“Known by the Company” (Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32)

We have all heard the quote before . . . “A man is known by the company he keeps.”  It is often believed that a person tends to be very similar in attitude, character, ability, or personality to the people with whom they associate or spend time with.  We probably heard it from our parents, preachers, teachers, and coaches as they thought they were watching out for our best interests.  They didn’t want us falling into the wrong crowd.  I will let you determine what “wrong” was, but I think that you get the point.  “A person is known by the company that he or she keeps.”

I share this because this is the attitude being expressed by the Pharisees and teachers of the law as they watch Jesus.  Jesus seems to have the tendency of drawing the wrong crowd around himself . . . people like sinners and tax collectors.  The Pharisees and teachers of the law believed that this had a lot to say about Jesus, his character, and intentions.  They muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”  In other words, those who Jesus was hanging out with told a lot about him . . . and, it wasn’t positive or good.  The Pharisees and teachers of the law saw Jesus as being no better than the scum he associated with.

Apparently, Jesus had pretty good hearing because he heard all the muttering going on about his associations.  Probably did not please him, but the writer doesn’t tell us Jesus’ reaction.  The writer only goes on to tell us that Jesus tells a parable . . . actually three parables, but we are only dealing with the last parable . . . the parable of the Lost Son or Prodigal Son.  Most prefer the title, The Prodigal Son, but I think it is more aptly named The Lost Son.  I think you will figure it out as we go along.

In the first two parables about lost sheep and a lost coin, the emphasis is upon the two individuals dropping everything and looking for the lost until it is found.  Then upon finding the lost sheep and coin the two individuals call upon everyone they know—family, friends, and neighbors—to rejoice with them for the lost had been found.  So it will be in heaven, says Jesus, whenever one lost sinner repents and returns to the fold.

The third parable, The Lost Son, is similar, but different.  This time the “lost” is the younger son who chooses to take his inheritance, run off, and sow his oats with despicable living—wine, women, and song.  He runs around with the wrong crowd.  Things were great for the younger son until a catastrophe hits and he runs out of money . . . things get tough, really quick.  Reality for the young son sucks.  In the meantime, the older son decides to stay home, work the property with his father, and be a good son.  And, that is what he does . . . he stays home and works hard each and every day.  He does everything that his father asks him to do . . . and, he never complains.

At least he never complains until his younger brother decides to lick his wounds, admit defeat and fault, and come back to the homestead by throwing himself at the mercy of his father.  This irritates the older sibling to no ends.  Upon learning of his brother’s return being heralded with an all-out party, he refuses to have anything to do with either of them.  Instead he complains to his father about having done everything right . . . everything by the book, and in the end, he gets nothing. Needless to say, the older son feels duped.

It is apparent, in all three parables, that the “lost” get associated with the “wrong crowd” . . . in the first two, repentance is the key to the rejoicing.  In the third one, the wayward son comes to his senses having chosen to run with the wrong crowd, seeks forgiveness, and is willing to turn around and start at the bottom of the pile.  I think that qualifies as repentance.  In other words, the “lost” are equated as “sinners”, or as the Pharisees and teachers of the law would say, the “wrong crowd.”  The bad people. 

In the parable of the two sons, which one is actually “lost”?

Of course, we know the younger son—the prodigal—is the one identified as being lost; but, Jesus has a way of making people have to think differently.  So, is it really the younger son who is “lost” or is it the older son?

I imagine that the evidence speaks for itself.  The younger son went off and did all the wrong things.  He ran around with all the wrong people.  He was in the wrong crowd.  His older brother even points this out to their father.  He also points out that he has done everything right . . . he stayed home to help his father . . . he did not run with the wrong crowd . . . and, he did not squander his inheritance.  As far as the older brother is concerned, his younger brother is what he is . . . scum.  Scum does not deserve grace.  Scum especially doesn’t deserve a party.  The younger brother is the one who has been lost.

The father does not disagree.  No, instead, it is because this child has been lost, but is now returned home, that he should be welcomed with love and grace back into the family.  Or, as the father put it, “But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.”  It is the right thing to do . . . the godly thing to do.  He tells his older son, “You are always with me, and everything I have is yours.”  The father doesn’t understand his older son’s anger and refusal to welcome his brother home.

So, which son is the “lost” son?

A lot of theologians will argue that whoever you identify with in the story tells a lot of about you.  Who do you identify with . . . the prodigal son, the loving and grace-filled father, or the angry brother who feels burned by it all?  I guess those theologians fall into that common understanding of the phrase, “A person is known by the company that he or she keeps.”  That there are only “good” people or “bad” people.  There is either the “right” crowd or the “wrong” crowd.  And, depending upon which group or crowd you run around with, it says a lot about you.

Unfortunately, this is not true with Jesus.  Jesus ran around with the wrong crowd . . . the wrong people.  Jesus ran around with “sinners”.  He hung out with the tax collectors . . . the prostitutes . . . criminals . . . all sorts of sinners.  Of course, there were always those around who liked to point this out . . . like to let everyone know that Jesus was no better than the people he ran around with.  But, we know that this is not true.  Jesus hung out with the those who were disenfranchised . . . those who were left out . . . those who were on the outside looking in . . . those who were not included . . . those deemed less than good enough . . . those that others did not want.  Jesus hung out with those that the religious in power deemed to be the “wrong” crowd.  He not only hung out with them, but he welcomed them into the fullness of God’s love and grace . . . welcomed them back into the family of God.  These were the ones who God desired . . . those who were lost but are now found.

Jesus wasn’t going to find them in the places that the Pharisees and teachers of the law hung out.  They weren’t in any need of being “included” . . . though they did want what Jesus was offering.  Thus, they were offended . . . offended that the wrong crowd—the sinners—were reaping the rewards . . . after all, they had done everything that was expected of them.  It seems to me that this group was the “lost” group.

We all know that Jesus put more into “action” than “words”, especially when it comes to love and grace . . . especially when it comes to relationships.  Jesus hung out with those who needed love and grace . . . with those who needed to be included . . . with those society and the world deemed as the “wrong crowd”.  Jesus understood the power of God’s love and grace . . . of God’s desire to restore that which was “lost”.  Jesus lived God’s will.

And, Jesus calls us to do likewise.  Don’t be “lost” . . . and, watch the crowd you hang out with because in the end, it says a lot about you.  It did for Jesus.  Amen. 

“Thinking Differently” (Luke 13:1-9)

It seems like such an innocent act . . . a peaceful act . . . to gather together for prayer.  Such was the situation on a Friday at two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand . . . people gathering for prayer.  I imagine that the prayers that were being lifted up were no different than the prayers that we shared earlier in our worship service.  Prayers for healing . . . prayers of thanksgiving . . . prayers of understanding . . . prayers of peace . . . prayers spoken and unspoken.  People—a faithful people, gathered to offer prayer.  Something we have all done.

 

In a matter of moments, the prayers were interrupted . . . pierced by the sound of semi-automatic weapon fire . . . bullets flying everywhere.  When it was all said and done, fifty people were dead and a like number were wounded.  Screams and cries broke the silence of prayer.  The prayers were now cries for mercy . . . cries for survival . . . prayers of desperation.  In the chaos and its aftermath, people wondered why . . . why were innocent people so senselessly slaughtered?

Does this sound familiar?

When I think of the states of Nebraska, Iowa, Wisconsin, Minnesota, and South Dakota I do not think of them as places of immorality and sinfulness.  In my mind these states are the epitome of Mayberry . . . good, down-to-earth, moral, upstanding places.  Yet, this week, these good people were in the wrong place at the wrong time as a “bomb cyclone” swept through the Midwest causing billions of dollars of damage.  In Nebraska, a place I love dearly and hold close to my heart, three-fourths of its 93 counties have been declared disaster areas.  In Nebraska alone there has been $49 million in damage to roads, levees and other infrastructure . . . $440 million in crop losses . . . $400 million in cattle losses.  More than 2,000 homes and 340 businesses were damaged or destroyed at a cost of $85 million.  And, that is just Nebraska.

Think of the devastation . . . homes lost . . . businesses lost . . . livelihoods erased . . . lives gone.  What did these people do to deserve such havoc, chaos, and suffering placed upon them?  Prayers are lifted up . . . prayers searching for understanding . . . prayers wondering why?

Does this sound familiar?

It should.  We just heard it in our scripture reading.  There were some in the group that was listening to Jesus teach who told him of an immoral act that had taken place . . . where the Roman leader, Pilate, had mixed the blood of innocent Galileans in a sacrifice . . . they wanted to know why?  Jesus wants to know whether or not those whose blood had been mixed in the sacrifice were worse sinners than others . . . did they think they got what they deserved?  And, he presses the point as he shares the news of those who were killed when a tower in Siloam fell killing 18.  He asks, “ . . . do you think that they were more guilty than all the others living in Jerusalem?”  

I think that that is the toughest part of faith . . . accepting the mystery . . . especially the mystery of why bad things happen.  As human beings were cannot just accept things . . . no, we have to have answers . . . explanations.  We have to have a reason for why things happen the way that they do.  We cannot accept the fact that sometimes, bad things happen.  We all know the famous twelve-step motto . . . poop happens.  Thus, it should come as no surprise when Jesus answers his own question to the people . . . NO!

No, those Galileans were not worse sinners.  They were no more sinful than anyone else, for all are sinners.  No, those killed by the tower fall were not worse sinners than all the others living in Jerusalem . . . they were all sinners.  The bottom line is that bad things happen . . . innocent people are killed . . . their blood is mixed in the sacrifice.  Innocent people gathered in prayers are mowed down in a hail of bullets.  Devastating natural disaster flood the land . . . innocent people are hurt . . . lose their homes, businesses, and livelihood.  None of them did anything to deserve what happened to them . . . they were not any worse sinners than anyone.  In fact, they were just like you and me . . . children of God.  As it was in Jesus’ time, so it is in our time . . . there are no answers.

And, yet, we must go on.

It is kind of shocking then that Jesus also tells those who are listening that in light of these sad situations that they all must repent.  So often we think of that word—“repent”—as a word that means that we are to quit something that we shouldn’t be doing.  Repentance, though, is more than giving something up . . . quitting something.  Repentance, as Jesus uses it, does mean “to change” . . . in particular, he uses it to mean that the change comes in the way that one thinks.  When Jesus calls for repentance, Jesus calls for a change in the way that people think.

To change one’s thinking takes time.  With that in mind, Jesus tells a parable . . . the parable of the fig tree.  A man has a fig tree that hasn’t produced fruit in three years.  He tells his gardener to chop it down . . . it is worthless.  But the gardener pleas with the man to give the tree some time.  With a little help the gardener is certain that the tree will produce . . . it just needs time and attention.  Jesus understands that change does not happen over-night, especially when it comes to how people think.  It takes time, and God is a patient God . . . a patient God who seeks people to change the way that they see and understand God . . . to change the way that they see their relationship with God . . . to see the inter-connectedness of God’s ways with their ways.  So, Jesus says, repent!  Think differently . . . think like God.  God will wait.

Bad things happen.  Things that we cannot explain . . . things that we cannot understand.  And, yet, life goes on.  How do we respond?  Do we question why bad things happen?  Or, do we respond when bad things happen.  Jesus tells us to think differently.  Instead of asking why and trying to understand something we may never know or understand, Jesus tells us to think differently.  Instead of why . . . we need to ask how.

How do we wipe the tears away of those whose loved ones and friends were senselessly shot down while in prayer?  How do we provide comfort to those who lay in the hospital from their wounds?  How do we embrace those who are shocked and devastated in the senselessness of it all?  How do we represent the love and the grace . . . the compassion . . . of Jesus to all those touched by such pointless acts of violence witnessed in New Zealand and across the world?  How do we think like Jesus?

How do we respond to those whose land has been flooded?  How do we ease the pain of loss . . . loss of life, home, livelihood?  How do we reach out and touch another’s live in such desperate times?  How do we become Jesus to others in their time of need?

We begin by thinking differently.  Jesus thought differently.  He often floored those who listened to him as he turned their world and understanding upside down.  He called the people to think like God.  He demonstrated through his words and actions how this thinking differently looked.  He walked the talk.  Surprisingly, his words still shake us up today . . . to repent . . . to think differently.  That is what we are called to do as the followers of Jesus.

We are getting well into the season of Lent.  Lent is a season that is grounded in thinking differently.  It is a season in which we are called upon to think differently about how we see ourselves in light of God’s love and grace . . . how we see ourselves in relation to God . . . and, how we see ourselves in relation with others.  That is the work of Lent . . . to think differently.  To think like God.  God’s ways are not the way of the world . . . they are different.  They are better.

Repenting . . . thinking differently . . . is hard work, especially when it is in our deepest fiber to wonder why.  To wonder why when bad things happen like in New Zealand . . . like in the Midwest.  But there really is no comfort in such thinking . . . just more questions.  The comfort comes when we quit asking why and begin responding as Jesus would respond . . . showing grace and love . . . to ourselves, to God, and to others.  It all comes down to how we relate . . . to ourselves, God, and others.  In such thinking, we are never alone for God is with us.  We are all in this together and it is going to all of us to get out of here.  We can’t do it alone.  Who would have thought!  That is thinking different.  Amen.