The other thing that he did was remind us of the story of Zaccheus in the tree. He didn’t read us the story. He just asked us to think about it. And then he said, “The trees are full of people” waiting to be called down and invited into community. Waiting for us to hear their cries for touch and healing. Waiting for connection and relationship. Waiting for recognition. Waiting… Waiting. It was very moving. Although I just need to say that a young adult came up to me after the talk when I was feeling all sentimental and said, “Did you hear what the bishop said? About the people in trees?” I said, “yes” and was about to follow up with how touched I was by it but he said, “That makes me paranoid…people in trees…everywhere.” Oh well, I digress…

People are hungry for the good news. People are hungry for any good news. People are hungry for authenticity, for acceptance, for lives filled with love, for creative community that breaks down the barriers that are erected to keep us apart, separated, alienated. People are hungry for the word to come into their communities and their lives -- to blow the cobwebs away, to shake loose those things that hold us bound – bound to fear, bound to the static, bound to the common. People are hungry, as Joel puts it, for god to pour out the spirit on all flesh; for sons and daughter to prophesy, for old men to dream dreams, and young men to see visions. For even the most bound up will be freed by the spirit. And this is anything but common. This is uncommon.

People are so hungry for this kind of stuff that they cry out. But before we look more at those who cry, let’s just take a second to look at the Pharisee. Now, the Pharisees get a tough row to hoe in all the gospels, but especially Luke. But, while there are many reasons for it, particularly that after the fall of the Temple in 70 CE which is before Luke wrote his work Pharisaic Judaism was emerging as the leading sect. The other forms of Judaism was falling away. So, the emerging Christian church was not just in tension with Judaism, it was specifically in tension with Pharisaic Judaism. BUT, let’s not get hung up on that. Rather, let’s remember that the Pharisees, ironically, were considered the liberal interpreters of the law – different from the Zealots who were more militaristic or the Saducees who worked with Rome. The Pharisees were the progressives! Jesus was a Pharisee. And here he is calling the Pharisee on the carpet. The progressives, the ones like me, Luke has Jesus saying, are too righteous. This calls us up short – those of us who find ourselves the progressive liberal interpreter of religion today. How are we too self righteous? Self-righteous and righteous are very different things. This Pharisee set the world into two starkly contrasted groups: us and them…the others…thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income. This Pharisee, so assured of himself, forgot God and his relationship with God. This Pharisee could not see that faithfulness means that we cry out from time to time. None of us is without the need of community, accountability, love, forgiveness, care. None of us is without vulnerabilities. None of us is so completely wise as to need no new growth. The one “like us” needed some humility.

No, the one who cried out and the ones who cry out today are often those who find themselves shut out society – those on the margins – those who do not move through the world easily. The tax collector was one such person. This tax collector had no delusions of self righteousness. He recognized his shortcomings and cried out for aid. He wasn’t caught up in the trappings put upon the Pharisee by others of his goodness. The tax collector, I am sure, was reminded of his filthy job of taking money from the people, aiding Rome, and extorting all he could in order to make way for his family. He did not have an easy life. It was a morally circumspect way of existing and no one let him forget it. He did not doubt that he was needy – needy of salvation, of healing, which is what the word salvation means. And so he cried out.

It often takes the roughness hands of the world to mold us into ripeness for this kind of act. Ask any addict or alcoholic. Pleading and crying out are not the same. I am a person in recovery – have been for a good long while. But I can recall a time when I connived and planned, pleaded and pleaded to get things to work out after I had screwed them up. This, however, was not an earnest crying out for salvation. It took, what I have learned to call a “bottom” to humble my pride. As insecure or crazy as my life ever got, I still had pride…and plenty of it. But I reached a point when pride could no longer hide the reality of my life…a reality that countered all charades I played to cover the craziness of my existence. And I had to cry out for help. It is hard to cry out like this. But people do it all the time. People do it with tears. People do it with anger. People do it in messy ugly ways because honesty is very rarely neat and tidy.

The word we are given today offers us two challenges: They challenge us to let go of our pride and self-centeredness so that we might find the voice to cry out to salvation. And they challenge us to hear the cries of others. They remind us that we are all needy and we are all needed. This interdependence is one of the most important lessons of our faith story. This lesson is played out time and again in our stories and in our lives. We run and run from being needy. And we hide and hide from being needed. But God is a relentless pursuer, found in every human being we encounter, ever reminding us of our need of one another and our gifts for one another.

What will it take for us to cry out? What bottom must we hit before we ask the divine to be merciful to us? Before we submit to our longing for love, our craving for community, our desire for new dreams?

What will it take for us to hear the cries of others? Whose cries do we hear? Do we hear the cries of the 6000+ people who are homeless in Seattle? Do we hear the cries of those counted in the annual homeless census – the 2100 counted just this week on the streets, in cars, parks, and shelters? Those who wrap cardboard around their car windows to block out sound and light and to keep in the little heat left from the day? Those who sleep in sleeping bags in “burrows” in our parks? Those who sleep in church basements and friends’ couches and motels, who have lost hope that tomorrow will bring anything better than subsistence – if even that?

This week I met with over half a dozen people seeking aid in transportation and housing. Each of these people presented me with concrete, real life, important needs that I could not meet. Did I hear their cry? I know that I felt helpless with the enormity and urgency of their life situations.

But all cries are not so loud and ear splitting. Some of our cries are masked by a quietness that betrays the urgency of the voices. Our cries are found in our absences. People we once saw regularly stop showing up, too weary from their world to participate in things that used to bring them joy. Do we notice the volume of their absence? Some people try to pretend that everything is fine, but we notice something a little off. Do we hear their cry for touch, for community, for love, for grace?

An amateur poet, Dionysius Burton, writes about the power of our voice:

• Dionysius Burton
  

However, if we dare open ourselves to the needy-ness and the neededness of each person, we have been told the ending…the promise, the reward. There is a wonderful world awaiting us should we dare. God comes into our midst. God’s Spirit is poured out upon all flesh…not just some flesh, but all flesh. What a wonderful word. Luke tells us that the very act of crying out justified the tax collector. Justified. We don’t think about that word. We often skip right on over it. But it has meaning. It has important meaning. It means aligned. Just like on Microsoft Word, or for those of you who might be a little more familiar with the typewriter…justified type. Lined up. Everything put right. If we just looked into the trees to see the people waiting invitation. If we just took a leap of faith out of the trees that keep us up and away from others. The very act of humbling ourselves saves us. The very act of listening to the cries around us saves us. God’s Spirit pours on all flesh, and “your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions.” Amen.