Scripture Luke 15:1-10
Now 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? And 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 lost sheep.’ 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? And 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.”
Meditation
A little story. Kids are so different—kids raised by the same parents can be so, so different. Case in point: When Ned was a toddler, he always seemed to have an invisible string that kept him tied to me. We could go shopping, or to the park, take a walk, and I never had to worry that he would wander too far. He explored, but he always kept me within eyesight. Then there was Joan. When she was about two, I took her to the Oakdale Mall, partially to do some shopping, but also to get us both out of the house in the cold weather. We were in J. C. Penney’s because I was searching for something professional-looking to wear for an interview. She was right next to me. And then she wasn’t. I had been so used to Ned’s ways in the wild, that it never occurred to me that Joan would run off into and under the racks of clothing...and in an instant, be completely out of sight. I still remember the rush of adrenaline, how my heart pounded, how I yelled her name and also a description of what she was wearing so that other shoppers could help me to retrieve her. I don’t think she was missing for more than two or three minutes, but those minutes stretched out like hours. She was lost, and I was frantic. And then, she was found.
We are immersed in two of Luke’s “lost and found” parables this morning, the well-known story of the lost sheep and the not-so-well-known one of the lost coin. The context of these stories is important: Jesus has come under fire for associating with the wrong sorts of people—he’s been seen eating with tax collectors and sinners, and tax collectors were even more reviled in those days than they are now, in some quarters. They were seen as terrible traitors because they cooperated with the Romans. So, Jesus is dining with people who the other religious leaders wouldn’t go near. Jesus responds with these stories.
Which one of you, if you were a shepherd, and had a hundred sheep, and one of them had gone missing… which one of you wouldn’t leave the ninety-nine and go find the one who is missing?
This is an interesting question. But I wonder: Does this seem like a good idea to you? To leave 99 compliant sheep in the wilderness, while you go out looking for the one that drifted away? A friend shared a passage from a commentary this week on Facebook, and I’ll read it you now:
The search is an all-out endeavor. Leaving the ninety-nine in the wilderness, the owner seeks the lost. Were the owner a shepherd, he would have been an inept one. Leaving ninety-nine sheep to their own devices would likely leave the owner, at the end of the day, with only the lost sheep he found. [A friend] reporting on teaching in Tanzania, noted that according to her friends there, when a sheep goes astray, they shoot it. Otherwise, the rest of the flock might follow.[i]
That’s a shocker. At least in that context, the idea of leaving 99 sheep to search for one is madness. It’s a terrible idea. So it is entirely possible—even likely—that those who were listening to Jesus also thought this idea was bonkers. Leave nearly all the flock? What did Jesus mean?
Of course, these are parables. As Emily Dickinson wrote,
“Tell all the Truth but tell it slant—
Success in Circuit lies.
Too bright for our infirm Delight.
The Truth's superb surprise.”
In parables, Jesus tells the truth, but tells it slant… not obviously, but with twists that sometimes leave us scratching our heads, wondering what on earth he was on about. Remember: the context is the heat he’s taking for hanging around with sinners. It’s possible that Jesus is speaking to the religious leaders in the crowd. Maybe he is saying to them, “There are all kinds of ways to be leaders. Maybe shunning those you deem unworthy is not the best approach.” But I think it’s even more likely he is really saying, to everyone, “I know the ways of men. But what about the ways of God?” If the Good Shepherd gives us even a glimpse of a vision of God, maybe what he’s saying is, “People give up on one another. But God never gives up on anyone. The love of God is from everlasting to everlasting. God will search for you, and God will find you.”
Another small story. When I was young I was…stubborn. And my brother and I used to get into arguments, particularly when we were stuck in the car together for a while. I remember one night when I was about twelve, in the back seat of the car on a dark country road, and Perry and I were sniping at one another. Suddenly my mother just stopped the car and told me to get out.
Now, I am not sure that my mother really wanted me to get out of the car. But, as I said, I was stubborn. (I mean, I am still stubborn, a fact you are all probably aware of.) Anyway. I opened the door and got out of the car, and stepped out into the night, and immediately—immediately—I repented of my sniping and my stubbornness. It was so dark. Now, my mother was also stubborn (she’s an Aries, I’m a Taurus, if any of that means anything to any of you). She had started driving forward, about fifty feet or so. Just far enough for me to really panic. She was leaving me there, in the dark! I immediately wondered what I would do, how I would get home if this scenario played out the way it looked like it was going to. Little did I know, there was equal panic in the car, where my mother was starting to back up, but then realizing she was in real danger of running me over, because it was so dark, she couldn’t see me in the rearview mirror. So she stopped. And I ran forward. And my brother opened the car door for me.
As a wise person has noted, Jesus leaving the 99 for the 1 seems crazy… until you are that one.
Our second parable involves a lost silver coin, probably a denarius, which is the equivalent of one day’s wages for a day-laborer. The coin is one of ten, and their owner, a woman, is searching diligently. The thing about coins is, they can’t lose themselves. They are lost by their owners. (Ryan and Colin and Chris are now laughing internally about the number of times I have lost my keys on a Sunday morning.) Sometimes we are lost, not because of choices we have made, but because of the impossible circumstances that press in on us from every side.
The woman who has lost the coin seems about as panicked as I was when I lost Joan, and as my mother was when she couldn’t see me in the dark. But the lesson here isn’t that God panics, but that God is relentless. God is diligent. God never gives up. God will search for us, and God will find us, and God will carry us back, rejoicing.
Both parables end with parties. Big parties, the kind of parties you invite all your neighbors to because your joy is overflowing, and it needs to be shared. Whether someone has been lost because it’s in their nature (like the sheep), or because they had little to no choice over the matter (like the coin), or even because of the poor choices they make (like the prodigal son, whose story comes right after these), their restoration is something that has to be celebrated in community. “There is joy in heaven,” Jesus says. God brings our wandering spirits back when we forsake God’s way. It’s no wonder that one of the central actions of the church for the past two thousand years has been a celebration—a meal, to which all are invited, like the one we’re about to have now.
We have a reason to celebrate: We are here. We have been gathered together, by the grace of God. We have come through a difficult season together. And whether we identify more with the one who wandered, or with the ninety-nine who, evidently, stayed safely put, our presence here gives God joy. Every one of us is important to God—a treasure, to be cherished. A child, to be protected. A lamb, to be carried back, rejoicing. We have every reason to celebrate.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
[i] Amy-Jill Levine, Ben Witherington III, The Gospel of Luke (New Cambridge Bible Commentary) (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2019), 443.