One Way Love: Inexhaustible Grace for an Exhausted World (10 page)

CHAPTER 6

THE UNEXPECTED BENEFITS OF HUGGING A CACTUS

Hollywood is not known as a culture of grace. Dog-eat-dog is more like it. People love you one day and hate you the next. Personal value is attached to box-office revenues and the unpredictable and often cruel winds of fashion. It was doubly shocking, then, when one-way love—and its fruit—made a powerful appearance on the big stage in 2011. The occasion for it was Robert Downey Jr. receiving the American Cinematheque Award, a prize given to an extraordinary artist in the entertainment industry who is “making a significant contribution to the art of the Moving Picture.” A big deal, in other words. Downey was allowed to choose who would present him with the award, and he made a bold decision. He selected his one-time costar Mel Gibson to do the honors.

To say that Gibson’s reputation had taken a serious nosedive would be a severe understatement. An arrest for drunk driving in 2006, during which the actor-director spewed racist and anti-Semitic epithets, was followed by public infidelity and a high-profile divorce in 2009, and then culminated in 2010 when tapes of a drunk Gibson berating his then-girlfriend in the foulest manner imaginable were released online.
Reprehensible
does not even begin to describe it.

Downey’s ceremony took place a little more than a year after that final incident, the one that rightly cemented Gibson’s place as pariah
numero uno
in Tinseltown.

Of course, Downey was no stranger to being ostracized. In the 1990s, he became something of punch line himself as someone notoriously unable to kick an addiction to drugs and alcohol. Arrest after arrest, relapse after relapse, people both in Hollywood and elsewhere began to think of him less as an actor and more as a junkie. Professionally, he became a liability—even those who wanted to work with him couldn’t because insurance companies wouldn’t underwrite a film if he were part of the cast. Bit by bit, and with the notable help of some good friends, Downey eventually got sober, and his career slowly got back on track. In 2008, he was cast as Iron Man, and the rest—as they say—is history. Today he is one of the most beloved and highest grossing actors in the business. So the award coincided with the very height of his popularity and the nadir of Gibson’s. This was Downey’s moment of glory.

Instead of using his acceptance speech to give an aw-shucks speech to the crowd of adoring colleagues and to doff his hat to his agent and family, Downey did something unprecedented. We’ll let him speak for himself:

Actually, I asked Mel to present this award to me for a reason, because when I couldn’t get sober, he told me not to give up hope, and he urged me to find my faith—didn’t have to be his or anyone else’s as long as it was rooted in forgiveness. And I couldn’t get hired, so he cast me in the lead of a movie that was actually developed for him. And he kept a roof over my head, and he kept food on the table. And most importantly, he said that if I accepted responsibility for my wrongdoings, and if I embraced that part of my soul that was ugly—“hugging the cactus” he calls it—he said that if I “hugged the cactus” long enough, I’d become a man of some humility and that my life would take on new meaning. And I did, and it worked. All he asked in return was that someday I help the next guy in some small way. It’s reasonable to assume that at the time he didn’t imagine the next guy would be him. Or that someday was tonight.

So anyway, on this special occasion … I humbly ask that you join me—unless you are completely without sin (in which case you picked the wrong … industry)—in forgiving my friend his trespasses, offering him the same clean slate you have me, and allowing him to continue his great and ongoing contribution to our collective art without shame. He’s hugged the cactus long enough. [And then they hug.]
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The short speech not only testifies to the amazing power of one-way love; it is itself a beautiful example of the fruit of one-way love. At his lowest point, Downey was shown mercy by Mel Gibson. He didn’t deserve it—his track record was abysmal—but Gibson, for whatever reason, took a risk at great cost to himself. He personally paid the massive insurance premium for Downey on 2003’s
The Singing Detective
so his friend could get back on his feet. You don’t forget something like that.

Downey’s response was one of gratitude and generosity. His speech may have phrased things in terms of repayment, but Gibson’s injunction was obviously an after-the-fact suggestion rather than a condition. Downey’s gesture goes so far beyond any sense of owing, especially considering the choice of moment and venue. To associate with Gibson in such a public manner, indeed to advocate for him, meant putting Downey’s own reputation on the line. It was a self-sacrificial and even reckless move. There was no possible gain for Downey, such was the antipathy that Gibson inspired. No, his defense of the indefensible was the uncoerced act of a heart that had been touched by one-way love. There is a direct line from the love Downey was shown to the love he then showed. His supreme generosity was the fruit of grace.

Gibson clearly had no idea about what Downey was planning to do. And Downey’s tone and demeanor made it very clear that he was not putting himself out there under duress—he did it because he
wanted
to. His ability and desire to show mercy seem almost directly proportional to his personal experience of it, his firsthand knowledge that he was just as much in need of mercy as the chief of sinners. His plea, in other words, was rooted in humility about his own sin and gratitude for the love he had been shown, which asserted itself in kind. Belovedness birthed love. Grace accomplished what no amount of court-ordered, legal remedies ever could: it created a heart that desired to show mercy to the “least of these.”

Of course, as powerful a story as it is, the episode is not a one-to-one analogy for the Gospel—no story could be. As impressive as Iron Man is, he is not God. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t close. Thankfully, when it comes to God’s Grace, there is not even a hint of exchange. No suggestion of payback or pay-it-forward. There are no strings attached. While only grace can change a heart and produce Law-fulfilling works of mercy, grace is not
dependent
on a changed heart or Law-fulfilling works of mercy. Grace alone produces the conditions that induce change, but grace is not conditional on change. It is pure gift—independent of outcomes. We must be careful here about turning grace into a strategy (or law)—a means by which we can get certain things, control certain things, guarantee certain things. But more on that later.

THE WEE LITTLE MAN

If you grew up going to Sunday school like I did, you are probably familiar with the Wee Little Man named Zacchaeus. Perhaps the name conjures up picture Bibles and coloring books and slightly irritating sing-alongs. Fortunately, no amount of sterilization can obscure what has to be one of the most jaw-dropping instances of one-way love in the entire Bible. Indeed, the story of Zacchaeus gives us a window not only into Christ’s love for sinners but the fruit it can bear in a person’s life, not to mention the resistance it often encounters from those who witness it. It is a study in the fruit of grace.

A little context: Zacchaeus was essentially the Bernie Madoff of Jericho. As you may remember, in March 2009, Bernie Madoff pled guilty to eleven federal felonies and admitted to having turned his wealth-management business into a massive Ponzi scheme that defrauded investors of billions of dollars. The amount missing from client accounts, including fabricated gains, was nearly $65 billion. Yes,
billion
. That June, he was sentenced to one hundred and fifty years in prison, the maximum allowed.
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Thousands of people were swindled out of their life savings and retirement funds. Madoff had lived lavishly on their investments—until the money ran out and the deception was exposed.

To say that in certain communities Madoff remains one of the most hated men in the country would be an understatement. His was a kind of old-fashioned villainy that we seldom see in a post-Freudian world, someone who methodically deceived and stole from those who trusted him. There was nothing accidental about his crimes; they were all very much premeditated. The public revilement was justified.

So it was with Zacchaeus. As the
chief
tax collector, the Jewish establishment would have despised him because he collected taxes for Rome, an act that was considered both traitorous and sinful. Yet as a Jew, he would have been shunned by his imperial employers as well. Even the other tax collectors would have hated him, because he likely cheated them, too, skimming funds off the top of their ill-gotten cash. Add to the mix an inevitable Napoleon complex, and you have a picture of a loathsome loan shark who used his authority to extort his countrymen for both his own personal gain and that of the occupying Roman government. Like Madoff’s, his reputation would have been well-founded, which makes Jesus’s actions even more surprising:

[Jesus] entered Jericho and was passing through. And behold, there was a man named Zacchaeus. He was a chief tax collector and was rich. And he was seeking to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was small in stature. So he ran on ahead and climbed up into a sycamore tree to see him, for he was about to pass that way. And when Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down, for I must stay at your house today.” So he hurried and came down and received him joyfully. (Luke 19:1–6)

Jesus singled out Zacchaeus, despite the fact that Zacchaeus had not said or done anything to warrant or attract his attention. Zacchaeus simply did what he would for any passing sideshow, namely, climbed a tree, so he could catch a glimpse of what was going on. There was no gesture of repentance, no prayers, no tears, no words! The initiative belonged to Jesus alone. And Jesus didn’t say, “I
want
to stay at your house,” or “Would you be so kind as to invite me over for tea?” He said, “I
must
stay at your house.” The request is less of a request than an imperative.

Imagine if a well-known spiritual leader visited the city where Madoff is incarcerated and, to the astonishment of everyone around, marched right past all the churches and universities, past all the pastors clamoring for him to address their congregations, past all the journalists dying for an interview, past all the autograph seekers and mildly curious, straight to the prison. He then informs the warden that he
must
have lunch with Bernie. It is his number one priority. He’s not there to castigate Madoff or pick his brain in a “How could he?” kind of way. He is simply there to have lunch and spend some time with the guy no one wants to touch with a ten-foot pole. How do you think all the honest people would respond? They would be shocked, confused, and probably pretty insulted.

THE RESPONSE

We can safely assume that Zacchaeus would be taken aback that Jesus wanted to spend time with him. You can almost hear his incredulous reply, “You want to come to
my
house? You want to associate with
me
? Are you sure you got the right guy?” That’s conjecture, of course, but the broad strokes of his response in the text are remarkable. “So [Zacchaeus] hurried and came down and received him joyfully.” Zacchaeus did not hesitate to respond to Jesus—there was no scoffing, no song and dance, just enthusiasm and joy. Christ’s entreaty inspires!

We might wonder how long it had been since anyone other than fellow tax collectors and perhaps a few lowlife friends had visited Zacchaeus. Did he actually have any friends or family? He would have had to work hard to become the chief tax collector: he probably would have had to sacrifice more than a few relationships on the altar of ambition. Maybe he had tried to satisfy himself with the luxury and self-indulgence that his riches afforded him, and maybe he had found that rather than satiating his appetite, they only made it worse. Maybe he was both lonely and desperate. Whatever the case, the immediacy and exuberance of his response suggests that no one had to tell Zacchaeus he was lost. He was all too aware of his station.

What happened next is even more shocking. “And Zacchaeus stood and said to the Lord, ‘Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor. And if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I restore it fourfold’” (Luke 19:8).

The fruit of grace in this instance was spontaneous, borderline absurd generosity. This is what the apostle John meant when he wrote, “We love because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19). He inverts the way we normally think about these things. Jesus approached Zacchaeus before he had the chance to exhibit any receptiveness, let alone sorrow or eagerness. What’s more, at no point did Jesus lean in and tell his new friend, “Listen, I don’t want to embarrass you in front of everyone, but you and I both know you need to clean up your act. If you want to continue hanging out, you need to make things right, starting with your pocketbook.” Zacchaeus’s joyful charity was not the preface to God’s grace—it was its result.

The truth is, Jesus didn’t require anything of Zacchaeus. He didn’t force, coerce, or guilt Zacchaeus into giving back what he stole; he just loved him. And yet the natural fruit—and what is fruit if not natural?—of this one-way love turned out to be far more extravagant than anything Christ would have suggested.
Obedience
would be too weak a word to describe Zacchaeus’s actions. Nowhere in the Law does it require a person to give half of their goods to the poor. Similarly, repaying someone you have defrauded by a factor of four is far beyond the call of duty. Zacchaeus does
more
than the right thing, and he does it spontaneously, cheerfully, and abundantly.

A grateful heart is a generous heart, and a generous heart is a liberated heart. It is no coincidence that the very thing to which Zacchaeus was most enslaved—money—is the very thing that he was inspired to give away so freely.

This isn’t just how things work in the Bible—this is real life! Gratitude is the starting point. In 2011,
The New York Times
published an article claiming that feelings of gratitude have “been linked to better health, sounder sleep, less anxiety and depression, higher long-term satisfaction with life and kinder behavior toward others, including romantic partners.” Elsewhere in the article, University of Miami psychologist Dr. Michael McCullough is quoted as saying, “More than other emotion, gratitude is the emotion of friendship.”
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We see glimpses of this dynamic everywhere we go.