© Erzbistum Berlin/Jörg FarysBild: © Erzbistum Berlin/Jörg FarysBeing Seen – An Encounter That Changes Everything
As delivered on January 11, 2026, at St. Augustinus, Berlin.
Es gilt das am 11. Januar 2026 in St. Augustinus, Berlin gesprochene Wort.
Being Seen – An Encounter That Changes Everything
Sermon at the Queer Church Service on Luke 19:1-10 at KSG Edith Stein
Dear friends,
We’ve just heard in the Gospel of Luke about a man who hides himself. Not in a closet, but on a mulberry tree—in the middle of Jericho, in broad daylight. Zacchaeus, a grown man, chief tax collector, wealthy and powerful—and at the same time socially excluded. He climbs a tree like a child, trying to stay hidden while playing hide-and-seek.
The art of being invisible
Do you know what that’s like? The skill of being present without revealing yourself openly? Zacchaeus has mastered this skill. The Bible says he is short in stature. But his true smallness isn’t in his height; it’s in having to make himself small to survive in a world that labels him as “wrong” or “bad”.
When have you – figuratively speaking – sat on a mulberry tree? Maybe during a family dinner, when you tried to behave in a way that matched heteronormative or cisnormative standards. Or when you stayed silent as your classmates gossiped about “those people” — knowing they were also referring to you. Or when you didn’t grimace at the question “Do you have a boyfriend?” even though the honest answer could have been: “I have a girlfriend,” “Neither nor,” or “It’s complicated.”
Zacchaeus finds a balance. He is close enough to see Jesus but far enough away to feel safe. He wants to see Jesus, but he doesn’t want to be noticed. Curiosity and self-protection guide his actions simultaneously.
The moment that changes everything
And then it happens. Jesus stops right under the tree where Zacchaeus is sitting. He looks up, not by chance or casually, but intentionally. “Zacchaeus,” he calls. He doesn’t say, “Hey, you up there!” or “Hey, you tax collector!” He calls him by name.
Imagine this moment: Zacchaeus‘ heart skips a beat. His panic: “Have I been discovered? What does Jesus think of me now? Should I pretend I didn’t hear him?”
“Come down quickly! I must stay at your house today.”– No condemnation. No embarrassing questions. No well-meaning advice. Just: “I want to be with you. At your table. With you.”
Your Jesus moments
When has someone ever addressed you so directly? When has someone truly seen you—not just your role or mask, but you as a person? Maybe it was that friend who said, “No matter who you love, you’ll always be my best friend.” Or a friend who reassured you, “I like you just the way you are.” The therapist who helped you accept yourself instead of trying to “cure” you. Your grandmother, who didn’t fully understand you but wished you happiness.
Maybe it was in a queer bookstore where you first discovered stories with people like you as the heroes. Or at your first Pride parade, when you realized: “There are many of us.” Or in the kitchen of your shared apartment at three in the morning, when you finally let your guard down.
There are people who see you, who give you space to be yourself, and whose presence allows you to blossom.
The anger of the crowd
Back to the biblical story. The crowd is angry with Jesus. “He has gone to stay with a sinner,” they grumble. The outrage is clear. How could Jesus do this? With this one?
You recognize these voices. They whisper in comment sections, preach from pulpits, and sometimes they sit at the family table. “This isn’t normal,” they claim. “It’s just a phase.” “What will people think?” “It’s against God’s plan.”
But do you know what Jesus says to the grumbling voices? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He doesn’t argue, he doesn’t justify himself, he doesn’t let himself be swayed. He goes to Zacchaeus‘ house.
The Power of Presence
Jesus sits down at Zacchaeus‘ table. That’s all. No moral judgment. No big sermon on repentance. No 10-point plan for improving his life. Jesus is there. This presence transforms everything because, through sharing the meal, Jesus offers Zacchaeus recognition.
And Zacchaeus? He cannot and will not hide his joy. He, who had been hiding just a moment ago, jumps up and declares so that everyone can hear: “I will give half of my wealth to the poor!” Zacchaeus is generous. Not because Jesus demands it, but because Zacchaeus can finally breathe again. Because someone truly sees him and stays with him.
Being like Zacchaeus, being like Jesus
Maybe you see yourself as Zacchaeus in this story, but you can be both: like Zacchaeus, who climbs down from the tree, and like Jesus, who sees Zacchaeus and calls him by name.
Every time you create space for someone to come out of hiding, respect their pronouns and avoid using dead names. When you approach the person sitting alone in the canteen because you understand what it’s like to be lonely and you signal: “Your story is important. Tell me about it,” or say: “You belong here, just as you are,” you share what sustains you.
The salvation that comes today
“Today salvation has come to this house,” Jesus affirms. “Salvation” does not mean perfection, but rather a healthy relationship with God, oneself, and others. Today, Zacchaeus experiences salvation—not sometime in the future when he is perfect, nor tomorrow when society will have changed. Today.
This “today” also applies to you. Today, God offers you salvation—not the day after tomorrow, when queer people will finally be able to live and work openly in the church without fear. It’s yours today, even if many people still do not accept you. Even if you are still searching, with all your insecurities, your wonderful imperfections, your scars, and struggles.
This salvation isn’t a magic trick. It doesn’t suddenly make the world safe or erase painful memories. But it says: “You belong. You are a child of God. You are part of this vibrant, colorful, queer family of humanity.”
Coming down from the tree
So, dear people: where are you still hiding? Which tree are you sitting in? What would happen if you came down today? If you showed others who and how you really are?
Yes, it’s risky. Some people might get offended. That’s why you should seek safe spaces. Find allies, like here at KSG Edith Stein. Move at your own pace.
Remember: there are people like Jesus waiting for you—people who say, “Come, I want to hear your story” and who celebrate who you truly are.
And don’t forget: YOU can be such people for others. You can act like Jesus. So go and become that healing gaze for others. The voice that says: “I see you,” and invites: “Come down, let’s be together.”
Zacchaeus climbed down from the tree, not as a perfect man or without trembling, but with confidence: “I am seen, and I am worth showing myself.” You are worth that, too.