Jeremy Duncan: And so it's very interesting to see here that in response to that discomfort, instead of giving them a technical answer, trying to exposit scripture and explain how he interprets the law, instead of trying to meet that discomfort head on with facts, Jesus instead tells a very different type of story than we saw last week. One that's not rooted in reality, one that's rooted in what could be. Last week, we also started our series on the parables of grace, series that is gonna take us right through to Easter. We looked together at the parable of the good Samaritan, a parable I think we sometimes know maybe too well. And because of that, it can almost be hard to take that story seriously.
But for me, I think the key to the story is reflecting on the way that Jesus flips the question that's posed. A man says to Jesus, look, I know I'm supposed to love my neighbor, but where do I draw the line? Like, I can't love everybody, can I? Who is my neighbor? And I think if we take this story seriously as a response to that question, I think that Jesus' whole point is that maybe this is the wrong question to begin with.
Our question isn't who is my neighbor. Our question should be, who am I willing to become a neighbor to? And that's a very interesting way to flip the story back on ourselves. Can I be a neighbor to everyone? I don't know.
But I know I can become a neighbor to someone new today. And if I can do that today, and then maybe tomorrow, and after that, if I can stack that up over a lifetime, then, well, maybe I can actually find myself the kind of neighbor that Jesus imagines me to be. Today, we've got a second parable, a sheep that is lost and then found. But first, let's pray. God of the lost and God of the found.
Let's return to a new story today. Slow us down enough to hear it once again. Not as something familiar, not as something we think we already understand, but perhaps as an invitation anew. An invitation to muster the courage to see ourselves honestly, whether wandering or grumbling or quietly wishing for a grace that makes less sense than we're even comfortable with. An invitation to disrupt our instinct towards safety and social reinforcement.
Instead, to loosen our grip on what feels reasonable to us, and awaken a desire for the kind of love that searches and carries and rejoices in the unexpected. As we wonder once again today, help us to imagine you as you truly are. And then help us to wonder who we might become in a world that is transformed by your grace. In the strong name of a risen Christ, pray. Amen.
The parable of the lost sheep. Today, we'll cover the really important things, social reinforcement, all the types of sheep, and the economics of grace. But last week, we looked at the Good Samaritan, and I noted there how sometimes when we've heard a story before, too many times before, it can be hard to hear it again for the first time. This is another one of those stories that probably fits in that category. Maybe not as famous as the Good Samaritan, but I would guess that most of us have heard the story about the shepherd who leaves the 99 to find the one and bring it home.
And because of that, this story can start to feel a little trite. However, I do think that if we take some time and we put in some effort, we can uncover something really profound here. First, a quick story though. My son just came home from the winter youth retreat. He had an amazing time, by the way.
A huge thank you to Alexandra and all of our volunteers who shepherded all of those kids this weekend. I cannot imagine they are easy to corral. But it is very intriguing for me as a parent to watch my kids figure out what they think about God. Now, it's a strange thing to be a professional Christian watching your kids figure out what they think about God. Certainly, want my children to understand the rhythms of our faith, and I want them to be exposed to what we believe about God, how God is revealed in Jesus.
I want them to feel at home and safe here in the church. Now, actually, sometimes we're doing too well at that one. My kids love the church. Although, mainly what they love is this church building when no one else is around. They think it's their own little mini playground.
In fact, you may have seen my daughter unwilling to leave the building after service sometimes. But ultimately, what I want, of course, is for them to learn and explore. And in the end, my hope would be that they would encounter God for themselves, not just for what dad gets paid to talk about. However, what I was thinking about this week as I listened to Alexandra talk about the youth retreat, and what they talked about, and what the kids experienced together, why that weekend was so meaningful for her, was this very clear reminder that in the end, our faith is a lot less about our theology than it is the stories and, importantly, the people that we choose to surround ourselves with. I remember when my kid, my son was younger, like five or six maybe, he would pray and he would just repeat phrases that he had heard us say.
Just whatever he thought he was supposed to say to pray. But slowly, as he got older, he would start adding his own ideas into prayers. I remember when he started praying for our dog, Cedar, at the dinner table, and then eventually that expanded to all the dogs in the world as well. Now, did all the dogs in the world need our prayers? I don't know.
Probably not. But the thing is, I could watch. I could trace the way that he would go from imitating what he had seen to understanding the intent to expressing his own gratefulness for what he thought was good in the world around him. I think that's how faith is supposed to work. We witness.
We emulate. We foster. And then slowly, eventually, over time, it all becomes part of us. Jesus seems to understand this. Because rather than try to convince us of God, he seems very content to simply surround us with a lot of good stories of God.
Or in the words of one of my favorite writers, Robert Farrar Capon, we should demand more of our theologians. Discussions of the really important things. Not does God exist, but rather, what is God like? Is God nasty or nice? Does God wear overpowering aftershave?
Does God force leftover food on his friends when they come over? Those are the discussions that matter. And my guess is, at least some of those discussions definitely came up last weekend when we packed all those junior highs in a room together for a weekend. Here's my point. Stories like the lost sheep today are not intended as theological discussions.
They are something a lot more like a youth retreat where Jesus gets us in a room together and invites us to wonder about God. So, let's wonder about some lost sheep. This is Luke chapter 15 starting in verse one. Now, the tax collectors and the sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, this man welcomes sinners and eats with them.
So Jesus told them a parable. Before we get to that parable, let's talk about a few things here because already we got some cultural baggage on the table. Last week, we talked about a nomocos, a lawyer. A person who was an expert in religious law and questioned Jesus about how to interpret that law. This time, we have a reference to the Pharisees and the teachers of the law.
This is kind of a unique thing to Luke. Most of the gospels prefer to use the term gramitus, which is what Luke is using here. And that's the better word technically to describe these people. Roughly translates to something like scribes, and these were people who were professionally trained to write and teach the scriptures for the people. They were the religious elite in some sense.
Nomikos, when Luke uses that, it's more like a commentary on how they're doing their job. So in those moments, they're approaching the scriptures more like lawyers, not really like spiritual leaders. That's something that only Luke does. But it also helps us to get a little bit of insight into what he's getting at when he relays a story. When we see him use a term like nomikos, it means he wants to point our attention to an interpretive technicality, a lawyerly problem.
How can I get out of being a neighbor to someone I don't want to, for example? When we see him use the term, grammatus, like he does here, he's pointing more toward the social impact of how those scriptures are being used. And that means this story is not about a technicality. It is not theological in that sense. This story is about how we think about, how we imagine God.
And that's important. Cause we're also told that gathering around to listen Jesus were the tax collectors and the sinners. And I know we read this language all the time in the Bible. It is still funny to me that we lump together government employees and dirty, dirty sinners. Of course, that's intentional here though because these are not just government employees.
They are largely Jewish people who work for the Roman Empire extracting wealth from their neighbors. And the problem was they were often corrupt in doing that. They made their money not just in their wage, but in the artificial inflation of the gap between what was collected and what was remitted to Rome. And so, you read tax collectors and sinners, particularly where you'll see it in Luke's gospel, they send a statement about how those two groups of people like to hang out together all the time. It's a commentary on the tax collectors themselves.
It's the category Luke sees them in. They're corrupt. However, one last thing here, because we read that these tax collectors and sinners were gathering around Jesus. And that kinda makes it sound like we're talking about a very specific group of those people that are here in this moment listening to Jesus. That is probably not primarily what the text is referring to here.
A better translation is probably that these religious leaders began to see that tax collectors and sinners were being drawn to Jesus. Now, it's very possible that Jesus is very specifically eating with some of those people right now, likely even. That's the scene. But the way this is phrased, the concern from the religious leaders isn't the immediate audience with Jesus. It's the larger trend that they're observing around them.
People, undesirable people, are being drawn to Jesus. And one or two, I mean, that was fine, but this is now changing the balance of our community. And that's when they begin to mutter to themselves, that's what Jesus overhears. That's worth reflecting on for a moment, I think. I think we're all okay with a little bit of change.
A few unexpected people in our midst from time to time. When we start to get uncomfortable is when it starts to feel like maybe the balance is shifting around us. And this is actually a really interesting phenomenon called social validation that extends far beyond just religion. Often, we don't actually just want the ability to have our own beliefs and make our own choices and live our own lives. What we really want is to see those choices mirrored back to us by the people around us.
And so one or two people, a few people that look different, that think different, that act different from us, that's fine. It actually helps us to reinforce that we are the norm. But if the balance even starts to feel like it's shifting, even if it's not anywhere close to a tipping point, but it feels like that could be an eventuality. Once we see it to feel like we're not normal anymore, that can be an incredibly destabilizing place. Because all of a sudden, we have to ask ourselves some really uncomfortable questions.
Would we really believe any of these things? Would we really act this way if it wasn't socially reinforced for us? So for example, would the Pharisees keep to their hardline interpretations if there wasn't a community around that agreed with them? Would we keep to the welcome of Jesus if we found that out of step with our culture? And this is why in times of social upheaval, there can be a very strong preservation instinct that kicks in to rigidly enforce social norms.
It's also why sometimes just the presence of difference around us can read like persecution to us. Difference does not take away our ability to live as we want, but it does take away our ability to feel like we're normal while we do it. And so it's very interesting to see here that in response to that discomfort, instead of giving them a technical answer, trying to exposit scripture and explain how he interprets the law, instead of trying to meet that discomfort head on with facts, Jesus instead tells a very different type of story than we saw last week. One that's not rooted in reality, one that's rooted in what could be. Suppose one of you has a 100 sheep and loses one of them.
Doesn't he leave the 99 in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and he goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, rejoice with me. I've lost or found my lost sheep. I tell you in the same way, there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 righteous persons who don't even need to in the first place.
So picture the scene here. Jesus is very possibly sitting and eating with some of these undesirables. Some religious leaders sit in the back and snicker, and Jesus turns his attention to them and tells a story. Now, the story, like most of his best ones, was probably repeated many times by Jesus. For example, the gospel of Thomas, which is not in your bible by the way, don't look it up, But it dates back to very early in the Christian era, has an almost word for word version of this same parable.
And over in Matthew 18, similarly, Jesus is talking about the importance of little children. He pulls up a child with him, says the kingdom of God belongs to such as these, and then goes on to tell the exact same story to illustrate that point. So it's clear that Jesus told this story at least a few times in at least a few different scenarios. I guess that's part of a good story. You just keep telling it.
However, it also means that the gospel writers, they're making choices about how they present these stories to us. And, actually, that's one of the really neat elements about parables. Jesus teaches in a way that leaves room for us not just to wonder about the story, but to where that story might fit in our lives. In other words, it's actually perfectly reasonable for you to reflect on where you might draw your neighbor line right here in Alberta in 2,026. It's not a stretch at all to say the good Samaritan speaks about the ways that we demonize or welcome our neighbors today.
That is precisely the point of a parable. And so here, Luke ties the story of a lost sheep to a discussion about religious outcasts, sinners and tax collectors and everyone who's excluded on religious terms. And Matthew ties the same story to a discussion of cultural outcasts, children, and anyone who's deemed unimportant, everyone excluded on social terms. It's the same story though, about who we leave outside and who God challenges us to go and welcome back. That story though is made personal.
It's contextualized by how each of the gospel writers hears it, receives it, remembers it. And I think that's part of the beauty of it. Because what it means is that in some sense, however you hear this story today, whoever it opens your heart to as you listen, that's exactly what the story is about. The last, the lost, the least, the little, whoever that looks like in your neighborhood, that's who this story is about for you today. So let's take a closer look at this story.
Because one of the things that I think can be helpful when we read a parable is to ask ourselves which character or maybe which characters we identify with. And maybe we should start with the lost sheep. I'm lost. God finds me. That's my part in the story.
That definitely works for me. I mean, apart from the shepherd, that sheep is the star of the show. Therefore, generally the one I'm most inclined to see myself in. The rebel sheep. Right?
Sheep that goes where it wants. The sheep with a leather jacket and a cigarette and an oo on his arm, fearlessly exploring the world. That's the sheep I wanna be. At least, of course, until I get myself in a little trouble. Because there are lots of complex situations where I find myself a little lost.
Career choices and relationship decisions, parenting children in the wild, all that feels overwhelming a lot of the time. I'm lost. God finds me. But then, of course, there are also situations where I know exactly where I should go, and I still go the other way. So sometimes I'm selfish, and I know it's because I'm insecure, but I still know very well which path I'm gonna choose.
So having Jesus come and find me, rescue me, bring me home, that all feels very appropriate. That's it. If you think about it, there's still 99 other sheep in the story. Statistically, you're probably not that one that's lost. So maybe we're actually one of the 99, sitting at home, enjoying our social reinforcement, grumbling with the teachers of the law.
That also definitely feels appropriate for me. But then, if we can push a little farther, what about the shepherd? Well, I have a job that is often compared to being a shepherd. Though, let me be clear here. I know nothing of the hard work of animal husbandry.
These hands have been delicately preserved for reading large books and typing long sermons. And because of that, I generally don't see myself as the shepherd in the story. I think that's also probably because the character's obviously the stand in for God. Right? And yet, if we're reading Jesus' words, he starts the story this way.
Suppose one of you has a 100 sheep and loses one of them. So, we're not God. We're not the ones out there rescuing anyone, but maybe here just for a moment Jesus is asking us to imagine that we were God. So let's try that on. Suppose you have a 100 sheep and one goes missing, would you not leave the rest to find the one?
If you're anything like me, your honest answer here would probably be something like, probably not. Again, have no experience caring for sheep, but let's be honest. This does not seem like a good value proposition at all. Remember, Jesus is addressing teachers of the law who want permission to exclude certain people. This story honestly sounds like he's giving them permission to do it.
If you pay attention, he goes out of his way to explain that you don't have a pen to put your other sheep in, you don't have a hired hand to look after them, you just leave them in the open field and go chasing after one that got lost. Again, let's be honest, no real experience to draw on here, but this feels like bad shepherding. At least very bad business practice. You gotta account for some inventory shrinkage at some level. Am I right?
In fact, if you step back and you take this story at face value, it's almost like Jesus saying, this shepherd is absurdly foolish. And yet that is what God is like. Don't you wish you could live like that too? See, me, that's the beauty that's buried in this parable. Jesus isn't trying to make a reasonable argument for grace.
He's trying to tell us that divine love is unmoved by our pragmatic considerations. And look, whether it is little children at Jesus' feet in Matthew's version of the story, or whether it is unexpected guests sitting at the table in Luke's, this parable is about the absolute absurdity of grace. The fact that it will never meet with the kind of social reinforcement we want it to. Grace is simply far too aspirational to be normal. And maybe you can help to think about it this way.
All of us here. We've all written somebody off at some point in our journey. Maybe they wandered away from us and we let them go. Or they made a mistake and we moved on without them. Maybe they went right and we went left and no hard feelings, we just didn't look back.
At the same time, one of us has probably found ourselves on the other side of that equation at some point in our journey as well. Maybe someone decided we had strayed a little bit too far, and they let us go. And probably, what happened was over time, we justified it. We rationalized it. We made economic sense of it.
We said, look, that's the only way to live. You can't leave 99% of your social investment to go off and search for us. That's a tiny return. But I would also bet that somewhere, at some point along the line, all of us have wished it could be different than that, haven't we? We wished we hadn't let that relationship walk away even though we knew there was really nothing we could have done to save it.
Or we wished that somebody had come looking for us even though we knew we weren't ready to come home yet. We wished that life was a little bit less rational than we found it to be. And then at some point, we came back to our senses, and we told ourselves, it's okay. You can't do life with people that are that different. You know, we can't take our children all that seriously.
We can't really just love people without some kind of expectation in return. And so Jesus looks us in the face and tells us a story that makes us remember what it was like to wish that we could live life that way. Suppose you had a 100 sheep, and suppose one got lost, and suppose you were the kind of person that would drop everything to track them down at any cost. Suppose you were like God. Wouldn't that be an incredible way to live?
For our cape on writing about this parable says, Jesus implies it seems to me that even if wall 100 sheep should somehow get lost, it would not be a problem for this bizarrely good shepherd. Give him a world with a 100 out of 100 sheep lost. Give God, in other words, the world full of losers that is the only real world to begin with, and it will do just fine. Lostness is exactly his cup of tea. What Jesus is tapping into here, I think is the absurd image of divine love that resides somewhere deep in each of us gently calling us to love in ways that don't make sense to any of us yet.
Because this parable, this kingdom of God that Jesus speaks about, it's not about our world slightly modified. It's a fairy tale in the best possible sense of the term. Because it invites us to imagine who we might be in a world that was completely transformed by grace. See, if you come to the Good Shepherd looking for some practical advice, life technology that you can implement this week, I'm sorry, you've come to the wrong place. Because there's nothing practical about this parable at all.
There's only an image of the kind of wild grace that Jesus invites us to aspire toward. And the life that then slowly begins to take shape in us as we learn to dream about the kinds of things that God dreams about. Let's pray. God, thank you for stories that are unreasonable, that are observed, that present to us an image of the world that we know isn't real and can't be yet. And yet, these stories find a way to sink themselves into us and our imagination of what could be.
They grow hope and an aspiration to move forward. They help us to be a little bit more graceful today than we were yesterday. And, they invite us to stack that movement up over a lifetime until one day we find ourselves in a completely different place than we ever imagined. Perhaps not as graceful as you. Perhaps a lot of the way down the road.
And so, God, we pray that we would be aspirational with our grace. That our love would be bigger than we think it can be. And that in each of the expressions of that in our life over days and weeks and months and years, over decades of following your path, we might find this world a little bit closer to what you aspire to. May that kind of grace motivate us, change us, help us become someone new. In the strong name of the risen Christ, we pray.
Amen. Hey, Jeremy here, and thanks for listening to our podcast. If you're intrigued by the work that we're doing here at Commons, you can head to our website, commons.church, for more information. You can find us on all of the socials commonschurch. You can subscribe to our YouTube channel where we are posting content regularly for the community.
You can also join our Discord server. Head to commons.churchdiscord for the invite, and there you will find the community having all kinds of conversations about how we can encourage each other to follow the way of Jesus. We would love to hear from you. Anyway, thanks for tuning in. Have a great week.
We'll talk to you soon.