A
short homily for a family eucharist.
(At
the beginning of the service, have kids count how many people are at worship
today.)
Good
morning, church folk! Unlike many of your neighbors, you all are in church
today, keeping the Sabbath, listening to scripture, giving your valuable time
to St. Thomas, even listening to stewardship
testimony! I love church folk![1]
OK
kids, I need your help. Did you count? How many good church folk do we have in
worship with us today? Looks like a pretty good crowd. [Get number]. Oh, that’s
great. Well, I am indeed really glad to see you all, but if you will excuse me,
____ is not here again today, so I’m going to need to check on her/ him. Just
sit tight, and I’ll be back in, oh, about 30 minutes. I should get back before
Eucharist, though, if I don’t run into too much traffic…. [Start to walk down
the aisle].
[Then Rob interrupts: Oh wait, oh
darn, I just dropped the organ key down in the pedals. I’ve got to find it!
Just hang on while I look for it. I’m going to run downstairs and get the
vacuum and suck it up with the hose. It shouldn’t take too long, and sorry for
the noise …. I know-- I’ll have the choir sing the Alleluia Chorus when I find
it! That’s it, perfect!]
Here’s the question, church folk:
Would it really be acceptable for me to walk out on ____ of you good church
folk to look for an absent member? Or for Rob to run the vacuum and add in the
Alleluia chorus in the middle of the service just because he lost and found a key?
Of course not! When Jesus asks in today’ Gospel, “which one of you” would leave
99 sheep alone in the wilderness, where they could all wander off to their
deaths, to go look for one lost sheep, he expects you to think, “Not me! Who
would do something that irresponsible?” When Jesus asks, “which one of you”
would throw a party for the neighborhood after finding a lost ten dollar bill,
he expects you to answer, “Not me, for goodness' sake! That party would cost
more than the 10 dollars that were lost!”
Jesus is not worrying about how or why
we, or the sheep, or the coin, got lost. Getting lost is just part of life.
Jesus is interested, instead, in telling us something about God. Jesus aims
these parables at good people like you and me; people who follow the rules;
people who go to church and tithe and serve and sit on committees and come to
parish work days and teach Sunday school and always remember when it is their
circle’s turn to bring food for Fellowship; people who listen to the teacher at
school and turn in their homework on time; good people who don’t hang out with
the wrong crowd; God-fearing people who know the difference between right and
wrong.
Jesus
is telling us church folk that God is not bound by the measures that rule our
lives. We can't leave 99 sheep to look for one, but God can. We can't fully
imitate the diligence or the extravagance of the woman with the coins, but God
can. God's abundant love is beyond our understanding. God loves us, but God
also loves the people who scare us, the people who disgust us, the people who
don’t live by our rules. And most of all, God rejoices with all creation when
the lost and the found are reunited at the same table.
Two weeks ago, during an evening
meeting, I had money stolen from my purse in my office. “Who would do such a
thing?” I fumed. “What kind of terrible person would abuse my trust and
dishonor the church in that way?” A few days later, a stranger showed up to our
Saturday night Eucharist. She accosted me at the Peace, desperate for money. I
told her that I couldn’t help her until after the service. In the middle of the
Eucharistic prayer, she slipped out of the room. As I prayed to God for the
blessing of the bread and wine, the holiest time of the Eucharist, my
Pharisee-mind was running rampant, thinking, “Oh man, I hope that I remembered
to lock my office. Did I lock it? What was I doing before the service? That's
it--I’m going to be robbed again. Did I lock the church office, too?” Fret,
fret … This is my Body… fret, fret… this is my blood, given for you.” When it
came time for everyone to join me at the altar, the woman and her little boy
had returned. Guilt-ridden for my thoughts, yet absolutely certain that someone
like her would not join us, I feebly called out to her, out of duty:
“You are welcome to join us at the altar for Communion.” Well, you know what?
She came. She joined our circle of church folk, and I fed her the body and
blood of Christ.
I don’t know
if this woman was the person who stole my money, but she did come back at
night after that Eucharist, desperate for cash, looking very much like
the kind of people that Jesus ate with, yet scaring me, making me lock
doors and call police and think judging thoughts. Yet here is the amazing
thing: In my day to day world, she was still lost, and I was still church
folk, and God was still reaching out to us both. But for one moment on
that Saturday night, when she and her son stood among us and shared the
Body of Christ with us, we all became the Body of Christ, and God
rejoiced. The deficits and troubles of our everyday lives didn’t matter anymore,
because God was in the midst of throwing a huge party—for us and for her. God
was throwing a party because, in that moment, lost and found were One. And
this is the Good News: God will not
rest until we, the beloved lost and the beloved self-righteous, are in
every moment joined together as one, in Christ.
[1]
“Church Folk” idea adapted from a sermon given by the Rev. Jeremiah Wright at Bates
Memorial Baptist Church, Louisville, KY on September 3, 2013.
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