In Zacchaeum

A discourse of Amphilochius, bishop of Iconium, on Zacchaeus. Nothing so rouses the soul to joy as fear of God, abstinence from evils, the course of repentance, and the manner of confession. Hence today David blessed those who had obtained remission of sins, at once presenting the philanthropy of Christ and also preparing sinners to hasten to repentance. "Blessed," he says, "are those whose lawless deeds have been forgiven and whose sins have been covered over." So let every fornicator and tax collector run to the inexhaustible springs of Christ's salvation. Without it, it is not possible to obtain release from evils or to attain blessedness, even if you name prophets or apostles or evangelists. For all drew from the same spring. Among the prophets, David himself, after adultery, is still a prophet even now through the grace of the one who pardoned him. Among the apostles, Peter and Paul: the former, after his denial, holds the keys of the kingdom; the latter, after persecuting the nations, became an apostle, having transformed his Jewish zeal into an evangelical manner. For in the Gospels I know not only Matthew, saved from being a tax collector, but also two others with him. One of them, by praying, by beating his breast—the treasury of evils—by not daring to raise his hands to the holy things, by bowing down, was not only justified but also crowned in opposition to the Pharisee.

Zacchaeus, having gone up into the tree in which he often stood watching lest any of the merchants pass by unnoticed, so that he might not go without his due, was watching lest the merchant of heaven and earth, who bears the inviolable treasure of the kingdom, pass him by unnoticed. But so that we do not confuse the histories of the tax collectors all together, if you please, let us take Zacchaeus alone today as the subject of our discourse and expand our word. Jesus, it says, went out and was passing through Jericho, and behold, a man named Zacchaeus, and he was a chief tax collector. The evangelist does not mention Jericho simply, but because he says that a tax collector entertained God at home. The matter was incredible. He sets forth his homeland so that, reminded of the harlot Rahab, we may not be astonished at the strange recantation of Zacchaeus. For this reason, then, he mentioned Jericho, so that, taking Rahab the harlot in mind, we may compare the manner of salvation of both. For just as Rahab the harlot received Joshua the son of Nun as a spy and hid him, so also Zacchaeus the tax collector received the true Jesus, who spies out our mind, at home and nurtured him. She received Joshua the son of Nun, who led the people into the land of promise; this man receives the true Jesus, who leads into the kingdom of heaven. She received Joshua, who destroyed the temple of the Jews; for he says, Not a stone will remain here upon a stone that will not be thrown down. She received Joshua, who led the people through the Jordan into a land flowing with milk and honey.

this one received the true Jesus, who through baptism leads the faithful where no eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no human heart has conceived. That one received Jesus, who brought forth the cluster from the vine on the tree from the earth; this one received the true Jesus, who led the thief into paradise. The spring of Jericho was formerly a mother of barrenness, a nurse of unfruitfulness, having its water imperfect. For it had a vast stream, flowing silently like oil, but the sight of its waters left those who beheld it thirsty; for the drinking was not without danger to those in need, since its stream was deadly. For the beauty of the spring moved passersby to run, but the fear of harm checked their eagerness. Hence, since the water flowed in vain at the spring, the neighbors often stood by and groaned, not from drought but from being drawn into thirst by the sight of the useless waters. They could not cure the affliction of thirst, so they lamented to it, saying: "Why do you flow in vain, O spring? You would be better not appearing, but flowing in mountains, sands, and deserts where you would not have many witnesses to your evil." Why was the water undrinkable? Because it struck the bodies of those who drank; for if a man drank from it, he did not become a father, nor did a woman become a mother, having lost the grace of mothers.

And not only this, but the earth, having received the stream, denied its customary yield of ears of grain, and the shady graces of the palm trees stripped off their garment of leaves, and, to speak concisely, everything became desolate, as if unjustly overtaken by the water. Such was the spring that once surrounded Jericho, until the prophet Elisha came, and taking salt, cast it into the spring and gave life to the waters. For thus, he says, the Lord speaks: I heal these waters. Thus says the one who always speaks and brings the word to deed: Let no more among you be barren and sterile. He spoke, and the water was transformed, and wombs began to travail, and the earth put forth ears of grain, and the grape clusters revived, and the olive tree displayed its own grace. And the neighbors were reconciled with the familiar spring, formerly warring and being warred upon, but later longing for and drawing near to one another. But what does the riddle of the spring mean? It is necessary to say. This spring, flowing abundantly, but in former times pouring forth a useless and barren stream, preserves the account of the Church. For before Christ, it was so impious that a man drinking from the stream of the spring lost even the very being of a man, denying the nature of the rational soul in the entanglement of idols, and a woman did not become a mother of virtues nor did she give birth to shoots of temperance or pour forth the white milk of piety. But while it was in this state, the Lord came and, casting in the apostles as salt, seasoned it and made it drinkable. And that the apostles were salt, hear Christ saying to them: You are the salt of the earth.

that the barren and unfruitful one became prolific, having partaken of the apostolic salt, the prophet says: "Rejoice," he says, "barren one that does not give birth, break forth and cry out, you that do not labor in childbirth, for the children of the desert are more numerous than those of the woman who has a husband." So Jesus came to Jericho, the spring beside the many-nourished springs, the manifold grace to the many-treed and many-streamed city. And behold, a man named Zacchaeus, and he was a chief tax collector. The evil was twofold, because he both practiced an unjust craft and ruled over those who practiced it wickedly; not only sinning himself but also receiving the evils of others. For he cut a strange path of injustice, blocking the highways for travelers; for he neither imitated the robbers in ambushing passersby, nor did he await travelers out of a zeal for hospitality, but having injustice as his law, he taxed the labors of others, imitating the merciless gluttony of drones. For just as drones harvest the labor of bees without sharing in the toils, so also tax collectors

They reap the fruits of labors while idling in laziness and sitting at the crossroads. Someone sailed the sea, fought against the high waves, battled the winds, cut through the long and unruly expanse, but Zacchaeus robbed the profit at the end. A shepherd living with drought and scorching heat, rain and snow and frost, having a hut in the rocky outcrops, food of cheese and milk, a garment of unworked sheepskin, but this rustic, this poor man, this dweller of the mountains fell into Zacchaeus’ hands, his flocks tithed, lawfully plundered, slain without a sword. For the one struck by iron and receiving a flowing wound departs, escaping the severity of the suffering through unconsciousness, but the one shot by involuntary poverty has death in his pain and is dead; not consumed once, but dies continually little by little. And to speak briefly, just as hard-to-capture fortresses are for soldiers, and submerged rocks for helmsmen, and suspicious ambushes for those at war, so Zacchaeus was to be fled from by merchants and travelers, cowherds and shepherds. But this man, so maddened about the irrational collection of money, seeking to see Jesus, was unable; for both the smallness of his stature and the weight of his injustice held him back. Hence now, being healed, having anticipated the meanness of his stature by the ingenuity of his understanding, he went up ahead and climbed a sycamore tree and hides under the dense foliage, thinking to see and not be seen, supposing he escapes the notice of the one who knows all—which indeed the woman with the issue of blood also underwent, thinking to steal Jesus, who is gladly stolen in such matters.

But that woman, when she came near, touched the hem, while this man, being far off, laid hold of Christ by faith. Hence he goes up into the tree, healing the evils of Adam: for the one was deceived by the tree, fleeing from God, while the other is saved from the tree, desiring to see God. For hearing that he works many and marvelous wonders, that he heals not only bodies but also souls, removing the sins of souls and granting freedom from passion to bodies, he desired to see the one who grants everything to all, reasoning with himself: "Who then is this Jesus, who cleanses lepers, heals the blind, forgives sins to those who ask? What is his appearance, what his form? Does he know all things? Does he test the thoughts of those who are absent, or only examine the thoughts of those present? Does he, as God, track the thoughts of each heart? How then shall I know these things? Whom shall I take as teacher of these things? Whom? Experience, the teacher of all. Going up into the tree, I hide under the thick foliage. I escape notice and learn whether I can be saved. If he knows the movement of my soul, I know that he will erase the sin of my soul. This one thing then I will know: that he knows the secrets of thoughts.

If I, constrained by the crowd, see him who escapes notice, and not only see him but also uncover the longing of my soul, I choose to cast aside everything and find one. I wish to imitate Matthew; for he too was a tax collector, as I am, but Matthew did not run forward of his own accord; rather, he obeyed when called. Perhaps, seeing him and thinking him one of the travelers, he hollowed his hands and spread a deep fold, shaping himself by habit for receiving, and wishing to tax Christ, he was taxed by him in turn, not even in form, but giving his whole self. For as soon as he heard, "Come after me," he surpassed the call by his eagerness, running past the one who drew him with swifter speed. If, then, he calls tax collectors and not only calls them but also justifies them, the swarm of prior evils does not harm me; for if Elisha, casting salt into the spring that nourished him, made its barrenness fruitful, surely he too, seasoning my soul with grace as with salt, rouses the fruit-bearing of virtue. While he was pondering these things, Jesus came to the place. Looking up, he says to him, "Zacchaeus, hasten, come down. You went up into the tree as a tax collector; come down from the tree as a lover of God. Come down from the wood to the earth, so that you may ascend through the cross to heaven. You went up onto a tree hiding from men; you ascend through the cross, graced by angels. Hasten, then, come down; for today I must stay in your house." O ineffable grace! O unspeakable philanthropy! How purified the house becomes! For where Jesus is entertained, everything changes for the better. "Zacchaeus," he says, "hasten, come down.

Today I must stay in your house. What shall I say? The house of the tax collector has become a paradise. For what I see in the case of the robber, I also see in the case of Zacchaeus: He said to the robber, "Today you will be with me in paradise," and taking him from the cross, he led him into paradise; he said to Zacchaeus, "Today I must stay in your house," and taking him, he entered, having made his house a paradise before paradise. But he, hastening, came down and ran ahead and called out from above, "Son of Abraham." But the people murmur among themselves, saying, "He has entered to lodge with a sinful man." O workers of contempt and farmers of indolence! What are you, righteous or sinful? Are you not more depraved than all men? How then did Jesus dwell among you? How was he born among you, raised, grew strong, drank, ate? Why then, overlooking your own wounds, do you track down the faults of your neighbor? And besides, why do you sometimes call Christ sinful, sometimes righteous? For when he healed the man blind from birth, you called him sinful, saying, "Give glory to God; for we know that he is sinful, because he breaks the Sabbath." Now, when he entered the roof of the tax collector, you disparage him as righteous and unworthily eating with sinners. We played the flute and you did not dance; we lamented to you and you did not beat your breast. For if he heals a blind man, you call him sinful; if he eats with sinners, you disparage him as unworthily eating with sinners. What then? Should he not heal a blind man on the Sabbath, lest he be considered sinful? Should he not eat with tax collectors, that he might be suspected of being righteous?

Why do you blame him for entering the house of a sinful man to lodge? And where should the light be placed if not in the darkness? For the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. Where should the physician go? Should he not run to the sick? For those who are strong have no need of a physician, but those who are ill. Where should the lamb of God appear? Should he not go to the tax collectors and sinners, to take up their burden and set them free? You revile in vain, for the saying is fulfilled among you: "Harlots and tax collectors lead you into the kingdom of heaven, Pharisees." And Zacchaeus, standing, said to the Lord: "Behold, I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have unjustly taken anything from anyone, I repay it fourfold." For I no longer tolerate your wronging the poor, having received in my house the protector of the poor. I am no longer anxious about the gathering of wealth. No longer do I, in human form, lie in wait at the gates for travelers, having forgotten the past. I want, being rich, to remain having become poor. Foxes have dens, and the birds of the sky have nests, but you have nowhere to lay your head. Let there be gone the courts and forecourts, the great works of building, the splendid and conspicuous houses. For in place of all these, I seek the inexhaustible wealth of your poverty. But since I cannot further recount the wealth of Zacchaeus' soul, to the one who

the word be left by us to a father rich in virtues? For it is fitting that the lover of hospitality should recount the virtues of the lover of hospitality, for his own praise, for your edification, for the crown of the church, and for the honor of Christ, to whom belong glory and power for ever and ever. Amen.