On September 3^rd 1966 a special excursion train ran from Glasgow to Aberdeen to mark the withdrawal of one of the most famous classes of steam locomotive, Sir Nigel Gresley’s “A4 Pacifics”. Thirty years earlier an engine of this class named “Mallard” achieved the speed record for steam traction which has never officially been beaten.

As the train was preparing to leave Aberdeen on its return trip, it was only natural that people – especially photographers – wanted to get the best possible view. Most folk gathered on the station platform, but the helpful staff encouraged others to cross the tracks and even to climb up the signal posts so they could look down on the scene from above. Such things would be impossible in today’s Health and Safety culture, but no-one got hurt and the train departed safely!

Well, there are lots of times when people strain to get a better view. We’ve all had to bob and weave at the theatre to look round a column or see past a tall person sitting in front of us – which must be very irritating to the good folk in the row behind! At the last Coronation vendors did a roaring trade in periscopes; rather strangely you had to turn away from the parade and look over your shoulder if you wanted to see! (I presume that the problem at Charles’ Coronation will be how to see through a forest of mobile phones held high). And then, every Monday evening, I draw myself closer to the television in order to read the fiendish clues on BBC2’s quiz “Only Connect” – the letters are too small to be read from the far side of the room, even with my specs on!

We all know the story of Zacchaeus very well. We remember from the children’s song that he was “a very little man”, although we don’t know how little! He also seems to have been both fit and resourceful: after all, anyone could have climbed up that tree to take a peek at Jesus, but (as far as we know) they didn’t. And, of course, we know that Zacchaeus was a tax-collector, one of the most despised people in first-century Judaean society, and with good reason. For not only was he a collaborator, happy to be employed by the detested Roman occupying power to extract its pound of flesh from the country’s long-suffering inhabitants, but he also made sure that he extorted a good commission and feathered his own nest.

I’d like to deal with these three aspects of Zacchaeus in turn, starting with his height. Now, to be honest, I’d never thought of this as more than a mere description, a good reason for him needing to climb that tree. But then I came across a couple of comments which take us a bit further. One is the suggestion that folk tend to be judgmental of people like Zacchaeus who are physically small but nevertheless compete aggressively with other, taller, people – this is apparently called the “Napoleon Syndrome”. Behind that bias lies the unspoken stereotype that short people – perhaps, more specifically, short men – should know their place, just like Ronnie Corbett standing next to Ronnie Barker and John Cleese in their famous sketch. Interestingly our new Prime Minister seems to have avoided too comments being made about his height (he’s 5’6”, the shortest Prime Minister since Winston Churchill) – people have focussed more on his youth, his wealth, his Asian background and his nerdy interest in Coca-Cola memorabilia!

I’d also suggest that we need to read this story through what’s called a “disableist” lens: that we shouldn’t ignore Zacchaeus’ stature, or try to spiritualize it as an emblem of humility – which has apparently been done. Nor should we read it as a sign of the character flaws that are so often associated with dwarves in fairy tales, such as stupidity, small-mindedness or greed. One commentator has said, “Luke [but it’s really Jesus] is subverting these ancient physiognomic beliefs”, and we may well agree with him. So this story can teach us not only that everyone is equal in their sinfulness and need for repentance, but also that God will accept us all as his children, whatever our physical characteristics or abilities. None of us is “second class” to him.

Let’s now move on to Zacchaeus’ initiative in climbing the tree. For what he does is unusual, even childlike; highly undignified for a man who probably cherished his status. But Zacchaeus is really keen to see Jesus, and he’s not just worried that he won’t be able to see in the throng but also that he’ll be shoved aside by people who despise him. So he’s prepared to do whatever it takes to catch that all-important glimpse. What he can’t have been expecting was for Jesus to stop underneath, call him down and invite himself to his house. That must have been the greatest shock of Zacchaeus’ life.

We might ask at this point exactly how close Zacchaeus wanted to get to Jesus. Was he simply a looker-on, craning forward to get the best view of this man who everyone was talking about, but never thinking that he might actually talk to him and follow him? Or did he have a deep desire to become a follower, but thought it would be impossible because the disciples would never let him anywhere near Jesus or because Jesus himself would turn him away? Was his tree-hiding an attempt to conceal himself from the crowd or was it a camouflage which would allow him to peek at Jesus without him noticing? We don’t know; but in any case the attempt at secrecy fails. Jesus stops beneath the tree, sees Zacchaeus perched in his branches, and summons him back to ground level. His cover is well and truly blown! Are we that serious, even to the intent of public embarrassment, in wanting to find out more about Jesus? I suspect we may not be.

Finally, let’s think again about Zacchaeus’ place in society. And we can immediately see that he is yet another marginalised person who cleaves to Jesus in this gospel. He is also rich, which means that the story begins on a note of ambiguity: will he follow the example of Matthew the tax collector who leaves everything and follows Jesus, or will he be one more person who is so tied down by their wealth that becoming a disciple is out of the question? He could swing either way.

There is a name for people who look at discussions on the Internet but never participate: they are called “lurkers”. There was, of course, no Internet in the first century but we might well say that Zacchaeus was something of a lurker. For he was clearly drawn to Jesus, but didn’t believe that Jesus would ever want to pay him the slightest bit of attention. He knew that his fellow-countrymen despised him, and knew that they had good reason to do so. So why should Jesus be any different? What Zacchaeus almost certainly didn’t know (but which he was about to hear) was the rationale that lay behind Jesus’ mission: that he had not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance; that the Son of Man had come to seek out and to save the lost.

Ultimately we could say that this story is about vision or sight. On one hand we have Zacchaeus, not perhaps knowing exactly who Jesus was but going to some length to see him better. Then we have the mass of the crowd, who not only had the opportunity to see Jesus better than Zacchaeus yet failed to understand him, but who also allowed their perceptions of the little man to marginalise him and not see the “real person” within. And we have Jesus, who not only looked through those branches at exactly the right time and saw Zacchaeus, but who could also see into the inner workings of his mind.

One of the pleasant aspects to Llanedeyrn and Pentwyn is the number of trees; many of them much older than the houses. I don’t know if any of them are sycamores, but there must be some that are eminently climbable! However we don’t need to climb them to see Jesus, as we can see him at ground level: not as a first-century Palestinian man being followed by an enthusiastic crowd, but in local people, men and women, richer and poorer, attractive and repellent. A commentator has written this: “What do you see when you look into the eyes of the homeless woman pushing a trolley down the pavement in front of you, the man who pushed in front of you at the supermarket checkout, or the office colleague who just took credit for your hard work? Do you see someone to pity, to tolerate, to despise — or do you see the face of Christ?

If we’re honest, most of us would have to admit that seeing Christ in some of the people we meet in the course of a day is beyond challenging, yet that is exactly what we are called to do”. He goes on to say that we must learn to see Christ not only in the innocent face of a baby, in the eyes of a beloved partner or in the touch of an elderly parent, but also in the people who make our lives difficult. That isn’t easy, but it is our duty – for we need to see Jesus just as much as Zacchaeus did, albeit in different ways.

So how well can we see him morning? Is our line of sight clear or blocked? Do we need to take measures – perhaps drastic ones – so that we too may get a better view? The answer to that lies in how keen – no, how desperate! – we are to see our Lord.