Genesis 28:11-18 Psalms 84:3, 4, 5-6, 8, 11, I Cor 3:9-13,16-17, Luke 19:1-10.
This simple story reflects the heart of today’s Gospel: God welcomes us first, and that welcome transforms us.
The Gospel of Luke 19:1–10 presents one of the most touching encounters in Scripture—the meeting between Jesus and Zacchaeus. Zacchaeus was not a hero in anyone’s eyes. He was a chief tax collector, seen as a betrayer of his own people, a collaborator with the Roman oppressors,
and a man who had grown rich by exploiting the poor. His name meant “pure” or “innocent,” yet his life was seen as the opposite. People looked at him with suspicion, resentment, and disgust. Yet, something within Zacchaeus was restless. Wealth had filled his house, but not his heart. He heard Jesus was passing by, and curiosity turned into desire. He wanted to see Jesus—not to speak with Him, not to host Him—just to see Him. And so, he climbed a sycamore tree, a most undignified act for a wealthy official. But when the heart begins longing for God, dignity, pride, and public opinion become less important than finding Him.This longing echoes the prayer of the psalmist today: “My soul is longing and yearning for the courts of the Lord. My heart and soul ring out their joy to the living God” (Psalm 84). Zacchaeus may not have been able to enter the synagogue with dignity, but his soul longed to see God, even from a tree. Many of us have felt like Zacchaeus—far away, unworthy, aware of our sins, and yet longing to see Jesus. Some feel too small spiritually, morally, or socially to approach Him. But the miracle begins here: Jesus sees him first. Zacchaeus climbed a tree thinking he was searching for Jesus, but Jesus was already searching for him. This Divine initiative is what transforms sinners into saints.
The first reading adds a beautiful layer to this truth. Jacob, on his journey, stops to rest and dreams of a ladder connecting heaven and earth, with angels going up and down. He wakes up overwhelmed, saying, “Truly, the Lord is in this place, and I never knew it!” (Genesis 28:16). Zacchaeus might have said the same. He thought he was looking for God, but God was looking for him. Like Jacob, who set up a stone to mark that holy moment, Zacchaeus would mark the day when heaven came to his own house. Divine encounter happens not because we find God but because God first finds us and invites us into His presence.
Jesus stops beneath the tree and calls, “Zacchaeus, come down. Hurry, for I must stay at your house today.” Zacchaeus did not invite Jesus; Jesus invited Himself. This is grace. Jesus does not wait at the door of our perfection; He walks into our imperfection. He does not say, “Repent, change, clean your life—and then I will come.” No, He says, “I want to stay with you today”—change follows from that relationship.
The crowd murmured because they could not understand why Jesus would go to the house of a sinner. This is a recurring pattern throughout salvation history. God always steps into unworthy places. He chose Jacob the deceiver, Moses the stammerer, Rahab the prostitute, David the adulterer, Jonah the rebel, and Peter the denier. God’s grace enters the homes that society condemns. In the Old Testament, God reminded Israel repeatedly that He does not see as humans see. Isaiah says, “Though your sins be like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow, if you return to Me” (Isaiah 1:18). Ezekiel proclaims God’s heart: “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you” (Ezekiel 36:26). The New Testament continues the same revelation. Jesus chooses sinners—Matthew the tax collector, Mary Magdalene, the Samaritan woman, the repentant thief. St. Paul later confesses, “Christ came to save sinners, of whom I am the worst” (1 Timothy 1:15). God’s love always arrives before transformation.
There is a story from the early Church that reflects this. St. Clement of Alexandria recounts the story of St. John the Apostle who once baptized a promising young man. John entrusted him to a bishop for guidance, but the young man fell into the company of criminals and became a bandit. John, upon returning years later, heard of this and, despite his old age, rode into the mountains looking for him. When the bandits saw him, they fled, but the young man, recognizing John, turned away in shame. John cried out, “My son, why do you flee from me? I am an old man unarmed. Do not fear. There is still hope for your soul. I would gladly suffer for you as Christ suffered for us. Come, my son. Come back.” The young man trembled, threw down his weapons, wept, and returned. He became a transformed and holy man thereafter. What changed him? Not punishment, not judgment, not shame—but unconditional love and pursuit. Like Jesus seeking Zacchaeus, John sought this lost son.
When Zacchaeus received Jesus, he received joy. Scripture says, “He came down at once and welcomed Him with joy.” Repentance born from fear produces temporary change; repentance born from love produces transformation. Zacchaeus stands and declares what love has done: “Half of my possessions I give to the poor. And if I have cheated anyone, I will repay four times as much.” Jewish law required restitution of the amount stolen plus one-fifth. Roman law required fourfold repayment only for violent robbery. Zacchaeus goes beyond the law. Love makes sacrifices that obligation never could. He who once collected taxes now gives away wealth. The one who once grabbed now shares. Grace changes not only behavior but identity. Zacchaeus becomes what his name means—truly “pure.”
Many think holiness is a long journey of moral perfection. But sometimes holiness begins in a moment—the moment a heart encounters divine love. St. Augustine lived a life of worldly pleasure, intellectual pride, and moral compromise. But one day, hearing a child’s voice say, “Take and read,” he opened Scripture and his heart was pierced. He later wrote, “Late have I loved You, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new!” His conversion did not make him perfect instantly, but he allowed God to stay in the house of his soul. Like Zacchaeus, Augustine welcomed Christ and joy transformed him.
The medieval Church also understood this transformative hospitality of God. Monasteries offered shelter to travelers, the poor, and the sick. The Rule of St. Benedict instructed monks to “receive all guests as Christ.” This was not charity; it was theology. Monks saw Christ in each visitor, especially the least. Zacchaeus welcomed Christ, and the Church learned to welcome Christ in others. Hospitality became a path to holiness.
The same truth appears in ordinary lives today. There are countless unnamed modern Zacchaeuses who quietly choose compassion over greed.
Today many people feel spiritually “short” like Zacchaeus—overshadowed by guilt, failures, addictions, broken relationships, or a sense of unworthiness. Some think the Church is only for the holy, the pure, the prayerful, the perfect. But the Gospel reveals the opposite: Christ comes for the small, the lost, the tired, the sinner, the seeker, the curious, the imperfect. He calls us by name: “Come down. I want to stay with you.”
Yet there is a modern barrier. In Zacchaeus’ time, the crowd blocked him. Today, the digital crowd blocks us. Social media, entertainment, endless scrolling, comparison, advertising, consumerism—these form a noisy crowd around our hearts. We often cannot see Jesus not because He is far, but because our eyes are distracted. In this technological era, the sycamore tree we must climb may be silence, prayer, detachment from screens, Sunday worship, Scripture reading, or acts of charity. These allow us to rise above the crowd and see Christ again.
Technology is not evil. It can be a tool of grace when used rightly. But technology becomes a barrier when it replaces relationship with God and neighbor. Zacchaeus climbed a tree to see Jesus; today we must climb above the noise of digital life to see Him. This requires choice and discipline.
Materialism presents another challenge. Modern society teaches that worth is measured by possessions, status, and achievements. Zacchaeus had all of these, yet he lacked peace. Peace entered his home only when Jesus entered his heart, and generosity flowed. The world says, “Keep more, you will be secure.” The Gospel says, “Give more, and you will be free.”
How then do we live the principle of this Gospel today?
First, seek Christ intentionally. Zacchaeus did not wait at home hoping Jesus would visit. He made an effort—he ran, climbed, and positioned himself. Faith requires intentional effort. Set aside daily moments for prayer, Scripture, silence, and worship. Climb whatever tree helps you rise above distractions.
Second, allow His presence to transform you. Zacchaeus did not merely feel forgiven; he changed. Real conversion is seen in action—in forgiveness, charity, honesty, humility, and service. Practice generosity that reflects love, not obligation. Zacchaeus gave not because he was forced but because he was freed. Generosity of time, talent, and treasure reveals Christ lives in us. Support the poor, the lonely, the elderly, and the marginalized.
Finally, carry this transformation into the digital and material world. Use technology to build, not break; to encourage, not insult; to share faith, not gossip; to connect, not isolate. Let your digital presence reflect your Christian identity. In a material world, practice gratitude, contentment, and simplicity. Show that joy comes not from possessions but presence—God’s presence.
Jesus ends with a proclamation of hope: “Today salvation has come to this house… for the Son of Man came to seek and save what was lost.” Salvation is not a distant dream; it is a present possibility. It begins today, in your house, in your heart, in your family, in your journey. You may feel unworthy like Zacchaeus, but Jesus calls your name. You may feel distant like Jacob, but God is already where you are. You may feel small like the boy at the railway station, but your acts of welcome can be the doorway of salvation for others.
Like Zacchaeus, let us respond with joy, and let His presence transform our lives.