September 16, 2007
(Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost; Proper 19)
One Lost Sheep
by The Rev. Canon Susan Sommer
Jeremiah 4:11-12, 22-28 • Psalm
14 • 1 Timothy 1:12-17 •
Luke 15:1-10
(From
The Lectionary Page)
True story: The year was 1851, and my great-great grandfather, Giles Hayward, was once again making his way across the Atlantic Ocean. A couple of years earlier he had made the journey from Yetminster, in Dorsetshire, England, and settled a homestead in southeastern Minnesota. There he built the proper farmhouse that his wife, Priscilla, demanded as a condition upon leaving England. And there he began to farm. But he needed to return to England to retrieve something of great value: his flock of Dorset sheep.
Now you might well ask why he chose to do it this way. Surely it would have been easier and probably cheaper to simply purchase the livestock locally. I mean, surely there were flocks of sheep already in Minnesota by 1851. Lord knows every generation on my mother’s side has asked that question too, and the only answer we’ve ever been able to come up with goes like this: You can always tell the Germans, you can always tell the Dutch, you can always tell the British, but you can’t tell ‘em much. In any event, Giles was en route back to America on board a schooner with his small flock of sheep stowed in the cargo hold, when the ship encountered a storm. The captain gave the order to the crew to jettison some of the cargo to lighten the load. Several of the sailors made for the sheep pen in the cargo hold, preparing to throw the flock overboard. Just then, Giles appeared on the scene, drew a gun, and calmly suggested to the sailors that they scout up OTHER cargo to jettison. He then settled down in that dark cargo hold and kept watch over his sheep, with drawn gun, for two days and two nights, until the storm subsided. To my great-great grandfather, every sheep in his flock was valuable.
Okay, so clearly my great-great grandfather was nuts. Most of us, I daresay, would have cut our losses long before we would risk our lives over sheep -- even if they did represent our livelihood. But to my great-great grandfather, every sheep in his flock was valuable.
I suspect that we might hear today’s gospel with the same kind of amused bewilderment with which my family has treated our story. Luke tells us that Jesus addressed these twin parables to the Pharisees in an effort to teach them something about the nature of God. God, Jesus tells them, is like a shepherd leaving 99 sheep behind and searching for the one who is lost. God, Jesus tells them, is like a woman who turns her house upside down to find a lost coin. Wait a minute. God is like a shepherd? God is like a woman? To the Pharisees, shepherds and women were at the bottom of the food chain. To compare God to shepherd and women would have done more than amuse or bewilder. It would have scandalized.
And not only was the image scandalous, but so were the parables. What kind of hare-brained shepherd leaves 99 sheep to go off in search of one that is lost? Who’s to say that the 99 others aren’t going to wander off while he’s chasing down the one? And what woman -- I don't care what century she lives in -- has time to set aside her chores and turn her house upside down over a lost coin? Like she doesn’t have enough to do already?! Kind of boggles the mind, doesn’t it? Our lives are so packed, our responsibilities so complex, it’s difficult to fathom this kind of single-mindedness over something that got lost. So what’s one sheep, more or less? By this time next the year, the pregnant ewes will have lambed and your flock will be virtually restored. Move on. Okay, so you’ve lost a coin. Regrettable, but buck up! Take the nine you haven’t lost, invest them carefully, and soon the return will cover your loss. Move on.
That’s how we resource-rich folk tend to look at things. And so it’s edifying for us to remember that the giver of all resources, God, does not move on. It’s further edifying for us to remember that in this parable we (like the Pharisees) don’t correspond to the shepherd or the woman. We don’t correspond to the 99 sheep or the 9 coins that are not lost. We -- each of us – at one time or another in our lives correspond to the one that IS lost.
What’s that you say? Not feeling terribly lost right now? Well, there’s lost and then there’s lost. The lostness that we resource-rich folk tend to experience is perhaps less geographical or financial and perhaps more existential. Perhaps it is grief at the death of a loved one. Perhaps it comes in facing the daily diminishments that encroaching age and poor health bring either to yourself or to your parents. Perhaps it is anxiety about the trajectory your child’s life is taking. Perhaps it is loneliness. Perhaps it is an unwelcome change thrust upon you. Perhaps it is an addiction that has taken center stage in your life, or in the life of a loved one. Perhaps it is burnout or the loss of one’s job or an impending retirement you’re not entirely happy about.
The enduring good news for the Church is that however lost we may be, God never considers us expendable. Ours is a God of extravagant, single-minded love that not only seeks us out but rejoices when we are found. There is nothing we can do, no action so reprehensible, that will cause God to cut his losses and move on.
For God, as for my great-great grandfather, every single sheep in the flock is valuable. And so, however far we stray – into the brambles of confusion and fear, into the crevices of loneliness and despair, onto the ledges of bad choices and poor judgment – God searches for us, steadfastly and extravagantly.
And he always finds us.
The hard part comes in letting God pick us up and lay us on God’s shoulders.
