The Lost – 24th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Twenty-fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year C
Lectionary: 132 – Luke 15:1-32

Deacon LeRoy reminded us at our adult education session a few weeks ago that this week’s gospel shows us three different responses to three different types of “being lost” experiences.

• The poor, stupid, sheep is a person who is lost, and often knows it. The sheep has no idea how to get home, and needs the shepherd to take pity and fetch them home.
• The coin is a person completely unaware they are lost, and needs the woman to work diligently to recover them.
• The son is a rebellious person who deliberately leaves the Father. The Father doesn’t go looking for him, but when he approaches the Father, the Father runs out to meet him.

The sheep is lost because, let’s face it, sheep are stupid. They wander off, following a little trail of green, or run about wildly in fear, or follow another lost sheep, until they find themselves in a corner or up on a ledge with no clue how to get down. The sheep often realizes it is lost, but cannot get home on its own.

The shepherd leaves everything to find that sheep, picks it up, and brings it home. The sheep is a creature of the most high God, who loves every creature. Christ, the good shepherd, takes pity upon us, and bears us on his own body. The shepherd doesn’t punish the sheep, nor does he drive it ahead of himself. He picks it up, and carries it home.

The coin, like us, is stamped with the image and likeness of its creator. A “lost coin” may be in the church, as the coin was in the house, but is lost, nonetheless. The coin is unaware it is lost, and unaware of its intrinsic value.

Common houses in ancient times had dirt floors, often covered with a layer of thresh, composed of straw, reeds, or plant stalks. A coin, dropped upon the floor, would very likely slip into the matted mess, and be completely covered in dust and debris. The woman would have had to haul out the thresh, sifting through it carefully to avoid throwing out the coin with the debris. Homes were dark, with windows for ventilation, but covered with lattice work for privacy and to block out the hot sun, so even at mid-day, she would need a light for the job.

Hot and filthy, she picks through the debris carefully, then carries it outside to shake it clean. The debris removed, but no coin yet visible, she lights a lantern to shine about the house, then sweeps the floor, watching for the glint of silver.

The church fathers proposed that the woman represents the church, seeking and interceding upon behalf of the lost, and shining the light of scripture. I wonder, however, if also here we see the Holy Spirit, so often presented as light, and shining as the Shekinah who illuminated the burning bush, and lit the holiest of holies. The rabbis understood this Shekinah as she who is the wisdom of God. The Holy Spirit, the wisdom of God, sweeps away the debris of ignorance, of false understandings of God, and of our own nature, so that, as the light of the scriptures shine upon us, we begin to reflect, albeit a bit dimly.

Saint Gregory the Great suggests that there are 9 choirs of angels, which are in their rightful place, but the 10th category of beings capable of worship is humanity. When humanity is recovered, all the choirs of angels rejoice. Isn’t it beautiful to think that we, the church, can make angels rejoice by diligently seeking those who are ignorantly lost, using the light of the Holy Spirit and of scripture to free people from the darkness of ignorance and despair?

The son is rebellious, and becomes as dead to the Father when he flees to a far country. Having chosen to separate himself from the Father, the son finds himself empty. He would even settle for eating the pig’s husks. These are not corn husks, but a sort of bean pod that is almost completely without nutritive value, but fluffy, and filling. He’s so empty inside, that he would settle for anything that might fill the emptiness within him, even if he knows it is unhelpful, at best, and likely toxic to him. He will settle for excesses of drugs, alcohol, work, sex, food, or amusements – anything to give a little temporary illusion of satisfaction.

The Father doesn’t go chasing after this son. That’s a lesson we don’t often hear, but clearly present in Jesus’s parable. There are people in our lives like this. They are far from God, and that’s where they want to be. We can’t go pick them up and carry them home. Not yet, anyway, they’d just kick and squirm. They aren’t ignorant, like the coin, and don’t need us to persuade or educate them. Were we to chase them, they’d only flee. It breaks our hearts, doesn’t it? We so much want them to b e with us in the joy of the kingdom. It broke the Father’s heart in this parable, and it breaks God the Father’s heart.

We can’t chase, persuade or educate those who knowingly choose to distance themselves from God, so what can we do?

We can live lives full of faith, hope, love, joy, and peace. We can delight in the things of God, so that, thinking of us and looking upon us from afar, the rebellious son might be allured by the fragrance of our lives to approach God.

Pope Francis, speaking to the US Bishops a few years ago, addressed this type of situation. He said:

“Harsh and divisive language does not befit the tongue of a pastor; it has no place in his heart; although it may momentarily seem to win the day, only the enduring allure of goodness and love remains truly convincing.”

There is a time and a place for correction, for harsh words, for admonishing the sinner. Jesus often spoke harshly to the righteous and religious of his time. He addressed Saint Peter as a Satan, remember? We, the church, need to be challenged with hard words. Harsh words are for us, the church, not for the lost.

Recently, two of our brother knights addressed our Knights of Columbus council with concerns on their heart. One expressed frustration that some of us are content to show up to eat and drink, but don’t want to work, and that other just don’t show up. The other expressed frustration that, sometimes, we as Knights are not the Christian men we should be, and allow a “locker room” environment that does not reek of the love and joy of Christ. That’s iron sharpening iron. That’s admonishing our brother the sinner. Those are the harsh words we need to hear, from one brother to another.

I love that we see the Holy Trinity working the salvation of all mankind:

• The Son, the good shepherd, who seeks and brings back those aware they are lost
• The Holy Spirit, light of the church, who rescues those who are ignorant of their value as those created in the image and likeness of God, and ignorant of their status as lost
• The Father, who waits for the rebellious to return, so he can celebrate with all his servants when the rebellious are reconciled.

Are we lost, a little bit? Do we feel alone in the wilderness? Jesus wants to bring us home. Wait for Jesus, and listen for his voice, calling for us by name. He is seeking us.

Is the Holy Spirit beginning to help us see that we are confused by false knowledge and lies of the enemy, lies that tell us we are worthless? Do we have a friend or a loved one whom we are called to seek? Allow the Holy Spirit to work in us and through us, to bring joy to the Angels.

Have we been rebellious, and yet long to be somehow reconciled with God? The Father is waiting, eager to welcome us home.

• ← We Can’t, without love – 23rd Ordinary Time, Year C
• The Well Connected Steward – 25th Sunday of Ordinary Time Year C →