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(Luke 15:1-10) -- All the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus. 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."
For ten years I served St. Columb's Church in Jackson, Mississippi. A modest church of 150 to 200 people on Sunday, it
founded Heritage School -- the state's first school for children with learning disabilities, begun at a time before legislative
mandates to serve students with special needs. One of the joys of my tenure there was getting to know the kids at Heritage
School and to serve as their chaplain.
One of my favorite students was Ben. Part of Ben's particular brain chemistry was his need to put everything into either/or
categories. As his mother drove him to school, he would look out the window at each person who caught his attention and categorize
them -- "Good guy. Bad guy." It was crucially important to him to know right from wrong, good from bad. He made
snap judgments. His mother would ask, "Why is that man bad, Ben?" "Because he's wearing his baseball cap
backwards." His judgment was absolute and clear. And once you got into his bad category, it was pretty hard to get
out. For Ben to be comfortable in a complex and confusing universe, he needed order. For him, order was right or wrong;
good or bad.
Life was pretty hard for Ben. Some of his friends might be good for days on end, and then would do something bad. They
became "bad guys." He had a hard time handling the complexities. Ben often accelerated conflicts. If someone
did something bad, he wanted them punished, immediately and severely. He was frustrated and angry so much of the time. After
all, there are so many bad guys. "Mama, why are there so many bad guys?" His heros were usually the good guys
who blew away the bad guys. He had plenty of heroes available on cartoons and movies. He couldn't understand why he couldn't
just blow away the bad guys at Heritage School. He was a good guy; he couldn't understand how he got into so much trouble
at school, just trying to stand up for whatever was right. I remember seeing him at the end of one particularly frustrating
day, curled up in his mother's lap, sucking his thumb, trying to find some refuge from the unsuccessful battle for justice.
Sometimes I think of Ben when I see television news programs that take complicated issues and turn them into pro and con,
either/or talking points. So much of the rhetoric in American religion and politics falls into the polarities of "for
us or against us." Our language collapses into good vs. evil, Moslem vs. Christian, America vs. Arab world, Democrats
vs. Republicans, and in the church, revisionists vs. fundamentalists. Polarize and demonize is an intentional strategy for
leadership. That's a very familiar world view for Ben.
That's a world view that Jesus challenged. A few weeks ago we saw Jesus being hosted at a dinner of one of the leading
Pharisees. Today we see some of the righteous Pharisees and the scholarly scribes taking issue with Jesus because he "welcomes
sinners and eats with them." Why do you lend your respect and friendship to the bad guys, Jesus? In answer, Jesus tells
three stories -- the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son, or the prodigal son.
Earlier this week, someone who read the email we sent last Sunday with this Sunday's scripture readings said to me, "I
don't like the lost sheep story very much. What about the 99? I don't think it's a good idea to leave them behind and vulnerable
so you can search for the single lost one." Good cost accounting. What Jesus' listeners would have known is that sheep
herds were tended by at least one shepherd for every twenty-five to thirty sheep. So they would have known that the shepherd
who went in search of the lost sheep, would have left his herd in the care of three or four other shepherds. The other thing
they would have known is what risk the shepherd took. When the shepherd returned to say "Rejoice with me," much
of the rejoicing would be that the shepherd survived in a dangerous wilderness where there were "wolves, fox, wild boar,
lions, venomous snakes, bandits, and more." (Quoting our friend Charles Page, author of Jesus and the Land.)
A lost sheep is pretty pitiful. Head down, moving from nibble to nibble, it can wander unaware for a long time. When
it finally looks up to realize that it is lost, the sheep will lie down and bleat in fear -- stuck, unable to help itself.
If the shepherd finds it before some predator does, the shepherd will have to carry the traumatized animal on his shoulders,
back to the safety of the community. That's the first story Jesus told in response to the question, "Why do you consort
with the bad guys?"
The second story is a very domestic one, the lost coin. The living rooms in a typical peasant's home would be very dark,
with only one small window to let in light. The floor was covered with irregular stones, large cracks between them, laid
directly on the dirt. A small, brown coin, lost between the dusty rocks in the dark room would be very difficult to find.
To a peasant household, though, such a coin would also be of great value. If a coin were lost, the owner would look, no matter
how hard it was or how long it took, until it was found.
I wish we had some images or icons of Jesus from this wonderful parable. There are a lot of pictures and statues of Jesus,
the Good Shepherd, with a lamb across his shoulder. That is a familiar and comforting image. But how about an image of Jesus
the homemaker and caretaker, clothed in an apron, face smudged, hair tied back, broom and lamp in one hand, beaming with joy,
holding up the small brown lost coin in the other hand? He will sweep and search in the dark and dirt as long as it takes.
In these first two stories, there's not too much blame for the lost. Sheep can't help being stupid and coins don't lose
themselves. Sometimes circumstances create lostness. But the third story is one of intentional, willed lostness. The prodigal
son who insults his father's honor and squanders his inheritance. He is willfully lost. Amazingly, the father celebrates
the bad son's return, reinstating him to a place of honor. And the good son, the elder? By his own choosing he is left out
of the feast. He lives alone, separate, self-exiled on behalf of his injured sense of justice. He will not come to a party
given to celebrate one of the bad guys. He will live in Ben's world. He's the good guy. He'll have nothing to do with the
bad guys.
I feel for the elder brother and for my little friend Ben at Heritage School. They both want to stand up for what is
good and right. It's hard to hear Jesus' words of moderation toward the bad guys -- "turn the other cheek; ...if anyone
wants to take your coat, give your cloak as well; and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile; ...love
your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." Could anything be more difficult when all you want is for the good
guys to blast the bad guys?
Instead, Jesus invites everybody to sit down together at the table. The elder son is always at home; the father tells
him "everything I have is yours." The prodigal son is welcomed even before he can ask for pardon. The Good Shepherd
risks whatever dangers there might be to find the weak, the stuck, the helpless, and bring them back rejoicing. The housekeeper
will sweep and look and sweep and look some more because every coin is precious.
For a long time I've wondered how it could be possible that anyone could escape the infinite love and patience of God.
It seems that Jesus is saying that there is no sheep so stupid, no coin so hidden, no child so wicked, and no child so proud
that God will not go to the ends of the earth and beyond to embrace each one into life. Ironically, the ones that appear
most at risk are those who have confidence in their own correctness. These stories of inclusion seem especially directed
at them. Jesus warns them that the tax-collectors and the prostitutes will go into the Kingdom of God ahead of them. In
these stories today I can hear Jesus saying to all of us, "Back off the polarization and the either/or demonizing. I
insist that we all sit down together to feast at the same table."
What can we do to share in this reconciling work? How can we rescue the weak and the stuck? How can we persevere to
find the goodness that falls between the cracks? How can we forgive the prodigal and coax the scrupulous? At this polarizing
time of history, can any vocation be more crucial? If we want to be among the good guys, Jesus tells us we're going to have
to find ways to embrace the bad guys. Every time we are able to do so, he tells us we can be sure that there is joy in heaven;
there is joy in the presence of the angels of God. Especially when the sinner who repents, is one of us grumbling Pharisees.
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