November 1, 2013
I was reading an article recently called “The Truman Factor,” and it referred to the Jim Carrey movie in which he plays a character called Truman Burbank who, alone in the world, does not know that every bit of his life is being recorded and broadcast. Everything in his life is being staged for others to see. The article said that there were people with a psychological affliction in which they thought that they were being spied upon and broadcast; the revelations about NSA surveillance has not made it easier for these people. Strange to think of a life broadcast to others; stranger, too, to think of people who would look at this kind of life, watching people in their everyday experiences, the ultimate reality TV binge.
As a child I remember going to a movie called “Rear Window,” a Hitchcock thriller, in which a man watches a crime unfold in the windows across from his bedroom. And, of course, we used to have comedy shows in which pranks were played on unsuspecting folks while the TV cameras were running. What joy or curiosity do we get from being able to peep on others, to watch them without it costing us anything?
Zaccheus seems to have had a very conflicted background, a short guy who ended up betraying his people as a tax collector and cooperator with the Roman enemy. But he’s curious. He wants to see Jesus – from a distance, the ancient equivalent of eavesdropping and spying. He goes up in a tree, not only where his height receives some compensation, but also so he can be safe, out of the way, undisclosed. Zaccheus raises the question: can we just watch Jesus from a distance?
Because a lot of us try, not only those who call themselves Christian but have no discernible faith activity, but even many of us ordinary Catholics or mostly come to Church. It’s like we can stay on the other side of a window, watching things that happen but never having it entangle our lives. Like a Halloween costume, we can wear the label of believer or disciple, but it’s no more than a pose.
Is Jesus being pushy? What kind of sixth sense did he have to know Zaccheus was there? And, then he just blurts out, “Zaccheus I’m going to stay in your house tonight.” Think about that. How would we feel if Jesus knocked on our door and invited himself to stay overnight? Oh, sure, we’d be excited. But we’d probably be as intimidated as anything, because to sit before Jesus is to have your whole life exposed, in a deeper way than Truman ever experienced. Being looked at by others is one thing; being looked at by God is something else.
But look at Zaccheus’ reaction: he is so overjoyed to be accepted by Jesus, crud that he is, that he stands before a crowd that was ready to dismiss him, pointing out the changes that he was bringing to his life. Having met God in the flesh, what alternative did he have?
And what will our reaction be – to this visit we have from Jesus this day at Mass? He has not only invited us into his house, the Church, but also invited himself into our lives, to permeate our lives with his grace, goodness, generosity and love. And told us to radiate just these things in our own lives. Radiate them to others. In Paul’s day people were obviously anxious about Jesus return in the parousia, the end of the world. But Paul would tell us that the Jesus who comes at the end is the Jesus who comes now into our lives.
Of course, Jesus is infinitely patient. He gives us time to clean things up, to re-arrange what needs to be rearranged, just so long as he knows that we’re committed to him, house buddies, roommates, or, to tell the truth, members of his family. Hey, get down from your tree, or get out from behind your window, or drop the remote: Jesus is here, waiting for us.
(Photo is copyright Paulist Fathers/Stefani Manowski: The Garden of Gethsemane)