from the most menial to the most honorable task, she did to the best of her ability.  Nothing less that full effort was acceptable.  This is why I thought her rich, because she took care of home and its contents so well.  And, this is why I thought her a gourmet cook, because everyday-type foods were prepared exquisitely.

From her work ethics I too learned that I should give my best to whatever task was at hand.  From drying rain-drenched shopping carts at Target to making every stitch as perfect as possible on the table runner that won a first prize, doing my best brought a sense of accomplishment.

And so, it was, with the Red Roaster.  Sometime in the 1920s or 1930s Bunia had won this roaster at a bazaar.  Most often she used it for baking her holuptsi, known in English as cabbage rolls.  Fifty+ years later, that red roaster was still in use–there were a few spots of enamel missing, but I can tell you for certain that not a spot of baking residue ever stayed on that pan permanently.

Because it was often the case for Bunia to bring prepared food to various family gatherings, the red roaster, filled with holuptsi, was again in transit to another party of some sort.  Here is where the mystery begins.  Where was the roaster?

At that time I was in the habit of going to her apartment one day a week to take her shopping.  Every week I was asked if I had the roaster.  I was instructed to go home and look for it.  More than once on a visit to our home, Bunia went through my cupboards looking for the pan.

Not having success with me, it was then to my mother that she turned.  “Where is my roaster?  You MUST have my red roaster!”  Mom’s cupboards were subject to the same scrutiny as mine.  Whether called persistent for stubborn, the saga of looking for that red roaster went on and on–for two years at least I looked, my husband looked, my mother looked, and Bunia looked in every nook and cranny of her home, my home, and my mother’s home.

Well, one day, after all that searching, never giving up on that special red roaster, there was an announcement. 

THE RED ROASTER IS NO LONGER LOST! 

THE RED ROASTER HAS BEEN FOUND!!

Hallelujah! I thought, now I can put that mystery to rest.  It was found in the basement of one of her nieces.  She had left it there after the last party.  Now, today, for some reason I remembered that red roaster, after all these years.  I asked her why it was so important to find it, because once found it didn’t look so special to me anymore.  Bunia said, “It is still a good pan.”

That roaster of little consequence was “still a good pan.”  It was still useful because she took such good care of it.  Just as Bunia took care of her possessions so well, and just as she looked and looked for that roaster, never giving up until it was found,  there is someone who cares that much–not for things–but for each and everyone of us.

That someone is named Jesus.  If you are lost in the dregs of human life, He has been looking for you to come and be with Him.  He wants you to be one of his “millions.”  He wants love you, and give you the best care–better than anyone here in this world can give.  Jesus will keep looking and never give up–even when you are angry, or hurt, or turn your back because life has gotten so terrible it all looks black and hopeless.

Whatever situation you may be in, he will wrap his arms around you and see you through to the end.  It’s so easy, all you need to do is ask Him.  He knows what it is to feel like all hope is lost and alone and empty–like something is missing.

I was sick for a very long time.  There was no miraculous cure.  It was ten long years, and it was hard.  Yet, through it all, I had a friend who was more than a friend, who I knew I could count on to always be there for me–and He was.  Sometimes all that kept me going was that I knew Jesus and His angels were there going through it with me.  I am going to put this passage from the Bible in my own words.

Who is it that will separate us from the love that Jesus Christ gives?  Can hard times, sorrow, false accusations, danger, or physical harm?  The answer is that none will separate us.  I know without a doubt, I am convinced, that there is absolutely nothing, that will keep Jesus and those who give themselves to Him apart.

Jesus is the tender Shepherd who cares for his flock ….

Though beneath the drifting snow,
Summer flow’rs have been laid low,
I am safe in the tender Shepherd’s care;
Tho’ the sunbeams hide away,
On the dark and cloudy day,
I am safe in the tender Shepherd’s care.

Safe in the tender Shepherd’s care,
Safe on His bosom He will bear
Those who trust His mighty love,
Bear them to the land above,
Safe in the Shepherd’s tender care.

In green pastures I’ll be fed,
By the quiet waters led,
I am safe in the tender Shepherd’s care;
He will guide me to the fold,
Sheltered from the wint’ry cold,
I am safe in the tender Shepherd’s care.

Through the valley dark and deep,
He will comfort, He will keep,
I am safe in the tender Shepherd’s care;
Happy in His saving grace,
Till I see His blessed face,
I am safe in the tender Shepherd’s care.
… Eliza E. Hewitt

There are a lot of Bibles available written in different ways–same story, just different wording so that all can understand.  I am not asking you to buy a Bible from me–you can, but what is more important is for you to get one and read it for yourself.
     …. babamarusia

As I have already said, buying a Bible or getting one is what is important.  I recommend the New Century Version, or NCV, because it is known to be the easiest to understand. 

babamarusia is Mary Katherine May, who along with her husband, Rick own www.QualityMusicandBooks.com.