Proper 19C-1
Luke 15: 1-10
In our readings from Luke we’ve been watching the tensions build
between this uncredentialed but charismatic rabbi from the Galilee and the
well-credentialed but not-very-popular leaders of the mainline religious establishment. This morning Jesus pours kerosene on the fire
by ostentatiously consorting with the
edgiest folks in the neighborhood—those
who don’t observe the ceremonial law, those whose daily work marks them as
ritually unclean, those regarded as sinners and indeed those who truly were
sinners by any measure of moral conduct and Biblical norm. Even to include those pariahs who have
prospered by collaborating with the Romans in the structures oppressing God’s
people. Quite a crowd: tax collectors,
prostitutes, publicans, who were kind of the street corner drug dealers of the
day, pickpockets and shoplifters. A cast
of characters you for sure wouldn’t want to meet while walking down a dark
alley. As before, the religious leaders
voice their objections, trying to do whatever they can to tamp down the fire of
this rising “Jesus movement.” And so they
point their fingers and proclaim with indignation, “this man receives sinners,
and eats with them.” Hard to imagine any right-thinking, God-fearing
person would want to get within a country mile of this guy and his rabble
followers.
To answer, Jesus shares three parables.
The first two in this morning’s reading, the Parables of the Lost Sheep
and the Lost Coin. These set the table for the third, the highlight--unfortunately
not included in the lectionary today, but I’m going to refer to it anyway-- and
we’ll need to use our best memory and imagination: Luke 15, verses 11-32, the Parable of the
Prodigal Son. So together three little vignettes, a Lost
Sheep, a Lost Coin, a Lost Son, catch our attention. Have for two thousand years. I think for every Christian at the very heart
of what we understand the good news of the gospel to be. To venture into theological language, these
parables interpret the Cross for us. They
present the portrait of a God whose love is extravagant -- who will do
anything, who will go the extra mile--and then another, and then another: who
simply can’t bear to take no for an answer.
Whose heart yearns for us. Who
loves us more than life itself. Who will
do whatever it takes to restore our relationship with him.
First of all the shepherd. Quite
a peculiar story, if you think about it.
If you’re the owner of the flock,
or even better, if you’re the company that wrote the loss and liability policy,
you’re going to fire this guy and fast. What
was he thinking? We had a hundred sheep,
and one somehow wandered away--and so, let me get this straight, you left the
99 out in the field somewhere, where there are wolves and poachers and all
kinds of potential dangers, and you went out with your whistle and for hours
and hours hiked over hill and vale—wouldn’t stop looking, until finally at long
last you happened to find the one that was lost? Are you out of your mind? And then the woman in the second parable. Talk about obsessive! She loses a coin, which is too bad. Something of value. But then she goes nuts. She puts her whole life on hold. Talk about a disproportionate response! She stops preparing food for her family. She skips the monthly altar guild
meeting. Forgets about going to
work. Her yard is overgrown with weeds. The dishes have been sitting in the sink for
who knows how long. The kids don’t have
their back-to-school shopping done. But she
can’t let it go. Like Captain Ahab in
pursuit of the Great White Whale--searching day and night until finally,
finally, she finds that coin! And then,
of course, the Father. We know him the
best because we have heard this story so often and because it is so beautifully
developed. A theological and literary
jewel. ( It wasn’t included in our
reading this morning because we’ve already had it appointed on the Fourth
Sunday in Lent.) Betrayed in a deep way by this son who blows off his share in
the generational inheritance of the family business and heartlessly asks for
his share right now and in cash. Too
much trouble to wait around until the old man dies. He takes the money and runs off to the big
city to live it up in one long party of wine, women, and song. For days and weeks, perhaps for months and
years. And certainly never a postcard
home, never a phone call. Until every
penny is squandered. And for all that time, every day, the father
stood watching at the gate. Every day, surveying
the road all the way to the horizon.
Looking out to the horizon, with pain in his heart, tears in his eyes. Hoping, praying.
And the parables end in joy. Big joy.
The shepherd returns singing, carrying the precious lamb tenderly in his
arms--the flock is made whole again.
Such a beautiful picture. The
window in our narthex dedicated to Harry Briggs Heald, one of my illustrious
predecessors. The Good Shepherd, who is
not willing that even one should be lost.
And the woman finds her coin.
Finally. And so overjoyed, she
doesn’t rush off to put it in the bank or spend it on some essential
purchase. She throws a party! The celebration of her life, probably spending
twice as much on refreshments than the coin was worth in the first place! This
is what it’s like, the joy of the angels in heaven, says Jesus. Their celebration, for even one sinner who
turns away from his sinful life. And
then the Father, as he wraps the boy in an embrace even before his carefully-rehearsed
words of repentance can be spoken. Bring
a robe, a ring, new shoes, a fatted calf!
I’m never letting go of you
again, he says. I’m never letting you go.
That’s how Jesus answers his accusers.
In the midst of a dry-as-dust professional religiosity based on the external
formalities of elaborate Temple ceremonies and a harsh and obsessive
judgmentalism focused on customs, rules, laws governing in minute detail even
arcane aspects of food preparation and diet and clothing and just about every
aspect of ordinary household and community life and work and relationship. To say nothing of the issues of deeper concern
of faith and moral conduct. In the midst
of a culture of arid judgement and even a kind of mean-spirited unforgiveness. Then
we hear Jesus:
“Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner
who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance. . .
.” “Just so, I tell you, there is joy
before the angels of God over one sinner who repents.” Joy.
The longing of God’s great heart, that we who are lost, would find our
way back into his arms. “Bring quickly
the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his
feet; and bring the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and make merry; for
this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.” Joy, joy, joy.
This is a personal God we’re talking about. Whom Jesus is talking about. A personal God. Not a philosophical abstraction. Not some hazy remote universal spiritual
force. Every page of scripture speaks of
his deep desire, his passionate and focused longing. He knows us and wants us. We are his people, the sheep of his
pasture. He seeks for us when we are
lost. (He’s out there looking right now. And that is a promise. He won’t give up.) He calls us to return, and knows us by name. To turn around. To put on a new mind and a new heart. To walk with him in a new way. The beating
heart of the universe, his heart, fills with joy when we do turn back to
him. Ransomed, healed, restored,
forgiven. That’s what he lives for. He proves himself to be not far off, but
near, yearning to forgive, and bless.
Willing to go to the Cross, if that’s what it takes to break the chains
of sin and death. Whatever it is going
to take. Disproportionate, extravagant
love. More than we deserve.
These stories of Luke 15 touch my heart I know every time I have read
them and heard them. I hope for you too.
A good place to begin a new season here at
St. Andrew’s on Rally Day Renaissance Round Up Sunday. There really isn’t any expression of Christian
doctrine more to the point than we’ve
heard in these parables this morning. If
we have wandered, and we have
wandered, if we have gotten lost, and we have
gotten lost, just to know: he’s out
looking for us right now. Right now. We have representations of his Cross all over
the place here at church and perhaps in our homes and even to wear around our
necks sometimes, and this is what we would
remember whenever we see that Cross. Why
it is so important to us, so precious. He
stands at the gate, watching for us, waiting for us to return. Never sleeping, never turning aside, never
forgetting us. Eager to forgive us when
we return. Eager to bless. Eager lift us up when we have fallen, to
restore, to give a fresh start. Eager
for us, and full of love.
And so, Rally, Round Up, and Renaissance: walk in love, as Christ loved
us, and gave himself for us, an offering and a sacrifice to God.
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