Sermon for September 11

Pentecost 14-C
9/11/22 St. John’s

Luke 15:1-10; Exodus 32:7-14; 1 Timothy: 12-17

During my internship year we moved from seminary housing into the neighborhood where our new church was. During that first week settling in I went shopping at the local supermarket to stock up on groceries. My predecessor had told me that lots of the folks from the congregation shopped there – it would be a good place to start to get a feel for the neighborhood.

So, I shopped, loaded up my buggy, and went to the checkout line, which was very long – there was like one checkout person. I confess that patience is not one of my gifts, I am working on it, but checkout lines are just one of those things that makes really phobic. So, we’re waiting and waiting, getting more anxious, and then (maybe this has happened to you) I was one person from the front, another checker came and opens another line and they said, “I’m open” and all the people behind me just rolled up and zip right through. Well, I was indignant, I was mad, and I told the checker that I didn’t think it was right, I think I may have demanded to see the manager. I was talking pretty loudly.

Anyway, on the way home I started to calm down on the way home I started to feel embarrassed. Then I started to worry that some of the members of my new church may have been the and what if they saw me lose my cool like that, how could I face them on Sunday morning?

Well, I started work the next day; I was on in the neighborhood doing some visiting. That’s how my boss did ministry, we used to just drop in on people – they were used to it in that church. About the second person I visited, when I rang the doorbell, a lady came to the door, I introduced myself as the new vicar, and she invited me in. She said she was kind of busy, but we could sit for a minute.

So, I go into the living room, and she looks at me and says “Oh, I remember you! You were over at the supermarket yesterday. Boy that was quite a ruckus huh?”

I was mortified, speechless – embarrassed, ashamed, guilty – and I told her so. But she was totally cool and understanding, and said something like, “Hey, it happens to the best of us. We’re pretty forgiving here at Reformation.”

And that was it. And she was right, they forgave lots of things that year. And so then, it was my job to accept their forgiveness and their love. And that continues to be one of my jobs. Maybe that’s true for some others of us too.

Jesus talks about all that in today’s gospel reading. He never actually uses the word forgiveness but that’s what he is talking about. And he is talking to some people whom Luke calls the Pharisees and scribes, who don’t want forgiveness. They don’t think they are sinners they don’t want to repent, and they don’t think they have done anything wrong.

So, Jesus tells some stories about sin and repentance, to some people that haven’t gotten there yet. And he likens it to being lost and then found. About a sheep who has wandered off and gotten lost somewhere, wandered off from the flock. It was “doing the most natural thing in the world,” according to the theologian and mystic Howard Thurman, eating grass. Enjoying it and not paying any attention to anything else until suddenly it finds it’s alone. It’s not with the flock anymore. It was lost. And then it was scared.

The shepherd takes the trouble to come to find the sheep. Leaves 99 sheep for this one lost and when finds his lost sheep, he takes it home and he rejoices. What did the sheep do but let himself be found. Say what you want about sheep, but at least it knew it was lost and needed help. The people Jesus is talking to don’t even know they’re lost – or at least they don’t want to admit it. I think that’s more likely. Personally, whenever I’m lost it takes me a while to admit I’m lost, and by then I’m even more lost.

The shepherd rejoiced with his friends because the sheep allowed itself to be found. Forgot about the grass, its hunger, everything except the feeling of warmth and comfort of going back with the flock. Being saved.

A woman loses a coin. She finds it – turns the house upside down, stops everything else, until she finds it. Then she calls her neighbors to celebrate with her. That’s even less than the sheep did to be found – at least the sheep could baa. Jesus’ point is even clearer: repentance it’s not finding our way back, it’s not even realizing we’re lost, although I think that’s probably pretty important, but according to Jesus today, repentance is simply being found. Found by the one who risks everything to bring us back. Back to the flock, back to be a part of the treasure that is so important. That’s what causes rejoicing among the shepherd’s and the woman’s communities when the sheep and the coin are found and rejoicing among the angels in heaven when we are found.

Just a month ago, was big news in Canada, because Pope Francis went there to beg forgiveness of the native Canadians for how the church had been a part of the genocide there. They had been finding mass graves of children in English speaking church schools they’d been forced to go to in order to eradicate the Indigenous culture. It took the church hundreds of years to realize it needed forgiveness. To admit that it had been lost. To allow itself to be found this time.

The people that Jesus is telling this story to not only don’t want any part of being found by Jesus but others who do. They actually look down on and judge people who are vulnerable enough to love Jesus and to accept his love.

Saying your sorry – yeah. Trying to do better – of course. Making reparation – definitely. But maybe the biggest challenge is just accepting God’s forgiveness – and one another’s. Letting ourselves be found.