The Very Idea

Luke 15:1-10        Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” So he told them this parable: “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ 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. “Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

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When I was a college student at the University of lllinois, Halloween was celebrated in extravagant fashion.  The streets of campustown were shut down to traffic so students in costume could freely roam, going in and out of bars, having a great time.  Group costumes were a popular thing.  My roommate and some of her friends stuffed their pillows under colored ponchos and clustered together as Fruit of the Loom.  Another group of students wore giant student ID cards like sandwich boards.  One of them wandered away from the group and suddenly they all started shouting frantically, “We lost our ID!”  Which was funny, because losing your ID was a common problem for students, and a serious one too.  Without your ID you can do nothing.  I guess that is even more true today.

I don’t lose things that often, fortunately.  Although, as I have told you before, I did lose Joe a couple of times when he was young, so I know how frantic you feel when you realize someone is missing.  Fortunately, he was found very quickly – both times. 

I read a book years ago called The Deep End of the Ocean, about a woman who lost her young son in a crowded hotel lobby.  In the years to follow she never for a moment forgot that he was missing.  Every waking moment was consumed by the anxiety of not knowing where he was or how he was.

If Jesus is really talking about missing people in this pair of little parables, then I certainly understand the gravity of it.  We never forget a loved one who is lost to us.  Whether it is a soldier who goes missing in action, a teenager who runs away, or one of the many whose remains were lost when the twin towers fell.  We do not forget them.

No price can be placed on a human life; no statute of limitations can be applied to the effort to bring justice or reconciliation.  So if this is what he’s talking about, the search for a lost child of God, I get the seriousness of it.  At the same time, though, I have a problem with these two parables.  Let me tell you why.

The nature of a parable is to pull the listener in to the story.  It’s a powerful teaching tool because it doesn’t just tell you something – it allows you to experience something.  Draw the listeners in with some familiar scenario, something they know.

This is why Jesus’ parables so often used tales of farmers or shepherds – these were the things his listeners knew best.  So this is what he gave them, and they would think, “Ah, yes!  Sheep.  Vineyards.  Planting and harvesting.”  They can see it, feel it, smell it, hear it.  They know it so well they can even anticipate what will happen next.  Give them some content that they can really engage with, something they are sure to have an opinion about, and then throw a curve.  Give them a surprise, something new to chew on – this is how the parable works as a teaching tool.

So in this pair of stories, Jesus uses the old “which one of you” technique.  Who among you would not do this?  The subtext is this: you all are responsible, intelligent men and women.  Which one of you would not do such a simple and obvious thing as this?  And if you would do this, then how much more would your Father in heaven do? 

He uses this approach in other places, too, such as the “who among you would give your child a stone if he asked for bread?  If you know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven do for you.”  It’s logical.  It makes sense.  It gets the message across.

But imagine how it might work in this case.  Speaking to people who understand shepherding even if they are not shepherds, Jesus proposes to them, “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the 99 and go in search of the one that has gone missing?” 

The bait here is the phrase “which one of you.”  It says of course, it goes without saying, that you would do this thing, that this is the right thing.  “Which one of you would not” – well certainly not me!  But then you hear this: “which one of you would not leave the 99 and go in search of the one.”  Who, indeed, would do that?

What will happen when you leave that 99?  You put them at risk.  You abandon them to the wolves.  Who, indeed, would do that?  The very idea!

Sheep are, of course, a commodity.  As with any commodity, there is a certain amount of loss that is expected; it’s a part of doing business.  In retail, they have the concept of shrinkage.  In a bookstore, for example, some books just walk off the shelves, never to be seen again.  In any kind of business, you accept a certain amount of loss. 

So, there you are, listening to Jesus’ story.  You’re nodding along as he speaks.  Then suddenly you stop nodding, and you’re thinking.  Would I do that?  Should I do that?  You see, the “which one of you” approach is not working as it should.

Then he begins the second story.  What woman having ten coins and losing one does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it?  Yes, we nod our heads, I might do that.  Although – I won’t search forever.  There are other tasks to get done.  There is a point of diminishing returns.  But I’ll go along with the premise. 

Then when you find the lost coin you are overjoyed!  Yes, that would be true, especially if I searched long and hard for it.  But then this:  You call all your neighbors and say come and celebrate with me!  Let’s have a party and celebrate the return of my lost coin! 

Right there is where he lost me.  I am not going to call together my friends and neighbors and ask them to rejoice with me because I found a lost coin.  It just doesn’t make sense.  The very idea!

After hearing these two stories, Jesus has left me feeling a little off balance.  There is now a tension between what I have always known to be the right thing and what I hear Jesus suggesting to be the right thing.  I am feeling less sure of my convictions now – and that might be okay.  But I am also left with the uneasy feeling that I am perhaps unable to be the person Jesus seems to expect me to be.

You see, I am eventually going to give up on that lost coin.  I won’t search forever, because my time is finite and, therefore, precious.  And at some point I am going to surrender, even perhaps hope that somebody will find that coin, someone who needs it, someone who might possibly rejoice even more than I would have at finding it. 

And, you know, the sheep? I am not a shepherd, but I am a mother, a wife, a friend, and a pastor. I have tried to be that shepherd who goes after the one sheep who wandered away.  I have tried.  I have tried to be the savior who flies out over the landscape and seeks the lost and swoops them up, carrying them back to safety.  I have tried launching rescues boats, standing at the helm, back turned to the remaining 99, left to feel abandoned, hurt, unloved and neglected. 

I have been the one who believes against all the evidence that she can make that one wandering sheep change against her will; that the sheer force of my will, my love, my good intentions, can override the wandering sheep’s will.

I have tried to be the shepherd.  But I am not that Shepherd.  There is only one Good Shepherd. 

In reality, I have more in common with the lost sheep than the good shepherd.  Or at times, perhaps, one of the 99 safely in the herd.  And the lesson in this parable is that the lost sheep cannot be saved by the likes of us, poor sheep that we are.  This work can only be done by the Good Shepherd – no one else. 

We know what is right and what is good, and perhaps we know what our limitations are.  Because of Jesus’ parables, we know even better that we are fully in need of the mercy and grace of the Good Shepherd.  And perhaps this is the message of these parables: not that we are good and God is better, but that God alone is good.

The power of finding and saving the lost is not ours.  But consider this: How do we welcome them when they are in our midst?  In the background of these two parables is the criticism that Jesus is welcoming sinners to the table, those who are somehow less worthy.  His answer to his critics is contained in the stories we heard. 

And now, hear this.  Which one of us, sinners that we are, would not open the door, open our arms, and extend the invitation, “Come in, sinner.  The table is set and there is a place for you.”

Re-formed

Philemon 1-21   Paul, a prisoner of Christ Jesus, and Timothy our brother, To Philemon our dear friend and co-worker, to Apphia our sister, to Archippus our fellow soldier, and to the church in your house: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. When I remember you in my prayers, I always thank my God because I hear of your love for all the saints and your faith toward the Lord Jesus. I pray that the sharing of your faith may become effective when you perceive all the good that we may do for Christ. I have indeed received much joy and encouragement from your love, because the hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, my brother.

For this reason, though I am bold enough in Christ to command you to do your duty, yet I would rather appeal to you on the basis of love—and I, Paul, do this as an old man, and now also as a prisoner of Christ Jesus. I am appealing to you for my child, Onesimus, whose father I have become during my imprisonment. Formerly he was useless to you, but now he is indeed useful both to you and to me. I am sending him, that is, my own heart, back to you. I wanted to keep him with me, so that he might be of service to me in your place during my imprisonment for the gospel; but I preferred to do nothing without your consent, in order that your good deed might be voluntary and not something forced. Perhaps this is the reason he was separated from you for a while, so that you might have him back forever, no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother—especially to me but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord. So if you consider me your partner, welcome him as you would welcome me. If he has wronged you in any way, or owes you anything, charge that to my account. I, Paul, am writing this with my own hand: I will repay it. I say nothing about your owing me even your own self. Yes, brother, let me have this benefit from you in the Lord! Refresh my heart in Christ. Confident of your obedience, I am writing to you, knowing that you will do even more than I say.

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Sometimes a theme surprises you.  Just recently two new novels have been published – one called Underground Railroad and the other called Underground Airlines.  Both of these stories address the heritage of slavery in our country by re-imagining the underground railroad, the road to freedom for slaves.  Underground Airlines tells a story in which slavery still exists in America in the present time.  Underground Railroad follows a runaway slave as she travels through one state after another, in which she encounters a variety of different ways in which white people relate to black people. 

Both stories are more than just a historical note.  Both stories have something timeless to say about how it is when we regard some people as less than human, as chattel.  And I imagine both authors would say that there are vestiges of this systemic problem affecting our culture today.  It is extremely hard work to change such deeply ingrained beliefs.

Paul’s letter to Philemon is a very short one – short for Paul, anyway.  It is unusual for Paul because it is not written to a church but rather to a person – Philemon.  And it is written for only one purpose.  Paul wants Philemon to grant freedom to his slave Onesimus. 

Slavery was a part of the culture in which Paul was living. It was part of the culture in which Jesus lived, it was a part of all of the cultures in which all of the books of the Bible were written.  In the ancient world, slavery was normal.  It was not restricted to the people of one particular race or tribe.  Slavery was what the powerful people did to people who were powerless. 

We know that the people of Israel were enslaved by the Egyptians for hundreds of years before they were led out of slavery by Moses.  And we know that the people of Israel, once they were established in their own land, also practiced slavery.  We know this because the law of Israel addressed it – not the question of “if” it was acceptable, but the questions of “how” it was acceptable. 

We know that in the Roman Empire slavery was normal.  Some of the stories in the book of Acts tell about slaves, such as the woman who had a spirit of divination and was used by her owners quite profitably.  Some of the epistles have instructions pertaining to how slaves should behave, and from this we see that at least some Christian households owned slaves.  All of this seems far away and strange to us.  And that is why it seems odd to us that Paul treads so delicately around the question.

The fact is this: there was no conventional wisdom at the time in which the enslavement of human beings was considered to be unethical or unchristian.  That is hard for us to get our heads around, and I am glad that it is.  But it’s worth remembering that it is hard to get our heads around only because there were individuals who suggested, sometimes gently and sometimes boldly, that this is not the way things ought to be.

That is just what Paul was doing in this letter to Philemon.  Look at the way he does it and admire.

He is artful in his choice of words.  He is complimentary, he is encouraging, and at the same time he is threatening.  Paul is definitely using whatever he has at his disposal to bring about the result he wants.  This is clearly a reform that is important to him. 

Onesimus has come to be with Paul, who is in prison. But we don’t know under what conditions he arrived there.  He might have been sent there by his master, to be of some service to Paul.  But it is also quite possible that Onesimus ran away from his master and now finds himself in a particularly difficult position.  But he has found an advocate in Paul, who regards Onesimus now as a son.  “Formerly he was useless to you, but now he is indeed useful both to you and to me,” he writes to Philemon.  Useless, perhaps, because he has run away from his master; useful now because as he appeals for forgiveness and liberation, he offers both Paul and Philemon a chance to practice extravagant love.

Paul wrote the words, “for freedom Christ has set us free,” and, “there is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” 

If Paul has discerned these truths through Jesus Christ, then it is fitting for Paul to be the one who says to Philemon that Jesus Christ brings this transformation to our world, that no longer should we accept or participate in the enslavement of our fellow human beings.  It is time to face this truth – although it would take many hundreds of years, nearly two thousand years, for the church to fully embrace that.

Being reformed takes time.  But the scriptures we hear today tell us it is God’s work. 

We see it in the story from Jeremiah.  “Go down to the potter’s house and I will let you hear my word,” the Lord says to Jeremiah.  And there he sees the potter working at his wheel.  The potter’s work was important to a community.  He created pots and bowls and cups – vessels of all sorts for everyday use.  For carrying water, for cooking and eating, these craftsmen were an essential part of a community. 

Jeremiah watches the potter working a lump of clay into a vessel.  The vessel, once formed, will be fired, hardened and ready to use.  But the clay becomes ruined in the potter’s hands.  It became misshapen or torn, somehow not salvageable, the potter knows.  And so he picks up the clay and begins the process again.  A shapeless lump will be formed into a useful vessel.

“Can I not do with you just what this potter has done with the clay?”  says the Lord to Jeremiah.  The people of Israel, though created good, have become misshapen, useless to God, ruined.  Too many times they had turned away from God’s desire for them to be a just and loving community.  Too many times they had failed to care for the poor, the weak, and the alien in their midst.  They had ignored God’s commands for the sake of their own gain, power and riches. 

They are no longer a people who are useful to God.  But there is hope.  God had not finished with them yet.  As the potter picks up the clay from the wheel and begins again, reforming it into a good and useful vessel, so may God do with Israel.  What God has created good, God can reform into goodness once again.

Being reformed is God’s work.  And it is, therefore, our work as well.

Our Presbyterian heritage has a motto:  that we are reformed and always being reformed.  The work of reformation, re-formation, is never finished, because God’s work is not finished.

How will God reform us?  Where are the blind spots, the flaws which make us less than useful?  Each one of us may answer that for him or herself; each of us may offer our personal prayer to God, to reshape us closer to God’s image, closer to God’s original intent for humankind.  But let us pray also, for the church, that God will reform us into the church that Christ desires: a place where sinners may come just as they are to be healed, a place where the saints are sanctified, a place where all may give and receive God’s love and forgiveness. 

May you be blessed with the love of God in this place. 

May you bless others in the sharing and the caring of Christian community. 

And may you seek to be ever useful to the Lord our God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.