If you drive westward on Montgomery Avenue past Rosemont College, just a few minutes from here, you will notice their current advertising initiative, which promotes “the power of small.” This motto is a clever way of marketing a tiny college that might easily be overlooked among the other larger colleges and universities on the Main Line.
According to Rosemont College’s website, “the power of small” means that you can dine with the college President in the Community Center, engage in a research project side-by-side with a professor, and your coach will know your mom’s first name and your backhand swing.[1]
Thinking about the power of small is rather countercultural, isn’t it? I hail from the state of Texas where we were constantly told that bigger is better. Machismo pride is usually considered an asset rather than a deficit. Churches are obsessed with the size of their congregations. Majorities rule and call the shots. The loudest voices get the most publicity, and the biggest mouths are the most convincing. So much for the power of small.
But I don’t think the power of small motto is an excuse for not growing. Growth, if you ask me, is a wonderful thing. I, for one, believe that the Church is being called by God to grow. I believe this parish is being called to grow, because the charge we have been given by our Lord is to spread the Gospel to the ends of the earth.
Perhaps, then, the power of small is more than a justification for laziness. Perhaps the power of small means that what is typically valued for its flashiness, size, or power is no more important than the forgotten, the marginalized, and the voiceless. Perhaps we could say that God himself operates out of the power of small.
Look at the witness of holy Scripture. Stammering Moses is the chosen prophet to lead the Israelites into freedom. David, Jesse’s youngest son, is chosen as God’s anointed, although many would have guessed that any of his brothers had more of a chance at being selected. The barren are given the power to conceive. The humble and meek are exalted. The proud and powerful are brought low. The widow’s mite is a more valuable offering than the loud clang of larger denominations thrown into the Temple treasury by the rich. And a helpless little Child enters the world as the Messiah. This is the power of small.
Zacchaeus, that well-known Biblical character from Sunday School is defined by his smallness. His short stature justifies his need to climb a sycamore tree to get a better look at Jesus. But Zacchaeus’s shortness is more than a passing detail. Anytime we are given such vivid descriptions of a character in Scripture, we should pay close attention. Zacchaeus is not just physically small.
Zacchaeus, if we were to measure his stature by his wealth, should be powerful and important, because we are told he’s rich. But he’s small because of his profession. He’s among the most hated of his day, considered a vile sinner for participating in extortionist practices and representing the loathed Roman empire. He's a traitor to his own Jewish people. The crowd has no use for insignificant, disliked Zacchaeus. They are blocking his view of Jesus, and they don’t care. But Zacchaeus is undeterred. Zacchaeus demonstrates the power of small.
A short person can probably scale a sycamore tree a bit more easily than a larger person. Zacchaeus can rest comfortably in the branches so that he has the best view of all. And Zacchaeus, however small in stature and favor he may be, is the one Jesus notices.
Zacchaeus stands for every person in the past, present, or future who is small. He’s the person ostracized because of an egregious crime committed and forever marked by his offense. Zacchaeus is the neighbor who struggles to pay bills and who can’t find the systemic help needed because the crowd stands in her way. Zacchaeus is the lonely octogenarian, who is shut in and whom everyone forgets because he is not seen as contributing to society. Zacchaeus is the migrant who is eager to work but is seen as unwanted competition for legitimate citizens. These many Zacchaeuses are the ones looked down upon, which is why it’s so striking when Jesus looks up at Zacchaeus.
Amid all the jostling of the crowd and the jockeying to vie for Jesus’s attention, Jesus pauses and looks up into the most unexpected place. He looks up into the branches of a sycamore tree to see this small man who is yet so powerful. Jesus looks at an adult who humiliated himself by behaving in such a shameful fashion by scaling a tree as if he were a child or an animal. This powerfully small person is the one with whom Jesus chooses to stay.
How little has changed since Zacchaeus climbed that sycamore tree! Oh, how we have lost the power of small! The poor and struggling are usually written off as lazy and more willing to stay at home and collect a government-funded paycheck than work. The small congregations in our Church are often closed or given a death sentence. The quietly effective leaders go unnoticed because a superficial society tends to favor gimmicks, tricks, and emotionally powerful sound bytes. Conflict and fighting attract more attention than peace and reconciliation.
But one small, powerful glance from Jesus to Zacchaeus in a dusty street in Jericho upends our automatic preferences for big. To the one who is so often looked down upon, Jesus looks up and offers himself as a guest.
What a lesson this is to us and especially to this parish as we grow. To those outside, we symbolize what is small. We are the parish that has barely survived, nearly torn apart by its past. How can we not feel small in the presence of gargantuan financial challenges, deferred maintenance, and an uphill battle of proclaiming the Gospel in a world that seems unwilling to hear it? We are the kind of parish that others have historically liked to mock, joking about imminent closure. We are the parish that has had to fight an unfavorable reputation because of its past behavior.
And yet we are a Zacchaeus parish. Zacchaeus and Jesus teach us never to underestimate the power of small. Yes, for a time, we have struggled to catch a glimpse of Jesus while the crowds blocked our view, but we have learned something valuable from Zacchaeus’s shamelessness. We have not been too proud to climb the tree, despite being mocked. We haven’t been ashamed to share the precarity of our financial situation, past sins, and current challenges with the world, because honesty is the first step towards healing. We have climbed to our embarrassing and unstable perch in the branches of a tree because, like Zacchaeus, we have been curious about Jesus. We have wanted to do more than just catch a glimpse of him. We have longed to see who he was.
And Jesus has not disappointed. Despite the boisterous crowd of raucous voices and super egos, we have been noticed by Jesus, who instead of looking down on us, has looked up at us. And he has told us that we have experienced his salvation and that today he will come to be a guest in our house. He will abide with us. Yes, he will abide with us here in this place to lead us into a new future. He will be with us in just a few moments’ time in the sacramental presence of bread and wine.
But there is one other striking thing about Zacchaeus. In the face of the negative grumbling of the crowd, Zacchaeus manifests joy and generosity. Zacchaeus who could have been bitter, skeptical, and angry because of his small stature and status, expands his heart to welcome the Guest who always offers abundance.
Never forget the hidden power of our Lord’s abundance. Never underestimate the power of small, whether it’s your own individual gifts, the small but growing ministry of this parish, or yes, even what seems like a small amount of money that you might consider pledging to this parish. Every ounce of it is bigger than you realize.
A generous heart knows nothing that is small. A spirit of thanksgiving sees not pennies or lack of potential but seeds for God to use to give the growth. A sinner, whether me, you, or Zacchaeus, who is self-aware can’t help but see the greater power of forgiveness and mercy. A small person forgotten by the world who clings to the branches of a tree is not looked down upon but is gazed upon lovingly from below. And a small home that has opened its doors through generosity is the one to welcome the Messiah himself, who must stay in our house today. Because salvation has come to this house.
Sermon by Father Kyle Babin
The Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost
October 30, 2022
[1] https://www.rosemont.edu/admissions/tuition-and-aid/pdf/undergraduate-college-viewbook.pdf