After two years of a brutal war, speaking about repentance and repair is both timely and fragile. Our faith traditions teach us that repentance is not only an individual, internal change of heart, but a collective shift and a movement towards repair, restoration, and reconciliation.
To explore repentance from a Christian perspective, I chose the text in the gospel of Luke, chapter 19, that tells the story of Zacchaeus. Let’s read: “Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way. When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, ‘Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.’ So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly. All the people saw this and began to mutter, ‘He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.’ But Zacchaeus stood up and said to the Lord, ‘Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.’ (Luke 19:1-10).
As we read, Jesus was passing through Jericho, and there he met Zacchaeus - the chief tax collector. In the Roman imperial system at the time, the taxation system was carried out in a manner called tax farming. This means that local agents paid Rome an agreed amount of money, and then, armed with insider knowledge of the tax rules, charged far more from members of their communities. It was a structure designed for exploitation, producing and reproducing economic injustice.
Tax collectors were collaborators with the empire, agents of the occupying power,enriching themselves through the impoverishing of their community. They were viewed as traitors, unclean, often grouped with other ‘sinners’.
Here, the problem is not only personal greed, but an entire system of economic injustice. This is what Peruvian theologian - and the father of liberation theology- Gustavo Gutierrez, calls structural sin:
systemic harm embedded in economic, cultural, and political systems and conditions that dehumanize the most vulnerable in society.
Zacchaeus was both an agent of this oppressive system and a product of it. Perhaps this is why Zacchaeus does not dare walk through the crowd. Biblical scholars note that even though Zacchaeus is a prominent, wealthy man - the crowd despises him, and so will not be willing to make way for him as they would for other important men in the community, and might even attack him. So, driven by his desire to see Jesus, he runs ahead and climbs a sycamore tree. As we know, in our Eastern cultures, wealthy powerful men do not run in public, and certainly do not go around climbing trees. But the sycamore tree - with its low branches and broad leaves - provides a good hiding spot for him. This is the first movement that Zacchaeus makes towards repentance: he makes an effort to see Jesus, his heart sought to encounter Jesus and to be transformed.
Jesus then enters the story. Upon reaching the sycamore tree by the road, he does something unexpected. He stops under the tree, looks up, and calls Zacchaeus by name: “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; I must stay at your house today.” Jesus invites himself to Zacchaeus’ house! Again, as we know in our culture, people do not invite themselves over. It’s not considered an acceptable thing. But Jesus deliberately does this. In inviting himself to Zacchaeus’ house, he takes on Zacchaeus’ shame. He publicly associates with the despised one - absorbing the resentment directed at him. This courageous, costly action by Jesus requires in turn a courageous, costly response by Zacchaeus. As Zacchaeus descends from the tree, he also descends from his social position. His encounter with Jesus transforms him, and so he stands - publicly - and declares: “half of my possessions I give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone, I will repay fourfold.” Zacchaeus repentance is not simply a few privately muttered words of remorse, but a public acknowledgement of harm and a promise to repair. His repentance was public, communal, and economic.
This moment marks the beginning of Zacchaeus’ repentance, because this will be a life-long process. Mexican theologian Elsa Tamez writes that the Greek word metanoia, which is often translated to English as repentance or conversion means “a radical change in outlook that must manifest in concrete acts of justice; a total transformation of the person; a rebirth accompanied by an unlimited willingness to engage in action.” In the gospel of Luke, when tax collectors asked John the Baptist what fruits of conversion they had to show, he answered: “collect no more than is appointed you,” and similarly with soldiers: “do not act violently, or falsely accuse anyone.” (Luke 3). So - repentance has two inseparable elements: a changed outlook, and the bearing of fruits that befit that changed outlook, that repentance.
South African theologian Allan Boesak similarly connects between reconciliation with God and reconciliation with the community. Examining the Zacchaeus narrative, Boesak writes: “Zacchaeus knows that this reconciliation needs to be affected with the community in order for it to be genuine. He understands that reconciliation has to be transformation if it is to mean anything: of his life, his lifestyle, his relationships with the community and especially with those he has wronged. Reconciliation means the restoration of justice.” As Zacchaeus declares his commitment to reparation and economic restitution, Jesus immediately affirms this by saying: “Today salvation has come to this house. Because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” Inner salvation of the heart - the encounter with God - has been demonstrated by outwardly, public acts of justice. Moreover, Jesus affirms Zacchaeus as the son of Abraham, restoring his
belonging to the community. Put simply, in Zacchaeus we see:
1. Transformed desire - “I want to see”.
2. Transformed relationship - with God, with neighbour, with wealth.
3. Transformed action - public restitution and redistribution.
After two years of a brutal war, repair can feel almost impossible to imagine. Looking towards Gaza, the devastation is enormous - entire neighborhoods, families, institutions, and bodies have been torn apart. Repentance and repair feel like far away dreams. And yet, we are people of faith. And faith, at its core, refuses to give in to despair. Faith insists on beginning the work of repentance and repair here and now. The story of Zacchaeus reminds us that repentance begins with the willingness to see: to see one another, to see the harm that has been done, and to see reality in all its difficulty and ugliness.
The willingness to see then must be followed by the courage to come down—to step out of hiding, to relinquish positions of comfort or power, to allow ourselves to be seen. And then, a turning is required. Repentance is always a turning—a turning of the heart, and also a turning of life. It is personal, yes, but never only personal.
It is a collective commitment to justice, to restitution, to restored relationships.
It is a refusal to continue benefiting from harm, even when that harm has become normalized or justified. It is a public commitment to repair what has been broken. This is why repentance must always be tied with repair - it cannot be reduced to words or feelings alone. True repentance bears fruit. It is shown through mended relationships, shared resources, and restored dignity. Here in Jerusalem, in this season of pain and loss, the invitation is before us: to desire to see; to dare to come down; and to walk together in the slow, concrete, communal, holy work of repair. Not because it is easy—but because our faiths demand nothing less.
Based on Dr. Mansour's speech at the second annual conference of The Interfaith Forum for Human Rights: “In the Name of Religion: The role of faith in creating harm and Repair”, which was held this week in Jerusalem.
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Lamma Mansour is a Christian Palestinian from Nazareth. She is a postdoctoral research fellow at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem; having received her doctorate and a master’s degree in Social Policy and Intervention from the University of Oxford, and a BSc in psychology from the University of Haifa. Her research focuses on the experiences of young people in Israel-Palestine, and has been published in leading academic journals in the field. Alongside her academic work, Lamma serves in her local church in Nazareth and has written and spoken on the intersection of faith and society in local and global outlets.
To explore repentance from a Christian perspective, I chose the text in the gospel of Luke, chapter 19, that tells the story of Zacchaeus. Let’s read: “Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way. When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, ‘Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.’ So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly. All the people saw this and began to mutter, ‘He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.’ But Zacchaeus stood up and said to the Lord, ‘Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.’ (Luke 19:1-10).
As we read, Jesus was passing through Jericho, and there he met Zacchaeus - the chief tax collector. In the Roman imperial system at the time, the taxation system was carried out in a manner called tax farming. This means that local agents paid Rome an agreed amount of money, and then, armed with insider knowledge of the tax rules, charged far more from members of their communities. It was a structure designed for exploitation, producing and reproducing economic injustice.
Tax collectors were collaborators with the empire, agents of the occupying power,enriching themselves through the impoverishing of their community. They were viewed as traitors, unclean, often grouped with other ‘sinners’.
Here, the problem is not only personal greed, but an entire system of economic injustice. This is what Peruvian theologian - and the father of liberation theology- Gustavo Gutierrez, calls structural sin:
systemic harm embedded in economic, cultural, and political systems and conditions that dehumanize the most vulnerable in society.
Zacchaeus was both an agent of this oppressive system and a product of it. Perhaps this is why Zacchaeus does not dare walk through the crowd. Biblical scholars note that even though Zacchaeus is a prominent, wealthy man - the crowd despises him, and so will not be willing to make way for him as they would for other important men in the community, and might even attack him. So, driven by his desire to see Jesus, he runs ahead and climbs a sycamore tree. As we know, in our Eastern cultures, wealthy powerful men do not run in public, and certainly do not go around climbing trees. But the sycamore tree - with its low branches and broad leaves - provides a good hiding spot for him. This is the first movement that Zacchaeus makes towards repentance: he makes an effort to see Jesus, his heart sought to encounter Jesus and to be transformed.
Jesus then enters the story. Upon reaching the sycamore tree by the road, he does something unexpected. He stops under the tree, looks up, and calls Zacchaeus by name: “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; I must stay at your house today.” Jesus invites himself to Zacchaeus’ house! Again, as we know in our culture, people do not invite themselves over. It’s not considered an acceptable thing. But Jesus deliberately does this. In inviting himself to Zacchaeus’ house, he takes on Zacchaeus’ shame. He publicly associates with the despised one - absorbing the resentment directed at him. This courageous, costly action by Jesus requires in turn a courageous, costly response by Zacchaeus. As Zacchaeus descends from the tree, he also descends from his social position. His encounter with Jesus transforms him, and so he stands - publicly - and declares: “half of my possessions I give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone, I will repay fourfold.” Zacchaeus repentance is not simply a few privately muttered words of remorse, but a public acknowledgement of harm and a promise to repair. His repentance was public, communal, and economic.
This moment marks the beginning of Zacchaeus’ repentance, because this will be a life-long process. Mexican theologian Elsa Tamez writes that the Greek word metanoia, which is often translated to English as repentance or conversion means “a radical change in outlook that must manifest in concrete acts of justice; a total transformation of the person; a rebirth accompanied by an unlimited willingness to engage in action.” In the gospel of Luke, when tax collectors asked John the Baptist what fruits of conversion they had to show, he answered: “collect no more than is appointed you,” and similarly with soldiers: “do not act violently, or falsely accuse anyone.” (Luke 3). So - repentance has two inseparable elements: a changed outlook, and the bearing of fruits that befit that changed outlook, that repentance.
South African theologian Allan Boesak similarly connects between reconciliation with God and reconciliation with the community. Examining the Zacchaeus narrative, Boesak writes: “Zacchaeus knows that this reconciliation needs to be affected with the community in order for it to be genuine. He understands that reconciliation has to be transformation if it is to mean anything: of his life, his lifestyle, his relationships with the community and especially with those he has wronged. Reconciliation means the restoration of justice.” As Zacchaeus declares his commitment to reparation and economic restitution, Jesus immediately affirms this by saying: “Today salvation has come to this house. Because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” Inner salvation of the heart - the encounter with God - has been demonstrated by outwardly, public acts of justice. Moreover, Jesus affirms Zacchaeus as the son of Abraham, restoring his
belonging to the community. Put simply, in Zacchaeus we see:
1. Transformed desire - “I want to see”.
2. Transformed relationship - with God, with neighbour, with wealth.
3. Transformed action - public restitution and redistribution.
After two years of a brutal war, repair can feel almost impossible to imagine. Looking towards Gaza, the devastation is enormous - entire neighborhoods, families, institutions, and bodies have been torn apart. Repentance and repair feel like far away dreams. And yet, we are people of faith. And faith, at its core, refuses to give in to despair. Faith insists on beginning the work of repentance and repair here and now. The story of Zacchaeus reminds us that repentance begins with the willingness to see: to see one another, to see the harm that has been done, and to see reality in all its difficulty and ugliness.
The willingness to see then must be followed by the courage to come down—to step out of hiding, to relinquish positions of comfort or power, to allow ourselves to be seen. And then, a turning is required. Repentance is always a turning—a turning of the heart, and also a turning of life. It is personal, yes, but never only personal.
It is a collective commitment to justice, to restitution, to restored relationships.
It is a refusal to continue benefiting from harm, even when that harm has become normalized or justified. It is a public commitment to repair what has been broken. This is why repentance must always be tied with repair - it cannot be reduced to words or feelings alone. True repentance bears fruit. It is shown through mended relationships, shared resources, and restored dignity. Here in Jerusalem, in this season of pain and loss, the invitation is before us: to desire to see; to dare to come down; and to walk together in the slow, concrete, communal, holy work of repair. Not because it is easy—but because our faiths demand nothing less.
Based on Dr. Mansour's speech at the second annual conference of The Interfaith Forum for Human Rights: “In the Name of Religion: The role of faith in creating harm and Repair”, which was held this week in Jerusalem.
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Lamma Mansour is a Christian Palestinian from Nazareth. She is a postdoctoral research fellow at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem; having received her doctorate and a master’s degree in Social Policy and Intervention from the University of Oxford, and a BSc in psychology from the University of Haifa. Her research focuses on the experiences of young people in Israel-Palestine, and has been published in leading academic journals in the field. Alongside her academic work, Lamma serves in her local church in Nazareth and has written and spoken on the intersection of faith and society in local and global outlets.