Since it was first included as one of our Sunday readings, the lesson from the Book of the Prophet Habakkuk has always stuck with me. Habakkuk is classified as one of the minor or lesser prophets. I suppose there are several reasons why one may be classified as a minor prophet. A so-called minor prophet might have had a relatively short ministry and written very little or had so few disciples so that much of what the prophet said was lost or forgotten. It might also have been the case that what the prophet said was just not well received no matter how true and perceptive it was, and most of the prophet’s writing was suppressed or purposely destroyed.
From what we can surmise, Habakkuk lived some 600 years before Jesus when the army of the Babylonian empire was closing in to overrun the little kingdom of Judah. The Assyrian Empire destroyed most of Israel over a century before, but the territory around Jerusalem had precariously clung to its identity as an independent state, until now. The nation’s future was clearly doomed and bloodshed was imminent. It was like being on the Titanic in the last hour, waiting for a final wave of water to wash over and sweep all into the abyss.
By all logic this was the end, but this prophet, composed a lament, crying out to God “Why us, Lord? Why, oh why, do you not care? Why is justice distorted?” In the process of pouring out his guts, Habakkuk discovered that God was revealing to him a vision of tenacious hope, a vision that Habakkuk articulated and passed on so well that it has outlasted every empire yet to be. “There is still a vision for its own time, eager for its fulfillment...it does not lie. If it seems to tarry, wait for it; it will surely come.” He goes on to warn,” Beware of the proud who depend on the strength their own spirit. The righteous live by faith.”
Habakkuk seems to be the patron saint who turns bitter despair and hopeless lament into conscientious searching, active anticipation and waiting for a new vision. Maybe that is why this passage is paired with the story of Zacchaeus. In his ministry, Jesus sought out and healed those who had been written off and, in effect, considered dead. A leper, someone who was blind, a Samaritan are all symbolic of those who were written off as outcasts or totally in the dark. Zacchaeus easily wins the prize as the most hated, corruptible, and least likely to be reformed. He is not only a tax collector and treacherous collaborator with the Romans, he is a chief tax collector. The Romans rewarded ruthlessness and obviously Zacchaeus was so recognized. Something very compelling led Zacchaeus to venture out of the safety of his guarded estate. Instead of sneaking out to see Jesus under the cover of night, he went out among a crowd that was getting ready to celebrate the deliverance of Israel from Egypt, where comparisons of the hated Roman Empire with Egypt would inevitably drive emotions high. Talk about bad timing, but Zacchaeus just had to see Jesus so badly, that he found himself up a tree surrounded by a hostile crowd. Note that Jesus didn’t just quietly acknowledge him with a blessing from afar. Jesus stopped and in the middle of everyone, shouted, “Zacchaeus, come down.” We have no record that Jesus shook the tree, but when Jesus affects change, everyone involved is all shook up. Hunger for the Gospel always shakes things up! “Come down Zacchaeus, I have come to you, and tonight I am coming to your house to break bread, and henceforth nothing will be the same.”
I find Habakkuk such a treasure because his words speak to the basic purpose of people of faith and why our presence and witness is so central to the health of our society. Despite what we would like to believe, we really aren’t in control of our future. We can prepare and take responsibility for and weigh the possible consequences of our decisions, but the future shock of change isn’t slowing down. In that sense, this isn’t our great grandparents world of incremental change being the norm
Yet hope is always the harbinger of new birth. If a person as hopeless as Zacchaeus can be offered a new future, how much more can you. You can be deprived of food, you can suffer from lack of decent shelter, you can be wounded and abused, unexpected circumstances can completely thwart your carefully planned future, and yet survival and healing are possible as long as hope is kept alive. People of faith are not those with all the answers or with all the power. People of faith are the keepers and incubators of hope. There is no opportunity like today for us, like Habakkuk, to write this in large letters for the benefit of our world, that at the present time, is so nervous and despairing about its future.
