From Tears to Joy

                     

John 20:1-18                       

Easter Sunday 

31 March 2013

Elizabeth M. Deibert

If you were here on Friday, you felt the anguish of Jesus’ prayer in the garden of Gethsemane, the pain of Judas’ betrayal, the angst of Peter’s denial, the fear of the authorities and the reckless judgment of the crowd against Jesus.   You felt the forgiveness offered on the cross to the criminal, and the sadness and pain of the only innocent One ever being condemned to die.   We can all endure Good Friday each year, because we know Sunday’s coming.   

We look around our world and see lots of Fridays.   We see people struggling with life, with relationships, with addictions, with work, struggling to make it.   We see people suffering and dying.  We see nations in perpetual conflict, and communities wracked with violence and despair.  Fridays everywhere.  We can make it through Friday’s death and Saturday’s grief and uncertainty, because we know Sunday is on the way.   It’s time now to hear the Sunday story, the story that gives Sunday its meaning, the day of resurrection.   This story is the reason Christians meet on Sunday for worship.   We gather to hear the good news of life every Sunday, but especially this Sunday, we come to hear the particular story of a dead Christ now alive by the power of God.  Because he lives, we can face tomorrow.   Hear this amazing story once again for the first time.

John 20:1-18

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb.

2 So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him."

3 Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb.

4 The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first.

5 He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in.

6 Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there,

7 and the cloth that had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself.

8 Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed;

9 for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead.

10 Then the disciples returned to their homes.

11 But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb;

12 and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet.

13 They said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him."

14 When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus.

15 Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?" Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away."

16 Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabbouni!" (which means Teacher).

17 Jesus said to her, "Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'"

18 Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord"; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

 

I’ll never forget the first time I attended a funeral.  I was about ten years old and I was mortified by seeing the dead body in an open casket, even though I had little relationship with the person who died.    I supposed it would be worse to be expecting to see a dead body and find it has disappeared.   As soon as she saw the stone rolled away, Mary assumed Jesus’ body was taken.   Are you going to look inside Mary?   No, she ran tell Peter and John.   She’s not expecting good news.   She tells them someone has taken Jesus’ body.   Don’t we women always assume the worst?  

 

Then the foot race begins – aren’t the men always competing?   Who’s the greatest?  Who has the right answer?  Who’s the fastest to the tomb?   The Beloved Disciple (was it John?  Was it Lazarus?) Well, he got there first among the guys, but let’s be clear:  Mary was first.   And that the Gospels all give the women credit for being there first is just amazing.   The disciples see the empty linens and according to the text, the Beloved Disciple believes, even though they don’t really understand what has happened.

 

The disciples went back to their homes, but Mary remained – crying, inconsolable.  So Mary lingers, crying.   Do angels appear because she’s crying?   Does suffering bring angels?   Sometimes grief helps us to see what we needed to see, but it is only in retrospect that we realize this.

 

Did the men not see angels because they were in a hurry?    The angels ask the obvious question, “Why are you weeping?”  Mary speaks to the angels as if they are ordinary humans, “They’ve taken my Lord away, and I don’t know where they have laid him.”   Maybe we should ask ourselves: Do we recognize the angels in our midst, or do we like Mary assume the ordinary?  Oh, what we might see if our eyes were really open to all God is doing!    

 

And see what happens when those serving God give us opportunities to express our anger or our grief?   Mary expresses her grave concern to the angels and then immediately she sees Jesus, who has been there all along, but only now is she seeing him.   But she does not yet know who he is.  How can that be?   But it is not the only Resurrection narrative in which Jesus’ identity is not immediately clear. 

 

The same thing happens on the walk to Emmaus.   It happens with Doubting Thomas who needs to touch to see and believe.  How could Mary not realize who the gardener really is?   She even accuses him – “if you have taken him away, tell me where!”   And that’s when he calls her by name, and she suddenly knows.

Notice how subtle the whole encounter is.  Jesus does not come bursting out of the tomb announcing, “Hey, I’m alive.  Look over here.  See, God raised me from the dead.  Believe in me.  I’m the Savior of the world.”  That’s would be the kind of Christian evangelist who is a turn-off to all of us.  No, the Risen Christ is more tender and careful than that.  And the living Spirit of God in this life of ours is more soft spoken and subtle.  Most of us have had no earthquake or blinding lights, no booming voice from heaven saying “Believe in me”   But we do have a Savior speaking to us.   We have him asking us, “What’s wrong?   Whom are you seeking?”   

If only we can linger long enough to realize that he is there.   He was always there, but we do not always see him.   And then when we see him, as Mary did, we cannot cling to him.  (slide) He is too magnificent, too amazing to be held by our hands, our hearts, our minds.   We want to cling to him and think he’s on our side of a debate.  We want to cling to him to reassure ourselves with certainty rather than living with the mystery that faith requires.  

 

To those who doubt, Christ says, what we will read next week “Here see and touch.”  “Peace be with you.  Feel the love right here and now.”  Those who cannot see through their tears or their frustration Christ calls by name so that they recognize he is there.  To those who are clinging to him, needing certainty and too much control, he says, “Let go.  You cannot hold me.  I am not yours to possess.”  He is transforming death into life – something so large that he cannot be held.   In the same way, Christ eludes us, when we think we are in need of a certainty that is less than faith.   Christ has more to do than we can imagine or think.   He cannot be held.

 

He is ascending relationally, taking all of our humanity into the fullness of the Triune God (who is his Papa and ours) to complete the transformation of our tears into joy, our sin into salvation, our death into life.

 

Death still exists but it has been forever changed by the life which Christ gives us in his resurrection.  Jesus lives.  He lives as God with us, touching all of human life with the presence of God, and he lives as one of us with God, carrying our sin and death into God’s being where it is forever changed from a power that destroys life to a power that by suffering and grace begins a new life, like the seed which falls into the earth and dies before it sprouts up green.   This life-giving power of Christ calls us to a new way of seeing and being.  Our tears are turned to joy, our death leads to new life, and despite our sin, we are saved by grace so we may be renewed by the transforming of our minds day-by-day.  Whether we have another day to live or another fifty years on this earth, it is nothing compared to the eternity we will spend with God.   So let us begin now to sing Hallelujah forever and ever…Until we see God face to face and our praise will truly be forever and ever.

Shouting Stones

 

Luke 19:28-40 

Palm Sunday

24 March 2013

Elizabeth M. Deibert                    

Eternal God,whose word silences the shouts of the mighty:
Quiet within us every voice but your own. Speak to us through your Holy Spirit that we may receive grace to show Christ's love in lives given to your service. Amen.

All four Gospels record the story of Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem. You know what is unique about Luke’s story?   The promise of talking rocks.  It is a detail that has fascinated me from the first time I ever noticed it. The good news about Jesus must get out one way or another.  What a challenge to the know-it-all Pharisees. “If the disciples won’t proclaim Jesus’ Lordship, the stones will.”   Stones don’t cry out just for anybody.    I could pinch this stone and try to get it to speak for me.    I could drop it on the ground or pound it against the other rocks, but you know, I doubt I’m going to get any of them to say “You are blessed.”   But the guy who comes into Jerusalem is no mere human being.    He is the eternal Christ, the One whom John said was in the beginning with God.  This is the Creator of the heavens and the earth in human form, our Redeemer, our Sustainer, our Savior.   And what is about to happen in his death and resurrection, will forever changes the world.    So the trees will clap their hands.  The stones will shout.   The people, even the ones who did not really know him, will wave their branches and lay their cloaks on the road.   They are convinced he is a King.   They just don’t know what kind yet.    This is not the muscular, egotistical, macho, power-hungry King.   This is the God willing to give up everything to empower us, the sacrificial, willing to submit God, who shows us power in the form of weakness.  This is the God who gives birth to life itself by suffering unto death.   Let us hear the Gospel Lesson from Luke:

NRS Luke 19:28 After he had said this, he went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. 29 When he had

come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the

disciples, 30 saying, "Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there

a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. 31 If anyone asks you, 'Why are you

untying it?' just say this, 'The Lord needs it.'" 32 So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. 33 As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, "Why are you untying the colt?"

34 They said, "The Lord needs it." 35 Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. 36 As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. 37 As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, 38 saying, "Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!   Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!" 39 Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, "Teacher, order your disciples to stop." 40 He answered, "I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out." 41 As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, 42 saying “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace!   But now they are hidden from your eyes.”

 I started following Jesus in Jericho, my hometown, about a week before he died.  You see, I had this horrible cheating tax collector living near me. Zacchaeus.  Everyone hated him. Short little Zacchaeus, who was never short when it came to money, because he took all of ours. But the day Jesus came to his house, everything changed. Zacchaeus paid us all back four times as much as he had stolen from us. I figured if Jesus could change horrible Zacchaeus then he was someone worth following. His teaching amazed me. His love compelled me. We traveled from Jericho to Jerusalem.

Some of his closest disciples said he should not enter Jerusalem.  They told him that there were people plotting to kill him. I thought Jesus might sneak in the dark of night, but he didn’t seem afraid, just deep in thought, heavy-hearted, and pensive.   He asked a couple of the men to secure a donkey for him. He rode into the city on that donkey, which of course, reminded all of us Jews of that verse from the prophet Zechariah, “Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” (Zechariah 9:9)

So as he rode into the city along the path a king would take, we tossed down our

cloaks, some waved palm branches, and everyone began to celebrate all the

wonders we had seen our Lord perform. We got louder and louder, chanting,

“Blessed is the king” “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”

People who didn’t know us started looking strangely at us. Some people joined in

the parade. Others frowned.   But we did not stop.

 

“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord. Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven.”   Someone told me while we were chanting those words, that when Jesus was born, the angels said those very words to a group of shepherds, who found him with his parents in Bethlehem.  Someone said the angels sang, “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest heaven.”  He came into Jerusalem peacefully. All of us came peacefully. But the Pharisees were angry with us for chanting those words from Psalm 118 – “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord.” The Pharisees didn’t approve of anyone else’s authority in religious matters. I understand Jesus had challenged them on several occasions, and he did again that day.

They were our authorities.   Nobody challenged them. He had the audacity to say to them that if we didn’t cry out, the stones would shout.   After that he sat down and looked at the city and wept, saying “If you, even you , had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes.” Then he went into the temple and began to drive out those who were selling things and accused them of robbery. All week long he taught in the temple. We hung on every word, but we could see how upset the chief priests and the scribes were getting. Every time the leaders and elders of the people would try to trap Jesus with a question, he would turn it around on them.  Not only did he beat them at their own game, but he spoke out against the scribes for their hypocrisy – for saying long prayers in public and not caring for the poor widows.   He was unlike any man I had ever known.   

I knew Jesus was really in trouble with the authorities when he started talking

about the temple and even the city of Jerusalem itself being destroyed. Yet he

spoke with such power I was convinced that he could overtake the temple and the city.    He could do it.   He would be our new king. We had longed for the true King, the descendant of David, who would restore peace to our land.   You could feel that long-for peace in your bones whenever you were around him.

Then Thursday night, the night of the Passover, everything changed. We went to a

large upper room, Jesus and the twelve were around the table. Others of us were

standing in the room.   He shared the bread and the wine as if he were giving his own body to us. He mentioned things about death and betrayal and denial, but we could not imagine it. Some of the twelve argued about who was greatest and Jesus declared that the greatest is the servant of all. Wow, that caught us by surprised because we were so caught up in his power, his authority. We were eager to serve him and be members of his council. I figured Peter and John would be on his right hand and left, in the positions of greatest power. But he seemed to be talking about a different kind of power.

We followed him out to the Mount of Olives but he went into the garden alone

with just two or three disciples close by. I think Jesus was upset. He was praying

and then they came to arrest him. Judas had given him away. Some of the

disciples resisted the soldiers but Jesus even healed the ear of one who came to

take him; Jesus was still teaching as he went but he went peacefully.   That night as I tried to sleep, I kept waking to an eery noise in the street. We were all silent.   

No one, not even Peter, who had always been ready to follow and to speak up, was daring to whisper “Blessed is the King” as we had just a few days before. We were scared – every one of us. We didn’t know what they were going to do with Jesus. Why was he not fighting against them? He could free himself if he wanted to, but he was taking their insults as if he deserved them. He did not deserve any such thing! I have never seen anyone so kind, so loving, so incredibly powerful and peaceful, so strong yet so submissive.  Surely no one would harm this man. Something about his humility reminded me of the suffering servant in the book of Isaiah, “He was despised and rejected...yet he did not open his mouth.”

But they were taking him away from us and threatening to kill him and I heard

Peter even deny that he knew Jesus. Peter, of all people! That’s when I knew I

must watch out. If Peter would not admit he knew Jesus, I wasn’t going to take

my chances.

 

I know you think we were cowards, but honestly, we did not know what would happen to us.   I’m not sure you comfortable 21st century people can understand this kind of danger, but you’ll take me at my word, “It was a night of terror.”  I kept waking that Thursday night to a strange noise in the street. I would get up and look around but no one was there.

And then I’d hear it again. In the silence of that dark, dark night, a low rumble was coming from the street. It was as if the stones themselves were crying out.   

Maybe there are times when you are quiet, when you are not sure what the future holds, when you think your dreams are dashed….But then you hear in the dark of night, you hear in the risk and worry of the moment, you hear the still small voice of the Spirit of Christ speaking to you, reassuring you of the truth.  

Do you hear it?   Do you hear that rumble.  Do you hear the stones?   If we do not say who he is, if we will not celebrate the goodness of the Triune God and announce who is the One who gave birth to all creation and came to save us, and promised never to leave us alone, then the truth will rise from the depths of the earth, the rocks cannot hold it in.   “Christ is the One who came …”

Eyes on the Prize

 

5th Sunday of  Lent

Philippians 3:4b-14                   

17 March 2013

Elizabeth M. Deibert                   

We are coming near the end of Lent, a season of struggle, of challenge.   If you haven’t challenged yourself much this season of Lent, I hope you will at least work on it between now and Easter.   Two weeks.  Press on, get with the program.   Put some muscle, some effort, some devotion into your Christian life.  Commit to more prayer, more scripture study, more sacrifice for others, more fruit of the Spirit in your life.  Keep your eyes on the prize.  If life is throwing you some hard punches, keep your eyes on the prize. This Christian faith is not just about feeling good; it is about being changed, transformed into Christ-likeness.   Whatever you are going through is an opportunity for growth.

And I don’t know about you, but I am not so much like Christ.   I need more than a few minor adjustments.   No, when my eyes are not on the prize, they are getting distracted by many things, usually self-serving things.   Following Christ is tough work, like scaling a mountain when you barely can walk.   But we have help.   We have the power of Christ’s Spirit at work in us.   We have the mutual encouragement of one another, especially when together we take this Christian life seriously.  But that means faith more than skin-deep, more than a cross around my neck, more than showing up for worship once a week because we like the people here.   

No, if we’ve learned anything at Peace, it is that the journey has its curves and twists.  But the journey is worth the struggle because of the joy set before us.  We  will never give up, because we know God has a good plan for us.  No matter how hard it gets, we’re pressing on.   Whether you’re in prisons of your own making or whether life has thrown some curve balls at you, never stop moving forward toward Christ.   

Let us pray using another portion of St Patrick’s Breastplate Prayer:  May the strength of God pilot us, the power of God uphold us, the wisdom of God guide us, and the way of God lie before us.

If anyone else has reason to be confident in the flesh, I have more:  5 circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew born of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; 6 as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless. 7 Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ.  8 More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ   9 and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but one that comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God based on faith. 10 I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death,  11 if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.  12 Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own.  13 Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, 14 I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.   (NRSV)

Paul wrote this letter to the Philippians from prison, possibly in Rome.   When you read Acts 16, you also learn that Paul was at one time imprisoned in this town when a miracle occurred.   In this part of chapter 3, He is telling the Philippians that following Christ is all that really matters.    Everything that mattered so much before matters not at all anymore.

Scottish-born St Patrick had his conversion while he was taken as a work prisoner/ a slave for six years in Ireland.  He became the patron saint of Ireland for after escaping, returning to Britain, training for the ordained ministry and returning to Ireland for 40 years of sharing the Gospel.  In the civil rights era, MLK spent some time writing from prison.   A spiritual which came to me yesterday morning, became well known in the 60’s and 70’s.   Even people like Bruce Springsteen sang it.   The first couple of verses are about Paul’s imprisonment in Philippi with Silas.  

Before I sing it, I want you to practice one part with me.   Everytime I sing, “Hold on” please sing it back to me.   Hold on.  Hold on!  Keep your eyes on the prize, Hold on!   

Paul and Silas thought they were lost.  The dungeon shook and the chains fell off
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on (hold on)  

Hold on (hold on) Hold on (hold on).

Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on (hold on).

I got my hand on the gospel plow.  Won't take nothing for my journey now.
Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on.

Hold on (hold on) Hold on (hold on).

Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on (hold on).

The road is hard and the road is long.   Keep the faith and you’ll be strong.

Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on (hold on)

Hold on (hold on) Hold on (hold on).

Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on (hold on).

Keep your eyes on the prize, hold on.   Keep what is most important, most important.   Put your large rocks in the jar first and then all the little rocks can fit in the small spaces.   Keep your eyes on the prize.   

We tend to admire people who keep their eyes on the prize and succeed in their chosen field, especially if it is something athletic or entertaining or lucrative, even when their success comes at great loss of family stability, even creates idolatry, we admire people who succeed.    But Paul takes his worldly success and his heritage and throws it to the wind.   He calls it excrement.   He says the only thing that matters is following Christ.   My mother would not approve of my using that four letter word that starts with cr and ends with ap in a sermon, but Paul uses a Greek word to communicate just how worthless and even foul it is to put stock in our credentials, in our upbringing, in our success, in our wealth, in our strengths and abilities, in anything other than knowing Christ deeply and becoming more like him.  And knowing Christ mean identifying with him thoroughly.

And here’s the most scandalous part – identifying with Christ means suffering.   Oops, I didn’t sign up for that one, did you?   Paul says, 10 I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death,  11 if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead.

Even with all Paul has done to share the Gospel, to live sacrificially like Christ, he doesn’t consider that he has done enough.   He says, “Not that I’ve made already, but I press on to the heavenly calling.”   The trouble with most of us is our complacency.  Do we accept a cheap grace, like Dietrich Bonhoeffer challenged against?   Do we take for granted God’s amazing gifts?  

The interesting thing about the new life we have in Christ is that death was defeated, but not removed from our experience.   Christ died for us, but we still have to suffer and die ourselves.   We live in the hope of the resurrection, but not without the suffering and death.   We don’t get a pass on the suffering, but we get a new life that comes through our suffering.   In fact, the more we love like Christ, the more we bear the sufferings of others because of the love God has poured into our hearts.   But our suffering is not in vain, it has the potential to draw us closer to the One who suffers with us and raises us up in glory.   Hold on (hold on)   Keep your eyes on the prize hold on (hold on).  
 

St.  Patrick preached the Gospel in Ireland for forty years when he could have been living a comfortable life in Britain.   Patrick returned to the land, where he had been forced into slavery to share the good news he had discovered while enslaved.  Sometimes our hard times drive us to faith in Christ.  St. Patrick feared nothing, not even death, so complete was his trust in God, and of the importance of his mission.  He had learned as a teenager to trust God, so his courage was fortified by faith.  After years of living in poverty, traveling and enduring much suffering he supposedly died on March 17, in the late 5th Century.   

 

Our journeys of faith are not as dramatic as Paul’s or as Patrick’s or as Martin Luther King’s, but we too have been called to take our past, our credentials, our successes, our failures, and set them aside, so that we might strain forward to follow Christ, as God calls us.   We cannot spend all our time in this life’s journey looking in the rearview mirror.   Rearview mirrors are good for taking a glance, but if you look in them constantly, you will have an accident.

 

 We are to press on into the future, even when it is an uphill struggle, even when it seems like all odds are against us.   I have been inspired this week by stories of Presbyterian mission co-workers who have pressed on toward the high calling of Christ.   Shelvis and Nancy Smith-Mather, whom the senior highs heard at Montreat a couple of years ago,  serve in the Congo and were scheduled to come back to the States to give birth to their first born in the fall, but when their son was born prematurely, he nearly died.   Their dramatic story found its way to a morning news show on television.   The physicians, Les and Cindy Morgan, whom several of us heard speak this week, live in an extremely crowded and impoverished city in Bangladesh, where they practice medicine and teach Christian spiritual disciplines. The stories of their faith and their healing hands in dangerous places were truly inspiring this week.   The Trimble family (Doug and Margy and three kids) wrote to ask for our prayers for safety this week as there was considerable violence (burning of homes and churches) just seven miles from their home in Lahore, Pakistan.    We got a call from a Presbyterian missionary who has served in Kenya for twenty years.  I hope we can help her find a place to live with her 13 year-old daughter this fall.

When I consider all the worldly comforts and all the conveniences and all the safety these families have sacrificed, I am overwhelmed by their commitment to spread the good news of Christ’s healing love to dangerous places.   

The Gospel lesson which we did not read today is the story of Mary pouring precious perfume over the feet of Jesus and Judas complaining about the waste of money.  Judas was a rational, logical person.  Mary’s love for Christ was beyond rationality.   She ignored her duty to help her sister because she was hanging on every word that came from Jesus’ mouth.   Mary had her eyes on the prize and the prize was a whole-hearted devotion to Fairest Lord Jesus.   She might have sung, “Thee will I cherish.  Thee will I honor.   Thou my soul’s glory, joy, and crown.”

Lost and Found

4th Sunday of Lent
Luke 15
10 March 2013
Elizabeth M. Deibert     
              
It is ambitious to take on three parables. Given the difficulty of interpreting parables, one would be enough, two would be plenty, and three, well …but you know these three just belong together.   Three parables about losing.  Three parables about diligent seeking. Three parables about the celebration of finding.   They have always been favorites of mine, perhaps because losing and finding is a big part of my life.   My keys, my coffee mug, my cell phone.   I easily lose things.   I put them in strange places.   I can relate to the joy of finding.   But I also love the
way these parables teach us about the relentless searching of God for us, and the eagerness of God to rush out to welcome us home – no matter how lost or wasteful we’ve been.   

But before we read these parables, let’s consider for a moment the role of the parable in the Scriptures. Have you ever wondered why Jesus so frequently employs parables in his teaching? There must be simpler, more direct methods of communicating truth. Parables are not easily interpreted. They yield many levels of meaning. They catch the hearer by their “strangeness or vividness, yet leave sufficient doubt” about application to life (C.H. Dodd).   The parable puts a burden on the listener that is not purely intellectual. Parables are like poetry, lying somewhere between the opaque and the obvious, evoking meanings and feelings.
They are “somewhat elusive, revealing and yet concealing, always drawing the listener” into a familiar but different world (Fred Craddock). Jesus must have known that parables would intrigue his listeners. One scholar says, “The importance of the parable is in what it does as much as what it says” (Amos Wilder).  

So as we read this collection of parables from the fifteenth chapter of Luke, let your imagination take you into the world of the parable and discover not so much what it says but what it does.  Let us pray:   O Holy Spirit, use these parables to speak your truth to us, to change us, to bring us closer to our home in your embrace.

Hear the Word of the Lord in Luke’s gospel, chapter 15:

Luke 15:1-32 (NRSV)
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 Jesus 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.”

Then Jesus said, “There was a man who had two sons.  The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’
So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country,  and he began to be in need.  So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs.  He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were  eating; and no one gave him anything.  But when he came to himself he said,
`How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare,
but here I am dying of hunger!  I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.”  So he set off and went to his father.  But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion;  he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him.
Then the son said to him,
‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you;  I am no longer worthy to be called your son...’ But the father said to his slaves,  ‘Quickly!  Bring out a robe — and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet;  get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate!  For this son of mine was dead and is alive again!  He was lost and is found!’  And they began to celebrate.  Now the father’s elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing.  He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on.  He replied, ‘Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.’  Then the elder son became angry and refused to go in.  His father came out and began to plead with him.
But he answered his father, ‘Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes,
you killed the fatted calf for him!’ Then the father said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours.  But we had to celebrate and rejoice,
because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found!’”

The “Lost Sheep,” the “Lost Coin,” the “Prodigal (or Lost) Son.” Those are the names commonly used to designate the parables we just read. But I say to you that they are really the parables of the “Loving Shepherd” the “Determined Woman” and the “Forgiving Father.” Three parables of joy. Three parables that reassure. But to whom are they reassuring?  To the lost, of course. Only the lost are in need of being found. That is why all the tax collectors and sinners (all
the losers) were coming near to listen to Jesus. And the Pharisees and the scribes (all the ones who are arrogant enough to think they are not lost) were grumbling and saying, “This guy is friendly with the losers. He even eats with them.”

To whom did you most easily relate? Were you with Jesus, with the Pharisees, or with the sinners? With what identity did you hear the parables? Were you a lost sheep or one of the ninety-nine? Were you the prodigal or the child who dutifully stayed at home. Or did you hear the parables from the perspective of the good shepherd, the diligent woman, and the loving father?

The parable may be interpreted from the position of every person in the story. However, it seems to me that the prevailing point of view in the parables is that of the shepherd, the woman, and the father.  Jesus begins by asking, “Which one of you, having one hundred sheep ...?” He introduces the second parable with the question, “What woman having ten silver coins ...?” And the final, culminating parable, a favorite for so many people, begins with the words, “There was a man who had two sons.” It does not say, “There was a boy who squandered his father’s money and then came home to loving arms.” Nor does it say, “There was a guy who had always been obedient to his father and never asked for special privileges.” No, instead, we are asked, just by the way the parables are constructed, to ponder the faithful care of the shepherd, the searching concern of the woman, and the sacrificial love of the father.

First, let’s take the twin stories of the faithful shepherd and the diligent woman. They have similar details and together anticipate the more elaborate story of the loving father. There’s some irony in the first question raised by Jesus, because from the herding business’ point of view, it would be dumb to leave ninety-nine sheep in the wilderness while searching for a single lost one. Either the shepherd is foolish or the shepherd loves the lost sheep enough to risk everything,
including his own livelihood, in order to find it.

The parallel story of the diligent woman is only puzzling in so much as she throws a party to celebrate the recovery of her coin. The silver coin is perhaps equivalent to fifty dollars. There are many who would hunt energetically for that amount of money, but few who would invite all their friends and neighbors to a party.

The repeated phrase at the end of these two parables, “Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance”  must be an anticipation of the third and final parable. For we all know that neither the sheep nor the coin are capable of repentance. The sheep and the coin did not experience one bit of guilt over
straying from their master. All they did was get lost and stay lost until they were found.  Furthermore, the phrase “ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance” is strictly a rhetorical device Jesus uses against the scribes and Pharisees who misinterpret his association with the outcasts. The paradox is that there is no such thing as a righteous person who needs no repentance.
Ultimately, we come to the prodigal son, a beautifully crafted parable which is central to the message proclaimed by Jesus in the Gospel of Luke. As mentioned earlier, we begin with the father. His younger son asks for his inheritance.  According to Jewish custom, this would be one third of the property in the case of a younger son. Selling or trading the property before the death of the father was against the law.  The prodigal took, he lied, he sold, he left the country, he wasted all that he had. Having so much as declared his father dead and having squandered all his father’s wealth, he then forsook his own Jewish identity by taking a job working with swine.  To touch, eat, or care for unclean animals was to become like a Gentile. The carob pods which he would have gladly eaten were food eaten only by the very poor. This is no fun-loving boy out sowing his wild oats. His behavior is seriously offensive and desperate in the Jewish mind-set.

Then we are told that he came to himself. His first thought is not, “I’ve been bad. I must get my life straightened out.” What leads him to repentance is not guilt but remembering the goodness of life in his father’s house. There he recalls even the hired workers have more than enough to eat. Hungry for the bounty of his father’s house, he decides to return. He plans his confession and hopes that the father will be willing to take him on as a hired hand.  

But while he is still far off, his eagerly watching father sees him and is filled with
compassion. For the father to run to him is contrary to all custom; in the Near East, a mature man loses all dignity when he runs. But this father is so overcome by love that dignity is not a consideration. He throws his arms around his son and kisses him.   The son, having rehearsed his confession over and over on the long journey begins to say, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son...” But the father is so caught up by joy, he doesn’t seem interested in the penitence of the son. The recited confession goes unfinished because the forgiveness did not require it.  All the father needed was to see his hungry, hurting, lost son. That’s all it took to get him  running out, forsaking his dignity, forgetting any concern for discipline or teaching the wayward kid a lesson. There is no trial period, no probation. There is no condition placed upon the son for his father’s love. The father cannot help but love. He simply and wholeheartedly rejoices that his child has come home. He starts the celebration by honoring his son with a robe, a ring, and sandals. They kill the fatted calf, something that was only done for important festival days.  

The elder son comes in from a long day in the field. He is puzzled by the sound of music and dancing. It is easy to understand the anger felt by this loyal elder son. He cannot believe the fatted calf was killed to honor this loser brother of his. He refuses to go in to celebrate.  Just as the father goes out to meet his younger son in his lostness, the father goes out, removes himself from the party to meet his elder son in a different kind of lostness, rooted in resentment. Here we clearly see the offense of grace. The faithful, diligent first-born – like the scribes and Pharisees – wants to think he is worthy of his father’s love and that his brother is not.  He naturally thinks he deserves more from his father because of his loyalty and obedience.   Sometimes we are like the older brother, thinking that we deserve God’s love, while others do not.

It is not fair for his wayward, runaway brother to get a welcome home love feast. “I’ve been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; what have you given me?” And the father says, “I have given you everything I have. Don’t you see, my son, we must celebrate. Your brother was dead and has come to life. He was lost and has been found.” It is only in being lost that we may be found. It is only in dying that we truly live.  

Some preachers would conclude their sermon by harping on the importance of repentance or change of heart. But I say that “if we badger ourselves with the dismal notion that sinners must first forsake their sins before God will forgive them,” if we insist that the lost must somehow find themselves before the finder begins to look for them, then we violate the truth of these parables.   These stories about being lost and found speak to us of God’s determination to find us, to embrace us, to forgive us even before we repent.   And that is why we should be always turning toward home. There is no earning, no merit, no worthiness. There is only the gracious, saving determination of a shepherd, a woman, and a father to find what was lost and to rejoice.   God rejoices in you, every time you come back home and God runs out to greet you.