Jesus is not willing to lose anyone, and this day sustains the hope we place in the strength of His desire. It is as much an affirmation of our faith in a God of Mercy
as it is a profession of faith in life everlasting. It is a day that rightly considered might lessen our fear of death not so much because we have a “second change” in “Purgatory” but because life and all that goes with it for faithful people does not end in death.
We have no idea how this might happen, the possibility of purification and pardon, but we have every reason to live with this expectation. It is not that we somehow, we deserve mercy, but that God will not abandon us to ourselves.
There is more to this day than simply a “memorial”, more than a nostalgic brooding over people who once were with us. Our prayers this day are really an involvement in what these people are now growing into the company of the Father; human beings, children of God who need to hear from us, know that we are with them, and that we are learning from their example.
Think about what it is like to have a dear friend struggle with some personal challenge, something deeply involving, a real personal choice; the sort of thing you know you can’t fix for them. All you can do is stand back and prayerfully encourage, support and hope. You know they can do it and that they will do it and so your prayer is not fearful but hopeful, maybe a little lonely, but not without confidence.
This is what we are doing today, expressing our confidence that Jesus is not willing to lose anyone. And that because we have helped each other through a lot of purgatories already, we shall continue to do so as long as it takes.
November 1, 2007 at Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK
Revelation 7:2-4, 9-14 + Psalm 24 + 1 John 3: 1-3 + Matthew 5: 1-12
These Gospel verses could easily be published under a new title, and I can imagine the cover: it would be yellow with black print running diagonally across the page. If you are a browser of book stores, that image might make you think of a familiar cover design with many specific titles. This one would be: Sanctity for Dummies! That is all it really is – “A Smart Guide”, or “Sanctity Made Simple.”
It is a portrait of what we shall be when we finally decide to become what God has made us to become: poor in spirit…meek…and merciful; hungry and thirsty righteousness, clean of heart and makers of peace. “Lord, this is the people that longs to
see your face.” says our Psalm today. This is the people that want to be saints.
The more I have thought about this, and the more years I’ve celebrated this feast, I have begun to see something more here than that individualistic sanctity promoted by the Litany of the Saints and our tradition of great stories about extra ordinary heroism and courage. I’ve come to conclusion that becoming a saint by alone is no big deal.
It’s easy to be holy by yourself. Anybody can probably pull off a good “saint” routine if left alone. What really is remarkable is becoming a saint in a community, in a family, in a relationship. Now that is tough. It’s a whole new proposition when we work to live graciously with a community of people practicing the disciplines of fidelity, mercy, forgiveness and blessing those who mess with your life. The most creditable miracle I see these days is a community of Christians who assemble regularly, know themselves as the body of Christ, and suffer with one another patiently, kindly, and gently.
Perhaps the real movement to holiness and sanctity in our lives comes from learning to live together in peace with other flawed people. After all sanctity is not an accumulation of merit like frequent flier miles on a credit card. It is gift that comes to us in Baptism lived, celebrated, and acknowledged in a holy communion of lives that nourish, support, and encourage each other to become what God has created us to be.
This parable brings to a close the Journey to Jerusalem. One more time, Luke uses to very opposite characters to pull a reversal. One of these men has every right and reason to be there. The other because of his frequent contact with Romans and Gentiles ought not be there because of his uncleanness. None the less, there they are one in the front, one in the back. By now, we should not be surprised by the reversals so common in Luke’s Gospel!
The prayer of the Pharisee seems to be addressing God, but he’s really talking to himself. The pronoun “I” is repeated four times! He is the center of his prayer. He is more interested in the tax collector in back than in God. In contrast, just as with last week’s Judge and Widow, there in the back is the Pharisee’s opposite. He takes no note of anyone else, and his prayer acknowledges only a merciful God and his own unworthiness.
Now remember, the culture who first heard this parable would have totally identified with the good, pious, law-abiding Pharisee. For those first listeners, this is a stunning reversal as Jesus concludes the story scorning the good guy and praising the bad guy. This story turns everything upside down.
But maybe there is more here than we know. Just suppose on the way to the Temple that morning the Pharisee took groceries to a family where no one had a job, stopped to see someone recently left alone by the death of a spouse, and picked up a street person and took them to a shelter, leaving some cash to help feed them. Suppose at the same time,
the Publican on his way to the temple evicted a single parent from some of his rental property because they were late on rent, had a huge breakfast and left no tip after being rude and demanding to the server,
and on the way into the Temple dropped in only some loose change from his pocket at the offering plate.
With these considerations first impressions begin to fail, as well they should. The issue here is the comparison. This is that trap in the story that catches us by surprise and teaches us a lesson. It was a surprise for those who first heard this story from Jesus too. A surprise twist leaves us thinking
and that is the whole point of parable telling.
Where the prayer of the Pharisee goes wrong is not in thanking God or acknowledging what he has become by God’s grace; but in comparing himself to another. It is the word: “Like” that betrays something out of order. With that word, he crosses the line from gratitude to comparison. It is a subtle difference, but we know how it feels.
Suppose we could listen in to the prayers of some who are here this morning: “Thank God I am not like that one over there who sings off key.”
“Thank God I am not like that liberal who is destroying the church.” “Thank God I am not like those lazy people on welfare stealing my reluctant tax money.” You see, it is just like the Temple scene, For all his faults, the Publican at least has the integrity to look only at himself. He knew who he was. He never said, “I’m sorry I am not as good as or “like” the Pharisee.
It does not matter how we compare in the end. What matters is that we know ourselves and who we really are within. Because it is God who saves, and God is after us all. The Publican went home “justified.” Not because he went to the Temple, not because his prayer was better than someone else’s. He went home justified because he knew that he could not justify himself, and he was honest about his imperfect self. We have no idea where the Pharisee went. Perhaps he went on trying to justify himself or impress God further by other good deeds so that God might not let anything bad happen to him. That’s the way it often goes with that kind of prayer and attitude — a sort “Divine Bribery” that will see faith and prayer collapse if some tragedy occurs. They think, after all, “I’ve been so good. I’ve done so much. How could God do this to me?” Wrong thinking here. Jesus might well have had the same thoughts if His prayer and relationship to God had gone that way.
Our clue to the understanding of this parable comes in the First reading from Sirach. “The Lord is a God of justice, who knows no favorites……..
Who we are in the sight of God has nothing to do with anyone else.
God cannot, will not, and does compare us to one another.
A rich and wonderful parable comes to us as we near the end of the journey to Jerusalem. We get a vivid picture of two opposing characters.
It is easy to fall into pious stereotypes here: he judge is God, and the widow is you and me; or pray long enough and hard enough for anything, and you’ll get it.
There are some details here that will not allow that thinking. To begin with, the character of the judge is hardly a God-like figure. His own self-description will not bear that comparison. This judge does not act right. His internal dialogue reveals some very unpleasant things about him. The final incongruity is even a bit humorous. He’s a afraid of a black – eye! The word Luke uses for what the judge fears is a boxing term that refers to a black eye! In the end, this guy is really afraid of being found out. He is afraid of others seeing that a little old lady beat him up! What ultimately sways him is a consideration of what others will think. This is hardly God-like behavior.
Then, what about her? She is not the typical widow in Israel either. They are weak, powerless, helpless, and voiceless. They have no way to appeal to the law only men do that. She is anything but the stereotype of a widow. She is strong, steady, and a voice of justice that will not be silenced. So all those first glance expectations fail to lead us into the heart of this parable.
Remember, Luke is the Gospel of great reversals. So, turn it all around and something else starts to be revealed here. It is not about prayer or persistence in prayer. It is about Justice. The Judge is not a figure of God, the widow is. The parable is left open ended – leaving us to wrestle with its meaning. We would like to identify with the widow. It is a much more comfortable position and role, but I don’t think God will give up that position to us. When this parable is proclaimed in this age, we are the ones who in control of justice. We cannot trivialize this parable and its roles to ease our responsibility. Justice is in our hands, and we know only too well how it has been going. The powerful and the rich have access.
The voiceless are just that, and the poor rarely get the justice that is theirs.
It is not just a matter of legal justice either. It is a matter of access to education, to opportunities, to jobs, food and housing, health care, peace and security.
This story tells us about God. It reveals God’s insistence, persistence and God’s demands because God, this widow, and everyone like her are one and the same. God’s identity with the poor has not gone away since the beginning of the Incarnation in Bethlehem. When the widow is seen as a god-like figure, then the behavior of the widow becomes god-like behavior for a people of God.
There is also an important comment on the methods to be used in accomplishing a just end. The ludicrous image of a powerful judge hearing a seemingly helpless widow may be Jesus’ wry comment on the futility of resorting o violence in the work of justice. This message receives its fullest force in the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus. His seeming helplessness in the face of his executioners is transformed into the very defeat of the powers of sin and death. Followers of Jesus are invited to take up this same stance: to draw on the power of apparent weakness to overcome death-dealing powers.
Finally, do not forget that Luke is always the Gospel of Women. They figure prominently in every chapter. In a culture that measures power in terms of acquisition of wealth, this parable underscores the power of weakness. It shows that the initiative in seeking justice comes from the one who has been wronged, and her power is in raising her voice day after day after day. The parable portrays not violence, but persistence in naming and confronting injustice as the means to accomplish righteousness.
Further, she can encourage those who are intimidated at the enormity of the challenge in dismantling interlocking systems of racism, sexism, militarism, and economic imbalance. A seemingly helpless widow has more power than a corrupt judge.
When Jesus wonders aloud in the last verse of today’s Gospel if he will find faith on the earth at his return, the parable would lead us to think the “faith he longs for is really “justice.” Is he going to find it is the question this parable raises. For those of us responsible for Justice, there is a message here.
There is something about us all that always leads us to think that more is better and that what we have is not enough. That was the problem with the disciples in this Gospel story. These are the same disciples who when told to feed a crowd with five loaves and two fish insisted that they did not have enough. Instead of working with what they had, they thought they needed something from the outside: something more, something else, and something extra ordinary. But Jesus always sees more in his followers than they see in themselves and herein lies the message of this Gospel.
These disciples seem interested in quantity while Jesus is concerned with quality Very little faith is needed to accomplish extraordinary feats. There has been a great deal of interest and a lot of conversation in the media recently over some revelations about Mother Theresa and her confession of weak and struggling faith. What better example is there for this Gospel than the life of this little woman who thought she had doubts and weak faith?
Living in faith is about the obligation of service about the obligation that come with gifts. A believer is invited continually to move deeper and deeper into the being of the Giver, becoming what they are intended to be and doing what they are intended to do, making the power of that gift visible in their work and their being. This is what Jesus is teaching about here: the obligations of the one in service, not about the responsibilities of the one being served.
Getting the whole picture here challenges any idea of rewards and some kind of bonus for living as faithful disciples of Jesus. We are the ones to whom faith has been given. Therefore, we are the ones from whom faithful service is expected. We are sent to plow the field, tend the sheep and serve the table.
There are no special favors for those who fulfill their duty. There is no “extra credit” when the do what it is expected. This kind of thinking is foreign to the life in the Kingdom of God. We are simply being what we are meant to be and doing what they have been empowered to do by their faith.
The call to faith that Christ gives to us in these readings is not a promise of a life made free of challenges, obstacles, and burdens by the power of God. It is not a promise of life that always makes sense that is always marked by clear purpose and satisfaction. Rather, it is a call to keep at it, even when there is mystery, even when life does not make sense. It is a promise that precisely in that perseverance is the power of God. The power of God, after all, doesn’t always have to feel divine in order to be so. Faith works. It eases burdens, overcomes challenges, it gives life. Faith works, and often enough it is really the only thing that does. “Faith” in Scriptures really means something more like loyalty. Faith changes nothing outside of us. It changes everything inside of us. Faith is not about unaided human powers. It is about human abilities in league with divine intentions and activity. The astonishing power of Jesus is manifest not in spectacular displays of supernatural power, but in every act of forgiveness, healing, reconciliation, justice, and peacemaking this is far more impressive than transplanting trees into the sea!
This gospel gives hope to those who feel it is impossible to confront seemingly insurmountable obstacles posed by systems of injustice. People of faith who “stir into flame” the gifts God has given working together to eradicate those tangled roots of injustice, are doing exactly what they are commanded to do, no more, no less. It is by grace and by faith that such efforts can succeed.
It’s like this: We are under orders of God to bring about the Kingdom of God. Looking for rewards and thanks is not appropriate because it will continue the false idea that we are doing something beyond the ordinary and so have to be acknowledged and rewarded. We do not need more. We need confidence in what we have. What this simply means is: service as usual. If we do not know what we have, we cannot use it to make happen what we want to make happen. He kept telling people they had the tools to live in the Kingdom of God. Mustard sized faith is enough. Why do we always want more?
As the “Gospel of Radical Reversals” continues there are some disturbing revelations: The time before death is the time of repentance. The time after death is the time of consequences. Now Is that just a “matter of fact” statement that leaves you to shrug and say: Oh yeah, I know that?
Or is it a scare tactic that might mildly disturb two or three of the 1300 people who will be here this weekend? But we live with threats of danger these days, and the consequence of that is the hardening of our hearts It’s curious to me that one guy with explosives in his shoe can cause millions of people to walk through airport all over the world barefooted years after.
This parable story is not about the afterlife. What is said about the afterlife is said as a commentary on what is happening on this side of death. The point is: the way the world works is not the way God works. Our social arrangements are not in agreement with God’s plan or will. Looking upon riches as a blessing is wrong. We need to stop thinking that way. It is dangerous. Looking around at all that we have should make us shudder and wonder: “What for?” Riches are a responsibility, not a blessing. They carry with them the obligation of imitating God’s behavior which is seen in the after-life scene of the story.
The real plan of God is to rearrange the goods of the earth so that everyone shares in them. God’s will does not support inequality and getting that point is a serious move toward the Kingdom of God. Abraham (a God figure) thinks that the rich man should have known that all along.
What he is really saying to that rich man is: “What is it you don’t understand here?You lived a life of luxury. You ignored Moses and the prophets.You paid no attention to the needs of the poorwhile you knew they were there.In fact, you even knew his name!”Now you act surprised and want someone to go to your brothers.You still don’t get it!They are sitting in the same church (synagogue) you sat in.They hear the same readings and revelations of God’s will.You think that they need something more spectacular.But that’s not the point.If like you they pay no attention to the Word of God,they will not pay attention to someone who comes from the dead.The problem is not that they don’t know.The problem is they know and yet do not care.They live with hard hearts and drink their wine.Nothing gets to them, and their self-imposed isolation is their destiny.”
My brothers and sisters; there are no excuses. Something more is not needed for us to change. There is enough already, unless it is a better understanding of God’s Word and Will. Bringing Abraham and Lazarus together is our goal and our mission. Translating this spiritual truth into social behavior is what we are doing as disciples of Jesus and why we are here.
On one side of the door, a rich person feasts. On the other side of the door, Lazarus starves. Who holds the key? Remember, doors are locked from the inside.
As I sat for several days with these verses from Luke 16, the G-8 Summit was concluding in Australia, and the media was highlighting international concern for the earth. Global warming seemed to weave its way in and out of every other issue. While there are some who insist the whole matter
is simply a media event, there are others who prefer to believe that this is all just a matter of climate cycles; but they are growing fewer in number and a bit less insistent in the face of scientific facts and reports, and our growing realization that as usual, the biggest impact will be felt by the most helpless and poorest of peoples. The statistics are staggering and disturbing. Most disturbing of all to me is that the underlying cause of global warming is the cooling of the human heart. What else can account for the squandering of an environment that belongs to every living being. What else can account for our apathy toward the well-being of others. Even scientists are beginning to speak about a “moral obligation” to care for the earth. If scientists are concerned about the morality of human decisions, how much more should disciple of Jesus Christ have this concern for practicing good stewardship not only of the earth, but for all who live on it. These good stewards would be the “children of light” spoken of in this Gospel.
The complexity of this parable makes it difficult to be absolutely certain as to what specific point Jesus is making. The reversals are surprising. The ending is incomplete since we have no idea how things work out for this steward or for the “master.” The parallel between Jesus and his works of mercy and this debt-reducing steward is interesting; but this dodges the issues of Stewardship that emerge boldly from this text. How Jesus used the parable is not clear. What Luke was doing with the parable is complex. What we do with it is another thing altogether. Spoken in this community in the early fall of 2007, the parable raises some troubling issues as we hear of a shrewd steward who chose to serve his own needs rather than the interests of his employer.
Proclaimed here and now, this parable is story about us, busy resourceful stewards whose track record in terms of the resources we have at hand isn’t anything to brag about; and God the master who may at any moment decide to call for an audit. We are beginning to wake up to the fact that some of our resources are not unlimited, and the supplies are running low. We like to talk these days about “rights”, and usually about our own. We talk about the right to life, but we too often limit that to questions of reproduction, war, or capital punishment. There is also a right to eat, to be clothed, to be sheltered,
and to be nourished by the beauty of this world of which we are a part. We don’t seem to ask any questions about how much and what quality of food we have a right to when others do not eat. How many changes of clothing do we need when others who have a right to be clothed go naked? How big a home do we have a right to when there more of us with no homes on this earth?
Our consumer society suggests we have a right to everything we can earn. But is that true? Our religious tradition raises some objection to this thinking and the behavior that comes from it. In a world of limited resources, how much do we have a right to?
The man in today’s reading is not condemned because of his economic privilege but because he used it only for his own advantage. Children of the Light are more than insatiable consumers. Our value is not found in the measure of our possessions. It is in the quality of our relationships, in particular in our relationships with our deprived brothers and sisters.
We are not called to disown the world because this world is where we belong right now. We are called to live in it gently, using what we need and sharing all we can. We are after all only stewards of the things we have. We will take none of it with us into the next life. We have not earned anything, because we did not call ourselves into this life nor give ourselves any of the opportunities that have come our way.
For the second Sunday in a row, the word “squander” appears in the Gospel. Last week an inheritance was squandered. This week the Master’s property is squandered. Both men ask the same question which perhaps we might ask ourselves: “What shall I do?”
Often called the “Gospel of Great Reversals”, Luke’s Gospel stays true to form today. The liturgy’s first reading gives us the clue that unfolds the virtue of discipleship we ponder at this stop on the way to Jerusalem. Getting closer to the end, Jesus gets more intense, more pointed, more specific, and perhaps now raises the virtues that are most important.
It’s about humility today; that virtue we love to admire in others and struggle to find in ourselves. Perhaps the problem is that we so continually avoid truth. We love to fool ourselves, and the more we hide the truth from others, the more comfortable and safer often feel. That behavior is obvious from the highest levels of government to the simplest family homes. In fact, it probably would never be tolerated at the level of government if we were not already so skilled at hiding the truth at home.
Privacy is getting to be such a big thing with us that I couldn’t even find you in a hospital if you called for me and I misspelled your name at the information desk. We will not practice this virtue by denying the truth. The gifts we have are all real. Truth demands that we recognize the giver of those gifts. That truth demands that we put those gifts at the service of others not for what we might gain; but rather for the sake of those others
and the glory of the one who has given.
So the first place to look for the perfect example of humility is God. After all, what is “virtue” except the clearest reflection of divine life and divine qualities. The Son of God is the human example of the divine virtue of humility. He refused to cling to his divine status. He set aside every right and every shred of dignity. He humbled himself to the point of washing the feet of an ambitious, not too dependable group who followed him seeking glory, power, and influence. Finally, that action led to the greater act of humility: his death on a cross.
We gather here week after week under that reminder of humility with the expectation that our own minds will be open to the possibility of such humility toward one another. To do so will put us at odds with worldly wisdom which encourages ambition and assertiveness. I am beginning to understand this better and better in the latter half of my life, and I am beginning to see how important it is for younger people to learn this virtue early in life, and thereby saving themselves a lot of humiliation, disappointment, and failure. Humility is always about truth: the truth that what most people seem to be admired for is not really very admirable; the truth that what most people look to for satisfaction is not really very satisfying. What is truly admirable is to be less concerned about being admired. What is truly satisfying is to forego one’s own satisfaction and try to satisfy the needs of others.
Toward the end of this Gospel parable, Jesus suggests where we might go to encounter the presence of God. To the lowest place among the least is where we go. To the poor, the weak, the crippled, the blind and outcast: who according to Luke at the Blessed ones, not you and me. They are the gifted, for they are a gift to us by most closely taking on the image of Christ. These are the ones who will bless and gift us, not the other way around. This kind of thinking takes us deeply into the mystery revealed in the Gospel of Great Reversals. What Luke suggests is that more is required than a check in the mail or a hand-out. Hospitality is the exercise of this virtue and in the ancient language of this Gospel, Hospitality means “love of a stranger.” This is a big challenge to us in an age of boarder security and vicious immigration laws. When we keep the needy, the poor, the helpless away from us, we may be doing more than we think, and we shall be far from the truth and a long way from being humble.
It is important to notice that these words are addressed not to the disciples who have been information along the way to Jerusalem; but to “the people” who are following along. As I said last week, the journey is near the end. There is a sense of heightened intensity. If anyone in that crowd is even thinking of discipleship as a way of life, Jesus makes it clear that anytime requirements of allegiance to Jesus collide with any other loyalties or commitments, God’s royal right to rule prevails.
A shift of loyalties is a mark of discipleship. Blood lines and that kind of family relationship is not as important for true disciples. There is a new family found in the company of those who do the will of God.
The call to carry one’s cross is not counsel to put up with life’s problems. It is a wake-up call to would-be disciples, that their lives will know the same rejection, mockery, abandonment, misunderstanding, and humiliation that simply goes with discipleship.
To make certain that we understand that this message is directed to us, Luke uses two parables about people like us: people with resources, people rich, like us here in Norman. He would have us understand that entering into the community of disciples is not like joining a health club or a country club. This is not an entertainment complex, where we gather when we feel like it. This assembly does not come together to feel good
nor have our comfortable lifestyles affirmed. The demands of Jesus cannot and must not be spiritualized away. They are real, concrete, specific, and hard. It means: to be a disciple of Jesus you must be willing to let go of what you value the most. Then he gives three examples; familial connections which for many probably mean power and security;
possession which may or may not be material goods; and one’s own life which may well mean one’s lifestyle with all of its comforts, pleasures, distractions, and entertainments.
For you and me, this Gospel boils down to this: If we want to take Jesus seriously instead of just tagging along, it’s going to take DESIRE. It cannot come from a desire to look good, feel good, or even a desire to save our souls. It simply must come from love. We will have to love Jesus more than anyone else or anything else, and that kind of love will make any sacrifice seems easy. It is also going to require KNOWLEDGE. We have to know what we are getting into, So, it means a little study, a lot of listening, some planning, and a thirst of knowledge.
It is also going to take COMMITMENT. No quitting when it gets tough, no whining, no going back is allowed.
So, at this point in the journey to Jerusalem, we might decide, calculate, or make up our minds if we want to go on. What’s it going to be for us?
A couple of weeks ago, when I settled down with this Gospel reading, my first thought was to focus on the first two of the three parables. After all, we heard the third parable on a Sunday this past Lent. It also struck me that using the shorter option for the Gospel would jolt Deacon Byron since he knows without my sayings that I always prefer the longer option. You can never get enough of a good thing, even the Good News! Then some time passed and I continued to look at the whole text and consider who was being addressed with these parables. It is the good son. It is the Scribes and Pharisees, the good law abiding, faithful ones who are being told these stories. It is you and me, the people who made Mass attendance the priority of the weekend who are hearing this message. So, I decided we had better keep it all together and not skip the last story which brings it all home.
Back away from the specific details for a minute, and these parables start to talk about the “in” group and the “out group. That is how Chapter Fifteen starts, and that is how it ends. There is an “in group” who are usually at the table and welcome. There is an “out group” not so welcome or sometimes absent. In this biblical language, there are tax collectors and sinners: they are the “out group.” Then there are the righteous: (Scribes and Pharisees or the good son) who are the “in group.” Isn’t that the way it is most of the time in our lives. Whether it’s an issue of ideology, politics, religion, race, language, culture, or simply who sits where in the school cafeteria. We have our “in groups” and “the others.”
The Jesus of this Gospel confronts that business. God did not make things this way at the beginning. This kind of dis-unity is not in the divine plan of things, and Jesus has come to restore what is lost, heal what is broken, and unite what is divided. God’s will is Unity.
Think about the numbers in this chapter for just a minute. One Hundred is a whole number and so is ten. The numbers in ancient writings are often symbolic and the use of them reinforces images and the message. The flock has 100 sheep: but one is missing. Something is wrong here. There are ten coins; but one gets lost. The Shepherd must have that wholeness.
The unity must be restored no matter what the cost. The woman must have the whole set of ten. so everything stops until it gets back together.
What unites them is joy from the realization that things are the way they were meant to be. Creation is fulfilled. God’s will is satisfied. Things are good.
In the face of this however, something in our age makes us shrug and scoff at such insistence on wholeness. Our practical minds make no sense of looking for one when you have 99 or think it silly to waste precious oil to find one coin when you still have 9. Lighting the oil lamp probably cost more than the value of the coin! An imperfect world has made us too comfortable with imperfection. We’ve just decided that loss is inevitable, and we don’t bother about it. The truth of loss has impressed us too much and taught us to accommodate too quickly. We have become numb to the pain of missing what was once part of our identity. We accept this as the normal way of things, but Jesus is not so resigned. He does not settle for this, and neither should we.
Into this comes parable three and a contrast of behavior in the face of loss. We have a choice in the face of our losses: anxious hope waiting for a reunion and wanting to miss no opportunity for it; or a smug and arrogant dismissal that just accepts the broken way things are without any desire to make it otherwise. There is nothing more crushing than simply writing someone off with the comment: “They’ll always be that way.” Nothing more hopeless than opting out of life by simply declaring: “That’s just the way it is.”
Jesus was not so resigned, and neither may his disciples be. If God desires unity, so must we. Until we do, there will be no Joy and no celebration that affirms the victory of God’s Royal Reign. If the finding of one makes the ninety-nine and the nine whole, then it is not just the good fortune of a shepherd or a woman. We must all gather. When sheep and coins are together neighbors and friends are brought in. Getting back what we have lost is our project. Those who are “out” must be brought “in”. It is the only way; it is God’s way and God’s plan for creation. Scribes and Pharisees couldn’t get it. Too worried about being or staying part of the “in group” they never reached out or made room for others. It cannot be so for us.