Thirty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time (C), Conversations with Consequences Podcast, October 29, 2022

Fr. Roger J. Landry
Conversations with Consequences Podcast
Homily for the Thirty-First Sunday of Ordinary Time, C, Vigil
October 29, 2022

To listen to an audio recording of this short Sunday homily, please click below: 

The following text guided the brief homily: 

• This is Fr. Roger Landry and it’s a joy for me to be with you as we enter into the consequential conversation the Risen Lord Jesus wants to have with each of us this Sunday as we go with Jesus on a rescue mission to Jericho and learn there how Jesus seeks to rescue each of us, too.
• You remember that last week Jesus presented us the parable contrasting the prayer of the Pharisee and the Publican. Both went up to the temple to pray. Both left. And only one’s prayer was heard. The one who left justified was notthe outwardly devout Pharisee who fasted twice a week, gave ten percent of his income back to God, and rejoiced that he was not a thief, rogue, adulterer or tax collector. The one who left with a right relationship toward God was a humble tax collector, who stood at the back, beat his breast and begged, “God, be merciful to me a sinner!” In this Sunday’s Gospel, we encounter those characters from the parable — self-righteous “good people” who complain that Jesus interacts with sinners and a notorious, humble “tax collector” — in real life. And we see how the God-man responds when such a sinner calls out to him for such mercy.
• Jesus called himself the “Good Shepherd” and said that he would leave the ninety-nine to go in search of one sheep who was lost (John 10:11; Lk 15:4). Before that Good Shepherd headed up to Jerusalem to lay down his life for his sheep (John 10:15), he first wanted to hunt down one who was indeed lost. He went to literally the nethermost place on earth in search of perhaps the greatest public sinner of that city, to bring him back to his fold. He went to Jericho, the lowest city on the planet — 853 feet below sea level — to find Zacchaeus, who was not just one of a bunch of despised and basically excommunicated tax-collectors loathsome to the Jewish authorities, but the chief tax collector of the whole region. “Zacchaeus,” he said, “Today I must stay in your house!” and Zacchaeus “welcomed him with delight.” Jesus left the crowds behind and entered alone with the tax collector into his home and into his life. He called Zacchaeus, his lost sheep, by name (Is 43:1; John 10:3). The very name Zacchaeus means “God remembers,” and God had never forgotten him. Heaven rejoiced on that day more for his return than for those who had never wandered (Lk 15:7). Jesus takes a similar initiative in knocking at the door of our souls, asking for entry, coming to us wherever we are, no matter the depths to which we’ve sunk, no matter the fact that perhaps everyone else around us might despise us. To the extent that we repent of whatever sins we’ve committed and accept Jesus’ gracious invitation by “welcoming him with delight,” we, too, like Zacchaeus, can have salvation come to us.
• This is the first of three lessons we learn from the story of Zacchaeus and Jesus, that Jesus wants to take us apart from the crowd and bring us the salvation of his mercy. The place where Jesus ordinarily does this is the confessional, where Saint Pope John Paul II used to say Jesus and the whole Church exist solely for each of us alone. In the Sacrament of Reconciliation Jesus ministers to us individually, just as he interacted individually with Zacchaeus. But we have to be willing to go away with Jesus alone to receive this salvation; like Zacchaeus, we need to come down, to leave the perches of our pride and allow Jesus to go to work through his priestly ministers. God remembers us, just like he remembered Zacchaeus. Jesus has come to seek and save what was lost. He has come to call sinners. He has a special love for those in need of his mercy: he could have stayed in any house in Jericho, including the houses of the very faithful, but he chose to come to the house of the most notorious sinner to show his priority to care for those in most need of his salvation. Will we allow Jesus to call and save us, one-on-one, in the Sacrament he has given us for this very purpose?
• The second thing we learn from this encounter of Zacchaeus and Jesus is about the diminutive tax collector’s hunger to see Jesus. Zacchaeus’ climbing of the sycamore tree is more than an interesting detail. The text tells us that he was trying to see Jesus, but couldn’t because of the crowd, so he ran ahead and climbed a tree along Jesus’ route to be able to see him. We, too, are often blocked from seeing the Lord because other people get in the way. Parents block the sight of their children when they don’t pray with them or take them to Mass. Cultural forces, like those in the entertainment industry or in public schools or institutions of higher learning, impede our vision by distorting Jesus’ image, ignoring him altogether, or ridiculing those who believe in him. Sometimes even those who should be icons of Jesus — priests, religious, catechists, godparents — obscure our vision because rather than reflecting the image of Jesus to us through virtue, they obstruct it through un-Christian behavior. Similar to Zacchaeus, we may not have the wherewithal to see over such obstacles, and, unfortunately, too often others may be too caught in themselves to do anything to help us out. Like a little child, however, Zacchaeus climbs a tree to see the Lord. Such an act could have led to great mockery for a middle-aged public figure as he tried to lift his frame up onto branches and everyone would have been able to see what he was or wasn’t wearing under his tunic. But Zacchaeus didn’t care about the derision that might ensue. He wanted to see the Lord and no obstacle was going to stop him. He was willing to do something that others would deem ludicrous in order to see Christ as he was passing by. His example challenges each of us to consider what is the extent to which we go, what trees or obstacles we mount, in order to see Jesus more clearly. How much do we desire to see the Lord? Are we capable of being accounted fools (1 Cor 4:10) for following those means that others might consider silly if they will bring us into greater contact with Jesus? What trees have we climbed? What trees do we still need to climb?
• The third thing this episode with Zacchaeus teaches us is that a true conversion to God also brings about a real conversion to others. Like his fellow tax-collectors, Zacchaeus would have been guilty of ripping off the people of Jericho by shaking them down for unjust commissions beyond what the tax collectors needed to send to Rome. Zacchaeus knew that he needed to make amends and from that point forward to use the gift of his office to do good rather than evil. So he told Jesus, “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.” Strict justice would have required his giving back precisely what he had overcharged. If he had really wanted to be kind, he would have given it back with a modest interest. But he was going to give it back with 400 percent interest, which was a sign of great contrition for the gravity of his previous sins of stealing and intimidation. Moreover, a strictly observant religious Jew would give ten percent of his produce over to God and the poor. Zacchaeus committed himself to giving fifty percent of his entire income to those who were needy, which was a sign of a reborn love and a recognition that others needed his money more than he did. From that point forward, he was going to be an honest tax collector, a Christian tax collector, and use his office for his salvation and sanctification and for that of others. Zacchaeus likely remained a rich man, but one who would use his riches, employ what God gave him, for building up God’s kingdom. We’re called to do the same with whatever God has given us, to put it to the use of his kingdom. We’re also called to examine our consciences and to make amends with those we’ve injured through our sins. To apologize. To repair the harm we’ve caused through gossip. To make restitution for the things we’ve taken from family members, from work, from strangers, from the poor through selfishness. When we’ve truly encountered Jesus Christ, when we’ve overcome obstacles to see him, when he’s called us by name and sought to bring salvation to our house, we can’t but help live of a life of extravagant conversion. This is what we see in Zacchaeus, in Dickens’ character Ebeneezer Scrooge, in so many philanthropists who seek to give all they’ve received away while they still have time, in the lives of so many priests, religious and consecrated who, after late-in-life conversions, have “crazily” given up their careers, families of origin, so many material goods and even their autonomy to follow Jesus up close.
• As we prepare for Sunday Mass, let us turn to the Lord and thank him for the example of Zacchaeus, who shows us the path to forgiveness one-on-one with Jesus, how to overcome whatever hinders us from contact with the Lord and how to made amends for our sins against God and neighbor. Just like the Lord went to the lowest place on earth to bring Zacchaeus back to the fold, so the Lord Jesus will continually come to save us, no matter how far we’ve sunk, and no matter how many times we’ve fallen. Each time at Mass he shows us that there’s nothing he won’t do to save us. When we and the whole human race were incapable of seeing Him on account of the great weight of sin that was reducing our humanity to smaller and smaller images of what we are called to be, and thereby when we were incapable of climbing any tree at all, he, out of his great love for us, climbed one on our own behalf, so that each of us might still be able to see him, perched upon his glorious wooden throne. He invites each of us in this Sunday’s Eucharistic participation in his death and resurrection, to be lifted up by him onto that life-giving tree, so that as God’s children we might spend eternity in that celestial tree house built upon the Cross’ firm foundation. He calls us by name and says, “I must stay in yourhouse today.” Even though we, like the Centurion, will humbly cry out before Communion, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof,” Jesus— if we do what we learn from Zacchaeus— will say the word and heal us. “The Son of Man,” Jesus tells us at the end of the Gospel passage, “has come to seek and to save what was lost.” He has come to seek and save us sinners. May His salvation come to our homes and our lives this Sunday! Amen!

The Gospel reading on which the homily was based was: 

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