A PARABLE ABOUT LOSTNESS

Luke 15: 1-32 

As a child I remember dumping out a can of Lincoln Logs and spending a summer afternoon building a small town; as a teenager I enjoyed taking apart broken appliances and figuring out how to make them work again. As an adult, some of you have spent a winter or summer afternoon pouring out a 1000 piece puzzle and putting it back together. But what about a theologian; what might a Bible student do? Today I invite you to join me in the Biblical laboratory: to pour out a parable, and put it back together. It is good to read our Bibles; but for life lessons that impact us best, it is better to learn the back stories of passages like Luke 15.  

First, these three stories most certainly should be read as a group.

Second, each story not only says something about what or who is lost, it also says something about the finder (searcher).

And third, more than a story about a sheep or a coin can describe, the last story talks about the loss of what is most precious: a child. Today we watch parental panic set in before the boy returns. Let’s begin.

First, these three stories about lostness most certainly should be read as a group. They are told by Jesus after he is charged with spending time with sinners; perhaps sinner could be thought of as “lost ones.” Barbara Reid, in her commentary on this story reminds us: “What offended other Jews was that Jesus evidently offers forgiveness to sinners and admission into his community without making the normal demands of restitution and commitment to the Law.” [Parables for Preachers, The Gospel of Luke, The Liturgical Press, 2000, p. 183.] From that dialogue we consider now that which is “lost.” The Pharisees are “grumbling” at this point. In the first story read today, the story is told as a proposition: “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the 99 in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?” And Jesus’ proposition continues in verse 8: “Or what woman, having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search diligently until she finds it?’ It is not until third story in the triad that he changes course and tells the story that has become so famous. In the first story, a shepherd searches for a sheep; in the second story a woman searches for a coin; and in the third story a father searches for his son. Like any good storyteller, Jesus builds the tension in the stories. Stories, like some jokes, build descriptive tension by telling examples in threes. For example, there are many jokes that are told about a minister, a priest, and a rabbi, and the order is changed to suit the setting. In addition, many children have grown up with the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, including mama bear, papa bear and baby bear. In the folk story the bears have a cottage that the young Goldilocks enters. She tries their porridge, sits in their chairs, and lies down in their beds. In the story of the Three Little Pigs, each pig finds a man from whom to buy building equipment to make a small home in which they each could live. As you probably recall, one built his house out of straw, one out of wood, and one out of bricks. A big bad wolf happened to come to each of their houses, (remember, it’s a story!) and asks permission to come in! The pigs know that if they let the wolf in he will eat them for dinner! One by one he visits their houses, blowing down the first two and eating the pigs! Only the third one was safe.  The first two examples in each story are comparisons; the last example is the one where the story is leading. So today, as with the pattern of stories told before and after Jesus’ parables of the lost, we have a story with three sections to bring tension and resolution to the plot.

Second, each story not only says something about what or who is lost, it also says something about the searcher. In 1^st century Galilee, the first story shows a shepherd searching for a lost sheep. Shepherds were often boys, were poorly paid and quite uneducated. And sheep, even one, would be a costly loss to the shepherd (the owner might fire or punish him) and certainly to the owner. In the next story it is a coin that is lost. The searcher in this story is a woman. We don’t know any more about her except we, in all likelihood, have done what she has done: she lost something of importance to her and she searched for it, feeling relief and joy when she finds it. And finding the coin allows her to pay for something that she cannot pay now. In the last case, the father is the searcher, not only running toward town in one instance; he also wades through his crop-filled field toward his older son in the second instance. Jesus had three stories about lostness that he tells, with the last, as usual, having the most impact.

Third, more than a story about a sheep or a coin can describe, the last story talks about the loss of what is most precious: a human being, yes, but in Jesus’ day that loss of a son was tragic, and the panic that likely filled the heart of both the father (the searcher) and the son (the lost) was the point.  The last segment of Jesus’ parable is surely where he was leading his listeners in Luke 15. But Jesus had to get his listeners there first, so he tells his earlier stories. He starts with a story of a valuable person—a shepherd—and a valuable animal—a sheep. In the first segment, a shepherd—charged with guarding and feeding sheep—panicked over his possible loss of job, reputation, and income when he lost a sheep. Even one lost sheep is not an acceptable loss to whoever the owner is, so the shepherd sets out to look for the lost animal. When he finds the panicked sheep, the animal is exhausted, but the shepherd’s mind goes back to the flock he left behind. So having compassion, he picks up the lost sheep and in a shepherd’s carry, brings the lost sheep back to the fold. We know a sheep, unlike a coin, is a living and breathing animal that can feel panic and loss. But sheep are incapable of making choices that are morally right or wrong. Sheep are some of the least bright of creatures that God created! They always need a shepherd or they can’t survive. That’s why the Bible often describes us as sheep and Jesus as shepherd: hoping to instill in us that we simply can’t survive without a savior! But that is still not the crux of Jesus’ story. After that first segment is told, Jesus inserts the story of greater value- a woman searching for a coin. The woman in a family was something of the home manager: the one knew the finances and ran the household. If she was looking for a lost coin, she was counting on it and she needed it. How many of us know the panic that can set in when you have lost your wallet while shopping, lost a paycheck in your house when bills are due, or lost your car keys when you are far away from home?  Doesn’t your heart start to race, your head start to pound, and your thoughts start to get muddled!? You might feel embarrassed and not call anyone until you have retraced your steps in the shopping center, your home, or the parking lot. But when you find what you lost, don’t you feel relieved and overjoyed? Have you then called or texted another person to share your relief at finding what you lost? That’s what Jesus imagines as a shrewd observer of human nature. But notice the coin is of enough value to this woman that she searches until she finds it. The first story involved a boy and a sheep, the next involved a woman and a coin. We are finally at the point of seeing what it is like to lose a person, perhaps the crux of Jesus’ lesson.

We are now at the relationship of greatest value: person to person; in this case, a parent and child. In the first century the most valuable family members were the father and his sons according to birth order. The story shows a father, who is patient, loving, (and some might say gullible), while his rash son makes a request that in that time suggested that he wished his father were dead. But instead of condemning the son’s request as the town would certainly do, he agrees to it. The son leaves and is not seen for some time. Although not spoken, we learn that the father has been concerned, even panicked, about his son while he is away. This father, curiously, even exhibits some maternal qualities of caring. When the son appears, the father—a distant and stern man in most households—made a swift and certain move to protect his son from the neighbors who would have stoned the boy for treating his father with such disrespect. So he ran … ran in his robes to embrace the boy, implying to the town that restitution had taken place when, in fact, it hadn’t. Remember the story? The father embraced and kissed him, signifying reconciliation, even before the boy could open his mouth. The father was dreadfully upset over his child being lost, with his whereabouts and condition unknown.  The son was not concerned about his father at all, until the big bad world emptied his pockets and made him desperate enough to eat pig food. Only when he hit his personal bottom did he return to his father, not even expecting to be treated as family, but as property. (“Treat me as one of your servants”). And so by the end of the story, the father’s grace more than the son’s remorse reconciled the youngest son to him and saved the son from the harsh treatment the village would have shown him. But the father’s work wasn’t done yet. He now had the work of rebuilding a relationship with his older son, a relationship compromised by his gracious, or some might say spineless, response to his other son. So he goes into the field, instead of having the son brought into the house to him. He implores his older son to come into the house. He wanted to share joy of the reunited family. But a reunion, like with some family situations in our day, was just wishful thinking. In the end the father is left begging for his oldest son to come in the house too! The twist at the end of the story is ironic: the lost son in the father’s celebration is perhaps no longer the younger one, but the older one.

The reflection on the last story, the crux story, might be unexpected from what you have heard for years. Could it be that instead of the Father being the God figure, and us finding ourselves as one of the children, that every one of these characters is quite broken and quite human? Fathers in the first century were distant, stern, and principled. No father would have stood still for a son to say to his face that he wished he were dead now so that he could have his money. Sometimes we lift up the father’s response as wonderfully gracious, but at times grace is subversive instead. It certainly was for the older son who thought things should follow the expected and appropriate course of events. Sometimes in trying to be a “friend” to our children we fail to be the parent we are called to be. Could this story, in part, be about parental failure? And aren’t there times when every parent wishes he or she had done things differently? The younger son is broken; he seems to be spoiled in part by parental leniency. This story involved boundary issues and things could have gotten ugly. Even the towns people would have wanted to “teach that boy a lesson” since the father had not done so. Have you been the “apple of someone’s eye”; the child that tried things on his or her own; or the one that, like many teenagers, was impatient with the age and testing requirements it took to gain adult maturity? And what about the older brother? He is often painted as having a bad attitude, and perhaps he does. But is he the only one in the family trying to live by the agreed upon rewards and consequences? Is he the one, perhaps the only one, who knows what should be done in a well-run household and is reacting to the mess his father and brother have created? And was there ever a time when you felt that way: when parental, or scholarly, or athletic rules got trampled for one person who failed to play by them? This is not only a story of every man and woman; it is a reminder from the lips of Jesus that we are all sinners, and that we are all flawed. Even demonstrated grace can cause a ripple that affects others in, what Dr. Edwin Friedman called, “family systems.” Is it different to think of someone other than the young son as broken in this family? To which one do you most easily relate?

So we return to the context of the story: Jesus is welcoming sinners; in the parable, grace upsets a family system. Grace may be amazing to the recipient, but to the farm workers, or the brother, who is left out, grace can clench the fist of another or create a rage. Do you most identify with that older brother; or isn’t there a time when your rashness was met with a harsh response? Would grace have changed the direction of your life? And what parent doesn’t balance grace and consequences? Take time now to consider THROUGH PARABOLIC EYES.

Jeffrey A. Sumner July 31, 2011