Sermon, 9/11/22: Losing to Establish One’s Values

14 Pentecost

Psalm 14:1–7; Jeremiah 4:11–12, 22–28; 1 Timothy 1:12–17; Luke 15:1–10

Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost. (Luke 1:9)

Since the advent of Covid, I have had to curtail my travel, both domestic and international. However, when I travel, no matter my mode of transportation, I try to be very meticulous. When I travel via air, I check for wallet, passport, ticket, and I check not once, but twice, thrice, often four times, and even when I have not moved from the spot, since the last time I checked. While waiting once to board a flight, I could not locate the electronic boarding pass, even though I had not moved from the spot where I had last had it. And, of course, I located it in the same pocket, into which I had put it. No real panic, just genuine concern, but still in the end a sigh of relief.

At some time or other, all of us have misplaced something of value. When you realize your loss, you begin your search. If the item is a wallet or purse which contains a credit card, you call the emergency 800 number. When you have gotten finally beyond “if you know your party’s extension, you may enter it anytime” routine and you get a real person, you feel somewhat relieved. But you are not yet ready to rejoice.

Indeed, you may have other wallets, but this one wallet assumes immediate importance, for it contains something of great value. For what seems like hours, but which in reality lasts only minutes, you rehearse in you mind, when last you had taken it out of your pocket or bag. Embarrassment and anxiety unite against your calmness. Your wallet did not just wander off on its own; no thief stole it. You cannot even blame a small child for distracting you. But then comes relief. You rejoice, for the disembodied on-line voice assures you that, because you took the corrective step of reporting the loss, restoration is possible. No further damage or charges can be made against your name. You ‘rejoice with exceedingly great joy,’ to use a King James Bible turn of phrase.

Credit cards did not exist in Jeremiah’s day. However, that is exactly what the hot- tempered, sharp-tongued prophet Jeremiah describes to us in today’s first lesson. The God of Biblical Israel felt a loss, because the people, whom the God of creation had chosen to show others how we are to live in community, had forsaken their ways of walking upright before God. They had lost their way and, hence, God had lost them. Or more accurately stated, they had lost or misplaced their devotion to God, and they were to be held accountable for their callousness. Jesus of Nazareth, God’s Messiah, takes a gentler approach, than does Jeremiah. The problem is the same. At issue is loss and restoration of the people of God. The shepherd must have berated himself. His job to watch the sheep. How could he let one missing, when and where? To be sure, there were 99 which he did not lose, but the one stands out. And would he be held accountable for the loss? The woman only had ten coins. She must have had a plan to keep them all safe. How did she manage to misplace the one coin?

In the telling and hearing of these two stories, two related thoughts occur to me. First is, as Jesus himself states, the essence of God to offer forgiveness for human frailty. The second is to illustrate how two types of individuals deal with loss. There are those who, when something untoward happens, blame others. They were distracted; they were deep in thought. In our Book of Records, this might be called ‘following or worshipping other gods.’ Then there are those, who seek not to assign blame, but to address the unfortunate situation. These latter look for ways to restore wholeness. They ask for help and vow within themselves to be in the future more diligent. Through a seemingly gentle parable, Jesus presents the Pharisees with that option: Pride and self-righteousness vs. contrition and humility.

Jesus told this story when the Pharisees were upset over the company he kept. They would have been more pleased, had Jesus called attention to the sins or flaws of the tax collectors and called them to repentance, i.e. to make restitution for over taxing. But here, he was among Pharisees who required a different approach to wholeness. Not only were they taken aback, they were also furious that Jesus had welcomed those lowlifes into his circle and ate with them, before they showed evidence of change.

Indeed, the Pharisees believed in a God of grace, and they were sure that they, through their own actions, had secured a right to that grace. But they were equally sure that their fellow beings who did not exhibit such upright behavior had to show some sign of regret, or they would be excluded from God’s grace.

There is also a third, more subtle element of concern which Jesus addresses. When the Pharisees groused about sharing Jesus’ company with people who, according to the standards of their class, did not deserve to be there, Jesus simply asks a question: “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.” (Lk. 15:4) And with that seemingly innocuous question, Jesus ignites the ire of the Pharisees. Indeed, the shepherd may have been a classic image for God’s care for humankind.

However, in real life, in the nitty-gritty of everyday life, despite the value of sheep as providers of wool and source of meat, shepherds were at the near bottom of the social heap profession. They were earned their daily bread with their hands. This was vividly displayed in a recent British film which bears the title “God’s Own Country,” a film in which two young men get their hand dirtied and bloodied and are exposed to the harshness of real nature. And this parallel universe could only have angered the Pharisees, for they, the Pharisees, belonged to the educated class.

Thus, Jesus made a tactical mistake. He could not have made many points with the Pharisees by comparing them to shepherds. The Pharisees may have owned sheep, but they would not have tended them. They were more likely to belong to the class that hired shepherds to look after their sheep. But they had to agree that even a shepherd would search for a lost sheep, even though he had 99 more. Wouldn’t God do the same?

And because a good Pharisee understood the value of money, Jesus gives another example of loss and restoration. You and I might not sweep the house clean for one quarter, but if you mislay a check for $50,000, I am certain that you will light every lamp in your house, until it is relocated. I know that I would. And upon finding it, you might call your friends in joy and relief. Jesus says: God searches, sweeps away what covers us, takes desperate measures, and rejoices when wholeness and wholesomeness have been restored.

Jesus shows us a God who searches people out who do not even know that they are lost. The one sheep, probably grazing on the hillside, did not realize that it was in potential danger, and coins are metal and have no consciousness at all. The novelty which, to use the colloquial, went over the heads of the Pharisees, is this: The sense of loss was solely and totally in the heart of the owner, who knew the value, who knew how much risk there was, who was driven to search, to restore. Jesus portrays a God who is conscious of our wandering, even when we think we are doing just fine, who aches with regret and grief at the paths which we choose and decision which we make, a God who welcomes back sinners first, before they make any move, a God who has a party when even one repents. This portrait of God cannot hang easily next to our human tendency to resent those who deserve stern justice, but instead are let off the hook. Jesus addresses in subtle form the hypocrisy in the Pharisees’ behavior.

Of course, the parables leave open the question of the consequences of our actions and of our response to such mercy. Neither the sheep nor the coin can worry about being lost or give thanks for being found. But we, who are made in the image of God, are capable of such responses, and God’s mercy does ask for a response of us. Accountability is not forgotten. Presumably, the prodigal son, who had squandered his inheritance, did not receive a new portion of his father’s wealth. Zacchaeus, a hated tax collector, singled out by Jesus to eat with him, was moved to give half his wealth to the poor and to repay everyone whom he had cheated.

I bring you today a homework assignment, to ponder during the week that both parables raise: 1) Can we tolerate a religion where we are reminded that we are not God, but human, and that God is more gracious than we could ever imagine? 2) Can we celebrate a faith where God wants nothing more than to welcome each of us into the fold, no matter our social circumstance, a faith where God is more complete when all the world is gathered at the table, even though none of us deserves to be there? 3) If we can accept such generosity for ourselves, can we welcome and be gracious to others in the same way that we have been received through the crucifixion and resurrection of the Messiah of God?

And as you complete your assignment, remember this: Jesus of Nazareth has provided us, you and me, with answers to those questions. And so it is, that we join the Apostle Paul in his answer “To the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen”