“Today salvation has come to this house because this man too is a descendant of Abraham. For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save what was lost” (Luke 19:10). So concludes this Tuesday’s moving gospel passage in which the tax-collector Zacchaeus repents of his sins and gives himself over to God at last. As I immerse myself in these words, the sun is setting on another short November day outside my window. COVID-19 cases are continuing to surge around the country. My (remote) sophomore fall is drawing nearer to its end and I feel my former life on campus receding deeper into the folds of my memory. And yet, despite these sorrows, the gospel invites a flame of hope into my cloistered, lamp-lit bedroom tonight.
We live in a sick, hurting and broken world. Once again at this moment within the ebb and flow of time, we face a swell of human suffering. We might find it easy to distance ourselves from God as we come to terms with the darkness in our midst. Overwhelmed by the uncertainty that lies ahead, we might be all the more tempted to stray from Christ’s path. As people of faith, however, we must engage with the voice of conscience. We must confront ourselves with all we have done and failed to do, as we look upon a world that needs our help. Of course, it can be difficult to acknowledge our painfully human shortcomings. A sense of despair might threaten to wrap its tendrils around our hearts and choke out the joy of Christ’s love that we are called to radiate.
But Zacchaeus’ story reminds us not to dwell on the imperfections of earthly life. Instead, the gospel tells us that we must turn to our faith to heal, to examine our faults with an unflinching eye, and thereby cultivate the very best versions of ourselves in God. We come to our Father as we are. We confess our sins with our hands empty and heads bowed. And yet we strive every day to live more in God’s image, to be better than we were the day before, to come closer to the life that Christ teaches. Perhaps we will never attain the unblemished ideal to which we aspire. We are all, as Jesus says, “what was lost.” But if we really try to channel God’s redeeming grace in everything that we do, we can also be what was found.
As some say St. Augustine once proclaimed, “The Church is not a hotel for saints, it is a hospital for sinners.” These words have breathed life into my thoughts over the past few weeks, as I have grappled with the flaws that I see both in myself and in the world I inhabit. I hope that our Christian family will cherish the wisdom of Augustine and Zacchaeus as we move forward into the newest chapter of the Church’s history. Let us keep our faith grounded in the promise of healing, redemption and renewal for all.
