“Rejoice with me, for I have found
my sheep that was lost!” (Luke 15:6b)
I always say the Pharisees get a bad rap in our Gospels. I mean, these guys are really trying to do the right thing. They parse every rule in the Law of Moses to make sure everything they do is righteous and upright. I’ll grant that doing this can make them a bit annoying—especially since they often come off smug and judgmental like they are in the Gospel lesson for Pentecost 14, Year C in the RCL (Luke 15:1-10). But Jesus is also pretty good at arguing and dissecting law. In fact, I think he often out-Pharisees the Pharisees. Just when these guys think they’ve arrived at the right answer for all human conduct (in this case, it’s “Don’t eat with sinners”), Jesus gets them—or tries to get them—to rethink their position. He does that to us, too. And that’s part of being a Christian—to constantly have our assumptions jerked around in a non-stop tug-o-war between what we think and what God might ask of us.
The Pharisees in this story are ready to write off some folks as lost causes. We don’t know specifically why Jesus’ dinner companions missed out on getting the Pharisee Seal of Approval, but we have to assume there’s a reason why the ultra-religious find them undeserving of the rabbi’s company. So, Jesus spins this little story to get these holy rollers to see things in a different light. Imagine you’re a shepherd with 100 sheep and one of them gets lost. What do you do? You leave the 99 happily munching grass and waiting to be sheared or eaten, and you go off and find the missing sheep.
Now you might think: Isn’t that a bit risky? What if something happens to the 99 when you’re looking for the lost one? Do you really want to take that chance? I’m not an expert on first century ovine husbandry, but I’d be willing to bet that, if this shepherd were a hired man, he’d have a pretty darn deep personal investment in every single sheep. He knows if 100 go out, 100 jolly well better come back or the owner will take the cost of the lost sheep out of his paycheck.
I think the same analogy holds for the woman with the ten silver coins. Maybe she needs those coins for her rent or her taxes. The price she has to fork over is ten coins, not nine. If she’s one coin short the landlord or the tax collector might chuck her into the street. There’s a deep sense of the preciousness of every single coin or sheep. Nothing is expendable. Nothing gets written off.
(Just a thought, but isn’t it curious how we can value money or animals more than we can value human lives? I’m just asking.)
Consider also, in Jesus’ story the
shepherd didn’t go out and buy a new sheep to introduce to his flock, nor was
the coin lady paid an extra coin. The missing sheep and the lost coin already belonged
at the time they were lost. So: don’t we all belong to God? There’s
no one who doesn’t have the right to be treated as a member of God’s family, no
one who has forfeited their right to our concern. Nevertheless, concern for
“lost ones” always seems to bring about a little resentment.
Case in point: Black Lives Matter. This movement sparked something of a backlash after the protests around the deaths of George Floyd, Brionna Taylor, and others. Some folks reacted by asking, “Don’t all lives matter?” Of course, all lives do matter. But: in America, white lives don’t seem to get ended by police shooting at quite the same rate as Black lives. White lives aren’t getting “lost.” We’re being asked to be content with munching our grass in the green pasture of safety while attention is paid to the ones who feel lost, excluded, and in danger. All lives matter, but not all lives are in immediate need of attention.
Jesus again makes a big ask. He’s smacking around our ideas of entitlement, fairness, and justice. He’s reminding us that no matter how fed up we might be with some people, God is never fed up. God has as much investment in the lost ones as God has in the faithful—and perhaps even more because they are lost. And this is good news because some day, in some unpredictable way, we may be lost ourselves.
This lesson comes right before Jesus’ parable of the lost or “prodigal” son. I’ve always said this last example is the hardest for us to swallow, and I’ve known folks who hate that parable because they can’t stand the idea of the dumbass, wasteful brother getting welcomed back after he blew his dad’s money. I guess it’s easier for us to feel sympathy for a confused sheep than for a member of our own family. What seems to be the toughest thing about these parables—especially the one about the lost son—is the expectation that bringing the lost back into the fold will bring joy.
Just imagine: A society in which everyone has enough to eat, has shelter, and has all their needs met and no one asks if their neighbor deserves the blessings they have. Imagine a society where there is no need for anger or envy. Imagine a society in which everyone has confessed and been contrite and has been told they are forgiven. A society where everyone is given a new chance.
Wouldn’t that be cause for joy?
Thank you for looking in this week.
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