Somewhere at this moment, the sun is rising. And somewhere at this moment, the sun is setting. Indeed, every moment of the day and the night, the sun is rising, the sun is setting. Or is at high noon or at midnight, somewhere at zenith on the other side of the world. At any moment, of course, all of these take place somewhere in an unending procession of natural events. Always, somewhere. To be sure, we scarcely think of it, yet as a natural phenomenon it is remarkable. One wonders on it.

Today Zacchaeus climbs a tree that he might better see the Lord. Small of stature, he could have elbowed his way through a crowd to be at the front. But he did not. Instead he ran ahead and climbed a tree and, thus perched, waited for the Messiah to pass in full view. One wonders on it.

“Knock on wood” the folk dictum has it; or, better, “touch wood”. Why? Initially, I assume, because wood is the Cross of our salvation. And to touch wood is to recall it, to call on it. Or, as a retreatant suggested to me, “For your back, lean against a tree for awhile.” Healing.

Zacchaeus climbs a tree and that is significant because on a tree we were redeemed. Zacchaeus was. He not only saw the Lord, he had Him guest at his table. And the sequel was his healing. “I’m going to give half of what I own to the poor.”

The Cross is our salvation, the salvation of the world. And what happened on the cross still happens, and all that followed: passion, death and rising, the sending of the Spirit.

And it happens every moment of the day and night. Somewhere Christ is dying and rising for us. Any hour of day or night. As far as I can reckon, from the Statisticum from Rome, there is only one country in the world where the Catholic presence is nil. That is Afghanistan. Even Nepal that tolerates no foreign religion has a Catholic presence in works of mercy. The Sisters of Nazareth are there. But not to evangelize. And even Afghanistan is now no longer without the passion, death and rising of the Lord since the military chaplains in this terrible situation bring the sacrifice to that afflicted land hostile to it.

And this sacrifice is no memorial service calling to mind a stupendous event of the past. It is that and much more. The sacrifice is real because the death is real. And the death is real because the sins are real. Not yesterday’s sins. Today’s. Ours. The world’s.

And this sacrifice is continually offered in the world. Somewhere. Every hour of the day and the night.

If the work of the sun and its reactions for us be a continuous sequel of unbelievable meaning, how then can we not move above a scene of natural, physical events, to another plane, to the world of faith. We can do so. And do.

“What you do to the least you do to Me.” The sins we commit against one another are sins against God and His Christ. And that is acted out, played out, revealed in the mystery of priest, altar and sacrifice in which Christ is done to death and rises glorious in prayer to the Father for mercy, for pardon, for healing. God is with us in our misery.

And we hopefully with Him. If our sins, too, are in the picture, so is His mercy, His healing, His pardon.

And as the encounter of Zacchaeus from the tree led to the table, so does our encounter with Mercy on the Cross lead to the Table of Communion with Christ for our salvation, for the grace of response to His love, in prayer and in service for others, for the world.

Our humble lives take on great beauty because they are lived in union with Him. In prayer for pardon and peace, mercy and healing.

These are not mere gestures made in the right direction, but matter of enormous meaning for ourselves and the world, for we live and die in union with the Lord. By that union with Him our ordinary days and our ordinary nights, our modest lives and our unexceptional deaths share in the dream of Christ, the salvation of the world. Going on all the time, everywhere.The hidden meaning of the world.

Zacchaeus climbed more than a tree. An act of impulse born of curiosity led into the heart of the world’s meaning. The universe opened up for him in a simple action no greater than clambering up a sycamore.

There is for sure a sunrise each moment of the day and the night. And Christ is that rising Sun. Touching wood may seem a superstition left over from a time past, like leaning your back on a tree. Another Mass offered: one more rite, same as yesterday and the day before. Quite right.

And the world goes on in its madness. Oblivious. Unheeding. Well, not everywhere. Not by everyone. Some are not mindless who witness the madness. A people of faith can stand almost mute before unfathomable love. And does not remain mute.

“Come down, Zacchaeus! I will dine with you.” And the man hastily came down. And later, saw his Guest raised on another Tree. That Tree is raised everywhere in the world and on It hangs our salvation and the salvation of the world. Without which we’d long since perished as we deserve. Praised be the God of mercy.   Amen.