Tax Collector Chief

There was a tax collector chief Who lived in storied Jericho. He gave the people scant relief; His stature and regard were low. Zacchaeus was his given name; His job: to keep the Roman purse. His title brought him little fame; The people called him “dog” or worse. See, Zacc lived off the people’s toil; Collecting extra, he would snitch. Their anger flared, their blood did boil, For on their backs, he grew quite rich. And then one day did Jesus stroll Right through the town and on his way. Jerusalem, his stated goal; A greater debt there he would pay. For out in droves, the crowds he drew; As Jesus passed, they lined the streets. Zacchaeus, short, begged for a view; But they just scoffed at his entreats. Afraid he’d miss this “Son of Man,” This carpenter from Galilee, ‘Twas then Zacchaeus hatched a plan; He ran ahead and climbed a tree. Now sycamores inform the keen, For they don’t grow inside the town; The people liked their village clean; These drop their leaves upon the ground. When Jesus paused, looked up to say, “Zacchaeus, hurry down from there, For I must stay with you today,” We know that he had passed town-square. Then quickly, Zacchaeus came down; With joy, received him as his guest. This made the people grumble, frown That Jesus would a sinner bless. “A half of all my goods, O Lord, I give in service to the poor; Where I’ve defrauded, in accord, I pledge to pay it back times four.” “Salvation,” said the Son of Man, “Has come right here this very day, For you’re a son of Abraham, And I seek those who’ve lost their way.” And thus, the shepherd sought the one, Revealed the kingdom in new light; Salvation came as God’s own son Pursued lost sinners, made them right. Yes, Jesus entered Jericho En route to old Jerusalem; In a repeat of long ago, The walls came tumbling down again.