24th Sunday in Ordinary Time, C September 11, 2022
Fr. Alexander Albert St. John the Evangelist, Jeanerette
I wouldn’t. Throw a party, I mean. If I were a shepherd and one sheep wandered off, I wouldn’t risk the 99 to go get it. It’s not like those 99 are safe; it says he leaves them in the desert. Who would leave their entire livelihood to rescue one lost sheep? That’s almost as bad as a gambling addiction that causes people to think “I lost some, but if I risk everything else, I can probably get it back.” I wouldn’t leave the whole flock, I wouldn’t throw a party if I did find the 1 sheep, and I wouldn’t throw a party because I happened to find a lost paycheck.
But that’s the point: that God isn’t like us. We’re so used to hearing these parables that we automatically overlook how strange they are. Jesus tells these stories precisely because God’s way of responding is not like ours. God is completely self-sufficient, perfectly happy, and needs nothing from us. The fact that he would sacrifice his son to save us is even more ridiculous than risking 99 sheep to save one. At least, it is by merely human standards. So Jesus is gradually leading us to a higher perspective.
In real world terms, the party for finding one lost sheep is pretty strange. Cleaning the house to find a lost paycheck is much less ridiculous, but the reaction of throwing a party is still over-the-top. Then there’s the prodigal son. By earthly standards of justice, it still strikes us as unreasonable that the father so quickly moves past the sins of his son. And yet, it is within the realm of understanding that a father would be so happy to find a lost son that he overlooks the justice, at least in the initial reaction. Most parents who’ve had a scare where they thought a child was lost can probably relate to the joy and relief that outweighs whatever dumb decision the child made to get themselves lost.
If you follow the pattern of the parables, you can see that each one increases the value of what was lost. A single sheep out of 100 is valuable, but it’s only 1% of what you have. The woman’s lost coin is a tenth of what she owns, much more valuable. You could then say the lost son is worth 50% because the father only has two sons. But we know the increase is a change of kind, not degree. Children, unlike possessions, can’t really be converted to percentages and monetary value. They are valuable on a whole different level.
So, Jesus’ parables give us odd examples to make the point that God’s way of seeing things is not like ours. He also walks us up the steps of valuable things to draw us closer to the way God sees things. The point isn’t that we should love sheep more, but that God sees every human being as so valuable that even grave sin doesn’t stop his love.
The implication should be obvious: if God sees every person as so valuable, then so should we. And that should cause us to question the way we evaluate people and the way we treat them. Their value… the joy of having them back in the grace of God should be so great, so immense, that we are willing, if not eager, to do anything to provide them that chance.
If someone is a public sinner, if they don’t go to Church, they don’t pray, and they live a lifestyle that is clearly wrong, how are we going to offer them the chance to come home? By spending time with them outside of Church, by doing things other than fussing at them. It means sharing meals and hobbies. Because I know people love to twist this around, I will say that it does not mean sinning with them or encouraging them to sin. It doesn’t mean hiding our faith either.
Remember the context of the parables. Jesus tells them because people are upset that he “welcomes sinners and eats with them.” This means those sinners are approaching him. Jesus isn’t busting into their homes to take food and he’s not forcing people into stadiums to hear him speak. They come as the beginning of repentance, unlike the Pharisees who come to challenge him – that’s why he responds differently. These sinners come to him because they are beginning to be open to grace… they see something in him… they’re hungry for something and it brings them closer. Kinda like the prodigal son’s hunger for swine food moves him to go to his father.
The father is just glad to have his son back, so he eats with the sinner in celebration. The reckoning, the work to repair the relationship and repay what was lost will probably come later, but the point is that initial response of joy and openness.
What does that mean practically for us? For each person, the exact details will vary. I know that for me as a priest, it means that, if a non-Catholic or fallen away Catholic comes to hear me speak or invites me to dinner, I should be more excited about whatever led them to make that offer than I should be worried about how it would look to others that I’m spending time with them. I know that visiting a priest can be intimidating, so it’s often a sign of something going on in their heart. Rather than fear scandal, I should focus on nurturing that movement of grace… the joy it would bring to God when it bears fruit. Only when it’s obvious that they’re manipulating the situation should I do differently. It’s also why when someone comes to confession tells me it’s been 50 years since their last one, I’m excited, not angry. Please come back!
For lay Catholics, there’s a similar dynamic though usually less public. Examine how you welcome people in your heart. When someone strange walks into Mass, is your first response fear? Or hope? Unlikely though it is, how would you react to a spending time with Donald Trump or Joe Biden or whatever public figure you find most sinful? Have you joyfully thrown four letter words at either of them? Do you really want the conversion of your worst enemy or are you not-so-quietly hoping for their destruction? Moses risked everything to get the Israelites free from Pharoah and they immediately fall into idolatry. He could have just let God destroy them for their sin – they really did deserve it – but instead he immediately sought mercy for them. And he got it.
You are not a sheep. You are not a coin. You are a child of God. So is you’re the greatest sinner. And God loves his children more than we can possibly love ours. So, what matters more? Proving that you were right about that person all along? Or doing what it takes so that one day, you can welcome even your worst enemy into heaven?