God's love surrounds us in forgiveness: 23rd after pentecost

The holy gospel according to Luke (18:9-14)

⁹Jesus also told this parable

      to some who trusted in themselves

            that they were righteous

            and regarded others with contempt:

         ¹⁰“Two men went up to the temple to pray,

            one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector.

            ¹¹The Pharisee, standing by himself,

                  was praying thus,

                        ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people:

                              thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.

                        ¹²I fast twice a week;

                        I give a tenth of all my income.’

            ¹³But the tax collector, standing far off,

                  would not even look up to heaven,

                        but was beating his breast and saying,

                              ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’

            ¹⁴I tell you, this man went down to his home

                  justified alongside the other;

                        for all who exalt themselves will be humbled,

                              and all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

The gospel of the Lord.

-----

Today’s gospel provides us with an interesting juxtaposition.  The tax collector, considered a traitor to his people as he profits off of them and supports the occupying Roman forces in his work, is set alongside the Pharisee, a leader of the people who does everything right—and then some.

Both the Pharisee and the tax collector are, as is often the case in Jesus’ parables, caricatures of their real-life counterparts.  The Pharisee is an over-the-top faithful one, adhering not only to the Torah, but adding a fuller tithe than was expected of him and fasting twice a week!  The tax collector himself would be a surprise to see in the Temple at all, considering the sentiment toward him as a sell-out to the Roman Empire.

Taken together, they give us insight into confession and forgiveness, an important part of our worship most Sundays.

After taking a moment to prepare our hearts and minds for worship and calling ourselves and each other into this particular worship, we together confess our sins.  We do this each week for a few reasons.

Confessing our sins—our shortfalls, the ways we fail to separate ourselves from oppressive systems in our culture, and the ways we succeed in separating ourselves from others in need—keeps us mindful that we live in an imperfect world.  As part of this, each week I do my best to make sure that we mess up at least once as a reminder that we are not perfect.  Usually I don’t have to work at all to achieve this—we’ll call it a natural talent ;-)

When we confess our sins during worship, it is a way of acknowledging that we are not perfect.  It also creates space for us, both individually in our moment for silent confession, and communally, to name the sins we carry with us.

We confess the prejudice we carry, that we can favor our own comfort or security more than the lives or well-being of others. 

We confess that we try to control others’ freedom.

      that we trust too much in violence to solve problems all over the world.

We confess that we give into the fear we have been taught to carry

      when we see others who are not like us.

We confess the ways we disparage others because of their race, religion, language, age, gender, or sexual orientation. 

We confess our resentments and regrets.

Confessing our sins as a group helps us know that we are not alone in falling short.  We all mess up.  Both our actions and our inactions work to separate us from others and from God.  Sin limits our experience of the Divine in our midst and in our relationships with others.  Like the tax collector, our sin impacts our whole community.  Jewish New Testament Scholar Amy-Jill Levine points out that the “concern for community responsibility [found in first century Palestinian culture] means that the sin of one person can negatively impact everyone else.”[1]  There are ripples from our sins just like there are from the tax collector’s support of an oppressive empire and the extra money he takes from his community, beyond what is required or sustainable.

And so confessing helps us recognize and turn from our sin to new and better ways of being in the world.  When we confess our sins, then we cry out with the tax collector. “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”  Confessing our sin even functions as a corrective so that we do not fall into the trap of the Pharisee and judge others as more sinful than us.  Because that’s not what it’s about.  It’s not a tit-for-tat game of who sinned more or worse.  We are all sinners, we are all caught up in systems of oppression, and we all act in ways that tear down ourselves and others.

And so we cry out for God’s mercy, God’s forgiveness, God’s love.  And God gladly and freely grants us forgiveness.  While confession and forgiveness do not erase what we’ve done or not done—we still have to face the natural consequences of our actions—through confession and forgiveness, God creates the space for us to try again, to do better.  That is part of the forgiveness in confession and forgiveness—the guarantee that God forgives you entirely and the call to do better in the future.

God’s love is so great that it covers us all, from the Pharisee, who, though he is righteous, falls into judging the other and trying to set himself too far apart, to the tax collector, whose job betrays his community and supports oppressive forces at work in the Roman empire. 

God’s love also calls to mind the ways we do God’s will—the ways God is at work through us, the ways we don’t totally mess up, the times when we are not “thieves, rogues, adulterers.”  Our sin ripples out, affecting many, but so does God’s love.  God’s love ripples out from each of us and its ripples are far greater than those of our sin.  As we receive God’s forgiveness, God’s love surrounds us and spreads outward like water breaking through a dam.

God’s love and forgiveness call to mind God’s covenantal relationship with us collectively as a community of faith—that we are in this together.  God’s love is for us altogether.  That is the joy and celebration in our response to forgiveness—that “this [one goes] down to [their] home justified alongside the other.”  We pray and confess together and we are justified together.

Our sins are forgiven, our good deeds lifted up, and in all of that, we rest in God’s love.  We take comfort in trusting that God’s love goes deeper than our worst shortfalls, our worst sins, our worst regrets, and God’s love lifts us up together higher than we could ever imagine or attempt to earn on our own. 

It is God’s love that binds us together in a covenant of forgiveness. 

It is God’s love that spreads from us throughout the world.

And it is God’s love that brings justice and peace into the world.

Thanks be to God.

---

[1] Short Stories by Jesus, p. 209

god gathers us in the margins: 21st after pentecost

The first reading was 2 Kings 5:1-15c.

The holy gospel according to Luke (17:11-19)

¹¹On the way to Jerusalem

      Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee.

            ¹²As he entered a village,

                  ten people who had leprosy approached him.

                  Keeping their distance,

                        ¹³they called out, saying,

                              “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”

                  ¹⁴When he saw them, he said to them,

                        “Go and show yourselves to the priests.”

                              And as they went, they were made clean.

                                    ¹⁵Then one of them,

                                          when he saw that he was healed,

                                                turned back,

                                                      praising God with a loud voice.

                                                ¹⁶He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him.

                                                      And he was a Samaritan.

                  ¹⁷Then Jesus asked,

                        “Were not ten made clean?

                              But the other nine, where are they?

                                    ¹⁸Was none of them found to return

                                          and give praise to God except this foreigner?”

                  ¹⁹Then Jesus said to the Samaritan,

                        “Get up and go on your way;

                              your faith has made you well.” [greek: your faith has saved you]

The gospel of the Lord.

-----

Today we encounter Jesus “going through the region between Samaria and Galilee,” on his way to Jerusalem where the cross awaits. In this space between, on the journey and not yet there, an encounter takes place.  Because where else but in the space between Samaria and Galilee would a Samaritan with leprosy spend time with 9 Jews with leprosy? 

So often we think about Jesus as the one who brings together disparate groups and forms community, but in today’s readings the disparate groups are already there and together.  The 10 people with leprosy gather together in this village. While in their culture, Jews and Samaritans would be enemies of the highest degree,                      because all 10 are outcast for their leprosy, they connect on a level otherwise impossible.

As they find themselves at the margins, in this village between places, the people with leprosy find some community, even as they seek the deeper healing Jesus will provide.

In our first reading as well, it is only when those who are foreign encounter each other that a path to healing is discovered.  Namaan is powerful. He is commander of King Aram’s army, which means not only power and authority, but also considerable wealth.

Unlike the people with leprosy in the gospel, Namaan has enough wealth and power that even his leprosy doesn’t earn him the role of outcast.  The leprosy still plagues Namaan, but it’s not until a young girl speaks up that Namaan finds hope for healing. The young girl, a foreigner to Namaan, since she was taken captive and enslaved during an Aramean raid in the land of Israel, is at the lowest of positions, serving those who captured her.  And yet she is the one to point Namaan to healing.

And so, in these spaces of encounter between estranged groups and even enemies, between foreigners and long-time inhabitants of the land, new experiences of the divine, chances for healing, take place. 

A couple of weeks ago we had our first bilingual dinner church.  We gathered as people who only spoke English, only spoke Spanish, and spoke some amount of both.  We were not enemies coming together, but we were people from different cultures and countries, different stations in life, and different languages gathering together.  We made food, ate, and talked together.  We drew pictures, showed pictures, made hand motions, and used translation apps on our fancy phones.

Y’all reached outside of your comfort zones.  You made intentional decisions to be ok sounding funny, making mistakes, and even being laughed at, because you would be laughing too.  These months that we, both collectively and individually, have gotten to know folks who work locally on the farms, have been exciting, and regular.

Like Namaan we have stretched ourselves and our expectations. We have learned a lot.  Sometimes the simplest things have worked the best.  As we have grown and gotten to know our neighbors, the foreigners in our midst, we have found life together.  Like our dinner church experience, it has been boisterous and full of laughter and good food.

This is the gift that God provides when we let down our guard, put away our “ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten sets of garments,” the markers of our status that can too often define us.  When we do this, we open ourselves up to God’s unexpected presence—discovering the simpler and smaller ways that God shows up.  When we reject our assumptions about the “right way” to do things—from worship to community, to language and even politics, God shows up and surprises us.

The holy moments surprise us in making food and cleaning up together, in wandering school halls during breaks in ESL classes, and in trying our hand at communicating and learning even with language barriers.  It is in these moments that the presence of the Divine becomes more palpable.

And it’s amazing the healing and wholeness that takes place.  In those shared spaces and moments of lowered walls, Jesus shows up and gives us another glimpse of community, of friendship, and of neighbors.  Jesus greets the people with leprosy and affirms the faith of the foreigner, the one despised by his own people.  Namaan’s healing comes from the foreigner in his midst, the young girl captured and enslaved, and yet she is the one who knows where God’s healing can be found.

God shows up      in the margins, the in between spaces. 

God shows up and upsets our expectations. 

God upsets our expectations and opens us to new life, community, and even healing. 

Jesus gathers community in new and powerful ways

and God will always gather us anew—

      today at Chicken and Biscuit dinner,

      Tuesday at sewing and ESL,

      and forever,

            because that’s what God does.

God acts for justice in the world: 19th after pentecost

The holy gospel according to Luke (16:19-31)

Jesus said:

¹⁹“There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen

      and who feasted sumptuously every day.

²⁰And some poor person, named Lazarus,

      was lying by his gates, covered with sores.

      ²¹He longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table;

            even the dogs would come and lick his sores.

²²The poor man died

      and was carried away by the angels

            into the bosom of Abraham.

The rich man also died

      and was buried.

      ²³In Hades, where he was being tormented,

            the rich man looked up and saw Abraham far away

                  with Lazarus in his bosom.

            ²⁴He called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me,

                  and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water

                        and cool my tongue;

                              for I am in agony in these flames.’

            ²⁵But Abraham said, ‘Child,

                  remember that during your lifetime you received your good things,

                  and Lazarus in like manner evil things;

                        but now he is comforted here,

                              and you are in agony.

                  ²⁶Besides all this,

                        between you and us a great chasm has been fixed,

                              so that those who might want to pass from here to you

                                    cannot do so,

                              and no one can cross from there to us.’

            ²⁷The rich man said, ‘Then, father,

                  I ask you to send Lazarus to my father’s house—

                        ²⁸for I have five brothers—

                              that he may warn them,

                                    so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’

            ²⁹Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets;

                  your brothers should listen to them.’

            ³⁰He said, ‘No, father Abraham;

                  but if someone goes to them from the dead,

                        they will repent.’

            ³¹Abraham said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets,

                  neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”

The gospel of the Lord.

-----

Throughout this summer, we’ve talked quite a bit as a community of faith about privilege, specifically white privilege, and racism.  Martha called us to reflect throughout our day-to-day interactions on the way a situation would be different if we weren’t white, helping us to understand more concretely what white privilege is.  Carrie encouraged us to reflect on the importance of welcoming immigrants and refugees.  And we have been working on deepening our relationships with the beloved children of God working at the local farms.

In Bible studies we’ve learned stories of immigrants and the struggles they face.  We’ve learned that there are levels of violence and the violence we see in the news is most often a result of structures set up so that people of color have fewer opportunities—less access to good jobs, economic stability, and quality education, all of which make it harder to live.

We’ve talked again and again about violence in this country and around the world.  We’ve talked about mass shootings and attacks.  We’ve talked about police killing people of color and police being shot.  And we are still talking.  This week, within a 24 hour time period, Terence Crutcher was killed by police and called a “bad dude” based on nothing but the view from the helicopter of him following instructions, all as a result of him having car trouble.  And Keith Lamont Scott was shot while waiting to pick his son up from school because police were “trying to apprehend an unrelated suspect.”[1]  And those are just the ones that make the news. 

There are more shootings and more details, but I want us to think on a bigger level.  Rather than getting caught up in the details of what could have been different or who should have done what, look at the picture of city after city after city in which people of color have been killed by police.

It’s in light of this reality that we encounter Lazarus and the rich man today.

The rich man is the picture of the most extreme wealth and privilege, expressed in unnecessary extravagance.  He wears the most expensive cloth, and linens of the type the priests wear only when they are serving in the Temple.  He dresses up soo nicely—to feast—to enjoy an abundance of food, drink, and entertainment day after day all for himself.  There is no mention of even a wife or children who might also feast.  Just him.

Likewise, Lazarus is the epitome of poverty.  Jewish New Testament scholar, Amy-Jill Levine points out that Lazarus is placed at the gate of a rich man in the hopes that the rich man would honor the Torah—the first 5 books of the Bible, ascribed to Moses—and the prophets, which call the people of God to care for the poor and the oppressed.  Lazarus is not only poor, but receives nothing from the rich man.  His sores, in need of medical attention, only receive care from the dogs that lick them.  The dogs know better how to follow Moses and the prophets than the rich man does.

Jesus makes both Lazarus and the rich man huge exaggerations of wealth and poverty, privilege and oppression.  This is no accident.  Because we, like the original hearers of the parable, are neither Lazarus nor the rich man—nor, for that matter, Abraham.  None of us here are obscenely wealthy and concerned only for ourselves, nor are any of us completely without privilege.  We can afford a roof over our heads, food and clothes, and maybe an extra coffee or treat occasionally.

So the question that Jesus’ parable poses is: if we are neither the rich man nor Lazarus, how do we interact with others, especially those who are not as well off as us?  Do we even recognize them?  Do we ignore them?  Do we welcome them in? Shoo them away? Join in their struggle?

This is what our conversations this summer especially have been about.  We have proclaimed that #BlackLivesMatter.  We have talked about privilege and what it means to live in this country as we hope it stands for freedom, even while we witness around us the epidemic of people of color not only being discriminated against and lacking the opportunities many of us benefit from, but even being killed by police.  We’ve talked about how to make this country live up to our high ideals.

But we are not the body of Christ just so we can use our mouths and ears, talking and listening.  We as the church are the body of Christ because God is active in the world.  We are the body of Christ because God works through us in the world.  We are mouths  and ears and eyes and feet and hands and hearts of Christ.  Together, the whole Church, all the people of God are the whole body of Christ for the sake of the whole world.

God’s justice, peace, and love is active in the world through us.  Today we are doing the prayers of the people differently from usual.  Instead of sharing joys and concerns and praying aloud as a group, we will have more contemplative options.

We will also have some more information about and pictures of Terence Crutcher and Keith Lamont Scott so that we can pray for their loved ones and all who are impacted by their deaths.  On the back table, along with origami paper to write out prayers will be a couple of sheets of ideas of what you can do to work against racism, a book list of books you can read and if you want, we can read together.  As well as some policies that you can advocate for with our elected representatives, both local and national and things that you can do in your daily lives to combat racism.

There are many different ways that we can show up, that we can care, that we can live out our callings as the body of Christ, caring for and with those who are being killed, and working against racism.  These are some ideas.  There are many others that are also important.  As we reflect on Lazarus and the rich man, on Terence and Keith and all whose lives have been taken from them and from their families, friends, and communities, we get to choose how we respond.  God’s love will be active in the world no matter what.  God will always be working for justice for those who are oppressed and marginalized.  God will always be reconciling the whole world.  How will you be a part of it?

---

[1] https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2016/sep/24/video-keith-scott-shooting-charlotte-police

Squandering wealth, praising God: 18th after pentecost

The holy gospel according to Luke (16:1-13)

Then Jesus said to the disciples,

      “There was a rich man who had a manager,

            and charges were brought to him

                  that this man was squandering his property.

            ²So the rich man summoned the manager and said to him,

                  ‘What is this that I hear about you?

                  Give me an accounting of your management,

                        because you cannot be my manager any longer.’

            ³Then the manager said to himself,

                  ‘What will I do,

                        now that my master is taking the position away from me?

                  I am not strong enough to dig,

                  and I am ashamed to beg.

                  ⁴I have decided what to do so that,

                        when I am dismissed as manager,

                              people may welcome me into their homes.’

            ⁵So, summoning his master’s debtors one by one,

                  he asked the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’

                  ⁶The debtor answered,

                        ‘A hundred jugs of olive oil.’

                  He said, ‘Take your bill,

                        sit down quickly,

                              and make it fifty.’

                  ⁷Then the manager asked another,

                        ‘And how much do you owe?’

                  That debtor replied,

                        ‘A hundred containers of wheat.’

                  He said, ‘Take your bill

                        and make it eighty.’

            ⁸And his master commended the dishonest manager

                  because he had acted shrewdly;

                        for the children of this age are more shrewd

                              in dealing with their own generation

                                    than are the children of light.

      ⁹And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth

            so that when it is gone,

                  they may welcome you into the eternal homes.

¹⁰“Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much;

      and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much.

            ¹¹If then you have not been faithful with the dishonest wealth,

                  who will entrust to you the true riches?

            ¹²And if you have not been faithful with what belongs to another,

                  who will give you what is your own?

      ¹³No slave can serve two masters;

            for a slave will either hate the one and love the other,

                  or be devoted to the one and despise the other.

                        You cannot serve God and wealth.”

The gospel of the Lord.

-----

There was a rich man, who had so much wealth that he couldn’t keep track of it on his own. In fact, he didn’t even know what was happening with it until someone told him his manager was squandering it.  So then, the manager of the wealth, who himself couldn’t keep track of it all, called the debtors together and before he could make deals, had to actually ask the debtors how much they even owed!

And all of this            is lifted up as an example by Jesus.

These men who clearly have more wealth than they need, are not so caught up in it that they count every single penny, holding it close to their heart.  In fact, the Greek verb for squander also means scatter—just as the farmer in an earlier parable who scatters seed without caring where it lands.  The manager is already scattering the rich man’s property, his wealth, without care about where it lands.

When he is called out on this and can tell that his access to wealth is quickly coming to an end, he is confronted with a couple options: 1-Labor he is not physically capable of doing, or 2-begging.  In considering these options, he has an epiphany of self-awareness.  Scattering and squandering wealth is all well and good when you have ready access to it, but he doesn’t have any relationships with anyone because of it.

Without access to that wealth, without his identity as the rich man’s manager, who is he?  Where does his value come from?  What does he want his priorities to become?

The manager’s realization is clear—relationships matter.  Relationships matter more than the wealth he is squandering.  So, he squanders more wealth for the sake of strengthening relationships with those who are in debt to the rich man.  The manager realizes that wealth, and access to it, is not—is never—the point.  At its best, it is a useful tool.  When scattered, it can strengthen our dependence on God and our relationship with others. 

Scattering wealth reminds us that our value comes not from the wealth we claim ownership of, but from God.  Holding wealth loosely reminds us that we are God’s beloved children, and that God brings us into relationship with each other to grow together.

When we hold wealth loosely, when we scatter it, it lessens the risk that it will takeover our life.  When we scatter it, it opens up access to wealth and resources for those who don’t have the same access as us.  When we hold wealth loosely, it creates more space for relationships that might not otherwise exist.

Most of all, when we hold wealth loosely and scatter it far and wide, it reminds us that the wealth we call our own is first and foremost God’s.

Out of God’s great abundance, we receive, manage, mismanage, scatter, and hold tightly to wealth.  God’s abundance in love, in creation, in resources is meant for scattering and squandering as wide as possible.  It is meant for relationships.

I’ve been having a lot of conversations recently about money and one person pointed out that for them money is meant, like the gifts and talents we have, to be used in service to God and others.  In scattering wealth, we honor God.  Holding wealth loosely and holding more closely our relationships with God, each other, and people we may never meet                        honors God.  It is a way of offering our thanks to God.  It is a way of praising God.

As individuals we do this with our tithes and offerings, we do this by giving to non-profits whose missions we support, we do this by buying some one else’s coffee or lunch, sharing the bounty of our gardens, surprising others with gifts or time, and helping when another person is struggling to make ends meet, trusting that as we help them in their hunger, we also will be fed by God’s abundance through others in our own hunger.

As a community of faith we scatter and squander wealth, holding it loosely by sharing our per capita and mission support with John Knox Presbytery and our mission support with the Southeastern Minnesota Synod and local and regional organizations.  We do it by having grocery and gas cards available for anyone who might stop by and ask for them; by baking cookies for first responders, the folks who work on the area farms, and bringing snacks to the staff here at Good Shepherd. 

We do it by opening our building to folks in recovery from addiction.  We scatter and squander wealth by supporting Evangelical Lutheran Church in America and Presbyterian Church usa good gifts, disaster response programs, and other relief and immigration organizations, as well as the Rushford Backpack and Meals on Wheels programs.  We do it by repurposing t-shirts to make quilts and diapers for Church World Service.

We are already doing this and we don’t do it because God needs us to.  People need this, but we do this in response to God’s love, which is already poured out in abundance on us all.  When we do these things it is because God is already at work and it is a way for us give thanks and praise to God.

These are all ways that God is held more closely and wealth more loosely.  These are ways that God works through us and in us. 

As we engage in these opportunities, as we scatter the wealth we call our own, the Holy Spirit forms and strengthens relationships and spreads God’s love, squandering and scattering it more broadly than we could ever know.

Thanks be to God.

God's joy is fabulously, over the top, nonsensically extravagant - 17th after pentecost

The holy gospel according to Luke (15:1-10)

Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus.

       ²And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying,

              “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

³So Jesus told them this parable:

       ⁴“Which man 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?

              ⁵When he has found it,

                     he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices.

              ⁶And 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.’

              ⁷Just 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.

       ⁸“Or what woman of you 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?

              ⁹When 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.’

              ¹⁰Just so, I tell you,

                     there is joy in the presence of the angels of God

                            over one sinner who repents.”

The gospel of the Lord.

-----

How many of you have sheep?  Have ever had or interacted with sheep?  What are they like?

Shepherding is still an important part of Slovak culture, so while I was living in Slovakia, I would see sheep similarly to how we see cows in this neck of the woods.  Cartoon sheep were even part of Slovak tourism!

But here’s the kicker—and I think about this every time Good Shepherd Sunday rolls around or Jesus decides to bring up sheep again—sheep are not smart animals!  And they’re not well-behaved either!  They don’t know not to wander off!  They just wander!

Not to mention, have you ever tried counting 100 sheep—or even 100 cows or 100 of anything—at one time?  Let’s be honest, how does this shepherd even know that he didn’t just miscount and there really are all 100 sheep still with him?  It takes a lot to make sure one sheep out of a hundred is actually missing, or to even notice anything is amiss in the first place!

Then, once you figure it out, are you really going to leave the 99 to wander off themselves?  Because you know that the second you head off after that one, all the other 99 will spot butterflies or greener fields or something and head off on their own.

You may get that one that you’d lost back, but to do that, you’ve now lost the other 99.  But say the 99 miraculously stay put, then you go throw a party celebrating the one you lost and then found again.  And what do you serve?  Mutton!  So you kill that sheep, and probably more, to feed your party guests!  This all seems pretty pointless and nonsensical to me.

But perhaps it makes more sense with the woman and her coins.

How many of you have ever made stacks of coins to count them more easily?  How easy is it to tell if a stack has one coin or two?  How about 5 coins or 6?  9 or 10?  Once they get that high, unless they’re two stacks right next to each, it’s hard to tell that one is missing, so kudos once again to the woman, who actually noticed that a coin was even missing in the first place.

As for the coins themselves, these were not just nickels or dimes or even silver dollars.  Though our translation calls them “silver coins,” the Greek identifies them as drachma.  A drachma would’ve been about or just below a day’s worth of wages.  So, the idea of having two weeks’ wages lying around, like the idea of having 100 sheep just hanging out with you, is a bit extravagant for us and the folks Jesus is talking to, and probably means that losing one would not be quite as big a deal as losing a day’s wages might be to many.

But the woman sets out on a search for the missing coin anyway.  And while I would tear my house apart, making a huge mess, in my search for something I lost, she seems much more orderly in her endeavor.  She even manages the bonus of getting the house all swept while she looks!

Once she finds the coin, what does she do?  She spends it—and probably more—celebrating with her friends!  More nonsense!  Over the top, extravagant celebration with all the neighbors and friends!

The last part to make sense of is that after each parable, Luke throws in the line about sinners repenting, but it doesn’t really fit.  The shepherd’s the one who lost track of the sheep and the woman’s the one who lost the coin.  The sheep and the coin don’t do any repenting.  So maybe the stories aren’t actually about repentance.  Maybe they’re really about this nonsensical, extravagant celebration.

15 years ago, terrorists took over planes and attacked, or tried to attack, some of the more prominent and symbolic buildings of this country.  I’m going to date myself here a little: 15 years ago today, in my first year of high school, I spent almost every class period watching and rewatching the same short amount of footage of the attacks and their after-effects.

I saw the same horrific images over and over and over again, so that by the time I went home from school, I was numb and felt as traumatized as if I had actually known someone in New York, even though I was thousands of miles away in Colorado and had only been to New York once in my life.

In the past 15 years we have experienced tragedy after tragedy in this country and around the world,            sometimes, because of the attacks 15 years ago and our country’s response to them.  Each time a mass tragedy strikes, especially if it happens in this country, we get the same oversaturation from news shows, showing the same 30 seconds of video and going over the same limited facts until again we are too numb and traumatized to do anything.

We lose our ability to respond at all, let alone responding with love.  We lose our sense of joy and wonder at the world.  We lose our sense of safety.

For perhaps the first time in my life, this summer I had to turn off NPR.  I just couldn’t handle the constant news coverage after the attack at Pulse, the gay night club in Orlando.  I was losing my hope and I needed to plug into a deeper source of hope.  I needed to keep myself from spiraling into yet another cycle of numbness.

So, I prayed.  A lot.  And I spent time with friends and we went to Pride in the Twin Cities and we celebrated the gift of each other and of God’s fabulous love in our lives.  We celebrated the joy of who and how God made and continues to make each of us.  Pride’s extravagance is a celebration on par with the woman and the shepherd’s celebrations upon finding what they’d lost.

Celebration.  Not repentance.  Is at the heart of today’s parables.  That is the witness we have for the world.  That is what we practice, as church, each week.  In the face of every excuse to despair, to become numb, to sink into depression, we silence our phones and focus on God and each other. 

We gather to sing praises to God, to receive and celebrate God’s forgiveness in our lives, to share in holy communion, being fed by Jesus who is the Bread of Life.  We gather to share not only our concerns and real tears and fears, but our joys as well, sharing in brief signs of God’s peace with each other, and then being sent out for joyful service to the world.

The Gospel is celebration.  It is joy in the face of a million reasons to despair, to be sad and numb, and to give up hope.  It is God’s love for each of us and for all of creation, poured out with extravagant joy.  Because God is extravagant and the celebration, the feast awaiting us all will be fabulously, over the top, nonsensically extravagant to match God’s joy at being with us all.

Thanks be to God.